SAITO AND THE KAPPA

The Tokugawa family is blessed with cats. Well actually, “blessed” may be a stretch; perhaps it is better to simply say that the Tokugawa family has cats, or the cats have us: probably the latter. Being for most intents and purposes, a Japanese family (despite the current separation of 8,000 miles), we have a certain cultural and religious involvement with the both Shintō and Buddhism. We observe the customs and traditions of both religions as do most Japanese; indeed, if you are born Japanese, you are pretty much born into Shintō and Buddhism: they are part of the Japanese tapestry. This involvement with the religions and traditions of Japan does not only extend to the human members of a family, but can, as we discovered, involve our animal members as well: as we recently found out.

As I’ve written in the past, Tajimi and the surrounding area is the capital of ceramic art and ceramic production in Japan. You may also remember that I mentioned once that the official mascot of Tajimi is a kappa. What’s more, perhaps appropriately, the first gift my bride Aoi gave me was a ceramic kappa, made in Tajimi.

Now, you may well ask, “What is a kappa?”A kappa (河童) or “river child,” also known as a kawatarō (川太郎 ) or “river boy” or kawako (川子) “river child,” is a legendary creature, a type of water fairy, or more appropriately a suijin or water kami (deity), found in Japanese folklore as well as the in the traditions of Shintō.

Most portrayals of kappa are as child-sized, human-like kami, although their bodies are often more combinations of those of monkeys and/or frogs rather than human beings, with thick shells a bit like those of a turtle, and scaly green, yellow, or blue skin. According to legend, kappa usually inhabit ponds and rivers in Japan and have physical features to aid them in these environments like webbed hands and feet. It is sometimes said that they smell like fish, in addition to being able to swim like them.

Tradition holds that kappa are generally mischievous or troublemakers; with their antics ranging from basically innocent jokes such as loudly passing gas or looking up a lady’s kimono, to being a bit more troublesome; such as stealing crops, kidnapping children, and the like. Some legends also say that small children are in fact, one of the kappa’s favorite meals, although they may, from time to time, eat an adult as well. Now you may well scoff at all this, but one should be aware that even today, in many towns and villages, there are signs along rivers, streams, and ponds warning of the presence of kappa! Obviously, someone considers kappa real enough to spend the money to post the signs. It is also said that kappa are afraid of fire and some villages hold firework festivals annually to scare the kappa away.

An old Japanese friend has provided me with this assured old Japanese method of escape if one is ever confronted by a kappa:

Kappa, for some reason which is unknown to me, other than they are truly Japanese, are obsessed with being overly polite. If one gestures in a deep bow to a kappa, because of the need to return the politeness and then some, the kappa can be tricked into bowing even deeper. When he does this, water, which is kept in a bowl that looks much like a lily pad on his head, will spill out and he will then be stuck in this bowing position until the bowl is refilled with water from the exact body of water in which he lives.

My friend also assured me that as legend has it, if the water is refilled by a human, then the kappa would serve them for all eternity.

Kappa as a rule are not really hostile towards men or women, or haven’t been until modern times, beginning with the Meiji Period. Rather, they are curious about Japanese and human culture, to the extent that they have learned to write and speak Japanese quite well. They also like sports and competitions; and will from time to time, challenge someone they meet to a game of shogi (which is like Western chess) or even sumo wrestling. Another legend says that kappa will even make friends with humans, especially in exchange for gifts such as cucumbers: the only food kappa are known to enjoy more than children! In many villages still, Japanese parents sometimes inscribe the names of their children on the skins of cucumbers and then throw them into “kappa-infested” waters in order to pacify the kappa and to allow the family to swim there.
Once someone makes a friend of a kappa, according to the stories, they have been know to be very helpful to their human friends. For example, they sometimes help farmers to irrigate their land. Kappa are also skilled at medicine and legend has it that they are the ones who taught the art of bone setting to the Japanese people. Because of this goodwill on the part of the kappa, some Shintō shrines have been dedicated to kappa that have proven themselves particularly helpful.

Now, how does this all relates to the Tokugawa family and Saitochan? Well, beside my futon, on a nightstand, sit three ceramic figures from Tajimi. One is a small ceramic kitty that looks quite a bit like the very glamorous and sophisticated kitty, Sumiechan. The other is a rather playful appearing dachshund which looks remarkably like the Tokugawa family dog, Tonochan. The third figure is that of the kappa, which Aoi sent me many years ago: her first gift to me. Saito has a problem, well actually several; but among them are his need to touch everything possible, to claim ownership of anything he wants, and to use whatever he wants as a toy. Thus, from time to time, the ceramic Sumiechan and Tonochan have disappeared in the middle of the night and turned up in Saito’s toy box or other secret hiding places for his purloined possessions.

Up until last week, the kappa had never been molested, played with, or taken. Then one night at about 2 am, I heard a dull thump. I got up with the immediate thought of, “What has that little four-legged gaki (brat) done now?” Ceramic Tono was missing (I found him two days later, buried under the futon’s wooden frame) and so was the kappa. There, on top of the large tansu chest (a stepped chest much like a Western dresser or “chest of drawers”) with a look on his face that said, “What? Why is it always me?” was Saito. Why indeed! On the floor, in front of the tansu, lay the body of the kappa, his right arm broken into two pieces. Now I strongly doubt that the kappa, in some mysterious way for some equally mysterious reason, took himself to the top of the chest and then ended his own existence by jumping off. Saito not only likes to touch things or carry them off, he likes to push things off wherever they might be: shelves, tables, cupboards, etc.

Up to now, you might well say that this is just another example of brat-cat mischief and you would probably be correct in your assumption; however, at that same time, over 8,000 miles away in Tajimi, a water valve broke in our Tajimi home and the resulting torrent flooded the laundry room, until Aoi was able to shut the water pipe off elsewhere on the property. Despite desperate telephone calls for help, no haikankō (plumber) could come to fix the problem. One would come, however, as soon as he could: an open-ended pledge.

The next day, the kappa, after my profuse apologies to it for Saito’s inconsiderate and painful (possibly) behavior, was repaired as best as could be accomplished. Have you ever noticed that once broken, things just never fit back together quite the same way again? Nevertheless, at that very same time, a haikankō miraculously appeared and fixed the broken pipe and valve at the Tajimi house.

It would certainly be easy to just attribute all of this to a bratty cat and coincidence; yet, we can’t help but wonder why, at the same time the kappa was broken, the water valve broke and flooded the laundry room, some 8,000 miles away in a town officially represented by a kappa? Why, at almost the same time the ceramic kappa was repaired, did the overworked haikankō (it was below freezing, snowing, and unprotected water pipes were breaking all over town) suddenly appear?

Aoi and I have been working on a project involving a new translation and interpretation of the Kojiki (古事記 ), or Record of Ancient Matters, the oldest existing recorded Japanese chronicles and foundation of much of Shintō’s beliefs and traditions. I’ve also been involved in editing some articles by Lafcadio Hearn on Shintō. Our combined experience makes us wonder if there is some connection beyond what seems obvious to Western eyes. Something tells us, even in modern Japan (and the West), the traditions and beliefs of that ancient religion cannot be pushed aside. Japan is just too mysterious a place for that.

Copyright 2010 by Hayato Tokugawa and Shisei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.

A Change Of Season, A Change of Hours

A Change of Season, A Change of Hours

Winter, if you live deep underground and hadn’t noticed, is rapidly approaching. The splendid colors of autumn are gone, the trees now naked against the gray sky, casting long, thin shadows on the streets and houses below. Oh there are a few stalwarts on my street who have managed to hang onto their yellow leaves, but even their golden canopies are growing thin.

The sun travels daily on an ever lowering and shortening arc, although as I go about my daily errands, I tend to be unaware of its presence. The sun is more often hidden behind a thick gray blanket of clouds and fog adding an extra note of darkness to what I generally consider an already bleak time of year.

Darkness. In the winter it comes early and leaves late, though more often than not on a foggy day, it never entirely leaves at all. Even today, darkness comes earlier than yesterday and departs later. This morning the sun officially rises at 7:13 am and dips below the horizon at 4.44 pm – later than yesterday and earlier than tomorrow. December 21 at 7:04 am, even before it comes up that day, the sun will have reached its lowest arc and then begin its too slow climb higher and higher into the sky – the longest night and the shortest day.

The beginning of winter. Some people see it as a “bright” time of opportunity, as a time of light and warmth! Ice skating, snowmobile riding, skiing, Christmas decorations and lights making the “season bright”. I suppose these are the people who always tend to see the proverbial glass as being half-full. I tend to see it as almost totally empty. It’s dark, it’s cold, it’s going to get colder, and I have to dress up like Eskimo to go outside! As the “Kitty Mafia” would say (if they could talk), “Fogedaboudit!”

Ah yes, the “Kitty Mafia”: Max our menopausal senior kitty, and her evil henchman “Mr. Saito”, named for a courageous member of the Shinsengumi of Kyoto at the end of the Tokugawa Shogunate and later a police officer in Meiji Tokyo. I think sometimes that perhaps “Igor” or “Quasimodo” might have been a more appropriate name. And then there is Sumie, the mafia “gun-moll”, at once hardboiled and yet seductive in getting her own way from my hapless wife. But I digress. Winter to the “Kitty Mafia” is just a minor inconvenience. It means they get to spend more time in the house; but then, there is plenty to do there so “it’s all good”. The fact that they are inside more than out, simply means to them that the proprietors of the “inn” simply must adjust to their presence.

More food, of course, must be on hand and readily available upon demand. In fact, “It’s best if you keep the ‘Meow Mix’ bowl topped off at all times, but don’t let the stuff at the bottom become stale.” Cans of cat food must be stockpiled in a wide variety of flavors and then opened and submitted for approval before serving. Cat’s boxes must be maintained to the utmost standards of cleanliness on a daily basis; in fact, it would be preferred if undesirable material was removed immediately after each use. Saito, as a point of fact, will break into a short operatic aria just after use, to signify his completed task and the beginning of the tasks for the “clean-up crew”.

Winter also means that additional cat toys must be acquired so that those members of the “mafia” who desire to play may have a wide variety of amusements to choose from. Heaters must be turned up with clear access for sitting, meditating, or sleeping at each cat’s whim, and in sufficient numbers so that no one is forced to share with their fellow cats – cat’s do not like to share.

Any forced allotment of anything, be it food, toys, or sleeping space runs counter to cat culture. Sleeping space seems to be a “biggie” at our house, more specifically, futon space. Max must have the bottom of the futon to herself: left side, right side, or between the legs. The lower part of the futon is hers and may not be trespassed upon by her underlings. Saito likes the head of the futon where he can watch the human occupants sleep, knead their faces in his own sleepy ecstasy, or more to the point, watch for any sign that REM sleep has started so that he may awaken the sleeper in order to have their undivided attention. As for Sumie, sleep is always best on top of a warm, breathing human body and the liberal use of claws ensures that she stays in place despite her “bed” tossing and turning.

Ah, to sleep, perchance to dream! There is the rub! Winter and the “Kitty Mafia” mean a change in hours for their human employees (yes, that is really all we are you know, underpaid and overworked). As you may know, when I am not seeking out “evil doers” or battling against crime in our universities during the winter, I work a lot at home. To work at home, more or less keeping your own hours, and thus avoiding the daily trek to the office has become quite popular in the last few years. I think really it started out to be a great thing: being able to drink coffee anytime at your desk, take a snack break, work in your jimmies – great stuff. One could, in theory, sleep late, do their work, and probably have playtime left over each day or at the least a low-stress, casual environment in which to work. Not so with the “Kitty Mafia” in winter. My hours have changed, now dictated by “Max & Company”. 3:30 am has been determined to be the optimal time for me to awake, prepare breakfast, clean kitty toilet facilities, and provide either entertainment for mafia members or to be a temporary playmate – more often than not the target of “play” rather than a “mate”.

The early hours of the morning are also the time when I must open the blinds so that Max can peer out into the night and see all the things that go “bump” in the night and are otherwise invisible to us humans. She has no concept of how much cold comes through an uncovered window. 3:30 AM is also the best time for Sumie to practice for her next action movie role by climbing up on furniture and jumping across the room from great heights. It is also the best time for Saito to practice his interpretations of “Pavarotti’s Greatest Hits.”

In the early morning hours, as I sit and drink my coffee and try to read the news, I am meowed at, poked, prodded, climbed over, and bitten on ankles and feet, “Excuse us, but you really do need to pay attention to us. News and coffee can wait”. Of course there is method to this madness. No more working to the sounds of birds chirping or to the smell of fresh mowed grass carried on a warm summer breeze. The dark, cold silence of early morning is now the prefect time for me to work. (Actually this is true but I’ll never admit it to them). Naptime is permitted in late morning, after a sufficient amount of work has been completed and any outside errands, such as the purchase of more cans of food or litter. Early afternoon, beginning about 1 PM is the time to become active once again, allowing for the preparation of lunch, the completion of chores and work, and the preparation and serving of dinner. Following dinner it’s bedtime. Was it Ben Franklin who said “Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise?” Well, I feel neither healthier nor wiser, and certainly not wealthier. Obviously he did not live with cats! I feel more as if I have been dragged unwillingly over to the “dark side”.

Those persons who see the “half-full glass” are sure to say that the days will quite soon start to grow longer and thus the days warmer. I on the other hand, from the bottom of my now empty glass, see clouds, rain, snow, a lack of any worthwhile sleep, and typing away on some essay or work of Japanese scholarship, in the bitter cold, dark, damp, early hours of the morning: just as I’m doing now. Fogedaboudit!


Copyright 2008 by Hayato Tokugawa