13th March 2019. It was Day 4 of the Grand Sumo Tournament 大相撲 in Osaka. I finally made it here, hopeful and excited to catch the live action of the sumo wrestlers. Sumo is the traditional sport of Japan, steeped in deep, ancient history and Shinto beliefs. This fascination with the sport propelled my desire to read more about it. I have never seen so much discipline and rigor woven into a sport, its nature embedded in Shintoism, and the routines and lifestyles determined by their masters in charge of the beya 部谷 (sumo stable) where they train at most of the time. They streamed in one after another, clad in their yukata and geta. Their large girth, a grand presence. I admit that I was initially intimidated by their seriousness and stature. (Actually, I still am but now, I have grown this mad respect for them.) They entered the gymnasium, bowed and greeted the staff before registering at the reception table. The ring-entering ceremony began with their names introduced by a Shinto priest, an essential ritual before the start of any bout. They made their way up to the dohyo, an elevated ring composed of cement and clay with a roof typical of a Shinto shrine, protecting those in and around it. The dohyo is thus the most sacred space in the entire gymnasium. In all honesty, it wasn’t comfortable watching at the beginning. I sat right in front of the dohyo to witness the first round of bouts between the relatively younger and less experienced sumo wrestlers. Their career in sumo wrestling lies in their overall ranking, whether they get promoted or demoted depends on their performance at the grand tournaments. This also means that they are often under tremendous pressure to better themselves, defeat their opponents and to create a name for themselves in this arena of competitive sport. I will refer to them as rikishi 力士 from now, literally translated as men who have strength (its meaning derived from the kanji ‘力’) and are well-respected (from the kanji ‘士’). Being a rikishi meant that they have a certain set of societal and cultural expectations to live up to. As a result, they bear extremely heavy responsibilities that we do not know much about. Their attitudes, behaviors and even their lifestyles are bound by strict routines and discipline with great emphasis on self-control and how they portray themselves in public. Sitting in a row facing the dohyo on both sides, they awaited their turn. Their legs were crossed together with their mawashi 回し (loincloth) tightly secured around their waists, a crucial possession during a wrestle. If it comes undone during a bout, he is immediately disqualified. A couple of them had parts of their limbs neatly plastered, ankle and knee guards safely in place to prevent further injury or provide a brief respite from the lingering pain that they had endured from their rigorous trainings. Throughout several bouts of strategic body twists and intense contact, I saw a couple of them lost their balance and fell from the dohyo, landing on the canvas at full force. They picked themselves up, re-entered the ring in order to give each other another bow before taking their leave. Slowly, silently and respectfully. Some left the dohyo cradling their elbows and circling their shoulders in agony, their scrunched-up faces evident of the pain sustained from their battles. Every sumo bout is a battle of strength and strategies. It was a sight that I did not prepare myself to see and I doubt I will ever forget these scenes. We cheer for the victor, as though the one who lost does not have feelings. We watch it as a sport for entertainment, as though we are watching an action movie. We cheer for the top-ranked yokozuna, grand champions, like superstars in the world of sumo while there are rising stars who we have yet to know and recognise. I don't know how to feel about this.
The senpai-kouhai 先輩後輩 relationship that is rooted in Japan is clearly evident in the social and cultural hierarchy of sumo and how their lives as rikishi are played out in the beya. I walked past a group of them outside after leaving the gymnasium, waiting to hail a taxi. A taxi arrived shortly. One of them signaled for his two seniors to get in first, saw them off then waited for another. In the most ordinary of ways, sumo taught me what genuine respect and discipline is.
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It's finally the time of the year when the sakuras, the stars and ballerinas of Spring, begin to bud and gradually bloom. Embracing the warmth, they start peeking and growing in clusters as winter makes way for spring. It is as though they have been patiently waiting for the right time to emerge. Unlike their ume (Japanese apricot) counterparts, they steal the show most of the time. The immense joy and exhilaration they bring, the countless number of photographs captured and sakura-themed items and products bought and sold in Spring. Spring has almost become synonymous with sakuras, blossoms in the loveliest shade of pink and white. Ohanami parties and picnics are a common sight. Hanami literally translates as 花見, flower-viewing, where people gather under the sakura trees, watching the flowers from beneath while eating and drinking. I love it when the blossoms are bathed in sunlight. When the wind blows, their petals flutter with the gentle breeze and are carried by the wind onto the ground, the river and into the hearts of people. Their beauty peaks for a mere two weeks, and sometimes when the weather turns unfavorable, they last for an even shorter period of time. Their biological clock signals that it is time to bloom and make their grand appearance, the season and temperature the essential environmental cues urging them on. It's this circle of life, the fleeting dynamics of nature that is deeply astounding.
Fallen petals formed a carpet along the riverbank, swept with the flow of water, joining the others in the rhythm of life. お風呂、シャワーどうちらがいいですか? (Which is better, do you want to take a bath or shower?) My guesthouse host asked as she flung the ゆ noren curtains over and directed me towards the bathroom after we came back from dinner. ゆ also refers to 湯, the kanji for 'hot water'. These curtains symbolise the existence and entry to a bathhouse. I was puzzled because this was the first time someone asked me a question like this about bathing arrangements. It took me a second to process and then answered, “何でもいいです。” (Anything is ok.) Then, she paused as though wanting another round of confirmation, I decided on the shower option. “シャワーです。” (I will take a shower.) I have a bathtub at home in Japan, but it’s never used because taking showers are more convenient, faster and it saves a lot of water. Back home in Singapore, I don’t have the habit of taking baths because we don’t have a bathtub at home. Taking showers seemed to be the only option then. So when it came to having a choice, my mind struggled to make a decision. It’s a weird feeling to have. Then, soon after that bathroom episode, I thought about it again and was reminded of the brief conversation I had with a student in English class about the usage of baths and bathtubs in Japan. The fact that I don’t have a bathtub at home was surprising to her. I know how the Japanese enjoy taking their baths, either in the public sentos (bathhouses), or in the onsens (hot springs). I have gone to a few of these public facilities myself, and all the initial anxiety stemming from embarrassment and unfamiliarity has gradually vanished. Well, I figured that all it takes is this... The initial dash of courage as you slowly make your way into the bath area, using a towel as your secret weapon (actually everyone else’s). After exchanging pleasantries, enjoy the moment of being soaked with everyone’s chatter and steam rising from the water. I still recall my first onsen experience in Japan at Mikurigaike onsen in Murodo. As I dipped my feet into the water and gradually wormed my way in, the heat got to me instantly. I couldn’t help but exclaim “暑いです!” (hot!) as I joined an obasan in the bath, and then smiled sheepishly at her after that outburst. That actually became a conversation-starter. We were the only two people there at that time, in the evening just before the call to come down for dinner at 6pm rang through the PA system. I joined the other lodgers at the dining table and then started tucking into the array of dishes laid before us, complete with pickled vegetables (tsukemono 漬け物), simmered food (nimono 煮物), hotpot (nabemono 鍋物) and fried food (agemono 揚げ物). Being in a communal and cozy setting in the company of other lodgers was surprisingly refreshing and comfortable. I admit that it was awkward at the beginning. But like all awkward beginnings, you gradually grow used to them and take comfort in the knowledge that growth and embracing unfamiliarity is what makes us all feel alive. |
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