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Posts Tagged ‘futenma’

In my last post, I talked about visiting the Yonashiro History Museum, where they had on display some Roman coins uncovered in archaeological excavations at Katsuren castle.

After leaving the museum, I made my way to the castle itself, but first had to go find some lunch. This was my first time up to that part of the island, and walking around that section of Uruma City, I don’t know if I just was in the wrong part of town, or if I should have turned left when I instead turned right, but the stretch of road I ended up walking on was just amazingly devoid of any kind of café or restaurant that looked inviting at all. The local Uruma City tourist guide pamphlet I picked up at the castle listed all kinds of wonderful-looking vegetarian cafés and ice cream shops… looked very appealing. But these guides expected you to have a car. And while I certainly could have just taken another bus (still for free), I thought I’d just grab something quick, nearby. I found lots of “snack” bars – which might be just a sleazy townie dive bar, or might be a front for more illicit activities – and a few super-run-down-looking cafés or diners (shokudô), but nothing that looked at all welcoming or appealing. Finally, finally, after walking many blocks, I settled on eating at a Hotto Motto, a chain store selling premade bento boxes. *smh* One of the few days I’m off-campus, and out in a different town, really having the potential to be on vacation (kind of) for a day, to experience a nice local restaurant and maybe try some different foods, and instead I end up at a Hotto Motto.

Anyway, it was an interesting and valuable experience to see this one more corner, one more bit, of the kaleidoscope that is the “real” Okinawa. Really makes me wonder what the experience of everyday life is like there, and what it’s like to grow up there. And just how much of Okinawa prefecture (or even just of Uruma City) looks like this. Certainly, riding on the bus, looking out the window, things didn’t look so different from one city to the next. As we drove up into Okinawa City (formerly Koza), and then Uruma, I definitely had a feeling of excitement at visiting a different part of the island that I hadn’t been to before, and genuinely retained that excitement even despite the fact that everything looked pretty much the same…

The castle site itself was quite interesting, when considered in comparison to Nakagusuku, another major World-Heritage-Site-designated gusuku ruin from the same period, which I had just visited a couple weeks earlier. I was surprised at how small Katsuren was. I don’t know how big it is in terms of square hectares or whatever, or how tall; I have no doubt that it was a sizable and imposing compound in its time. But, while it may have simply been a result of entering via a side gate instead of a main gate, or something like that, Nakagusuku felt as though one had to double-back numerous times in order to make sure one had explored the entire compound. There were a lot of different areas, to put it quite simply. At Katsuren, by contrast, one simply entered at the fourth enclosure (or kuruwa), and walked up some stairs to a small area that constituted the third enclosure, then up a few more steps to the second enclosure, then up a few more steps to the first enclosure, and that was it. Done. You’ve seen the whole castle. And, each of the individual enclosures was also much larger at Nakagusuku.

That said, Katsuren provides I think a more direct, clearer understanding of the structure of a “standard” or “classic” gusuku, both in terms of the experience of the actual site, and because of the very nice model on display in the rest station across the street (right). I’m quite curious to visit Nakijin castle, as that’s the one that seems to get most often cited as emblematic of the standard form. But, this is seen at Katsuren as well.

A small first enclosure was the innermost part of the castle, the most well-protected by virtue of its location atop the hill, surrounded on all sides by either the second enclosure, or steep drop-offs. This would have contained the castle’s treasure houses, and at least one major sacred site. The second enclosure, a bit lower down the hill but still very well protected, was larger, and contained the main administrative buildings and lord’s residence. A narrow set of stairs connected the first and second enclosures, hindering invaders. The third enclosure, by contrast, is separated from the second by a series of very accessible, wide, steps, connecting the palace buildings in the second enclosure to plaza areas in the third, which would have been used for ceremonies and perhaps for other more “public” court events.

Stone foundations suggest the shape and scale of the structures that once stood in the second enclosure.

The third enclosure also included a number of water cisterns, and sacred sites. Following the fall of the castle in 1458, the third enclosure came to be frequented by noro and other local priestesses, who transformed the space into their own – a space for offerings, prayers, and rituals. The third enclosure is the last (or, I suppose the first, depending on how we’re counting) to be well above ground level and to have access protected by twisting and narrow stairways. The fourth is the “ground floor,” so to speak, of the castle compound, a wide extensive area, albeit still surrounded with stone walls, and guarded by heavy wooden gates which are no longer extant today. It was in this area, somewhere, that the Roman and Ottoman coins were found. Sections just outside the fourth enclosure would have included rice paddies and other farmland and swampland; as signs on-site explain, this not only helped supply the castle with food, but also served as a further defense against invaders, who would have had to plod through deep, wet, muddy ground.

Interestingly, unlike many Japanese castles we might visit, most of which took their well-known “Japanese castle” forms towards the very end, or even after, the period of warfare (Sengoku period, 1467-1600), and thus never actually saw serious siege or attack, Katsuren absolutely did. With all of these structural, geographical defenses, one can only imagine how the battle actually went, as the forces of the Ryukyu Kingdom took the castle in 1458.

The main gate of Jingû-ji, as it appears from within the temple grounds, looking out.

After taking a second look around to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, I called my visit to Katsuren done and successful. I then took the bus down to Futenma, so I could quickly pay a visit to Jingû-ji, the temple immediately next door to Futenma Shrine, which I missed when I went to visit the shrine. Not too much to say about the temple, I suppose. But, I do love and am still not tired of seeing the distinctive Okinawan architectural style – lighter wood than in mainland Japan, and the distinctive red roof tiles. When we remind ourselves that Ryukyu was once an independent kingdom, and we start to think not simply about regional variation within Japan, but about the ways in which different schools of Buddhism took on different forms in different places all across Asia – when we start to think of Okinawan architecture not as a variation within Japanese styles but as something to be compared against Japanese, Korean, Chinese, and Vietnamese styles, there’s something very interesting and powerful there, I think.

Anyway, with that checked off my list, I then started to make my way home, and ended up walking quite some ways, maybe about half the length of the main center of Ginowan Town, along the outsides of the fences of the Futenma Air Base. An interesting contrast with that one neighborhood near Katsuren – for all its problems, and I’m not saying Ginowan is the most happening and exciting city either, Ginowan felt more lively, more welcoming/appealing, and more upscale (though it would hard to not be more upscale than what I saw in Katsuren). Despite the length of the walk, it was surprisingly enjoyable, easy, and refreshing. I passed by lots of shops that looked kind of appealing… many of them quite clearly aimed at military folks as their market. Second-hand shops for clothes and for furniture (specifically American-style furniture), some nice-looking bars, some nice restaurants… closer to campus, further from the base, I found a cute little bakery with scones in all sorts of flavors (banana, green tea, earl grey). I’m really tempted, though it’s maybe a little embarrassing to admit, to try out the California-style Diner. Though maybe try to figure out some time to go when there’s no military around? Actually, that particular moment as I passed by that night, the place was empty…

And once I got my bike back – oh yeah, I locked my bike to a barrier on the side of the sidewalk in Ginowan all day while I rode the bus up to Katsuren. Thankfully, the police or someone didn’t confiscate it, and it was still right where I’d left it :) – I got my bike back, and was thinking of going to BookOff, but was already most of the way back to campus and didn’t feel like backtracking… but I found a great little soba shop on the side of the road! Sometimes you really can’t tell from the outside how nice a place might be on the inside. And by nice, to be clear, I don’t mean fancy – I just mean, it had a pleasant atmosphere. Brightly lit, colorfully decorated, with very friendly staff…

So, yeah, all in all, a rather successful day, I would say.

All photos my own.

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Futenma Shrine 普天満宮, standing at the main hall, looking back towards the torii and temizuya at the entrance.

9/21/16

Today was fantastic. Cooler, less oppressively hot & humid, than the last few days – or maybe it just felt more comfortable because I finally had the intelligence to go out in shorts, and my brand-new athletic-style sweat-wicking-away Ryûdai t-shirt.

At some point, I really should just hunker down and spend more of my days indoors, on campus, making actual progress on reading and research. But, for today, just one more day of exploring couldn’t hurt, right?

I walked into Ginowan, just across the freeway from here, and then caught a bus way up to the other end of the Futenma Marines base, going all the way up there solely to check out the Futenma Shrine, one of the Eight Shrines of Ryukyu, of which I have now visited six. Of course, I forgot to check out the associated temple, Jingû-ji, which is right next door. So I’ll have to go back.

The shrine itself is pretty nice – I’m assuming it’s been rebuilt or renovated quite recently, as everything looked quite clean and bright. There’s something just really striking and beautiful about such fresh wood, and those orange terracotta roof tiles. Just being amidst that space – sharing so many of the features of a mainland Japanese Shinto shrine, but blatantly distinctively Okinawan in style and aesthetic – is just a wonderful feeling. And it’s just a very photogenic space, I think, overall. I took photos from quite a number of viewpoints, each looking just excellent (we’ll see how they actually came out – my digital photos often tend to be lighter or darker or grainier or flatter or.. something.. than how I thought they looked at the time).

The cave at Futenma Shrine. Photo courtesy of Chinese Wikipedia. We were instructed not to take photos inside the sacred space, and so I respectfully refrained.

But Futenma Shrine is also special in another way – the sacred space it’s associated with is a cave. I wasn’t sure if they only offer tours at certain times, or if maybe it’s only open to those who are serious worshippers – if the latter were the case, I would certainly understand. I found a sign that seemed to indicate there was some kind of application process. But, I figured, no harm in asking – so I asked at the window where one buys protective charms (o-mamori) and the like, and the shrine priestess stationed there quickly and kindly gave me a very brief form to fill out (name, address, number of people in your group) and then escorted me and one other woman into the cave. I felt a little awkward, to be sure, as this other woman was clearly there as a true devotee, and I hope she didn’t feel I was invading her people’s sacred space, or being disrespectful simply by being myself – a tourist, an outsider. I was sure to bow down and close my eyes and take a moment to meditate, to give my respects to the deity.

I’m sorry that we weren’t allowed to take photos inside the cave, though I totally understand why that should be restricted in such a sacred space. The cave was quite small – or at least the part easily publicly accessible – and the ceiling only extended so far, opening up to the sky beyond a certain point. But it was really something. I don’t even know how to describe it. Just stalactites and stalagmites, a naturally mysterious, intriguing, serene, spiritual space, with a small shrine building nestled into the center of it, marking and enhancing the spiritual feeling of the space. I love seeking out these sites just for the architecture, for the history, for the aesthetic & cultural experience of being there, but every now and then it really does genuinely feel spiritually moving or powerful as well. I’m very glad I bothered to ask about visiting the cave, and I would encourage you to take a look as well should you ever be in the area.

Wooden bodies for building sanshin. More than any sanshin shop I’ve seen before, this guy really sells all the parts you need to make your own – something that I should think takes an incredible amount of skill and experience.

As it happened, just across the street from the shrine stands the Sanshin no Matsuda store, a fairly large and pretty cool shop where they carry everything from complete instruments and books of music to basically everything you could possibly need to repair an instrument – not just bridges and picks and tuning pegs and strings, but even down to the wooden bodies and frightening lengths of real python skin (imported from Thailand). I went in to check it out, knowing I likely wouldn’t buy anything – thankfully my instrument is in good working order, so I just don’t really have a need for strings or picks or anything right now, and I already have plenty of books of music. But the guy was nice enough to show me the shop a little – showing me how he uses serious machines to cut the rough shape of the sanshin out of a block of wood, but then carves the finer details, the subtle curves, by hand. Beautiful. Amazing. Someday, when I do need such things, maybe I’ll head back up to Futenma, and buy from him. (If you’re interested in seeing more photos of the process of making or repairing sanshin, check out Joseph Kamiya’s Tumblr. He’s in the process of studying that craft.)

The view from Futenma Shrine, back across the street. Sanshin no Matsuda on the left, and King Tacos on the right. This is pretty much what most of Ginowan looks like, in my experience thus far.

As per the plan, having taken the bus way up to Futenma, I was now going to take a leisurely walk back down – in comfortable weather, and with plenty of daylight left, it should take only an hour or so to get back to campus, which all things considered really isn’t that bad. Of course, in the end, it took far longer than that, but it was relaxed, and easy. I found a nice teishoku place for lunch – offering set meals (teishoku) of noodles and soup, or stir-fry (chanpuru) and rice and soup, and so forth. I went with the fu chanpuru, fu being basically a form of seitan (wheat gluten), baked to have a consistency sort of like chicken, sort of like bread… anyway, it’s good.

I also found a cool zakka shop, selling all kinds of random stuff from panda coffee mugs to wacky cookbooks, to wallets, keychains, bumper stickers, manga… I didn’t end up buying anything, but I loved seeing a fun, kooky store like that amongst the countless motorbike & car repair shops. I get it, that we’re not in the big city and everyone relies on bikes & cars, but, seriously, how can the economy support this many such shops? How many vehicles does each person own!?

Anyway, after much walking, I found myself back in the area of Ginowan I knew and remembered from my adventures two years ago – my first time in Ginowan, one of my first times outside of Naha, when I took the highway bus and the whole thing just felt like such an ordeal, traipsing out to this outer city… Now that I’m living just across the freeway from Ginowan, the whole thing feels quite different.

So friendly and welcoming…

Walking further and further down, passing by the fences of Futenma Air Base, I found it surprisingly quiet. No protest signs of any kind hanging on the fence, no protesters staked out outside the base. Maybe they’re all up in Henoko or Takae? I probably follow this stuff more closely than most, but even so, not closely enough to really know the precise ins and outs of why there would or wouldn’t be protests on a given day… Also saw (and heard! omg, so loud!) some military helicopters flying overhead, but that was about it. So quiet I neglected to even get any photos of the base, at all.

Eventually, I found my way to the Ginowan BookOff, and then to Books Jinon, what to the best of my knowledge is surely one of the best Okinawa specialty bookstores there is. I cannot count the times that I have searched for a book on kosho.or.jp (an excellent site for searching used bookstores across Japan, and ordering books from them online) and it came up that Books Jinon was the place that had a copy. On my previous trips to Okinawa, I was always based in Naha, and Ginowan just seemed so far away, so inconvenient. But, I now know that at least some parts of Ginowan are in extremely reasonable walking distance from Ryûdai campus, and also that there are regular public buses (e.g. the 98, between Ryûdai and Naha) which stop only a block or so away from the bookstore. Plus, they take orders online, so as long as you have a Japanese address to ship to, there’s little need to traipse out there.

I came in with a particular list of books I was looking for, and am quite happy with my haul for the day. Had to resist buying up so much more stuff – I’ve gotten to the point that I think I have a much more realistic gut feeling about knowing, understanding, how little I’ll ever get around to actually reading, and so that makes it a ton easier to resist buying all the things. But, there is still certainly a part of me that is tempted to buy and read just about anything about Okinawa, and Books Jinon has such a selection, oh my god. Conference proceedings volumes I’ve only ever seen after ordering them from multiple different institutions from Inter-Library Loan (ILL). Boxes and boxes of magazines and other sorts of obscure serials. Shelves upon shelves of thick volumes of local village, town, and city histories (for example, Nishihara Town History 西原町史, or Naha City History 那覇市史), of Complete Works of such-and-such prominent scholar (e.g. Ifa Fuyu zenshû or Nakahara Zenchû zenshû), and of published transcriptions of premodern documents, such as the Ryûkyû-koku shi-ryaku 琉球国志略 or Chûzan seikan 中山世鑑. Not to mention great numbers of museum exhibit catalogs, many of them rather slim volumes from rather small provincial museums. And what makes the whole thing all the more exciting and impressive is that, at least in my very limited experience (combined with what my far more experienced advisor has said), real brick-and-mortar specialty bookstores like these are growing scarce in Japan, as many shift to online-only, or disappear entirely. I was only in Kagoshima for a few days (two years ago), so I may be totally mistaken, but from what I found on Google, and what I found in person, there is maybe one local history / local culture specialty bookstore in Kagoshima City, and it’s really not all that great. Books Jinon stands out all the more so as a result.

The haul for the day.

Finally, I left the bookstore with my small but happy haul, and poked my head into a nearby florist to ask where I might find the nearest bus stop. Pardon me if I’m spoiled or whatever, too much of a city boy, but compared to trains, I really find buses to be a pain in the ass. A train station is easy to find, for the most part. And once you’re inside, it’s usually pretty easy to figure out which side you need to be on; or, if it isn’t, at least there are generally only two options. Red Line this way, or Red Line that way. Or, if you know you need to be on the Blue Line, then it’s the Blue Line. But buses – the bus stop could be anywhere in the general vicinity of the specified intersection or landmark, and for Okinawa at least, the bus stops and bus routes don’t come up on Google Maps. So you stand at the intersection, and look around, and wonder, does the bus stop on this side of the street, or around the corner? Does it stop right here by the intersection, or halfway down the block in that direction? Or the other direction? And then when you finally find the bus stop, you have to be sure that it’s not only going in the right direction, but that it’s also the right bus line. A train station might have only one or two or three lines (or, admittedly, quite a lot more if you’re in Shinjuku or something, but that’s a different story), but even a relatively quiet, isolated, place like Maehara Crossing in Ginowan, Okinawa, has one stop for the 25 and 56 to Toyosaki, a different stop for the 24, 27, 52, 61, or 110 going north or southwest, another stop somewhere else slightly down the road in some other direction to find the 97 and 98 back to the University of the Ryukyus (where I was trying to go)… and then when you finally find the right bus stop for the bus line you want, you inevitably realize you’re on the wrong side of the street. Hopefully you realize this before you see your bus, on the opposite side of the street, go past.

Anyway, I still kind of can’t believe it, but I asked inside this random little florist shop, and the customer buying flowers at the time said, “oh, how about I just give you a ride? It’s not that far.” Oh my god. So kind!! Of course, I hesitated at first – oh, no, no, that’s quite alright. Thanks so much, but I don’t want you to go out of your way… But, in the end, she was so kind, and drove me the short distance back to campus – we had a very nice conversation, and then she just dropped me off right at the entrance to campus. A fantastic way to end the day.

Except where indicated otherwise, all photos my own.

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A few things that have been going on lately in and around Japan.

The airstrip at Futenma Air Base on Okinawa. Photo my own.

US Pacific Command (PACOM) reports that the dismantling of Futenma Air Base on Okinawa might be delayed yet again, until at least 2025, due in large part to Okinawan opposition to the construction of its replacement at Henoko. The Japan Times quotes Gen. Robert Neller, commandant of the Marine Corps, as telling a congressional hearing on Weds March 3 explicitly:

The project has been “delayed partly due to demonstrators and lack of support by the government of Okinawa.”

Tokyo responded that they had never told Washington there would be any such delay.

The Okinawan people have been protesting for decades for Futenma to be dismantled, and for no new bases to be built in its place. But while the US finally agreed in 1996 to move towards dismantling the air base, more than 20 years on, they (we) have dragged their (our) feet, taking Okinawan protests and opposition not as impetus to actually do what the Okinawans demand – accelerating the dismantling, and at the same time not building any other bases – but rather, to delay, and to cite the protests as the reason, as our excuse. The US (and Tokyo) continue to stand firm that this new base will be built, that there is no other way, and that as soon as Henoko is complete, Futenma can be dismantled.

But, meanwhile, the Okinawans have stood firm as well, that there must not be any new bases. That the new base at Henoko is unacceptable, and that “there is no other way” other than actually dismantling bases without constructing new ones. If it’s not evident already, I side with the Okinawans, and on a moral level, I feel it is incumbent upon Washington & Tokyo – not upon Okinawa – to change their ways. But, on a practical level, if Okinawan protests (as well as criticism in newspapers, opposition through political avenues, etc.) have for the last 20+ years only succeeded in having the opposite effect – of delaying rather than accelerating the dismantling of Futenma – one has to wonder what other tactics the Okinawans could or should be using? What could they do differently to impel the decision-makers in Washington and Tokyo to change their policy?

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Tokunoshima, Kagoshima prefecture. Photo by Wikimedia Commons User:Opqr, courtesy Creative Commons licensing.

On a related note, the Asahi Shimbun reports that they’ve obtained a classified US government document which may have been used to help block Prime Minister Hatoyama’s efforts to get Futenma moved. Hatoyama, prime minister of Japan in 2009-2010, was probably the most vocal and explicit of all recent prime ministers about committing to getting Futenma moved; he was so committed to it, in fact, that when it failed, it contributed significantly to his getting pushed out of office.

At the time, Hatoyama had been backing a plan to relocate the base, not to Henoko (still on Okinawa Island), but to Tokunoshima, a smaller island to the north. According to the classified document the Asahi claims to have obtained, the US blocked this by citing a policy that “Marine Corps helicopter unit[s] should not be based more than 65 nautical miles, or 120 kilometers, from [their] training grounds.” This seems nonsensical on the very surface of it, because if you relocated the base to Tokushima, and declared Tokushima the training grounds, then it wouldn’t be far from itself at all. Why continue to have Okinawa considered the training grounds once you’ve moved the base X km away to another island? Regardless, what makes this all the more interesting is that US Forces Japan denies that there is any such policy, and Japan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Gaimushô) “cannot confirm the existence of such a document.” The latter may be simply because it is a classified document. But it still raises an eyebrow for me. Does this document, and the policy it cites, exist or not? Was this policy invented explicitly in order to block Hatoyama – the US Marines manipulating a foreign head of state?

I’ll admit I wasn’t following these events nearly as closely at that time, six years ago, but I was still back then aware of Hatoyama’s support for taking real action to actually get Futenma shut down, and I was in support of it. The idea of moving it to Tokunoshima, however, is complicated. Tokunoshima used to be a part of the Ryukyu Kingdom, until it was taken and annexed by Satsuma domain in 1609-1611; unlike the kingdom itself, based on Okinawa, which was allowed to retain some considerable degree of autonomy, Tokunoshima and all the other islands north of Okinawa were fully absorbed into Satsuma territory, and were no longer under the authority of the kingdom. So, when the people of Tokunoshima protest against a base being built there, as they did indeed protest, this too is a Ryukyuan indigenous and anti-colonial protest, sharing considerably in the core character of the Okinawans’ protests. Moving the base from Okinawa to Tokunoshima is like moving a base from Hawaii to Guam – you’re lightening the burden on one colonized indigenous people only to increase the burden on another.

While Tokunoshima does have 1/10th the population density of Okinawa, it’s still undoubtedly sacred land in its own way, as basically all Ryukyuan land is. And, there are arguments to be made that the smaller the island, the smaller the population, while yes you may be placing the burden on a far smaller group of people (and thus benefiting a greater number, whose burden is lightened), the burden on that smaller group is all the heavier. Which logic, or morality, is to win out? The notion that the benefit of the many outweighs the benefit of the few? Or the notion that the tyranny of the majority is tyranny and is to be avoided/opposed?

If the bases were to be moved to the Japanese mainland, e.g. Kyushu or Honshu, I think there is still an argument to be made for the disruption of sacred and/or historical land. Almost anywhere you put it, you’re going to be building on top of a sacred Shinto space, and/or a historically significant location. Even as rural Japan continues to become woefully depopulated – a major societal concern that’s a whole other topic unto itself – those abandoned villages still have history, going back hundreds of years, and to erase them from the face of the earth to build a military base should be undesirable. But, at least, the indigenous and colonial issue is not present, and that’s something I think the Japanese government needs to learn to recognize and acknowledge – that the Okinawans, and those of islands such as Tokunoshima, are not simply Japanese citizens like any others with all the same obligations to the Nation, but that they are colonized, occupied people, and deserve a little more consideration.

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“Nuclear Power, the Energy of a Bright Future,” a sign in Futaba, Fukushima prefecture, within the exclusion zone. Image from the Asahi Shimbun.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Japan, a town in the Fukushima exclusion zone is taking down signs promising “nuclear power, the energy of a bright future.” And the signmaker is not happy. He argues that taking the signs down “could be perceived as an attempt to “cover up” the shameful past,” whereas leaving them up is a reminder of the arrogance and mistakes of the past.

Robert Jacobs, professor at Hiroshima City University, has an article in the Asia-Pacific Journal this month on a closely related topic: “Forgetting Fukushima.”

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Ainu traditional robes on display at the East-West Center Gallery in Honolulu, Feb 2013. Photo my own.

The Japan Times reports that a new book on Ainu history has won a prestigious award. Prof. Segawa Takurô’s new book “Ainu Gaku Nyûmon” (“Introduction to the Study of the Ainu”) challenges long-held stereotypical views about indigenous peoples, that they were quite politically and culturally isolated in their villages, not engaging with the outside world. To the contrary, Segawa emphasizes that the Ainu – the indigenous people of northern Japan – were historically (going back quite a few centuries) quite actively engaged in (political) contact, trade, and cultural exchange with a considerable number of other cultures – Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Russian, and numerous various indigenous peoples – across a large geographical area.

For those of us with a certain extent of formal background in Japanese Studies, and especially those of us who have studied indigenous issues in general or Ainu Studies in particular, this is not exactly new. Still, from what little the Japan Times article is saying, Segawa seems to be suggesting an even greater degree of interaction than I’d have thought. And, more importantly, he is introducing this to a popular Japanese audience, and hopefully contributing to an eventual sea change in how people see the Ainu – as possessing a great history, never so isolated, and today as fully modern people, their culture and traditions no more “backward” than Japanese traditions or those of any other culture.

For this book, Segawa won grand prize at the third Ancient History and Culture Awards 古代歴史文化賞, and also received an invitation to speak before the Ainu Association of Hokkaido 北海道アイヌ協会 (the most major Ainu Association there is), alleviating his concerns about how the Ainu community might receive his arguments.


Grey Area (Brown Version) by Fred Wilson, 1993. Not actually a direct replica of the Berlin Nefertiti, but obviously based upon it. Seen at the Brooklyn Museum. Photo my own.

Finally, one more thing that doesn’t have to do specifically or exclusively with Japan. As the New York Times reports,

Two German artists walked into the Neues Museum in central Berlin in October and used a mobile device to secretly scan the 19-inch-tall bust of Queen Nefertiti, a limestone-and-stucco sculpture more than 3,000 years old that is one of Germany’s most visited attractions. … Then last December, in the tradition of Internet activism, they released the data to the world, allowing anyone to download the information for free and create their own copies with 3-D printers.

Now, there’s a whole side to this that has to do with whether or not the Nefertiti was “stolen,” whether it should be returned to Egypt, and so forth. And I’m not going to comment on that today.

But, here’s the thing – regardless of whether the bust legally belongs to Germany, or to Egypt, either way, it really belongs to the world. That’s what museums are for, to conserve and share art and artifacts for the benefit of the whole world. Yes, there is plenty to be said (books and books of Museum Studies commentary) about museums for constructing a sense of national identity, and so forth, and that’s something too. But, no one living made or painted this bust. According to the underlying values and spirit of copyright law (in the US, at least, but I imagine to a large extent internationally as well), copyright expires and things fall into the public domain. How much more so things made thousands of years ago. In short, my point is, the museum may own the object, but do they really – morally, ethically – own the rights to the image? So, if you forbid museum visitors to take photos of one of your most famous and iconic objects, is it really your right to do so? Sure, I guess any institution can make whatever rules they want within their own building, and if you don’t like it you can leave. But is it right? Mike Weinberg discusses the basic details of this in a post on the 3D printing blog Shapeways.

If you read my blog regularly, you’ll know this is one of my main pet peeves, one of my main sticking points. I’ve talked about it before, and I’ll talk about it again. Today’s post isn’t a particularly coordinated logical argument, and I’m okay with that. For now, in short, let me just say that, the “stolen artifact” “Egyptian repatriation” issue aside, I think “stealing” into the museum and taking totally non-invasive photos or scans of one of the most iconic pieces in the world, and sharing it with the Internet, is a great victory for art, culture, heritage, world community. These things belong to the world, and the museum is merely its steward – it is your job as a museum to share these things, to make them available to the public, to learn from, to be inspired by. If you are being stingy and protectionist about these things, that’s just wrong. And all the more so in our current internet age – the Nefertiti and its scan being 3D objects makes it a bit different, but when it comes to 2D images, I think we are in desperate need of new laws and understandings, both within our various countries and worldwide, as to whether sharing images online counts as “publishing” (and thus subject to the same stringent permission requirements) and what should be the bounds of the rights of museums, libraries, archives, which own the objects but not the copyrights, to tell us what we can and cannot do with those images (and the rights of such institutions to block us from access to the objects, and/or from taking photos to begin with).

EDIT: Blogsite ArsTechnica is now reporting that the scan was likely not, in fact, covertly done in the gallery but rather is likely an official scan commissioned by the museum and then “stolen” in some fashion by the two German artists – either through direct hacking of the museum’s systems in some fashion, or through having someone at the museum, or the contracted-out scanning company, give them the information.
This certainly changes the character of the situation a shade. I’m not sure whether it actually changes the copyright situation – in the US, the question of whether a highly accurate photographic record of something truly introduces “creativity” and thus qualifies as a new copyright (owned by the photographer) has some degree of legal precedent. I have no idea the case in German or EU law.

But, perhaps what’s most pertinent is conveyed in this quote from the ArsTechnica article, from Cosmo Wenman, an artist who has done his own covert scans of museum objects:

I know from first-hand experience that people want this data, and want to put it to use, and as I explained to LACMA in 2014, they will get it, one way or another. When museums refuse to provide it, the public is left in the dark and is open to having bogus or uncertain data foisted upon it.

Museums should not be repositories of secret knowledge, but unfortunately, as I’ve noted elsewhere, Neues is not alone in keeping their scan data to themselves. There are many influential museums, universities, and private collections that have extremely high quality 3D data of important works, but they are not sharing that data with the public.

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Meanwhile, elsewhere in the realms of I’d better post about this soon while it’s still relatively timely, on Nov 16, Okinawa elected a new governor, Onaga Takeshi, who promises to be more unequivocally and steadfastly anti-base than his predecessor, Nakaima Hirokazu.

And my sanshin teacher from Hawaii (Norman Kaneshiro, in the red) was at the victory party!

Thanks so much to Joseph Kamiya of PaperShop Projects for providing this video! (incidentally, Kamiya has a name-your-price digital album of Okinawa-infused remixes which is pretty excellent. Take a moment and check it out.)

That construction at Henoko – run by the central-government, and outside the direct control of the Okinawa prefectural government – continues despite the opposition of as much as 80% of Okinawa’s population, is often represented by Okinawans and their supporters as a failure of democracy. And I would agree. Okinawans have all the same full rights and freedoms as any Japanese citizens, and they get their proportional portion of votes in the national legislature. But, time and again, they are outvoted, overrode, by Tokyo’s decisions. Which would be fine, and fair, when it comes to national matters. But when it pertains to their own home, their own land…

A Washington Post article on the election begins:

The man likely to become the next governor of Okinawa insists he’s not anti-American. He’s not even anti-alliance. In fact, he declares, he loves the United States.

But what he really loves, most of all: democracy.

“It’s good to be democratic,” Takeshi Onaga said in an interview at one of his campaign offices in central Naha, the capital of this sub­tropical island chain south of the Japanese mainland. “How can we criticize countries like China if we don’t respect democracy here in Japan?”

Onaga is further quoted in the New York Times as saying, very much along these lines, that “The new military base will not be built. … I will convey the will of the Okinawan people to the governments of Japan and the United States.” I am encouraged to read, too, that Onaga plans to open a Washington office, where Okinawan representatives can meet with American officials, and maybe, hopefully, get their voice heard a bit more loudly.

A banner hung on the fence at Futenma Air Base, reading “Revoke the stationing of Ospreys. Close the dangerous Futenma.” Photo my own, August 2013.

Maybe I’m just living in an echo chamber, but after reading anti-base blog posts, news articles, and so forth nearly every day, I found it very interesting to see The Economist’s take on the election. Published on Nov 15, the day before the election, the article calls Onaga “the most dangerous … of the three candidates opposing Mr Nakaima,” and speaks chiefly from a very geopolitical point of view, with a focus on the difficulties this will present for the US-Japan alliance. I do appreciate the turn of phrase at the very end of the article, that “many [Okinawans] feel their country has always thrown them off a cliff; American bases, rather than being a cornerstone of their defence, seem another reason why, one day, they might be attacked again.” But, overall, there is the sense here that the Okinawans are the obstacle for the US and Japanese governments, and not the other way around. Not that there’s anything wrong with offering different perspectives. A multitude of perspectives is, of course, ideal. But, I wonder to what extent other mainstream media sources – if they’re covering it at all – present this geopolitical strategic point of view, with only the briefest acknowledgements of any kind of sympathy for Okinawan perspectives.

That a Deutsche Welle article is titled “Japan’s new Okinawa governor could delay US’ Pacific pivot” shows their point of view. The more I learn of this “Asia-Pacific pivot,” the less I like it. Call me just plain ignorant if you’d like, I fully admit I don’t follow political news as closely as some, but when I was at the East-West Center in Hawaii, maybe it was just because of the environment I was in, but when I heard about the Asia-Pacific pivot, I genuinely thought this meant a “pivot” towards listening more to Asia-Pacific voices, and caring more about Asia-Pacific interests. Seems that’s not the case. The Economist article mentioned above describes it as “tilting American strategic weight towards Asia.” Not exactly what I had in mind.

The Guardian’s reporting takes a very similar position, in an article with the sub-title “Takeshi Onaga’s victory poses headache for Japan’s PM and for Washington, which is pushing for construction of new base.” It’s all in tiny twists of the wording. We are told “almost two decades on, local opposition to the move and political indecision in Tokyo means not a single marine or piece of military hardware has been moved,” implying that it’s the Okinawans’ fault that everything has been so delayed, when in truth I get the impression that these activists have never been pushing for anything to be delayed, but in fact, for the removal of the bases to be sped up as much as possible. It is Tokyo, and Washington, who have delayed dismantling Futenma until the controversial base at Henoko is ready, instead of listening to the Okinawan people, abandoning the Henoko project, and dismantling Futenma at the same time. In short, don’t blame the Okinawans for this, and don’t put Tokyo’s and Washington’s “headaches” as the key point in the story.

The Diplomat similarly reports “Local elections in Okinawa deal another blow to the prime minister’s agenda.”

Only in Forbes, of all places, do we find an article more clearly leaning in Okinawa’s favor. Entitled “U.S. Filled Okinawa With Bases And Japan Kept Them There: Okinawans Again Say No,” Doug Bandow’s Forbes article opens with:

The U.S. is over-burdened militarily and effectively bankrupt financially, but Washington is determined to preserve every base and deployment, no matter how archaic. Such as the many military facilities in Okinawa, which risks sinking under the plethora of American installations, runways, materiel, and personnel. No wonder the Okinawan people again voted against being conscripted as one of Washington’s most important military hubs.

The Honolulu Star-Advertiser, the one major paper in the US of which I’m aware that I expected to have a more sympathetic take, as far as I can tell, has not reported on the election at all.

Above: The gates to Camp Kinser, just one of more than a dozen US military bases on the island, taking up roughly one-fifth of all land on the island, and denying Okinawans access to all this area behind the fences.

Below: The cliffs at Mabuni, where many Okinawans killed themselves in 1945, pushed by their own Japanese Army until they had nowhere else to go. Sacrifice for the sake of the nation was the mantra then, and so it remains today, for Okinawa. Both photos my own, Sept 2014.

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*The Japan News reports today that “Okinawa Governor Nakaima is ‘set’ to approve Henoko plan.” What this means is that the controversial Futenma Air Base in Ginowan will be closed (eventually; by 2022 or so), and that a new airfield will be built at Henoko, an eastern-facing point a bit further north on the island. This runs counter, I think, to popular expectation, and to what Nakaima has repeatedly stated his position to be – the most popular opinion, I believe, amongst Okinawan citizens, is that the base should be closed entirely, or relocated outside of Okinawa prefecture, not simply relocated on the island. Many have opposed the Henoko plan, too, because of the damage the new base will cause to dugong habitats. Whether this is merely a convenient excuse, or whether people are truly, genuinely, passionate about the dugongs, is unclear; in truth, it’s probably a combination of the two.

Right: Flyers posted by students at the University of the Ryukyus, explicitly opposing new base construction at Henoko. August 2013.
Now, I don’t follow politics that closely, so I don’t know that much about attitudes towards Nakaima – whether people expected this, or whether this comes as a shock, or what. I appreciate that I’m in the dark largely because I simply choose not to take the time to read more about all of this; even so, I’m sure there are elements of the negotiations that are simply not publicly known. What precisely was said in meetings or discussions between Nakaima and Tokyo? What options were presented and considered, and why did Nakaima made the decision he did, in the end? What does he, or Okinawa, gain by doing this, and what more might they have lost if they hadn’t? Is Nakaima doing this in the best interests of the Okinawan people, or is he selling them out for his own political benefit (somehow)? What exactly does it mean to say there’s “pressure” from Tokyo? How precisely is this pressure imposed?

Whatever the story is, for what it’s worth coming from a non-expert such as myself, I’m not surprised. I love to think that the Okinawan politicians are truly standing up for the Okinawan people, and for what those people want, against pressures from Tokyo, in a romantic, gloriously rebellious “standing up for your rights” and “standing up to bullies” sort of way. But, at the end of the day, politicians are politicians, and in Japan as in the US, to hope for proper big changes is to hope for too much. It doesn’t matter what the people want – if there’s one thing we can rely on our politicians to do, it is to give in to corporate, military, and party interests, to compromise, and to betray their constituents. Will Okinawa ever be free of US military bases? Is that too much to hope for? On the plus side, if there is a plus side to any of this nonsense, it’s that the deeply unpopular new base at Henoko is not actually an entirely new base, but merely a small expansion to a base that already exists – Camp Schwab. How this never came up in previous articles I came across, I don’t know, but it seems pretty clear from the map in the Japan News article.

Futenma Air Base, immediately adjacent to civilian buildings in Ginowan City; as seen from Kakazu Park, August 2013.

Map from The Japan Times. All photos my own.

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Video by YouTube user <dandomina, linked from the POST article discussed below.

POST, a blog / podcast series associated with MoMA, recently featured a podcast by Prof. David Novak, professor in the Music department here at UCSB, in which he talks about recent anti-nuclear protests in Japan. As an ethnomusicologist, Novak focuses on the music employed at the protest events, and in association with the sentiment of the movement, an approach I think is quite interesting and refreshing – to focus on a live event, a contemporary, current, ongoing set of protest marches and demonstrations, but to focus on the music performed or played at those demonstrations, which may not be by big-name artists and may not even be formally published at all.

In the aftermath of the 3/11 disasters, all of Japan’s nuclear reactors were shut down. I believe only one or two are active today. As the only country to have ever been attacked with nuclear weapons, Japan of course has a unique relationship with nuclear energy. And so, perhaps it comes as no surprise that as the Fukushima crisis continues, with no end in sight, people would turn against nuclear power, seeing it as too dangerous, too risky, especially in a country that is the site of a significant proportion of all earthquake activity in the world each year. That said, though, despite Japan’s reputation for cutting-edge technology and environmentalism, since the shutdown of the nuclear plants, Japan has been getting 85% of its energy from fossil fuels – and not from clean, renewable, “green” sources of energy. So, I’m not sure the solution, the answer, is so clear-cut. In the meantime, though, how has Japan managed to get through this past summer, A/C units blaring, with all but one or two nuclear plants shut down, and yet without blackouts or energy supply problems? CNN Money / Fortune magazine suggests it was simply by cutting back – more efficient use of electricity, and more efficient equipment (lightbulbs being just a start), has made a profound impact.

Regardless of where one stands on the energy issue, or how one feels about the ongoing situation at Fukushima and how it has been handled, Novak points out another very remarkable aspect of all of this: that Japan is today seeing larger, more widespread, and more active protests than it has in some time. I really don’t know very much about it, but, stereotypically, we generally associate the Japanese with not standing up or speaking out individually against the status quo, or against societal consensus. “The nail that sticks up gets hammered down” is said so often in association with Japan it’s cliché; but I think there’s some truth to it – there are the famous examples of Minamata disease, along with several other cases of industrial pollution, in which individuals were ashamed to speak out about their own personal, individual, suffering, and were indeed strongly pressured to not say anything against the companies, government policies, and legal decisions that were polluting their water and destroying their lives, placing emphasis instead on the prosperity and growth of the nation, and personal sacrifice for the benefit of the greater whole. The most famous, and likely largest, most extensive, set of protests in post-war Japan was in the 1960s, when student protests combined with protests against the Vietnam War, and against the renewal of ANPO, the Treaty of Mutual Cooperation and Security between the United States and Japan. The campuses of a number of universities, including the University of Tokyo, were taken over by the students, as campuses were here in the US, and it was a really big deal. But have we seen such a thing since then? And is what we’re seeing today truly that much bigger than anything else since? Do the protests we’re seeing today represent a true shift in the political involvement of the Japanese public (especially young people)? If so, it’s remarkable.

Image from JapanCrush.com.

But it’s not only the anti-nuclear movement which is seeing strong activity these days. Protests against hate speech have been growing as well in recent months, along with the anti-foreigner / anti-immigration that spurred them.

This recent Japan Today article is quite brief, but describes a “rally” 2000 strong, held in Shinjuku (in Tokyo) last week, protesting against racism and hate. A large protest was also held in Osaka, back in July. Though opposed by worryingly bold and explicit anti-foreigner protests, with messages such as “all foreigners are criminals,” it is heartening, encouraging, to see that thousands of Japanese are turning out with messages like “You are the shame of this country!” and “You’re the ones who need to go home!” This, after a controversy surrounding an ESL teacher trying to teach his students about racism in Japan involved discussions that, supposedly, in Japan, it is widely believed that racism is chiefly or exclusively an American problem, and that racism doesn’t exist in Japan. It would be patronizing to suggest that this is truly the first time that anyone in Japan has really come to understand what racism and hate speech are, and that they exist in Japan – but, it’s encouraging to see that the idea seems to be spreading, and gaining traction. Only time will tell where this leads, how it develops.

Photo my own, taken Aug 6, 2013, near the gates to Futenma.

Meanwhile, Okinawa of course continues to be a separate story unto itself. The ANPO demonstrations are surely the most famous protests in the history of post-war Japan as it was taught to me, as a student, educated in the United States and United Kingdom. That education included almost nothing at all about Okinawa. So, where does the Koza Riot fit into this narrative of the history of protest in modern Japan? Where do the ongoing protests against the US military presence in Okinawa – and against the current base at Futenma, the proposed base at Henoko, and the Ospreys in particular – fit?

I don’t follow the Japanese news all that closely on a day-to-day basis, but a recent article in the Number 1 Shimbun (“Number One Newspaper”, published by the Foreign Correspondents’ Club of Japan), suggests that “What happens in Okinawa… [stays in Okinawa].” Or, to put it more explicitly, as Jon Mitchell does in this article, “the mainland press … consistently turns a blind eye to the iniquities suffered by residents of Japan’s poorest and most militarized prefecture.” He opens the article with the surprising information that in September 2012, protesters blocked the gates to the Marines’ air base at Futenma, preventing anyone from going in or out, and successfully closing the base – for the first and only time since the end of the US Occupation in 1972 – for a full 22 hours. And yet, few heard about it. Why is that?

It can be easy to ascribe the lack of attention to Okinawa’s situation to an imperialist agenda or colonialist bias (if we wish to use such strong terms), and/or to pressure from Washington, or the like, in broad terms. But Mitchell clarifies for us here, spelling out a series of reasons or factors, in a somewhat more detailed and specific fashion.

I link to many articles on this blog, but, and I hope I say this rarely enough for it to carry some weight – this is a particularly good one. I definitely recommend reading the entirety of Mitchell’s short article. I’ll certainly be keeping it, to potentially assign as readings for students if I ever get to teach Okinawan history, and for whatever other purposes.

He notes, firstly, that mainland Japanese reporters typically rely too heavily on press releases and other information from government sources (including the Japan Self-Defense Forces), and that mainland Japanese reporters tend to be well “handled” by American officials. Mitchell also describes how Okinawan reporters – or their direct mentors – made their careers handling these subjects during the pre-reversion period, at a time when Japan and Okinawa were much more distant and disconnected, in terms of their political status, travel access, etc. This is not simply to say that Okinawan reporters are “closer” to the issue, more familiar with it, plainly by being Okinawan, or even that it is more personal for them because their Okinawan, but rather that it’s a step beyond that, to say that by virtue of their direct experience handling this particular issue, Okinawan reporters are more experienced at asking harsh, biting questions, at pushing past barricades, and in otherwise interacting with or dealing with the US military and with this specific set of circumstances. This is, of course, a compelling argument, and I don’t doubt that it enters into it to some extent, but, given that it has now been more than 40 years since reversion, I’m not sure we should quite let the mainland reporters off the hook so easily. Mainland reporters today specializing in security issues, or reporters working the Okinawa desk for a national, Tokyo- or Osaka-based newspaper, have also been specializing in these issues for years; how is it they have not developed the same skills, experience, or approach?

Posters posted by students at the University of the Ryukyus (Ryûdai), one of the more politically active/activist student bodies in Japan. The one on the right reads, roughly, “Opposing the Abenomics which worsens the great poverty of students and workers! Tear down the Abe administration!” The one on the left reads, roughly, “Let’s stop the revision* of the Constitution! STOP! Opposing Osprey deployment and Henoko military base construction!” (*The normal word for ‘revision’, 改良, means roughly “to make better,” but here they’ve written 改悪, “to make worse.”)

Perhaps they see Okinawan issues more as regional issues… Of course, in my mind, I see them as major issues, and lump them in with Fukushima and other things that are prominent issues in Japan. But, I guess, when one steps back a moment and thinks about it, do any major national papers in the US give very much attention to Hawaii, at all? The big news in Hawaii right now is a spill, or more accurately, a leak, of 233,000 gallons of molasses into Honolulu harbor on Sept 9, which many fear could devastate the local ecosystem to such an extent it might take decades to recover. For Hawaii, this is a really big deal; and, as something which is occurring within the United States, one would think it might merit national attention. Yet, while I haven’t exactly scoured any genuinely representative sample of national news sources, the New York Times, at least, seems to have devoted no more than a paragraph to the incident. So, I’m sure the feeling of Okinawa as being only of regional concern plays a large role; but, then, are Fukushima, or the recovery in Tôhoku, merely of regional concern?

Mitchell ends his article by citing the example of Nishiyama Takichi, whose reputation was destroyed by “the powers-that-be” after he reported on payments made by the Japanese government to the US in connection to the reversion of Okinawa to Japanese control. It would seem that shame for stepping out of line, fear of being the nail that will be hammered down, and pressure to not rock the boat, i.e. to not challenge the mainstream consensus, is still quite a strong force in Japan after all.

It remains to be seen how these three sets of issues, these three categories of protests, will develop. Perhaps they’ll grow. Perhaps some kind of actual societal shift or policy change will be effected. Only time will tell.

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8/5 (Mon) – Day three in Okinawa. Yet another wonderful adventure.

The view of Ôgimi Village from a tiny shrine I discovered at the top of a serious set of stairs, in a random corner of the village.

After spending the last two days on my own, today was the first of a few days tagging along with a pack of professors on a (slightly) more pre-planned, organized schedule. The main event of the day today was a drive up to Ôgimi-son (Ôgimi Village), in the somewhat more mountainous, remote/rural, northern part of the island known as Yanbaru 山原. Because of its somewhat more remote location, Ôgimi was spared much of the damage & destruction of 1945, and so, I am told, more pre-war documents survived. Whether they still survive today, I was a little unclear, since in the end, the professors ended up spending the day poring over piles of records from the 1940s-50s.

This was my first time going anywhere in Okinawa outside of Naha (I’m not counting my jaunt into Haebaru to go to the Archives on Saturday, since pretty much all I saw of anything there was the Archives themselves, and a brief stretch of highway with the Archives, a Lawson’s convenience store, and a public bus depot/terminus). So, I was pretty excited. Not that we got to really walk around and see anything much of Ginowan, Nago, Okinawa, Urasoe, or anywhere else, but, even so, just passing through them, and seeing the placenames on the signs, and getting some sense, in the process, of the geography and the look, the feel of the various areas, better than I had before… Not to mention, the beautiful views of the ocean.


Above: The view of the beach from near the archives building; the torii here is not, strictly speaking, for a Shinto shrine, but for a monument to those from Ôgimi lost in the wars of the 19th-20th centuries.

Below: The streets of Ôgimi-son.

This was also one of the most rural (inaka) places I’ve been in Japan – moreso than Sakura, by a longshot – and while Okinawa is most certainly a different atmosphere/feel than anywhere else in Japan, and, going back to my post from a few weeks ago, I will refrain from inferring any sort of generalizations about what rural Japan, or rural Okinawa, or “the real” Okinawa, is like… especially since, even in this small village, we saw two very different sides of it. First, arriving in the village, we simply drove up on the highway, with the ocean on one side, and the middle school, and then a soba shop, and then a tiny little road leading over to the town hall, making it seem, for the moment, like perhaps that was how most/all of the town was organized – somewhat scattered, and around the highway, i.e. along the beach, with very little walkable “community” sort of space. Later in the day, however, we drove around a little bit, going deep into residential neighborhoods, and I saw an Ôgimi that is spread out over a large geographical area, but that within that area, has at least some pockets (maybe many, I guess) of narrow, quiet, very local-feeling residential streets, lined with stone walls and banana plants, and filled with red-ceramic roof-tiled homes. It’s not quite Taketomi, but it definitely gives the impression of Okinawa – an Okinawa, one of the stereotypical images of Okinawa, though of course a place like Kokusai-dôri, with its touristy shops, bars, (some) neon lights, and live houses, is also a standard image of Okinawa.

The former village hall of Ôgimi, which today serves as a local archives, while a new building behind it has taken over the governmental/administrative functions. I am disappointed to discover that I have failed to take any good pictures of the inside of the office/archives room that would properly convey the size of the room, and its atmosphere/appearance. But, maybe you can kind of get some impression from these two images.

Returning to talking about the village archives, our chief destination for the day, where we’d come to look at documents, it’s housed in the former town hall, which is apparently the oldest still-standing reinforced concrete building in Okinawa Prefecture. Reinforced concrete, mind you, so not “traditional architecture,” and not all that old, but even so it was very much something to see. Completed in 1925, it looks and feels it. A particular style, a particular feel, that reminds one of the Taishô period (1912-1916). If it helps you imagine the period we’re talking about, think of the earliest movie theaters, jazz bars, flapper girls. Not that any of that was going on in Ôgimi-son, so far as I know, but, it’s that period…


The inside, on the ground floor, is just one large space, with bookshelves, looking quite quaint and cute, just like one might expect from a very small, very local village archives – but, actually, for researching those specific things, e.g. village history, Okinawa history, the bookshelves were actually quite well-stocked, a hell of a lot better (for certain topics) than you’d find in even, for example, the Univ. of Hawaii Library, let alone a place like UCSB that isn’t really all that strong in East Asian Studies at all (let alone Okinawan Studies). And, then, there’s the office, the one room with climate control, and I have to admit, in certain ways, it really looked/felt just like what I might have (but didn’t quite) imagined. A small room, with a single large table and piles of documents hand-written or carbon copied on browning paper; a minimum of office set-up or equipment; a light, airy, sunny atmosphere as created by a combination of the many windows, and the white concrete construction; and two very kind staff members, presumably volunteers, with (my apologies to say it, but I’m going to say it) wonderful accents, who were very gracious, and generous, and helpful, and maybe just a little, what’s the word, well, not at all used to entertaining professors from Tokyo, and from the National History Museum. The village mayor even came out to see what was up.

I feel bad for Orientalizing or romanticizing or whatever about the experience, and about how quaint the village is, or how it matched or didn’t match my romantic expectations. But, it really did, and that I cannot help but be aware of, and want to say something about.

In any case, we had lunch at a rest stop (michi no eki, 道の駅) on the side of the highway, where I enjoyed some very tasty yakisoba, Okinawan style, and shikuwasa soft serve. Apparently Ôgimi is particularly famous for its shikuwasa, which is a small green citrus fruit similar to but apparently completely separate and different from the sudachi and from the standard lime. Mmm, shikuwasa.

After finishing with the documents (I found some books on the shelves which I took note of, or photocopied relevant bits out of – the day still managed to be useful for my own research), we all piled into the cars – what a sight we must have been, ten or twelve researchers from the ‘mainland’ showing up in three cars, and then all leaving all at once a few hours later – and drove around the village a little bit, checking out some very local shops and community centers and such, and just generally getting a feeling for the village. I learned that kyôdôten 共同店, which we might translate as “co-op,” are quite common in Okinawa, though they operate somewhat differently from the coops we’re used to in some of the more student-heavy or hippie-dominated areas of the US. At the Isla Vista Coop, for example, people can choose to become ‘members,’ or, essentially, part-owners, and I don’t know all the ins and outs of how it works, but you get some kind of rights or powers in “owning” or controlling how the place is operated, or something, and you get discounts and deals whenever you shop there. The purpose of such coops, as I understand them, is to fight “the man” in some way, and to support local farmers and provide access to organic products. Something like that. At Okinawa’s kyôdôten, meanwhile, everyone in the immediate vicinity pays in, and helps support this non-profit local store, in order to help allow there to be a store at all in such a community which would otherwise be too small and too remote for any private business owner to hope to make enough of a profit for it to be worthwhile to open a shop there.

The next stop before returning to Naha was to go to Ginowan, and to attempt to get a peek at the Futenma Marines Air Base, which we did from the top of a hill in the public park at Kakazu 嘉数 – apparently itself the site of particularly fierce or particularly famous fighting during the Battle of Okinawa. Okinawa TV was stationed up there as well, today, with their satellite uplinks and large TV cameras, and I was surprised at just how starkly and easily one could see the airstrips, inside the US military base, from this Japanese (Okinawan, read: public, civilian) park. But, I’m not sure there was much to see.

I was kind of hoping to get a glimpse of one of the Ospreys – this, I think, was the main goal for the sensei as well – two of which were moved onto the base this past Saturday (Aug 3), and ten more of which were believed to be scheduled to be brought to the base today (Aug 5). Normally I don’t follow these things so closely – in terms of day-to-day developments – but, while I could hypothetically be keeping up with it all on the Internet if I so chose, being here and seeing it in the actual physical newspapers, feels quite different.

The Osprey is a model of vertical take-off and landing (VTOL) military aircraft that has become a sort of tool or stepping point for those who oppose the military bases in Okinawa – it gives them something specific to point to, something specific to focus their rage at. This is a subject about which I am most certainly not an expert, but the general impression I get is this: The Ospreys have got a less than wonderful flight record, in other words, in terms of successfully flying without crashing, and this makes them a great target of ire and opposition, in order to highlight and draw attention to the more general problems of the Futenma base, which people have been opposing for years and years. The helicopter crashes into civilian buildings; the noise and general disruption; and the fact that, in violation of the US military’s own policies, the base is built right in the middle of a heavily populated residential/commercial municipality, whereas in the US (as I understand it), bases are mandated to be located a certain distance from any civilian homes or shops (or something roughly to that effect).

Case in point, a US military helicopter crashed just this same day, today (8/5), at Camp Hansen, one of the numerous other US bases on this tiny island. No civilians were hurt, nor their property affected, I don’t think, as I’m pretty sure the crash happened within the base. But, some of the professors were suggesting, with this in the news, the Marines would probably reschedule any kind of appearances or uses of the Ospreys, and try to keep a slightly lower profile for the rest of the day. A bit unfortunate, for me, I think, just since I was hoping to see them, and maybe even get some photos to share on Facebook or Twitter or whatever. But, I did manage to at least get some photos, blurry though they may be, of protesters just outside the base. A very different, but also very prominent, side or aspect of Okinawa from the 16th-19th century history I normally chiefly focus on. … And, to my mind, all the more reason that the bases need to go. Okinawa deserves, just like any other place deserves, to be defined by its own culture, its own history, and deserves to have its own path, rather than being defined by military bases, by protests, by accidents & incidents, and by the profound cultural influence or impact of an American military presence. Okinawa should be defined by rafute and shikuwasa and gurukun, not by spam and A&W; it should be defined by kariyushi wear, and not by military logos; it should be defined by eisa and sanshin and Shuri Castle, and not by protests and Futenma. It should be defined as a former island kingdom, not as “The Rock.” It should be defined as a place recovering from, or otherwise dealing with and moving on from, its history as a formerly independent kingdom that was conquered and annexed, as an island that was the site of some of the bloodiest fighting of WWII, with so much of its architecture and everything destroyedOkinawa deserves to be recovering from that, dealing with that, moving forward, being or becoming whatever it is to be in and of itself, rather than to be trapped with this current situation imposed upon it, imposed upon its land, and its people, and their culture and lifestyle, despite their continuing opposition to it.

I don’t consider myself an activist, and I won’t get too much more into it here, but, just in terms of experiencing Okinawa, getting to know Okinawa, getting to know the issues and such, it really would have been great to get to see a bit more today, a bit more of the bases and of the protests. Maybe on my next trip, I’ll manage to meet some protesters, and get a closer look in some fashion.

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