Kurama, Kyoto Pref. –
Embers spark into the night like thousands of fireflies. The aroma of burning pine wafts through the cold air as men clad in not much more than a rope around their loins and shoulder pads carry 80-kilogram burning taimatsu pine wood torches through the streets. Even children are out waving their torches near equal their own height.
It’s the evening of Oct. 22 in the mountain village of Kurama, just north of Kyoto, and the fire carriers and onlookers alike are chanting: “Saireya, sairyō!” — both a boast of the quality of the Kurama Fire Festival and an invitation for the kami (gods) to come and join.
The ancient capital of Kyoto and its surroundings have no shortage of matsuri (festivals), but unlike the formalized Gion and stately Jidai festivals in the city proper, the Kurama Fire Festival retains a spirit of wild Shintoism. The former are worth seeing, but despite the 10,000-strong crowd that descends on Kurama for this festival, it retains a small-town festiveness and passion I just don’t feel in the others.
Kurama is hidden deep in the mountains. The population is about 400 people, with all of the homes sandwiched between a river on one side and a steep mountain with a temple complex on the other. Signs warning of bears dot the hiking trails, and the temperature up here is significantly cooler than Kyoto City.
Some ‘taimatsu’ pine torches at the Kurama Fire Festival can weigh upwards of 100 kilograms.
| SHAWN B. SWINGER
Perhaps it’s the smaller details of the festival that add up to more than the sum of its parts — whole families carrying torches, locals sitting on lawn chairs in their driveways, beers in hand, family samurai armor on display in their living rooms and visible from the street — to make the event feel more authentic and significant.
Shortly before 6 p.m., all the households of Kurama light watchfires in front of their doorsteps. The flames dance inside bowls set up on stands next to the main street of the village, and soon after, children (traditionally, boys and men were allowed to participate, but now girls can join due to the dwindling population) march in procession with their 30-kilogram taimatsu. Their fathers walk behind them, helping the children (the youngest I saw was maybe 4 or 5 years old) lift up the heavy, flaming bundles.
Then the men march down the street with taimatsu of 80 and 100 kg. These need to be carried by several men, who stop to take breaks often. The ends of the torches burn and spread flaming embers in their wake, while most of the torch remains safe from the fire. Eventually, the entire thing burns, so the men keep their eyes on the progress of the fires.
At 8 p.m., everyone gathers in front of Kurama Temple. The gathering of the torches next to one another creates a sea of flame, and until midnight the mikoshi (portable Shinto shrine for the gods) is brought out of the nearby Yuki Shrine and paraded through the village. The men lift the mikoshi up and yell out their chants. Those holding torches respond in kind and jostle with each other to get near the god. With all those flaming bundles, bits of burning wood falling off of them, injury from burns would be a primary concern for most. But in the climax of the festival, celebrants focus on the return of the gods to the shrine more than anything else.
Embers of a festival
Like many of Japan’s famous matsuri, the Kurama Fire Festival was born from tragedy.
The fires of the Kurama Festival are said to be lit in homage of the relocating of some protective goads back in Kyoto’s ancient history.
| SHAWN B. SWINGER
In the year 940, an earthquake struck the capital of Heian-kyo (now Kyoto), and then-Emperor Suzaku wanted to prevent further evils from battering the city. According to the prevailing geomancy wisdom of the time, it was thought that evil spirits and other misfortunes always came from the north, so into the mountains north of Kyoto he went. There, Suzaku transferred the deities collectively known as Yuki-Myojin (two different gods enshrined together) to a shrine in the village of Kurama, where it was believed the pair of kami could protect the imperial capital from their new mountain home.
As the portable shrine was being transferred from Kyoto to Kurama, the local villagers were said to have lit torches along the road of the procession in celebration. Now, more than 1,000 years later, the practice carries on.
Beyond the Fire Festival, Mount Kurama remains a peculiar abode of Japanese spirituality. Kami reside here, yes, but so, too, do the red-faced, long-nosed beings known as tengu.
These supernatural creatures are said to live deep in the mountains and forests of Japan. Traditionally, they are seen as evil, or at the very least not friendly to humans — as innate masters of martial arts and sorcery, tengu particularly enjoy playing tricks on arrogant Buddhist monks, and some legends say the especially corrupt among their targets are destined to be reborn as tengu in retribution.
Though they often require the help of adults, children shoulder their own smaller version of burning pine torches as part of the festival.
| SHAWN B. SWINGER
If you take the train to Kurama Station, you’ll be greeted by the giant bust of a red-faced tengu immediately upon entering the village — a nod to Sojobo, the tengu king said to live on Mount Kurama. Sojobo is credited with teaching Minamoto no Yoshitsune (one of Japan’s most famous samurai) the arts of sword fighting and magic while he lived in Kurama as a boy.
Into the fire
Journeying out to Kurama is easy and straightforward 364 days in the year. But on the night of the Fire Festival, things get difficult.
Most people — and nearly all tourists — will take the train from Kyoto proper to the festival. The only train line that goes to Kurama is the Eizan Railway, which only has two cars. The train becomes so packed that wait times extend into hours. I drove to Kibune, a small town only one train stop away from Kurama, and even then, I waited 40 minutes as packed trains passed me by before I gave up and walked.
Aside from the many portable fires, the traditional garb and community spirit of the Kurama Fire Festival makes for a unique experience.
| SHAWN B. SWINGER
In recent years, however, if too many people take the line, the station will stop selling tickets allowing people to head out.
Once you’ve arrived in Kurama, prefectural police will be on hand to usher you along a set path that runs down the main road of the village. You can’t turn around and head back once you’re on the path, and neither should you stray in the middle of the street where the torch-bearers parade. Despite the crowd control, many foreign tourists disregarded police instructions (the officers even tried to speak English), which calls into question what stricter crowd control methods might be implemented in the years to come.
AloJapan.com