When the early autumn wind begins to blow, the Gion Festival of Iseguu Shrine begins in Isemachi, Nakanojo.
Floats move through the streets. Yagibushi music fills the air, and the shopping street becomes warm and lively. Local people play music and dance, and they receive many warm rounds of applause.
But behind the bright festival, there are also many quiet jobs. Someone has to prepare everything carefully, guide traffic, and support the festival behind the scenes.
When the festival finally came back after the difficult days of COVID-19, I served as a festival organizer for two years and as a representative of the Local Shrine Community for another two years.
Working behind the scenes with people from the community, I came to understand something for the first time.
Supporting the festival means supporting the community itself.
I had lived in this area for many years, but somehow I still felt a little like an outsider.
But then, something began to change.
More than twenty years of working with the soil, together with four years of working behind the scenes at the festival, slowly connected me to this place.
Before I knew it, I had put down deep roots here.
On the day of the festival, I walk through the town and meet people I know. People seem closer than usual.
There are people. There are smiles. Music is in the air.
And I am also part of that circle.
“We live in the same community, so we support each other.”
The festival has the power to build this kind of relationship.
And I believe that relationship can become a great strength when difficult times come.
Every year, each role is passed on to someone new.
Even in the short words spoken when a job is handed over, new connections are made.
From person to person.
From one generation to the next.
The festival quietly passes the life of the community from one generation to another.
And sometimes, in that moment, you feel:
“Yes. This is where I belong.”
Putting down roots in a community is not something special.
We work. We live. We meet people. Sometimes, we work hard for someone else.
These small things, repeated day after day, slowly grow into strong roots.
Protecting and growing our local communities also helps support our country in the end.
Rather than simply complaining about the “lost thirty years,” I want to start taking back what we have lost, little by little, from where we stand.
Working in the fields, turning the soil and sweating under the sun.
Working behind the scenes at a local festival.
These are also small but important steps.
Long live local life.
Festivals are still a wonderful thing.