Tag Archives: samurai

A Bear Called Kumamon

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Kumamoto Prefecture is famous for mascots, and not just any mascot, the most famous mascot in all of Japan, Kumamon. In 2010, in a bid to help promote tourism in this region, Kumamon was created. His name literally means ‘Person from Kumamoto’ in the local dialect, and ‘Bear Person’ in Japanese characters. Despite Kumamon being a wide-eyed red-cheeked bear and not a person, the official website states that he is neither, and is in fact just a Kumamon.

Unsurprisingly, there are countless Kumamon within the train station, even a Family Mart doubles up as a souvenir shop selling official Kumamon goods, it’s a bit much.

Exiting Kumamoto Station, I instantly notice the cold. It feels as though I’ve entered a different climate. I start by taking a walk along the Shirakawa River, before returning to the city streets, heading in the direction of Kumamoto Castle. What strikes me as I wander is the complete lack of convenience stores in this area, I’ve been walking for about thirty minutes and I’m yet to see even one.

Eventually I do find a Seven Eleven, and as I enter the shop the heat hits me. It is so hot, the cold outside temperature contrasted to extremity. I’ve found this in Japan, in the summer the convivence stores are remarkably cold, with air conditioning turned down to a freezing blast. One cold day and they’ll switch to heating at full blast. Leaving Seven Eleven, I continue my walk, before spotting a giant statue of Kato Kiyomasa.

Kiyomasa was a fierce warrior, designer of castles, and was a general who led an army of 100,000 samurai into Korea. The sign next to the massive statue says, “He is wearing his trademark beard and a kind of tall black hat. The statue is slightly larger than life size.” I look back up at the Herculean statue. I look down at the tiny person next to the statue. I decide slightly larger is a huge understatement.

During the Japanese invasions of Korea (1592-1598) Kato Kiyomasa’s army were ordered to slice off the noses of those they had killed, pickle them in salt, and send them back to Japan. During the Battle of Hondo, Kiyomasa ordered his men to slice open the bellies of every pregnant Christian woman, and then to cut off their infants’ heads. Kiyomasa, it seems, was slightly barbaric. I decide to go and have a look at the castle he designed.

“Above the stone wall of the minor tower, there were iron spikes called shinobi-gaeshi, which were used to help keep out enemies, with various traps laid out in inconspicuous places. Searching for these is one of many ways to enjoy Kumamoto Castle,” states a sign at the entrance.

Kumamoto Castle was completed in 1607 by Kato Kiyamasa, and boasts its very own virtual reality technology. Here you can enjoy discovering Kumamoto Castle and its history through VR. You can even see the castle using virtual reality. I can see the virtual reality booths from the actual castle.

I leave the castle and head to the nearby Suizenji Jojuen Gardens.

These gardens are on the southeast side of Kumamoto Castle and they are beautiful. There is a large lake in the middle, a small tea house, a Buddhist temple, and even an artificial mountain in the shape of Mount Fuji. I take a time to explore the gardens and their many attractions, lanterns, and monuments. Three old Japanese ladies stop to say hello to me as I stand reading a sign next to a tree.

Nagi, Tree of Matchmaking, regarded as an auspicious plant since ancient times, has two broad leaves that grow symmetrically like a couple at each point of the twig. The custom is for the female to keep the leaf behind her mirror; the strength of the leaf symbolising the strength of the relationship with her partner. The sign says, “A couple keeping a leaf can have a faithful married life without a two-faced relationship.”

Next to the tree is the bronze statue of Moriharu Nagaoka, or at least that’s what’s supposed to be here. It seems that the enormous bronze statue has been stolen and replaced by an old photograph of the statue.

I leave the gardens and begin to walk in the direction of the Kumamoto Prefectural Government Office. I notice the pavements here are in somewhat disarray, and I keep tripping up on loose bricks. Some teenage Japanese guy approaches me and tells me he’s from Ibaraki Prefecture. He asks to take a photograph of me. I think he thinks I am somebody else.

I pass police stations and car parks which are using Kumamon to advertise. I see a woman wearing a shirt that says, “Declare Bouncy Sanction,” whatever that means. I reach the grounds of the government office and wander straight over to where a crowd of people are having their photographs taken next to a statue of Monkey D. Luffy.

Luffy is the main character in One Piece, a pirate anime which first aired in 1999, and at the time of writing, there are 1,043 episodes. The show features Devil Fruits which when eaten give the characters superhuman powers. As I photograph the statue, a child approaches me and asks me how I am, “I’m very well thank you, and you?” is my reply.
“I’m happy good,” says the child.

I leave Luffy and start back in the direction of Kumamoto Station, getting a little lost in the process. My phone tells me that I have walked 40,000 steps today. My phone also tells me that I have just 3% battery remaining. After my phone dies I have no access to any maps, and it does, and I get further lost. Eventually, I do find the train station, and needless to say, I get back home in one piece.

The Time Traveler’s Strife

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Today, I decide to explore the Asakusa area once again. Recently, I engaged in a conversation with friends about Denbou-in Gardens, the secret gardens I visited, hidden in the grounds of Senso-ji Temple. Intrigued to discover more about this area and its hidden gems, I then heard a mention of the interestingly named Drawing Light Temple. Obviously, I wanted to find out more. In the blazing sunshine, I head to Asakusa once again and search for the temple.

It takes me about thirty minutes to wander through the huge complex of temples and shrines that make up the Senso-ji compound before I eventually find a rather obscure-looking tunnel with overhanging plants and nondescript flowers. Oddly, I have never seen this tunnel before, so for the second time in just over a fortnight, I have stumbled upon a new place in Tokyo, a city I have lived in for eight months now. Hidden beyond the foliage, on the other side of the tunnel, sits the impressive Drawing Light Temple.

lightdrawing

Built in 1609, this temple houses the goddess of protection from drawing light images. Fortunately, an English sign serves to remove any confusion and informs me that, “The Goddess in this temple protects against photography, portraits, and reflections.” Ironically, photography is allowed here. As I read the signboards about the history of this place, it becomes instantly apparent that if this temple was built in 1609, as the sign states, then it precedes the very first photograph, making it impossible for the goddess that resides here to know what she would be protecting against. It reminds me of the Flying God Temple, where people go to pray before they fly on an aircraft. The god there existed before aircraft were even invented. Even the story about the origin of Senso-ji, concerning the golden statue of Kannon fished from a lake, is riddled with confusion; the statue is no longer housed in Senso-ji Temple, and has never actually been seen by anyone who can prove it existed in the first place.

The inconsistencies and inaccuracies in religious narratives make me increasingly sceptical. Considering the possibility that religious stories and certain deities might be nothing more than fabrications is a notion I had never entertained before, but it now begins to take shape in my mind. What if it’s all untrue? I ponder this for a moment, and then, quite unexpectedly, I spot a magical cow.

magcow

“Look closely,” says a sign next to the cow. I stare at the cow, not really sure what I am supposed to be seeing. Everything here looks perfectly normal – just a statue of a cow. Below the sign, there is a description in Japanese, which later translates to read, “As a way to protect the stolen soul, in the cow, your image will be hidden from the drawing of light.” I take a photograph of the cow, and oddly, my image isn’t present. Very strange. I take seven more photographs from various angles, yet each time, the scenery behind me is visible, but my own reflection is mysteriously erased.

Why a cow has been chosen to symbolise the absence of reflection is beyond me, but some sort of wizardry is at hand here – a trick of light, perhaps. Continuing my exploration of this hidden temple, I discover that it holds the origin of the story that a photograph can steal your soul. It was said that when this temple was built before photographs were invented, the thought of an image of a person being taken was a direct link to the spiritual world. This history has also spread to the rest of the Senso-ji area, where no mirrors can be seen at any of the temples or shrines. It makes me wonder if the Edo Period in Japan was populated by time travellers, building temples everywhere that predict future inventions.

As I leave the Drawing Light Temple, I continue my exploration of the nearby area and discover another display of inconsistent historical information.

stonelantern

The Stone Lantern of Rokujizo was built in either 1146, 1150, or 1368, and already I find that there are too many contradictions. The sign even states that the details are unknown. Yet, the lantern itself features topography that wasn’t used until 1834. So somehow, the lantern features Japanese text that was first used 688 years, 684 years, or 466 years after it was originally built. My suspicions surrounding the history behind Senso-ji Temple are once again confirmed here.

I continue my tour and find a monument to Kume no Heinai. He was a samurai in the Edo Period and a master of sword fighting. Over the years, he killed many people before eventually turning to a life of virtue. Heinai began to live in Kongo-in Temple, inside Senso-ji Temple, and devoted himself to Zen Buddhism. He held religious services in honour of the souls of the people he killed. One day, he ordered his followers to carve his figure in stone and bury it in a busy district of Asakusa, so that forever, people would step on him—presumably what he thought he deserved after years of killing. Oddly, Heinai was in good health the day the statue was ordered to be built; however, the next day, he died suddenly, as if his fate was already known.

My final stop is the peculiarly named, Bell of Time.

belloftime

This innocent looking bell housed in a wooden structure, to the untrained eye, wouldn’t be significant. To my overactive imagination, this confirms my earlier suspicions that religion, or at least the area around Senso-ji Temple, was built by time travellers, and this bell was their time machine. Obviously, time travellers building temples sounds ridiculous, although the evidence is definitely here. If this isn’t the case though, then perhaps instead, religion is being used to make money here; exploiting the beliefs of innocent people, and making this area more attractive to tourists. It does seem from my brief attempt at investigating the area, that most of the information I have discovered is based entirely on lies.