What Repurposed Old Buildings Tell Us About West Japan’s Past and Future
Being ethnographers and design researchers, the Heist team is constantly looking out for interesting stories in hidden places that can inform us about cultures. We gain valuable inspiration and insights from the people, spaces and things that exist within them.
During my recent travels, I had the chance to explore part of the Seto Inland Sea (or more fondly known among the Japanese as Setonaikai) and her islands. This body of water separates Japan’s 3 main islands — Honshu, Kyushu and Shikoku. There are around 3,000 smaller islands scattered within the Setonaikai, but only some 300 are inhabited today.
In the old days, Setonaikai was an important channel for transportation, trade, ship-building and fishing. During its heyday, regional lords around these waters even had their private “water navies” or simply known among the locals as pirates! They were considered public enemies by some, but were also revered for their roles in maintaining order in this important channel.
Today, many of the islands around Setonaikai have fallen into decay. It has been unable to keep up with modern transportation. A rapidly ageing population and an exodus of young people to nearby cities, such as Osaka and Kyoto for school and work, have left fishing villages on these small islands struggling to exist, as homes and public amenities are abandoned.
Over the past decade, there has been a “reawakening” where artists, architects and entrepreneurs return to these islands to help revive the struggling communities. Led by Benesse Corporation, Naoshima has transformed into a world-famous art site where Yayoi Kusama’s iconic pumpkin sits prominently at the harbour. The Setouchi Triennale Art Festival, which is happening this year over spring, summer and autumn, draws a few million visitors from home and abroad.
Renowned Japanese architects like Tadao Ando, Toyo Ito and Ryo Abe have constructed iconic art museums or re-purposed abandoned buildings with local communities on these islands to revive the economy. More importantly, the islands are envisioned as a launchpad for sustainable lifestyle in West Japan, away from the stress of large cities. Gradually, we are seeing young people return to their hometown as well.
During this trip, I was lucky to have visited and stayed at a few of these establishments and hear their stories. A bit of further research has given me insight into a side of Japan’s past and future that is not much talked about.
mamma (Teshima Island)
Infant orphanages for abandoned babies, or shinaikan, are common in Japan even today. mamma, which is now a guesthouse, used to be one such establishment.
mamma began its life as Teshima Shinaikan after World War II in 1947, an initiative by a social activist named Toyohiko Kagawa. Teshima was chosen to host a shinaikan because it had an abundance of milk that was critical for the healthy growth of children. The shinaikan was home — and a refuge of hope, love and happiness — for approximately 3,000 infants for 70 years, before it ceased operations in 2015. The government had decided to move the shinaikan to Sakaide City that was more urban and convenient.
After Teshima Shinaikan closed, the locals thought hard about the next incarnation of this shinaikan that was full of great memories. As Teshima became famous as an “art island”, more tourists were looking for a place to stay. Thus, the idea of “mamma — the guesthouse” was born. It happened that renowned Japanese architect Ryo Abe was working on a different restoration project nearby — Shima Kitchen. He took charge of the design of mamma, worked with local carpenters and many people of different expertise from Teshima’s population of 800, to finally open mamma as a guesthouse in August 2017.
mamma, although it does not host babies anymore today, is still reminiscent of its days as a shinaikan through its collection of old toys from those days. Having stayed here, I became aware and curious about abandoned children in Japan — a social problem that is hardly discussed, as it is a dark smear on Japan’s glittering image. Here is an excellent short documentary by Al Jazeera that shows the heart-wrenching stories of abandoned babies who used to live in a shinaikan like mamma, only to graduate into a children’s home and then become adults with uncertain futures.
Miharashi-tei (Onomichi)
From the Edo period (1603) to early Showa (1930s), wealthy merchants and successful business owners built villas on hilltops that overlooked Onomichi, a prosperous port town on the edge of Setonaikai where “the sea and the mountains were three-dimensionally intertwined”. These villas were elaborately designed to showcase the owner’s success.
Onomichi Guesthouse Miharashi-tei began its life as one of these villas in 1921, bearing the traditional Saen (tea culture) architectural style. Saen typically refers to tea plantations. But in Onomichi, it has historically referred to villas that are used for enjoying tea and welcoming guests. Miharashi-tei belonged to Yoichi Ishii from Mizuo-cho, Onomichi, the owner of a successful business manufacturing wooden boxes.
The villa perches grandly on a hillside that offers a great view of the Setonaikai, which comes into view if one takes a break and turns around seaward, during the course of climbing some 300 steps to reach the guesthouse and cafe. It is hard to believe that this beautiful house was once on the Akiya Bank, a database for abandoned houses. It had not been in use for more than 30 years before a volunteer-run organisation, which took over the operations of Akiya Bank, decided to raise funds and convert Miharashi-tei into a guesthouse again, a reincarnation from its short time as an inn after World War II.
After more than a year of renovation, Miharashi-tei opened the doors to its first guests in 2016. My dormitory is a futon-style room, which opens up to a balcony where one can sit peacefully, with a cup of hot tea in hand, to enjoy the beautiful scenery of Onomichi below. An early riser can catch the first light creeping slowly over a mountain in the distance, to cast a dreamy light into the room. It must be really nice to be one of the rich and wealthy who owned a villa on these hills of Onomichi.
Neconoshima (Sanagi Island)
Sanagijima (Sanagi Island) is a tiny island with a human population of 80 and a cat population that is potentially much higher. While most tourists visit Sanagijima for its famous “jumping cats”, I was more drawn to the story and history behind the only guesthouse and cafe that exists on an island where not even a single vending machine could be found.
I checked into Neconoshima, a guesthouse that is also an old elementary school, run by a young couple — Jun’ichi and Naoko Murakami. The husband’s father was from Sanagijima and likely went to this school, which was built in 1954. The couple closed their second-hand video and book store in crazy Osaka to return to quiet Sanagijima and run this guesthouse.
Naoko-san and Jun’ichi-san have retained much of the old school feel by keeping its furniture and paraphernalia, including the school pledge. They also have a collection of books and textbooks of different topics and languages in the cafe and bedrooms. Perhaps, some of these were from their old business in Osaka. As for the classrooms, they are now filled with beds instead of desks. All rooms are sea-facing, so we can literally watch the sunrise from our beds!
Sanagijima seems largely abandoned — government offices, the post office, homes and of course, its only school, have all shuttered. So, unless one is a cat lover, perhaps no one would think that this island is worth visiting at all. But I was attracted to how Neconoshima has brought life back to the old school, and provided the much needed respite — shelter, food and drinks — for the few tourists who bother to come. For those of us who need to completely shut out our crazy world, this will be the perfect escapade.
