Hadaka Matsuri, the Naked Festival
A 1200 year old tradition to drive away bad luck
by Taketo Sekiguchi
Shy and prudent. This is how a lot of people describe your typical Japanese person. Whilst this may be true to some degree, it’s certainly not the case when it comes to public baths and the ‘Hadaka Matsuri’. Literally meaning the ’Naked Festival’, this annual event sees a mass congregation of Japanese men dressing in nothing but a minimalistic loin cloth or ‘fundoshi’ as it’s called. Although this festival can be seen across Japan, the one held in Konomiya Shrine, in central Japan, is one of the largest in scale.
9000 semi-naked men amass
Konomiya is a quaint little town nestled within Inazawa City, Aichi prefecture. With a population of just 140,000 Inazawa is relatively small in size when compared to other cities in Japan. However, the annual Hadaka Matsuri is the one day in the year when this quiet little community turns into a festive hub of 9000 or so semi-naked men roaring through its streets. Cheering on this adrenaline fuelled horde are some 200,000 visitors that line the main pathway towards the shrine. There’s a long history behind this peculiar festival which happened to fall on March 3rd this year. In lunar calendar terms, this translates to 13th January.
This year the weather was rather forgiving with temperature settling at a cool 10 degrees Celsius. However, some years, the festivals falls on the coldest days of the year which is typically in mid-February. But even amidst the cold snow, the festivities must go on!
“This year has been one of the warmer years” — this is how the locals described the chilly weather this year as they lined the shrine promenade waiting for the festival to start.
At around 3pm, the much awaited mass of fundoshi-adorned men emerged from the ‘torii’ (shrine entrance) carrying the ‘Naoi-zasa’, a ceremonial bamboo pole. This gigantic center piece is covered from head to toe with brightly colored cloths bearing the prayers of the locals. For the most these tend to be praters to dispel bad omens or evil.
A 1200 year old tradition
The premise behind this age old festival is to ward off bad luck in the area and its people. Records show that the origins of the festival dates back to 767 A.D. a time when the nation was struggling against a quickly spreading plague. Similar to most other civilizations of this time, the Emperor at the time called for divine intervention and commanded everyone to pray for the plague to be dispelled and for peace to return to the land. Back then, Owari Okunitama Jinja (Owari Province Shrine) was the central regions hub and subsequently became the Konomiya Shrine.
Going back to the festival itself, the tempo really starts to pick up once the mass horde of men arrive at the entrance of the shrine carrying the Naoi-zasa. A loud roar from the restless group signals a frenzied charge into the shrine itself to present the prayer-wrapped Naoi-zasa as an offering.
Throughout this entire time, there’s an overwhelming waft of alcohol and sweat that emanates from this human stampede. As repulsive as it may sound, you get a sense of camaraderie and brotherhood fueled by the exchange of copies cups of Sake.
With all the commotion, small scuffs, bruises and grazes are inevitable yet integral part of this chaotic festival. Even the occasional highlights of bloods amongst the sea of men are nothing to fret about and seen like battle scars by the all those involved. And it’s exactly this kind of atmosphere that the thousands of spectators hope to get a glimpse of. From the sideline, they all eagerly hold up their smartphones and cameras as they jostle with the local police who try to keep them at bay.
“Look, there goes the ‘Shin-otoko’” mumbled an old local amongst the crowd of spectators.
The ‘Shin-otoko’ (man of God) is like the chosen the one; he’s pre-selected and given the priests blessing before diving into the horde of semi-naked men, trying to make his way to the shrine.
Getting to the Shin-otoko
The Shin-otoko is one of the highlights of this event. Touching or even just coming into to contact of some sort with this ‘chosen one’ is said to dispel bad omens and ward off evil. There’s just no way to describe this spectacle. Mainly because it’s hard to see the Shin-otoko himself as he tries to wade past the overwhelming crowd of men that surrounds him.
The only way to see where he really is is to follow the whirlpool of extending limbs that surrounds him! Failing that, the occasional splashes of water thrown in to cool the enthusiastic crowd makes a good way point; steam seems to emanate from them like hot rocks in a sauna.
“Wasshoi wasshoi! (Heave — ho!)” resonates all around the red-faced men as they make their way up the promenade towards the shrine. Awaiting their arrival at the Naoiden (a building within the shrine) are a group of rescuers ready to pluck the Shin-otoko from the hour long ordeal with the restless crowd.
Screams of Heave! Heave! can be heard as the rescuers make contact with the exhausted ‘chosen one’. With a rope around their waists, the Shin-otoko is quickly hoisted from the crowd as cheers of joy echo throughout the whole shrine.
By this point, the sun had already set and the tired and exhausted men start to exit the shrine albeit without the enthusiastic demeanor seen just moments earlier. Similarly, the spectators also begin to take their leave but this festival isn’t over just yet.
At 3am the next morning, Shin-otoko appears for a second time at the shrine. This time he’s burdened with a ‘dobei’ on his back which he must carry beyond the gates of the shrine. A dobei is a heavy slab of mocha (rice cake) with soil mixed into it and is said to embody all the evil and corruption passed through the Shin-otoko the previous day.
Carrying this slab, the Shin-otoko is ushered out of the shrine by the ringing of shrine’s bell(s). The dobei is then dropped and retrieved by the priests before being buried in the far corner of the shrine to symbolize all the evil in the world being returned to mother earth.
New town, old tricks
Just like the purpose of the festival itself, post festivities, the town returns to the quaint little place it usually is.
Hikaru Niwa, is a local and has a store just outside of the shrine gates. He’s been running the shop for over 70 years and has never missed a single Hadaka Matsuri. To him, “it’s a part of what this town is”.
There once used to be many houses and building that allowed visitors up on to the roof or balcony to view the festival but now it’s just Niwa’s shop that provides this unique vantage point. At 6000 yen per person, it’s certainly not cheap but with the costs of the upkeep this is the lowest he can charge and even then he says he’s not making any kind of profit. In fact the only reason why he still allows visitors up to the shop’s viewing stands is because of his predecessors passing wish to at least keep this feature alive.
Needless to say, the view from this balcony is nothing like what it used to be. These days its looks down upon the orderly fashion of apartment blocks and pre-fab houses that have replaced the more classic townscape. Even the festival itself has changed to some degree, being strictly regulated following a death of a participant in 2003 after a feud.
“When most people think of Matsuri in Japan, they often envisage lavish Mikoshi (a portable shrine) and a parade” explains Niwa, “But the Hadaka Matsuri is quite different; it’s a horde of semi-naked men. Simplistic? Absolutely. It’s far from the colorful and lavish nature of other festivals that most are accustomed to. But ironically that’s what makes it so special.”
Simple is best. This is the core principle and perhaps the best way to describe this event.
(photo: Masahiro Kawayanagi translation: Atsushi Fujii)
Originally published at ignition.co.
