To say that Kadogawa town isn’t well known, even in Miyazaki, would be stating the obvious. When I mention Kadogawa town in conversation, the most I get out of people is usually a plucky, “Oh, I’ve heard that you have very delicious fish.”
We do have delicious fish. Kadogawa is a fishing town.
Yet, somehow, this little town always manages to surprise and delight me. We have a summer fireworks show that is on point, a foreign imports grocery store that is absolutely gorgeous and completely overpriced, huge green mountains and two (not one, TWO) clear, clean rivers running across the land.
Despite all that, one of the best parts of living in Kadogawa, at least for me personally, is the Danjiri Festival.
I know what you’re thinking. Another festival? Give me a break! Japan does loads of festivals! Everyone and their mother has a so-called “special” festival. I’ve heard there’s even a festival of male genitalia! There is, I saw it, look it up.
And that’s true, but Kadogawa’s Danjiri Festival is even better than that. If you like sports for the action, if you like American Television Program “Game of Thrones” for the edge of your seat thrills, you better brace yourself because Danjiri has all those things and more.
The Danjiri Festival is celebrated in November every year, by building three portable shrines, each in different color schemes (green, white and blue) that represent different parts of town. Several men of all ages sign up to represent their area, either by carrying the shrine itself, or by standing on top of the shrine playing taiko drums and leading encouraging chants.
On the day of the festival itself, the men show up in traditional garb (chests exposed for ultimate cool guy power) and carry this giant portable shrine around our town.
If this doesn’t sound awesome, let me paint a picture for you. Kadogawa men carry a shrine with their drumming, chanting friends on top from 5am until approximately 2 in the afternoon. All while drinking copious amounts of Kirin pale lager.
These guys are tough! When I drink copious amounts of beer, I can’t even carry my own house key, which is why my landlord has had to come unlock the door for me. Twice.
She’s a wonderful, kind person.
Now, imagine, you’re a drunk man who has been carrying this heavy shrine around with your buddies for nine hours. You’re probably completely exhausted. You’re probably in need of another beer. Now imagine, after all this toil, you are told that you must hold the shrine up over your head as high as you can lift it, and keep it there, as steady as a rock, without faltering, for a good twenty minutes. You must do this with everyone in your town, including your family, watching you.
That is the Danjiri Festival! Crazy, right? It is the truest challenge of holding something heavy and at the same time holding your liquor that I’ve ever seen.
At this year’s Danjiri, not even five minutes after the drums started to beat, disaster struck. I watched in horror as the white team’s shrine slowly sunk down to the ground, and wobbled in defeat. To give them some credit, they kept trying to hoist the thing back up above their heads, but at that point, they were already too far gone. White team was the first casualty in the war that is Danjiri.
Then, it was the blue team. Like a great blue whale, the shrine sunk slowly down into the sea of drunk, sweaty men. All the while, they kept trying, pushing it and pushing it, hoping to keep their team afloat. But alas, they could not keep the gigantic thing steady.
The crowd and I screamed at them, clapping and singing along with their chants, hoping to give them the strength to get back into the game. I was thrilled. Honestly, watching the teams fail is the most fun part of the Danjiri. It’s the same sort of thrill you get from watching a lion tear apart a gazelle on the Discovery Channel.
But in the back of the arena, the green team’s shrine stood tall and steady. The green team never faltered, not even once. Like a lizard sunning itself on a rock, amidst the carnage of the fallen teams beside them, their shrine stayed perfectly still. So still, I almost forgot they were there, as I was shrieking “ganbatte” at the losing teams beside them.
The green team, of course, was the champion team of Danjiri. I hope they went home with a special prize.
I can’t say for sure, because immediately after the shrines were lowered to the ground, my friends and I headed to the snack booth where I bought hot fries and a Fanta grape. I wondered aloud how the green team could be so rock steady, when their competitors could barely even hold up their shrines!
The next day, I got my answer. I had a chance to chat with one of my Japanese teacher friends who had also attended the festival. I asked her what she had thought of the competition this year, and with a guilty look around the teacher’s room, she told me the secret.
The reason that the green team outperformed the other teams by such a large margin was that the green team was composed of mostly high school students. High school students can’t drink!
I was shocked! But I suppose I shouldn’t have been so surprised. Anything was possible.
This was Kadogawa Danjiri.
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