TsukuBlog

Zakuro (Pomegranates) and The Goddess of Fertility and Easy Delivery - Kishibojin

2008-11-21T09:16:31Z

I was surprised, when I first noticed that they grew commonly in the gardens of Tsukuba`s newer , as well as older neighborhoods. They were often on branches which had grown out over their houses` fences , dangling seductively, just over the heads of anyone who happened to be walking along the sidewalk. I had always associated them with the Middle-East (they are listed in the bible as one of the seven species of the Land of Israel), or The Caucasus (where they were originally cultivated), and I had fond memories from many years earlier of staining my face and clothes while very unskillfully partaking of their sour yet sweet and very RED seeds.
Im talking about pomegranates (zakuro, in Japanese), the large ,leathery-skinned ,red berries which have been cultivated in Europe and the Near East since ancient times. When the fruits casing is cracked open ( a tricky thing to do well) the seeds are chewed softly and then spit out. Pomegranates are a major feature in the food culture of Persia , Armenia ,Turkey and Greece, and its juice is drunk in many other countries (there was a big zakuro juice boom in Japan about 4 years ago, as it was promoted for its beauty enhancing and female hormone balancing properties).

Experts claim that the pomegranate had made its way to China by the 3rd century, and there are records of its having appeared in Japan by the 8th .By now ,the zakuro has become a common in the gardens of private homes in Japan. It is mostly considered to be an ornamental tree, but its fruit is sometimes eaten (though much less frequently than one would expect), turned into juice or liquor, or even used as medicine( for stopping diarrhea, getting rid of parasites, or gargling).

Most people that I have talked to about these beautiful fruits have told me that even if they had them growing in their gardens they would have only nibbled on them once or twice ,since they were difficult to eat and usually too sour for their taste. Home-made Zakuro-Shu (pomegranate seeds soaked in liquor )seems to be, far and away the most common way of dealing with home grown zakuro (and is surely my favorite way of enjoying them myself ! ) This is good news for any lover of this fruit, because it means that friends, neighbors, or even strangers might give you a bagful if you show interest !

Though the zakuro is not a major player in the Japanese culinary world, it does have special cultural significance, especially in connection with KISHIBOJIN (sometimes called Kishimojin or kariteimo , etc), a popular Goddess of Childbirth and motherhood who can usually be seen, in sculpture or painting, holding a pomegranate in her right hand. The reason for this is quite simple - zakuro are bursting with an abundance of juicy seeds - making it a perfect symbol of fertility. Pomegranate images also can be found adorning the many famous temples dedicated to this Goddess, who started out on the long cultural journey to Japan as the Hindu Goddess Hariti. Her story is one of learning to empathize with the suffering of others . Here is basically how it goes -

Hariti ( Kishibojin ) was originally a selfish and heartless woman, who would feed her own numerous children the flesh of other children whom she had abducted and slaughtered (she also lived on human flesh) .To show her the error of her ways, the Buddha kidnapped one of HER children, keeping him hidden away. This threw Hariti into a state of frenzied anxiety, and she scoured the globe, in vain for her precious son . this experience led her to an awareness of the terrible suffering which she had been inflicting for so long upon countless parents. She became a fervent adherent of Buddhist doctrines, and eventually became revered herself as a protector of children, mothers and marital bliss.

Kishibojin in Hojo in Spring

There are numerous temples in Japan famous for the worship of Kishibojin. These almost always feature statues of the her holding a zakuro. Besides it being a sybol of fertility, some say that the bloody red seeds of the pomegranate represent a replacemnt for the human flesh on which she and her children once lived.

The most famous of these temples in Tokyo are in Meguro , Zoshigaya and Iriya (this last Kishiboji Temple hosts the famous annual morning glory market). In Tsukuba`s Hojo district I was introduced to a small and secluded, hill-top shrine dedicated to the Goddess (her Shinto manifestation - Suiten )by local artist and musician Thomas Mayers (it is a favorite spot of his). I had almost discovered the place myself once, but the Japanese friend who was driving me was frightened off by the creepy Jizo signboards posted at the foot of the hill. Possibly the most interesting feature of this too little known spot is the large natural rock used as the washing basin (chozuya). There is also an old and mostly faded painting (on a wooden tablet) of Kishibojin and her children.

A Japanese Language encyclopedia I consulted stated that there were differernt attitudes towards zakuro , as connected with Kishibojin, depending on the region. Ibaraki was used as an example for an area which has a very positive image. The article said that in Ibaraki children are set to play under pomegranate trees, as it will keep them healthy, especially emotionally (I have been asking around but no one i have spoken to has confirmed this story).

In contrast, the entry said that in Tottori Prefecture the zakuro is avoided because it looks like blood, and , I quote- likes to hear the sick moan.

For much more about Kishiboji, and plenty of pictures see- www.onmarkproductions.com/html/kariteimo.html

Tsukuba’s Sweetgums Ablaze

2008-11-21T09:23:45Z

For the aristocrats of the Heian Court, the only annually recurring natural phenomenon which could be said to have in any way approached being cherished as greatly for its SIGNIFICANT BEAUTY as the blossoming of HANA (cherry blossoms) was the arrival of the autumn foliage (ko-yo-紅葉, literally red leaves). They would tell the story of the Weaver Goddess, Tatsuta-Hime, who would color the mountains yellow and red with a mere brush of her sleeve. Large portions of Japan’s greatest classical poetry anthologies were inspired by the brilliant colors Kyoto’s trees take on before their leaves fall to the ground, filling the air with a melancholy scent as they rot into dust. They are another quintessential symbol of that all important Japanese concept, MUJO, the passing nature of all things, which has had a such a great impact on Japanese philosophy and aesthetics.

With time, the values, preoccupations and sensibilities of the Heian nobility have trickled down to the general populace helping to form the way modern Japanese view themselves and their country. Autumn foliage has become an integral part of the Japanese identity, and remains strongly so even as the number of trees in the country that actually change color in autumn has become a shadow of what it once was (due to centuries of deforestation and reforesting with evergreens).

Even in cities and towns which have become all but devoid of color-changing trees, you will be sure to find the shopping districts bedecked with plastic branches to which colorful artificial leaves are attached to celebrate the spirit of the season. It is also fascinating to see the puzzled, uncomfortable, and even hurt expressions on the faces of your Japanese friends or acquaintances which can sometimes be elicited by telling them that in your country too, there is beautiful autumn foliage (not to mention four seasons!).

Before the Science City was superimposed upon the once loose collection of traditional villages which have existed in this area for generations, autumn foliage could be enjoyed at temples, shrines and private houses. Of course one could always take an excursion to Mt Tsukuba, or one of the smaller mountains which flank it. However most of the the area which now comprises Gakuen Toshi was covered with forest of red pine, which is an evergreen. The planners of what was to become the city in which we live in today had grandiose plans, with plenty of foliage viewing in mind. Not only did they decide to create a generous number of parks which would be planted with various deciduous trees, but they decided to line each of Tsukuba’s unusually straight and wide (by Japanese standards) main thoroughfares with DIFFERENT types of color changing trees.

The earliest to show color are the ginkgo trees (itcho-) which are at present an eye grabbing yellow lined up to the horizon. However, many people I have spoken to are in agreement that the most strikingly beautiful road this autumn has been route 408 which leads to Ushiku and Narita. Surprisingly, even the the most plant-knowledgeable of my acquaintances could not name the type of tree it was that was becoming so distracting to drivers around the Matsushiro neighborhood.

I knew it was time to contact Dr. Hasashi Abe, the well-known tree taxonomist at FFPRI. He quickly responded to my inquiry, and also told me about some of the other tree-lined boulevards in Tsukuba. I quote:

The English name for the tree along Rt. 408 is Sweetgum. The Scientific name is Liquidambar styraciflua (Hamamelidaceae). The Japanese name is もみじばふう（紅葉葉楓）.

The tree species planted along Nishi-Odori is tulip tree, scientific name is Liriodendron tulipifera (Magnoliaceae). Japanese name is ユリノキ（百合の木）.

The tree species planted along Higashi-Odori (around Namiki and Takezono areas) is chinese maple, Scientific name is Acer buergerianum (Sapindaceae). Japanese name is トウカエデ（唐カエデ）.

In this season I would also recommend taking a nice slow walk during which you can observe both the leaves overhead AND the fallen foliage at your feet. You will be rewarded with a surprising combination of shades and textures.

2 Comments

At November 20, 2008, Dan Waldhoff wrote:
Aloha Avi,

Thank you again, and again, and again. To me the most spectacular leaf fall is at the Nishi Odori pedestrian entrance to Doho Koen. On first sight it is, to my (one good) eye, like finding the mother lode of golden treasure from a Spanish galleon.

No place I know is more beautiful or more colorful than Tsukuba in Autumn. The men and women who designed this city deserve an honored place in Japan's art history.

Dan
At November 20, 2008, Avi wrote:
Dan, as usually you have found the perfect metaphor- this time for what it is like to encounter the main entrance to Doho park in fall.
Happy strolling
and hope to run into you soon!

New Ikea Store to Open on Nov 19 in Misato

2008-11-17T10:51:03Z

Just like the title says, a new Ikea store is set to open on November 19. It is in Shin-Misato, which is a lot closer to Tsukuba than Makuhari, where those with a craving for Swedish furniture have had to go until now. You can get to the new store by taking the Tsukuba Express to Minami Nagareyama, switching to the Musashino line and travelling two stops to Shin-Misato. The trip from Tsukuba (950 yen) should take between 39 and 48 minutes, depending on whether you catch an express or a semi-express train on the Tx line. The store is right near Shin-Misato station, so you should be able to spot it right away.

Ikea Shin Misato
Address: Saitama Prefecture, Misato City, Shin Misato LaLa City 2-2-2
Tel: 048-950-0300
Open: 10:00 - 21:00
Closed: January 1

If you are not sure what kinds of things you can buy at Ikea, have a look at their Japanese commercials online.

(A new Costco is set to open in the same area in 2009.)

Plenty of BLUE BLOOD passing through Tsukuba’s Main Arteries

2008-11-17T11:54:55Z

A few weeks ago I was surprised to see that there were policemen at each corner of every intersection along Higashi-Odori (one of Tsukuba’s main thoroughfares), for as many kilometers as I would travel down it. Each of these officers had a little decoration on his shoulder, so it was clear that this was VIP related. Since I had read that Prince Charles was in Japan on that day, I assumed that he had made a surprise visit to Tsukuba.

Well , it turns out that the Prince of Wales never did come to Tsukuba. However, I was not very far off the mark. Royalty, was in fact coming, and in heavy doses. What I had seen was merely a dress rehearsal. There would be still more rehearsals (not only for the police) after the one I had seen — because this was going to be MAJOR == the Emperor and Empress of Japan (representing the longest continuous dynasty in the world) would be visiting Tsukuba. This in itself would merit a rehearsal or two, but putting more pressure on security services and Tsukuba City officials, they would be bringing along two very special guests, also of very ancient lineage: the King and Queen of Spain. (The King is a successor to the Capetian Dynasty which is the oldest in Europe. He is a descendant of Charles V, Louis XIV and Queen Victoria, among others.)

Though we have had a Nobel Prize winner or two among us, since the Tsukuba Expo of 1985, when a whole slew of world leaders and royalty whipped in and out of town, there have been few such occasions to excite our local royal and celebrity watchers.

I was surprised to learn (since I come from a very security conscious country) that a detailed itinerary of the visit was released in advance, and even more surprised to eventually find that it was followed, to the minute.

The plan to visit Tsukuba certainly came about due to a shared interest on the part of the Emperor and the King in science and technology. But by this I do not necessarily mean the space and robot technology that they would be shown at the Tsukuba Space Center or at Tsukuba University. It seems that the planners of this trip took into consideration both monarchs’ particular affection for a more classic technology — TRAINS! (I was glad that Juan Carlos was not taken to indulge in one of his favorite pastimes: BEAR HUNTING!)

The two couples would be setting out from Ueno Station after having boarded the Imperial Family’s new PRIVATE TRAIN, several cars long, which would let them off at Tsuchiura Station. Later, they would be going back to Tokyo by TX (with the whole train specially reserved, of course).

The day of the royal arrival was dark, drizzly and a little cold. This did not deter lovers of the Imperial Family from waiting by the road, for an hour or two, at various locations along the route of the Imperial procession, so that they would be able to watch as it passed by. They came, mostly women over 60, by the busload (many of these women also volunteer, at no small personal expense, to clean the grounds of the Imperial Palace every year — the subject of a future entry).

However, with all the blue blood seated in their specially made limousines, these women were mostly interested in catching a glimpse of a commoner. Of course, I’m talking about Empress Michiko, the first woman of non-aristocratic lineage to marry into the family of the Sun-Goddess. I have found that many Japanese, again, usually women of a certain age, are deeply moved by what they consider to be Michiko’s kindness, patience, concern for the people, and beauty.

(I have my own Michiko moment. In Tokyo, on another drizzly day near the Empress’s alma mater, Seishin, we found a street lined with policemen. I asked what was going on, and was told that Michiko would be passing by soon, on the way to a class reunion. We asked if we could wait and were told that by all means we could. A plain-clothes officer then proceeded to talk into his radio. I couldn’t overhear him, but I assumed he was reporting our presence for security. I was wrong, however. He had informed the procession that some foreigners were standing and waiting outside in the rain to greet the Empress. Anyway, I guess that is what he said, because the car Michiko was in (in the middle of a convoy, of course), came to a near halt. The window then rolled down and we were given a very elegant nod by Her Majesty. I’m almost embarrassed to say that it was a MOVING experience and that I’ve had a special feeling for the COMMONER EMPRESS ever since.)

I had no particular plan to watch the processions, but as it turned out I was able to see both couples clearly, on at two different times of day, as they slowly drove by, waving to the crowd from open windows. I was also able to snap some pictures with my cell phone camera, which by shear luck (I held the keitai high over the crowd and shot at random) captured the moment.

An important impression which remains after any imperial sighting of this sort is the sheer sense of thrill in the air – exuded not only by the older women who had come by chartered bus, or by the few 30-ish, male amateur paparazzi (though they seem to be just ardent fans of the Imperial Family) mounted on tall step ladders with very long and expensive-looking telephoto lenses who proudly show off their shots to the excited ladies after the procession has passed (to cries of “Michiko’s face really IS kind and gentle”), but also the local policemen who show genuine emotion which lingers strongly even after the royals have been long gone. They bow, to the well-wishers and give an emotional thanks to all those who came out in the bad weather - ARIGATO GOZAIMASHITA!

For me, this double royal visit was less thrilling than thought provoking. Of course ,one cannot be but baffled at what makes blue blood so captivating for the public in this day and age. I would recommend reading a little about Juan Carlos- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Juan_Carlos_I_of_Spain

and the current Emperor of Japan

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akihito

and then tying to imagine what they spoke about sitting side by side during the train rides from Tokyo and back.

The visit also gets one to reflect on the history of Japanese-Spanish relations,which go back to the16th century. Spain in fact had an immense impact on the course of Japanese history. It was distrust of the motives of the Spanish and the missionaries who came with them (fuelled of course by the opinions of the Dutch and English), which led to the banning of Christianity, and the more than 200 years of National Seclusion(sakoku) which followed http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sakoku .

Symposium in Celebration of 150 Years of Japan-France Relations

2008-11-15T03:12:21Z

Symposium in Celebration of
150 Years of Japan-France Relations
Toward the Realization of a Sustainable Society
- Science and Technology and Collaboration with Industry

Date: Monday, December 1 from 1pm to 6pm
Venue: Yasuda Auditorium at the University of Tokyo
Admission: Free

From the AIST web page;

At the auspicious occasion of the 150th year of France-Japan relations, the National Institute of Advanced Industrial Science and Technology (AIST) and le Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (CNRS) take the pleasure of presenting the achievements of their research collaboration. In addition, they invite leaders/representatives of industry, universities and the academic community to join in the discussion on the mission of public S&T research institutions and their collaboration with industry aiming toward the realization of a sustainable society.

Eligibility: First 800 applicants registered through this website

To register or learn more about this symposium, visit:
http://www.aist-cnrs-sympo.jp/english.html or
http://www.aist-cnrs-sympo.jp/ (Japanese)

Sending Money Between Banks and Postal Bank Accounts

2008-11-13T00:44:11Z

From January 1, 2009, it will become possible to send money (by furikomi) between banks and postal bank accounts.

In order to do this, you have to find out the branch number and account number that has been assigned to your postal account. There are two ways of doing this.

1. Go to the post office and hand in your postal bank account book. They will then print your new branch code and account number on the first page of your account book.

2. Fill in the form on the following page.

https://wwws.jp-bank.japanpost.jp/cgi-bin/kouza.cgi

If your current postal account number doesn’t have enough numbers to fill all of the sections, leave the middle section blank. Click the green button when you are done. You will be brought to a confirmation screen. Click OK and then you will be shown your new bank code (four digits), branch code (three digits), and account number (seven digits). Copy the information down somewhere for future reference.

Source: http://www.jp-bank.japanpost.jp/kojin/tukau/sokin/koza/kj_tk_sk_kz_furikomi.html

4 Comments

At November 13, 2008, Dan Waldhoff wrote:
Aloha Shaney,

MOST helpful! I've wondered how to get a "routing number" for deposits to postal savings (most convenient in Japan) and you told me!

Happy Dan.
At November 14, 2008, Sending Money Between Banks and Postal Accounts « Frugal Japan wrote:
[...] become possible to transfer money (by furikomi) between bank accounts and postal bank accounts. See this article on TsukuBlog (a blog for residents of Tsukuba, Ibaraki) for more [...]
At November 15, 2008, Shaney wrote:
Glad to help!
At November 19, 2008, Frugal Japan » Blog Archive » Sending Money Between Banks and Postal Accounts wrote:
[...] become possible to transfer money (by furikomi) between bank accounts and postal bank accounts. See this article on TsukuBlog (a blog for residents of Tsukuba, Ibaraki) for more [...]

“Miracle Working” Stone Still Has Devotees in Tsukuba and Beyond

2008-11-17T10:49:58Z

More than 400 years ago, during Japan’s so-called Warring States Period (Sengoku Jidai), a wooden fortress known as Hanamuro-Jo, stood a few hundred meters northeast of what is now the Hanamuro Intersection (kosaten), not far from Tsukuba Center. No one is certain exactly how many years this fortification stood, as there are no extant records bearing this information, however, there is documentation of Hanamuro-Jo still having still existed in 1569, as battles raged for control of this region. Even if it did actually survive the fighting of those years, it still would not have lasted long into the Edo Period (1600-1867), during which a unified Japan was consolidated under the Tokugawa Family. This is because the One Domain-One Castle Law (Ikkoku Ichijo Rei , 一国一城令) of 1615, permitted only one fortification to survive in each HAN (domain). The castle selected to be given a lease on life in this area was the Turtle Castle (Kijo , 亀城 ) of the Tsuchiya Clan, in Tsuchiura (Tsukuba was NOT as many believe, part of the Mito Domain), while any other fortifications that still existed had to be completely dismantled.

No matter when or how Hanamuro-Jo met its fate, one thing is for sure — it has disappeared with hardly a trace. The hill upon which it once stood is covered by woods, with only a corroded, barely legible, old sign left to remind the rare person to wander by of what was once there.

A bit to the West however, past the traffic light near the Hanamasa Grocery Store, lies a grassy knoll, where memories of Hanamuro Castle are kept alive. On top of this little green island of a mound sits a small shrine which houses a large unengraved, stone slab, along with many smaller stones and pebbles. Offerings of sake, rice-cakes ,etc., and numerous strands of SENBA TSURU (one thousand cranes) can always be found placed in front of or inside the wooden structure, as worshipers come to beseech and give thanks to the MIGAWARI AMIDA (the Scapegoat Amida), who has resided on this little hill since the days of Hanamuro-Jo.

Amida is the Buddha of Infinite Light, who rules the Pure Land, and is one of the most popular figures in Japanese Buddhism, and the central figure of the JODO and JODO SHIN Sects. His name is invoked by believers who seek his aid, or wish to enter his Western Paradise.

Migawari (身替り) can be directly translated as a surrogate, or taking the place of or standing in for another. I have translated this as SCAPEGOAT, since the devotees of this deity which resides near the ruins of Hanamuro Castle, believe that their pain, injuries, or other forms of suffering are transferred away from them and taken on by the stone on the hill, just as the sins of the ancient Israelites were cast away into a goat.

There are many stories extolling the powers of the stone. The most dramatic I have heard were years ago from old Mr. Ohtsu, a descendant of the family which kept the Hanamuro Castle as Vassals of Lord Oda. He recounted how he had accidentally fallen into a fire he had going (the same fires which still foul our Tsukuba air) and miraculously emerged completely unscathed. He later noticed that the stone slab had turned completely black. In disbelief, he went to call his family and neighbors. Everyone was amazed. The newspapers were called and some ran the story.

Mr. Ohtsu’s wife tells of a similar experience. She knocked over a kerosene stove. To her great relief, no fire broke out. Chills went down her spine when she later found that the stone had once again turned black. Her husband actually took some pictures of the blackened stone and you can see what looks clearly like a hand print in them . A few hours later, they say, the black faded away.

The Migawari Amida is also renowned throughout the prefecture for helping get rid of ODEKI, which are tumors or pusy fistules. These days it is also believed to be efficacious for traffic safety. Devotees take a pebble from the shrine and keep it for one year before returning it.

There is an interesting legend related to the origin of this allegedly MIRACLE WORKING STONE. In the days when Hanamuro-Jo still stood, one the Lords of the Castle, Ohstu Nagato no Kami, was burning up with a high fever. His vassals were in a panic, and prayed fervently for the intersession of the Gods and Buddhas. Delirious, the Lord had a dream. A voice called to him. “I am the God which protects your family. I will take on all that ails you. Tomorrow, go to the well where the horses are washed on the drilling ground”. When he revealed his dream to his retainers the next day, they rushed to the well.
When they peered down into it, they saw something glittering brightly below. They pulled out the stone, and enshrined it on the hill.

Behind the shrine is an old tree, a descendant of a tree which stood by the shrine before the Tokugawa Period. This tree is considered an Important Natural Heritage by Ibaraki Prefecture.

Kaki is the Color (and Flavor) of Fall in Rural Japan

2008-11-15T03:54:16Z

Autumn foliage comes late to Tsukuba. It is already mid-November, and the ginkgo trees (itchoh) are only just starting to yellow. It has been for many weeks, though, that we have been able to enjoy what is probably the most representative color of autumn in the Japanese countryside - the reddish-orange glow of kaki (柿), persimmons, which seem to grow in the gardens of almost every home in the old neighborhoods of Tsukuba.

Already in late September these warmly hued fruits can be seen hidden among the still verdant leaves of their trees, but by now with most of the foliage gone, the kaki hang heavily on the bare branches, like so many little Halloween ornaments (they could be mistaken from afar for tiny pumpkins). With light conditions just right, they can be absolutely breathtaking. In all the years I’ve been trying, I have never quite been able to adequately capture their special beauty on film.

Though it is possible that some species of persimmon are native to Japan, it is commonly believed that these fruit were introduced to this country from China, probably via the Korean Peninsula sometime during the Heian Period (794-1185). There are legends of how a Buddhist monk wandered Japan on foot, subsisting mostly on the light-weight and nutritious dried persimmons he was carrying, spreading the seeds to every village he passed through (he was a kind of Japanese Johnny Appleseed). These legends also stress how people were impressed by the persimmons curative (anti-bacterial) powers.

Whatever the truth is, the persimmon did in fact spread throughout the land, with more varieties now in Japan than in any other country in the world. It has become an essential part of Japanese culture (in several ways).

As I have said, there are numerous varieties of persimmon in Japan. However, it is important to know that there are two basic types. First there are sweet persimmons (amagaki,甘柿) which can be eaten right off the tree (when ripe), and are sold fresh at stores (in season). Then there are astringent persimmons (shibugaki, 渋柿)), which cannot be eaten raw (they taste chalky!), but can be made edible (and sweet) by drying, heating, or soaking in a little alcohol. These shibugaki are often longer from top to bottom, while amagaki are flatter and wider (though this is not always true!)

The kaki sold at stores are recently developed varieties which are consistently sweet, with the most famous in this area being fuyu-gaki (富有柿). However, the trees which grow in the gardens of Tsukuba usually are of different varieties which could be either sweet or shibui (chalky), with even the same tree bearing different tastes in different years. It is even possible to have the fruit of the same tree in the same year being different types if different parts of the tree have different light exposure.

If you have any friends who are locals, you are almost certain to get a gift of homegrown kaki. Your friends will probably tell you how sweet they are. If you try one and it is inedible, you can put a dash of alcohol (shochu, for example) on it (and the rest of the batch) and close it up in a plastic bag. By the next day they should be delish. Soaking them in your hot bath will also do the trick.

Since heat is a factor in making them sweet, global warming has been changing the nature of Tsukuba’s kaki culture. Until about 40 years ago, I have heard that shibugaki could be seen drying in the sun from almost every house in Tsukuba. Now, since local trees are producing sweeter and sweeter fruit, it is no longer necessary to dry them for eating. In more northern or mountainous parts of Japan persimmons strung up in the sun are a common sight, harking back to the days when dried persimmons were one of the most important sources of nutrition for farmers, and just about the only sweets their kids ever tasted.

Over the centuries the Japanese found many ways to use persimmons and the Edo Period (1600-1867) could be said to be the Golden Age of Kaki. During this period the fruit was an important ingredient for many dishes which no longer appear on menus or in peoples’ homes. And as I have mentioned above, it was a staple food for the masses. Fresh off the tree, dried or slightly roasted. The leaves were (and still sometimes are) used for tempura, and the caps (boiled with ginger) a cure for hiccups.

Before the development of plastics, the tannins removed from persimmons were used to create a water-proof coating for a variety objects (umbrellas for one!)

In this area I have heard it said that pregnant women and new mothers should not eat persimmons as they chill the body, and all old people remember being told that if they fell out of a persimmon tree they would soon die (this was a way of keeping kids from climbing the tree, whose branches are in fact easily broken).

And of course, all Japanese, when asked about kaki, remember the poem by Masaoka Shiki (because it is in all school textbooks) which goes:

Kaki kueba kane ga naru nari Horyu-Ji

Munching on a kaki, Horyu-Ji Temple’s bell resounds (my translation).

There are numerous other poems and proverbs related to kaki which I would also like to mention, but maybe I will leave them for next year.

Enjoy your kaki, sweet or astringent!

AgESD Symposium 2008

2008-11-07T21:56:15Z

AgESD Symposium 2008
( Agricultural Education for Sustainable Development Symposium 2008)

10th November (Mon.)
[Special Conference Room, University Hall A]
< Young Researcher’s Forum >

09:30-10:00 Oral Presentation Ⅰ
Montana Ruchirasak, Assistant Professor,
Kasetsart University “Sustainable core competency
–Enhancing of organic rice producers in Thailand”
10:00-10:30 Oral Presentation Ⅱ
Kazunori Minamikawa, National Institute for Agro-Environmental Sciences
10:30-11:00 Break
11:00-11:30 Oral Presentation Ⅲ
Yayat Hidayat, Graduate Student, Bogor Agricultural University
“Educational and research activities on watershed management
study program to develop sustainable agriculture.”
11:30-12:00 Oral Presentation Ⅳ
Mari Horigane, Ph.D. candidate, University of Tsukuba
12:00-13:00 Lunch
13:00-14:00 Special Lecture Ⅳ
Kazuhito Suga, Vice-Director, Japan Volunteer Center (JVC)
“Current activities of JVC (tentative)”
14:15-14:45 Oral Presentation Ⅴ
Lourdes S. Edano, Assistant Professor, UPLB
“Needs and development of sustainable agriculture in the Philippines”
14:45-15:15 Oral Presentation Ⅵ
Ousmane Diene, Graduate student, Ibaraki University
“The use of symbiotic fungal association with crops for
a sustainable agriculture production”
15:15-15:30 Break
15:30-16:30 Discussion
Details: http://www.agbi.tsukuba.ac.jp/~agesd/e-index.html

The Man Behind The Mascot

2008-11-15T03:56:57Z

Like a little goateed munchkin, or a Japanese version of one of the seven dwarves, the mascot of the 23rd Annual National Culture Festival (kokumin bunka-sai, or kokubun-sai for short), which this year is being held in our very own Ibaraki Prefecture, can be seen practically everywhere these days, adorning posters, leaflets, packages, and most noticeably the banners fluttering outside convenience stores and public buildings.

For most Japanese, from any part of the country, this cute little character is instantly recognizable as a cartoon rendering of Mito Komon, the hero of one of Japan’s longest running weekly historical TV dramas (jidai geki). And by long running, I DO mean LONG RUNNING, as new episodes have been aired every week for nearly 40 years ! As you can imagine, there have been a few cast changes (think of James Bond) over the decades.

What makes this shrunken down caricature of the great Komon so easily recognizable are his little beard and mustache, as well as purple (or golden) cap and vest (symbols of having reached a venerable old age).

The show, which has been broadcast during prime time since 1969, follows the same basic pattern each episode. Mito Komon (an affectionate appellation for the 2nd Lord of Mito, Tokugawa Mitsukuni), travels the country incognito, accompanied by his trusty bodyguards Suke and Kaku and assorted others (also undercover). You can be sure that trouble is encountered in every new locale, with the villains’ plans being properly foiled before the great Lord finally reveals his true identity by displaying an INRO (small case) with the Tokugawa Family seal of three-leaved AOI. All the locals then proceed to quiver with awe.

Amazingly, this simple formula has been keeping viewers satisfied for decades, and this show is probably what Mito (the capital of Ibaraki) is most famous for, even though the stories take place all over Japan.

Though it might be useful to check out the show on TV (Monday nights from 8-9 PM on channel 6) or rent a DVD or video for becoming more familiar with Japanese pop culture, I think that it is MORE ESSENTIAL to know a little about the historical figure on whom this fictionalized series is based.

I’m talking about Tokugawa Mitsukuni (1628-1700), a grandson of Ieyasu (the unifier of Japan), who became the second Lord of the Mito Domain, and went on to have a great impact not only on his own domain (now part of Ibaraki) but on the future course of Japan’s history and its dealings with the outside world.

This impact was due to Mitsukuni’s sponsorship of a huge and highly ambitious project which employed the services of more than 100 Japanese and Chinese scholars. Their task was to compile a definitive history of Japan, which would be called the Dai-Nihon Shi and would fill 397 volumes by the time of its completion in 1906.

This work was first carried out at Mitsukuni’s Edo (Tokyo) residences, but later continued in Mito. Thus, the way of looking at Japanese history which evolved from this undertaking (highly influenced by Chinese historiography) would be called Mito Studies (Mitogaku). Pointing to the centrality of the role of the Emperor in Japanese history, the Mito Scholars, especially during the times of Mitsukuni`s descendant Tokugawa Nariaki, would lead to the rise of the extreme xenophobia of the Revere The Emperor, Expel The Barbarians (Sonno Joi) Faction, which ironically helped lead to the overthrow of the Tokugawa Family and bring back (?) direct Imperial Rule. I don’t think I have to tell you what road this special brand of nationalism eventually lead to.

Besides sponsoring this greatly influential academic project, Mitsukuni became legendary for his wise and benevolent rule of his domain. His tax relief and distribution of rice during times of famine was deeply appreciated by the people, and because of this his legend grew after his death. Fictional accounts of his travels around Japan were popular at the end of the 19th century. These tales eventually turned into the famous TV series from which derives the mascot of this year’s culture festival.

If you would like to do some Mitsukuni (Mito Komon) related travel, I would highly recommend a trip to SEIZAN-SO in Hitachi Ota in central Ibaraki. This is the great lord’s simple and rustic retirement villa. Beautiful in any season.