Series 8: The Nationwide Spread of Tateyama Faith

Hello everyone, this is Takano, Director of the Toyama Prefectural Tateyama Museum.In the previous article, we introduced Ashikuraji and Iwakuraji, the two temple-settlements that served as major centers of Tateyama faith during the Edo period.
In this installment, we explore how the monks (shuto) of these communities spread Tateyama faith throughout Japan.

(1) Missionary Activities by the Monks of Ashikuraji

The monks of the 33 lodging temples (shukubō) in Ashikuraji established networks of followers across the country, known as dannaba—regions where believers of Tateyama faith were concentrated.

Every year, during the agricultural off-season from autumn to spring, they traveled to places such as Edo (Tokyo), Osaka, Owari (present-day Aichi), and Shinano (Nagano) to conduct missionary activities.

At these destinations, they gathered people in village headmen’s houses or temples and displayed hanging scroll paintings called Tateyama Mandala. Using a storytelling technique known as etoki (picture explanation), they vividly explained the teachings—sometimes with gestures and dramatic narration.

These presentations began with the origin story of Tateyama.
Men were encouraged to undertake the sacred mountain pilgrimage (Tateyama Zenjō), while women were invited to participate in the Nunobashi Kanjochō ritual. At the same time, the monks promoted their own lodging temples, offering guidance and support for pilgrims visiting Tateyama.

They also sold amulets (gofu), sacred medicines, burial garments (kyōkatabira), and texts such as the Ketsubonkyō. Payment was collected the following year—after the promised spiritual benefits had been received—creating a unique system in which faith and trust sustained the relationship.These religious and economic activities were collectively known as kaidan haisatsu (itinerant preaching and distribution of talismans).
Records called danna-chō (registers of patrons) still exist today, documenting these activities in detail.

(2) Missionary Activities by the Monks of Iwakuraji

Meanwhile, the monks of the 24 lodging temples in Iwakuraji focused their activities mainly within the domain of the Kaga clan—covering Kaga and Noto (present-day Ishikawa) and Echū (Toyama).

The Iwakuraji temple complex was entrusted by the Kaga domain with the management and maintenance of the Tateyama mountains. This required funds for repairing subsidiary shrines and facilities such as Murodō, as well as maintaining pilgrimage routes.

To raise these funds, they obtained official permission to hold dekaichō—special traveling exhibitions of sacred images and temple treasures—circulating through temples across the region.

A central object of worship in these exhibitions was a statue of Amida Nyorai (Amitābha Buddha) from Tateyama.
This statue is known for a small hole in its left chest. According to legend, the founder of Tateyama, Saeki no Ariyori (or Ariwaka), shot an arrow into a bear, which was in fact an incarnation of Amida. This gave rise to the name Yakizu Amida Nyorai (“Amida with the arrow wound”).

During these exhibitions, Tateyama Mandala were also displayed, encouraging men to undertake pilgrimages and inviting them to stay at the monks’ lodging temples.

(3) The Devotion Inspired by Tateyama

During the Edo period, Tateyama faith spread widely among the general population.

Numerous offerings were dedicated to the mountain, including stone Buddhas, lanterns, scriptures, and ritual implements.
The Maeda family of the Kaga domain strongly supported Tateyama faith, funding repairs of temple buildings and granting tax exemptions.

At Iwakuraji, close relationships developed between the monks and the domain lords and their retainers. At Ashikuraji, a portable shrine (mikoshi) for the Tateyama Gongen festival was donated by the Maeda family.

Moreover, high-ranking women—including those in the Ōoku (women’s quarters of Edo Castle) and daimyo households—prayed to the deities of Tateyama for health, peaceful afterlife, and the stability of their families.In this way, the monks of Ashikuraji and Iwakuraji spread Tateyama faith across all levels of society during the Edo period.
It is no exaggeration to say that these efforts laid the foundation for Tateyama’s reputation as a sacred mountain that continues to this day.

In the next installment, we will explore Onbasama (Uba-son), the mountain deity who continues to attract the devotion of women in Ashikuraji.We hope you will continue following this series.

Note for Visitors

At the Tateyama Museum, visitors can explore the Digital Tateyama Mandala, an interactive display that allows detailed viewing of the mandala imagery.
The nearby Mountain Culture and Future Center exhibits a large mikoshi said to have been donated by the Maeda family, offering a glimpse into the deep devotion people held for Tateyama.

If you have the opportunity to visit Tateyama, we warmly invite you to stop by the museum.

Ōno’s 50-Year Journey to Protect Its Water Cycle

Episode 2: When the Water Disappeared

“We Almost Lost Our Water”Falling Groundwater Levels and the Drying of Springs

Ōno City has long lived in close relationship with its abundant spring water. However, from the late 1960s through the 1970s, groundwater levels began to decline.
At the peak of this crisis, approximately 1,000 households experienced their wells running dry. Renowned spring sources such as Oshozu—selected as one of Japan’s 100 Exquisite Waters—and Hongan 

Shozu—later designated among the Heisei Era’s 100 Exquisite Waters—also ceased to flow.Several factors have been suggested as contributing causes:

1. The construction of dams upstream on the Kuzuryu and Mana Rivers

2. Land improvement projects in upstream urban areas, which reduced natural fields and weakened the land’s water retention capacity, thereby decreasing groundwater recharge

3. The expansion of the textile industry, with approximately 200 factories in the city drawing heavily on groundwater resources.

Changing Conditions in the Water Environment

Changes in land and water use, population decline, and climate change associated with global warming have all altered the natural water cycle.
As a result, challenges such as flooding, water shortages, and impacts on ecosystems have become increasingly apparent.

These developments have heightened awareness of the need to maintain a “sound water cycle.”

Citizen-Led Action: Restoring the Habitat of the Itoyo

One example of civic engagement is the ongoing conservation effort at Hongan Shozu, a habitat of the Itoyo (freshwater stickleback), designated as a National Natural Monument.

In the past, local children would swim and play alongside these small fish. However, in 1978, the spring ran dry, leaving the habitat in a state of near collapse.
In response, citywide efforts to restore the spring began in the early 1980s.

Through sustained initiatives—including joint cleanup activities involving elementary school children and adults—some of these spring sources have since been revived.

About the Itoyo

• A small fish that has inhabited the Earth since the Ice Age, surviving only in cold, clean water

• Its population declined sharply in the postwar and high-growth periods

• Now found only in extremely limited locations, and still decreasing

Within Ōno City, the species is present at only a few sites, including Hongan Shozu and Nakano Shozu.

• Ministry of the Environment: Listed as a Threatened Local Population (LP)

• Fukui Prefecture: Classified as Endangered Category I (landlocked type)

As a biological indicator of environmental quality, the Itoyo is an exceptionally valuable species.

Toshiyuki Ishikawa, a resident of Obihiro City in Hokkaido, shares a breathtaking evening scene from Mt. Asahidake （2,291ｍ）— the highest peak of Hokkaido

March 25, 2026

On a day blessed with clear, stable weather, I fulfilled a long-held wish – to take photograph mountains in the evening light from the snow-covered summit of Mt. Asahidake 

Before reaching the summit, my goal was to see Mt. Tomuraushi at sunset but Mt. Hokuchindake was the best as the way the light hit the mountain.

It was magnificent that Mt Hokuchindake changed colors minute by minute from white to yellow, orange, red, pink, and blue. In addition, I was impressed by the view that we can only see in the snowy mountains such as skavla,After sunset, I began my descent via the well-maintained ski slope near Sugatami Ropeway Station. 

Foreign-born Leaders Revitalizing Japan’s Rural Mountain Communities

Episode 3: Connecting Communities Across Borders

Disaster, Diaspora, and Local Action

In the aftermath of the 2015 earthquakes in Nepal, information about the devastation in rural mountain communities was not widely covered by international media, which tended to focus on the capital and well-known tourist regions.

However, mobile phones were already widely used across Nepal at the time. Survivors in affected villages were able to communicate directly with family members and friends living abroad, sharing details of the damage and seeking assistance.

Shortly after the earthquake struck, Dhalma began receiving messages from relatives and acquaintances in his hometown of Lisank Village. Fortunately, his immediate family members were safe and their home had not suffered major damage. However, roads connecting the village to the nearest main highway had collapsed in multiple locations, and many homes belonging to friends and neighbors had been destroyed.

Dhalma’s family owned relatively large agricultural landholdings in the area, and the Lama lineage had long played a significant role as spiritual leaders within the Tamang community. He felt a strong sense of responsibility to respond.

Yet as an individual, there was little he could do alone.

He therefore reached out to Ms. Kawabuchi, the director of a Toyama-based NGO called as Asia’s Dream for Children, which provides support in disaster-affected areas both within Japan and abroad. Although they had no prior personal connection, Dhalma established the Toyama–Nepal Cultural Exchange Association, creating a platform through which assistance could be directed.

“I couldn’t simply ask for help for my own family or village,” he explains. “So we created an organization that could serve as a recipient for support.”

Ms. Kawabuchi responded immediately. Within a week, emergency relief supplies that were difficult to obtain locally — such as tarpaulins — were prepared in Japan. Accompanied by members of the NGO and several Nepalese residents in Toyama, Dhalma traveled to Kathmandu to coordinate their delivery.

His elder brother had already arranged transportation to their home district.

“Our approach is somewhat unconventional,” Ms. Kawabuchi notes. “We are a small organization, so rather than waiting for formal procedures, we focus on delivering support quickly to areas that are often overlooked by governmental assistance.”Dhalma had anticipated that the Nepalese government would face challenges in providing timely support to rural areas. Indeed, a report released in April 2017 indicated that nearly 90 percent of the approximately US$4.1 billion in reconstruction funds provided by foreign governments and international organizations had yet to be disbursed.

The support provided by Asia’s Dream for Children extended beyond emergency relief. Through discussions with local residents, it was agreed that materials required for repairing the road connecting Lisank Village to the main highway would be provided on the condition that villagers would carry out the reconstruction work voluntarily.

Approximately two years later, members of the NGO returned to the village to assess the progress of the recovery effort — a visit that I accompanied in November 2016.Following the initial relief activities, Dhalma remained closely involved in the reconstruction project while maintaining regular communication with Lisank Village. Over time, he began to consider how the connections that had been formed between communities in Toyama and Nepal might be transformed into more sustained, everyday exchanges.

Around the time Dhalma moved to Japan in 2005, Nepalese residents were still relatively uncommon in rural regions such as Toyama. However, their numbers began to grow rapidly in the following years. Many were young workers employed by small and medium-sized enterprises, often with limited opportunities to interact with local Japanese residents.

Dhalma therefore decided to develop the Toyama–Nepal Cultural Exchange Association into a platform for fostering mutual understanding and integration within the local community.“I became the chair — although in reality, it mostly meant coordinating requests and handling various tasks,” he says. “Many of the people who supported us were those I had come to know through my work in agriculture.”

Related Topics

• Community-led Disaster Recovery in Mountain Regions
• Transnational Mountain Communities
• Diaspora Networks in Rural Revitalization
• Local-to-Local International Cooperation
• Cultural Exchange and Community Integration

Learn More

This episode highlights how informal networks and diaspora communities can play a critical role in supporting recovery and long-term resilience in remote mountain regions.
Related initiatives can be found in:
• Community-based Mountain Resilience
• Cross-border Cultural Exchange Programs
• Post-disaster Rural Reconstruction

Ōno’s 50-Year Journey to Protect Its Water Cycle

In Ōno, groundwater is what people drink every day.

Ōno City in Fukui Prefecture—often called the “Castle in the Sky”—was founded approximately 450 years ago by Nagachika Kanamori, a retainer of Oda Nobunaga. Modeled after Kyoto, he constructed a castle town laid out in a grid pattern, complete with an advanced water supply system for its time.

At the southern edge of the town, a spring known as Hongan Shozu served as the primary water source, supplying water for daily life throughout the settlement. The original town layout—structured around this water system—remains visible today, as shown by the red lines on the map below.

Ōno is also known for its long-standing citizen-led efforts in water conservation. The Ōno Basin has long been blessed with abundant groundwater, which has supported drinking water, agriculture, and industry alike. Numerous spring sites, including Oshozu－ selected as one of Japan’s 100 Exquisite Waters－ are scattered throughout the city.

Over generations, a unique culture has emerged—one that lives with water and reveres it. Local lifestyles, customs, and oral traditions reflect a deep relationship between the people of Ōno and their groundwater.

However, during Japan’s period of rapid economic growth, groundwater levels began to decline, and springs gradually diminished or dried up. The continuation of Ōno’s distinctive springwater culture was at risk.

In response, the city has undertaken a series of initiatives to conserve and sustain its groundwater resources.This six-part series introduces Ōno City’s efforts to protect and pass on its water heritage.

Episode 1 – The Castle in the Sky, City of Water

What you see above the clouds is sustained by what lies beneath the ground.　

Ōno is not only a city built on water—it is a city that lives by it.

A City Built Inside a Natural Basin

Ōno City is located in eastern Fukui Prefecture, nestled within the Ōno Basin and surrounded by mountains. Of its total area of 872.43 km², approximately 87% is covered by forest, making it a richly natural regional city.The Kuzuryu River, originating from Mt. Hakusan, along with its tributaries—the Mana, Kiyotaki, and Akane Rivers—flow northward through the basin. For centuries, abundant springwater has sustained life here, affectionately known by residents as Shozu.

The Ono Basin functions as a natural underground dam, storing abundant groundwater that has sustained the city’s water culture for centuries.

Around 450 years ago, Nagachika Kanamori developed a castle town that utilized these springs. Remarkably, it featured both water supply and drainage systems—an advanced form of urban infrastructure for its time.

Even today, groundwater remains central to daily life in Ōno. Many households in the city center have private pumps installed, drawing groundwater for drinking, cooking, bathing, flushing toilets, laundry, and even car washing. It also continues to be widely used in agriculture and industry.

In 1985, Oshozu was selected as one of Japan’s 100 Exquisite Waters, followed by Hongan Shozu in 2008 under the Heisei-era list. In 1996, Ōno City itself was recognized as one of Japan’s “100 Villages of Water.”These recognitions reflect the exceptionally deep connection between the city’s residents and their water resources—one that has nurtured a distinctive culture of coexistence with groundwater.

Springs That Shaped Everyday Life

Approximately 70% of all households in Ōno own private wells—totaling over 8,000.
New wells continue to be drilled as residential areas expand.For most residents, drawing groundwater and using it directly as drinking water is simply part of everyday life.

Groundwater That Stays Within the City

Not only does Ōno possess abundant usable groundwater,
but the flow of groundwater is largely contained within a single municipal boundary, creating a unique local water cycle system

Foreign-born Leaders Revitalizing Japan’s Rural Mountain Communities

Episode 2: Rethinking Agriculture

Innovation in the Face of Structural Challenges

Although Dhalma never expected to become the successor to a Japanese farm, he felt that it would be wrong to let the enterprise disappear simply because there was no one to take over.

“The previous owner had spent decades improving the soil, developing cultivation techniques for komatsuna, and building relationships with buyers,” he recalls. “It didn’t feel right to abandon all of that just because there was no successor.”

In Nepal, when Dhalma was growing up, inheriting farmland was traditionally reserved for the eldest son. While this norm has begun to shift in recent years due to increasing labor migration abroad, Japan appears to have faced similar structural changes much earlier than Nepal. Yet agriculture — the foundation of human livelihood — should not be easily abandoned.

Although Dhalma was taught all the technical aspects of cultivation, there was one practice he found difficult to accept: the disposal of produce that did not meet size standards at the time of shipment.

Of course, vegetables that are wilted or damaged by pests cannot be sold. However, even when seeds are sown on the same day, grown with the same fertilizer, and harvested at the same time in the same greenhouse, variations in size are inevitable in living organisms. Nevertheless, produce that is even a few centimeters too large or too small is rejected by distribution channels such as the Japan Agricultural Cooperatives (JA).

As a result, the farm’s average disposal rate reached nearly 20 percent.“It felt wasteful — and environmentally irresponsible,” Dhalma explains.

To address this issue, he introduced a new approach: washing, cutting, and packaging out-of-spec produce for direct sales to local schools and eldercare facilities. A small prefabricated building was constructed next to the farm to serve as a processing facility, complete with freezing equipment that allowed the packaged vegetables to be stored for several days without compromising quality.

As demand grew, Dhalma began processing not only komatsuna but also other vegetables such as turnips and green onions on a small scale.

Word of mouth soon spread among local residents, and households began requesting direct purchases as well. While the profits from these sales were modest, Dhalma notes that the relationships built with people who had previously had no connection to the farm became one of the most meaningful outcomes.

Encouraged by advisors, he later established Happy Farm Co., Ltd.,  formalizing the business.“Throughout the process, I received support from many people,” he says. “Everyday conversation in Japanese wasn’t too difficult, but the language used in official procedures and documentation was entirely different. I was also surprised by the various support systems available in Japan, such as subsidies and tax incentives for starting a business. I wouldn’t have been able to apply for them on my own.”

Happy Farm has since been recognized as a model agricultural enterprise in the region. Looking ahead, Dhalma hopes to establish a café that utilizes produce grown on the farm, creating a space where he can engage directly with customers and explore new ideas.

At the same time, he faces ongoing challenges in securing labor. The core workforce currently consists of more than a dozen part-time employees, most of whom are women in their sixties with farming backgrounds. How long they will be able to continue working remains uncertain.

In addition, several young people from Dhalma’s hometown in Nepal are currently learning agricultural techniques and farm management at Happy Farm, with the aim of returning home in the future. However, the evolving policies governing foreign workers in Japan create an uncertain outlook.

Succession also remains an open question. Dhalma’s eldest son is already enrolled in a university in Tokyo, and his younger son, now in high school, will likely follow a similar path.

“For now, I’ll keep doing my best,” he says. “And after that, we’ll see what the future brings.”

Related Topics

• Japan’s Aging Rural Communities
• Sustainable Agriculture in Mountain Regions
• Reducing Food Waste in Agricultural Supply Chains
• Community-based Food Distribution Models
• Foreign-born Entrepreneurs in Rural Japan
• Japan Mountain Day Foundation – Homepage 

Learn More

This story highlights the structural challenges facing mountain agriculture in aging rural communities, including labor shortages, food waste, and succession issues.

Related initiatives can be found in:

• Sustainable Mountain Agriculture
• Community-based Rural Revitalization
• Food Loss Reduction Strategies

Part 7: Ashikuraji and Iwakuraji 
– Settlements Supporting Tateyama Worship –

Hello everyone, I am Yasuhiko Takano, Director of the Toyama Prefectural Tateyama Museum.During the Edo period (1603-1868), pilgrims who visited Mount Tateyama for zenjō ascetic climbing were assisted with lodging and mountain guidance by two settlements located at the foot of the mountain: Ashikuraji and Iwakuraji.
In this installment, I will introduce the characteristics of these communities, which functioned as key bases of Tateyama faith.

(1) Settlements as Religious Bases

Ashikuraji and Iwakuraji flourished as central settlements supporting Tateyama worship during the Edo period. Earlier sources suggest that there had once been seven such religious communities. A document dated 1815 records that although temples were originally established in seven locations by the founder of Tateyama worship, only Ashikuraji and Iwakuraji remained active in later times.

Both settlements were under the authority of the Kaga Domain. The heads of the shukubō (pilgrim lodgings combined with religious facilities) were regarded as monks and were known as shuto. While fulfilling religious roles, they also engaged in agriculture and slash-and-burn cultivation, living in a manner often described as “half monastic, half secular.”Each settlement maintained an organization known as issan, a form of religious self-governance responsible for managing rank, communal land, and relations with domain authorities. Historical documents such as the Ashikuraji Issan Recordsprovide insight into the strict regulations governing these communities.

(2) The Settlement of Ashikuraji

Ashikuraji is located on a river terrace along the Jōganji River at an elevation of approximately 400 meters. The natural environment was not well suited to rice cultivation, and local livelihoods developed through slash-and-burn agriculture, charcoal production, and hunting.

By the early nineteenth century, the Ashikuraji issan consisted of 33 shuto and five shrine priests, living together with farming households. The central temple complex was Chūgū-ji, which included precincts dedicated to Tateyama Gongen and to the Uba Hall.

Important structures such as the Niō Gate, Enma Hall, and Bell Tower once formed part of the sacred landscape. A distinctive ritual known as the Nunobashi Kanjo-e was performed each autumn for women seeking rebirth in the Pure Land. During this ceremony, a bridge covered with white cloth symbolized the passage to the other world. Nearby stood the Uba Hall, where numerous images of Uba, a mountain deity, were once enshrined.

(3) The Settlement of Iwakuraji

Iwakuraji lies on a lower river terrace at about 100 meters elevation, where rice cultivation was feasible. Up to 24 shutoresided there with farming households. Their duties included prayers for the well-being of the Kaga Domain and the maintenance of sacred sites within the Tateyama mountains.The central temple was Tateyama-ji, now known as the Mae-tate Shadan of Oyama Shrine. Its main hall, built in a late Muromachi period (1336-1573) style, is designated an Important Cultural Property of Japan. Within the precincts stood various halls dedicated to deities associated with Tateyama worship, collectively referred to as the Two Great Gongen of Tateyama.

Thus, in the religious landscape of Tateyama, Iwakuraji functioned as the entrance to the sacred domain of the mountain, marked by its great torii gate, while Ashikuraji represented the threshold to the other world, symbolized by the Nunobashi Bridge and the cult of the mountain deity Uba.
Together, these settlements supported the reception of more than 6,000 pilgrims each summer season.

In the next installment, I will introduce how Tateyama faith spread throughout different regions during the Edo period.

Visitors today can still experience this history at the Tateyama Museum, where former shukubō buildings are preserved and open to the public.

# https://www.yamanohi.net
# Toyama Prefectural Tateyama Museum
# Mountain Faith
# Ashikuraji
# Iwakuraji
# Tateyama-ji

Foreign-born Leaders Revitalizing Japan’s Rural Mountain Communities

Introduction

Born in a small mountain village in Nepal, Dhalma Lama never imagined that one day he would become the successor to a Japanese farming enterprise.

After moving to Japan in 2005 with his Japanese wife, Dhalma struggled to find a stable livelihood as a traditional Buddhist tanka painter. It was through an unexpected part-time job at a vegetable farm in rural Toyama Prefecture that his life took a decisive turn.

Recognized for his diligence and leadership, Dhalma was eventually asked to take over the management of a local komatsuna (Japanese mustard spinach) farm that faced closure due to the lack of a successor.

Today, he leads a multicultural team of more than a dozen employees and manages an agricultural enterprise that connects Japan’s rural mountain communities with global markets— while also supporting community revitalization projects in his native mountain villages of Nepal.This six-part series traces Dhalma’s journey from the hills of Nepal to the fields of Japan, exploring how migration, agriculture, and mountain livelihoods intersect in an increasingly interconnected world.

Story byKatsuhiko Kano

Professor Emeritus of Cultural Anthropology, Kanazawa University
Member of the Scientific Committee,　Japan Mountain Day Foundation

About the Author

Professor Emeritus – Kanazawa University Katsuhiko Kano is a cultural anthropologist whose primary fieldwork has focused on Nepal and Himalayan Mountain communities.
Having conducted extensive research on rural livelihoods, migration, and community resilience in mountain regions, he brings an interdisciplinary perspective to the challenges facing Japan’s aging rural and forest communities.

Episode 1 ：From a Mountain Village in Nepal

Dhalma Lama’s Journey to Rural Japan

I first met Dhalma Lama in Kathmandu in November 2016, one year after Nepal was struck by two devastating earthquakes that caused widespread destruction across the country.

While international aid was directed primarily toward the capital and major tourist regions such as the Everest area, many rural mountain communities — including Dhalma’s home district in eastern Nepal — received far less attention due to limited infrastructure and accessibility.

It was during a field visit organized by a Toyama-based NGO engaged in long-term recovery support that I encountered Dhalma, who had already been living in Japan for over a decade.Born in 1985 in Sindhupalchok District, a mountainous region located east of Kathmandu, Dhalma grew up in a Tamang community belonging to the Tibetan Buddhist tradition. Coming from a lineage of monks, he learned the traditional art of tanka painting from an early age.

However, guided by his father’s belief that younger generations should pursue formal education, Dhalma enrolled in university in Kathmandu, majoring in economics. To support himself during his studies, he taught Buddhist painting to tourists — an experience that eventually led him to meet his future wife from Japan.

Following the birth of their first child, the couple decided to move to Japan in 2005 so that their children could receive their education there. They settled in Toyama Prefecture, where Dhalma would begin a new chapter of his life.

Related Topics

• Migration and Rural Succession
• Labor Shortages in Mountain Communities
• Foreign-born Leaders in Local Economies
• Multicultural Workforce in Rural Japan
• Agricultural Continuity in Aging Societies

Learn More

This episode explores how migration intersects with succession challenges in aging rural mountain communities, where the continuity of agriculture increasingly depends on new forms of leadership and international human mobility.

Related initiatives can be found in:

• Rural Community Revitalization
• Sustainable Mountain Livelihoods
• Cross-cultural Integration in Local Economies
• Japan Mountain Day Foundation – Homepage

Series Overview:

Why This Matters for Policy

This six-part series presents a case study of how foreign-born leadership can contribute to rural revitalization in mountain communities through agriculture, cultural exchange, and transnational collaboration.

The initiative addresses key policy challenges related to:

• labor shortages in rural areas
• agricultural succession
• sustainable mountain livelihoods

international cooperation in regional development

Every February 11, the quiet castle town of Kaminoyama transforms into a scene unlike anywhere else in Japan.
Men dressed in straw cloaks walk through the streets shouting “Kakkakkaa!” as residents splash them with buckets of water.

This is Kasedori, one of Japan’s most unusual winter festivals.

On a freezing winter morning in northern Japan, a strange figure appears in the streets.

Covered entirely in straw and shouting “Kakkakkaa!”, the figure walks through the old castle town while people throw buckets of water over him.

This dramatic scene is part of Kasedori, a traditional winter festival held every year on February 11 in Kaminoyama City, Yamagata Prefecture.Despite the cold, the festival is filled with laughter and excitement.
For the people of Kaminoyama, it is a joyful ritual that celebrates good fortune, prosperity, and protection for the year ahead.

A “Bird” That Brings Good Fortune

The name Kasedori is often interpreted as “the bird that brings prosperity.”

In earlier times, people believed that during the New Year season a divine spirit would visit villages from distant lands, bringing blessings for the coming year.

The Kasedori represents this visiting spirit.

As the straw-covered figure walks through the town, residents welcome it and pray for

• successful harvests
• thriving businesses
• family happiness
• and safety from disasters.

Why People Throw Water

One of the most unforgettable sights of the festival is when residents pour water over the Kasedori.

The water is known as “celebration water.”

In traditional belief, clean water symbolizes life, purity, and abundance, so splashing water is a way of wishing prosperity for the year ahead.

There is another meaning as well.Kaminoyama experienced devastating fires in the past, and people once believed that a mysterious “fire-eating bird” in the sky spread flames during those disasters.
Because the Kasedori resembles a bird, throwing water on it also came to symbolize prayers for protection from fire.

A Costume Made from Straw

The performer wears a large straw cloak called a Kendai, woven entirely from rice straw.

It covers the body from head to toe and can weigh up to 10 kilograms when soaked with water.

Making this costume is itself a rare traditional skill.
Only a few members of the local preservation society still know how to weave the Kendai using traditional tools.The straw sandals worn by the performers are also handmade by local residents, reflecting the deep community involvement that keeps the festival alive.

Good Luck from a Strand of Straw

Visitors can participate in several small traditions during the festival.

When the Kasedori arrives, people may wrap a new towel or cloth around the straw costume while making wishes for the coming year.

Strands of straw that fall from the costume are considered lucky charms, believed to carry the blessing of the visiting spirit.

A local saying even suggests that tying a girl’s hair with Kasedori straw will help her grow into a beautiful woman with long black hair.

A Tradition Revived

Like many traditional festivals in Japan, Kasedori once disappeared.

After the political changes of the late nineteenth century, the event was abolished and eventually faded away.

But in 1959, local residents revived the festival, determined to preserve their heritage.
Today the Kasedori Preservation Society continues to pass the tradition to younger generations.

Experience Kasedori

Every year on February 11, the streets of Kaminoyama once again echo with the cry “Kakkakkaa!”
As the straw-clad figures move through the town and water splashes into the winter air, visitors can experience a living tradition that connects the present with centuries of local history.
Kasedori is not just a festival.
It is a celebration of community, resilience, and hope for the year ahead.

Acknowledgment

This article was prepared based on materials provided by the Kaminoyama Folk Festival Kasedori Preservation Society.All photographs are courtesy of the Kaminoyama Tourism and Products Association.

Where Spring Begins Early

– Kawazu Sakura and Hot Springs in Minami-izu –

Report by Masahiko Kaji

Spring in Japan is widely associated with cherry blossoms that bloom in late March.
But in the warm valleys of the Izu Peninsula, spring arrives much earlier.I recently visited Minami-izu, located at the southern tip of the peninsula, to see the famous Kawazu Sakura, an early-blooming variety of cherry blossom.

The Izu Peninsula is recognized as part of the UNESCO Global Geoparks Network, a region shaped by volcanic activity that created dramatic coastlines, abundant hot springs, and fertile river valleys.

Along the Aono River in Minami-izu, about 800 Kawazu Sakura trees line both sides of the river for nearly two kilometers, forming a continuous corridor of soft pink blossoms.

The trees here are large and full-shaped, creating an especially impressive landscape.One of the most memorable sights is the contrast between the blossoms and the steam rising from the nearby Shimogamo Onsen hot springs.
White steam drifts through the riverside air, while the pink blossoms spread across the sky above the river.

A Cherry Blossom That Blooms Ahead of Spring

Kawazu-zakura (Cerasus × kanzakura ‘Kawazu-zakura’) is a cherry tree variety native to Japan.

While Japan’s most famous cherry blossom, Somei Yoshino, typically blooms in late March in Tokyo, Kawazu Sakura begins flowering in mid-February.

Another distinctive feature is its long blooming season.
Unlike many cherry blossoms that fall within a week or two, Kawazu Sakura can remain in bloom for nearly a month.

Japan is said to have around 600 varieties of cherry trees, each with its own seasonal rhythm.

Kawazu Sakura is cherished because it signals the very beginning of spring in Japan.

A Moment of Life Beneath the Blossoms

While walking along the river, I noticed a newly married couple taking commemorative photographs beneath the blossoms.

Scenes like this are common during Japan’s cherry blossom season.

For many people in Japan, cherry blossoms are not only a natural spectacle, but also a moment to celebrate life—gathering with family and friends, welcoming the arrival of spring, and marking milestones.

In Minami-izu, where the blossoms appear earlier than anywhere else, that celebration begins quietly in February.