The procession itself covered quite a lot of ground. The recruitment email said that we would be walking ten kilometres, but judging from what my phone recorded, I think it was nearer 15, and maybe even a bit more than that. There were no really steep hills on the route, but there were a number of definite slopes, and we all really felt them. “The next bit is hell,” is how I was warned at one point. (It wasn’t that bad.)
Because the procession included several horses, there were occasional gifts left in our path, referred to as “bombs”. The aim there is to steer the cart so that no-one steps in it, and the wheels of the cart do not go through it, so as not to carry a reminder with us for the rest of the day. We managed, but there were a few bits of very careful manoeuvring.
So, onto the more Shinto bits.
Along much of the procession route, thin shimenawa, with shidë (paper streamers), had been strung on poles along the roadside, marking the road off as a sacred area. Most, but not quite all, of the stretches without the ropes were areas where there was nothing to tie them to, and no way to fix poles. Shimenawa like this are not uncommon — I have also seen them near where I live — but the practice is not universal. Quite a few houses along the route also had banners or paper lanterns out, but that was only a small proportion.
Quite a lot of people came out to see the procession, and pay their respects to the kami as we passed. There were also two priest-and-miko pairs, one on either side of the road, who came along with the procession. It seems that people would bring offerings out on a lacquer tray, and the priest would take the offering and purify the family with an ōnusa, and then the miko would give them an omamori (お守り) from the bag she was carrying. (At least, as far as I could make out from my observations.) Because the procession kept moving the whole time, these pairs did quite a bit of running to catch up and purify the next group before the procession had moved past.
Talking of running to catch up, there was one priest who spent most of her time running back and forth and talking into her walkie-talkie. It seems to have been her job to keep everyone organised, and she seemed quite stressed throughout the day. I am not at all surprised… I spoke to her the following morning, when I visited the jinja again, and she seemed a lot more relaxed. The whole procession had been completed with no accidents!
The procession stopped five times, if I am remembering correctly, and each time offerings were made to the mikoshi, and traditional dance performed in front of it. This was also a chance for us to take a break, or watch the dances. The first station was in the car park of the local shopping mall, which was great because we could go inside the (air conditioned) mall to rest.
Later stops included a factory, another carpark, and what I think was the head office of an important local business. We were offered drinks at each stop, although the offerings of beer or sakë may not have been a good idea — one of the other people on the ropes muttered about drunk driving later in the day.
The most important stop was in the evening, around six, at another jinja. Here, the mikoshi (神輿) was brought up to the torii, and drawn in facing towards the jinja’s sanctuary. Offerings were placed in front of it, and a brief ceremony performed. The offerings included Lotte Choco Pies (チョコパイ) and Kit-Kats (キットカット), which are not a standard thing offered to the kami.
At this point, we had a longer break, and onigiri rice balls, lightly pickled cucumbers, and edamamë were provided, as well as green tea, so that we could build up our energy. As we had already been walking for five hours, this was appreciated.
After darkness fell, it was time for the climax, in which the mikoshi was drawn down the main shopping street of the town. This was lined with food stalls, as well as the normal shops, and packed with people. The mikoshi led the way, but there were four dashi (山車) floats behind us, which were even more spectacular. I didn’t get to see them properly, but we had to wait for one of them to get in line before we set off, so I did get some photographs of that. The standing figure is a — huge doll? Clothed statue? Not a person, anyway. This is a standard format, which seems to have originated in Edo (now Tokyo) a few centuries ago, and the figures are normally taken from legends or historical tales. However, I do not know what this one is.
The mikoshi went straight back to the jinja after the shopping street, and we got back at around eight, about seven hours after we left. After group photographs, it was time for the naorai — sushi provided by the jinja for everyone to eat.
