Just hearing the word Noto always stirs my heart. It's probably because I have deep sympathy for that land. And then that great disaster struck Noto. It's been more than five months since that day, but I still haven't recovered from the shock. My sympathy for Noto comes from my grandmother, Sasaki Kino.
Kino was born on July 20, 1865, the first year of the Keio era (the traditional calendar of
Japan), in Saikai Village, Hakui district (now Saikai, Shika Town). At some age, probably in her late teens, she boarded a ship of Kitamae line from the port of Fukura and headed for Ezo (now Hokkaido). Since she was an illegitimate child, she may have been driven out to reduce the number of mouths to feed. Even so, it was a courageous decision. She met and married Sasaki Iwazo, who was from Mano Village, Sadogashima (now Mano-cho, Sado City). He was 12 years older than her. I don't know exactly when she and Iwazo started a family, or when they settled in my town Nemuro. According to the family register, their first child
was born in August 1887, so it must have been before that. Kino was probably around 20 years old at the time. Iwazo had a wife and children. She got together with him despite that, and drove his ex-wife and her children to Sadogashima. Iwazo passed away in 1906, and Kino supported her family by selling fish alone until my father became independent at the age of 40.
I only lived with Kino for nine years, until she was tragically killed in an air raid on July 15, 1945, but she left a strong impression on me that continues to this day. As I grew up, I became convinced that I had received a lot from her life. Noto was the home of many shipping companies and sailors, and there was a route for Kitamaebune ships, so it is certain that she received a lot of support on her journey. Still, the weight of a young woman's decision to leave her hometown and set sail for a faraway unknown land is unimaginable in this day and age. There was a time when I was proud that my will to leave the land of my birth and go to the farthest reaches of the earth to study might have been something of her genes. But now, at this age, when I think about it again, words like "respect" and "honor" are too commonplace to describe her way of life. I am no match for her strength of will and unrestrainedness.
Sometimes I wonder. If she had lived another 10 years without such a tragic death, how would she have responded if I had crossed the Tsugaru Strait to go to college and escaped from my family? My parents wanted to keep me at all costs, but would she have gone along with it? When I was in high school, I thought my grandmother would have been vehemently against it. She must have argued that it was unacceptable for the eldest son not to support his parents. I was in a complicated state of mind, with feelings of grief over my grandmother's death and the thought that her death might have made it easier for me to gain freedom. However, recently, my thoughts have changed, and I have come to think that my grandmother would have been happy about my adventurous departure on the opposite path, in light of her own experience of leaving Noto. She was not given the opportunity to study in Noto, and she ended her life without even learning the bare minimum of reading and abacus. I think that this is why she unconditionally supported my ambition.
My family's life was Noto-style, both before the World War 2 and after the War, when everything was burned down. Strangely, there was no trace of my grandfather Iwazo, who was from Sadogashima, in my house, and most of the people who came and went and those I had contact with were from Noto. In that town back then, people lived by gathering together and supporting each other according to their place of origin. Organizations based on place of origin were spread throughout that small town. The Ishikawa Prefecture Association, the Hakui Discrift Friendship Association, and the Saikai Village Friendship Association supported each other not only in business, but also in weddings, funerals, and mutual support. I think it's safe to say that I learned during this time that humans live by supporting each other.
Tsukamoto Shinnyo, who played a major role in the anti-nuclear power plant movement in Suzu, appeared on a TV program reporting on the Noto earthquake disaster. Tsukamoto is a priest of the Otani branch of the Jodo Shinshu sect of Buddhism, and he organized the local followers to participate in the movement and succeeded in preventing the nuclear power plant from being built. He talked about his good fortune in thinking about what would have happened to Suzu after the recent disaster if the nuclear power plant had been built. But that's not what I paid attention to. During the program, Tsukamoto talked about his attitude as a priest when participating in the movement. He said that the teachings of his father, the previous head priest, gave him strength. He said that he was taught that if he was forced to choose between siding with the strong or the weak, he would side with the weak without hesitation, and that if he was forced to choose between an easy plan and a complicated and difficult plan, he would choose the difficult plan. The tradition of the Kaga Ikko Ikki, which eliminated the rule of the samurai and established autonomy for the common people for a hundred years during the Sengoku period, is still alive today, isn't it? Thinking about it, it seems that I have been living in that tradition too. Deep within my Noto consciousness are Shinran and Rennyo.
If I were asked what is the most Noto-like mentality deep within me, I would answer without hesitation that it is the strong vitality and adventurous spirit that Sasaki Kino, a Noto native, showed throughout her life. Going back even further, it is the attitude of standing in the position of those at the bottom since the Kaga Ikko Ikki uprising that is the Noto that lives on within me. I hope that the passion that still lives deep within me will be regenerated and maintained without its source cooling. (June 18, 2024)
