Shiraishi Island, yōkoso. Take a ferry from Kasaoka in Okayama Prefecture across the Seto Inland Sea and arrive at Shiraishi Island, the home of 430 mostly elderly residents.
Journalist Amy Chavez made the journey 23 years ago and never left. In The Widow, The Priest and The Octopus Hunter: Discovering a Lost Way of Life on a Secluded Japanese Island, Chavez profiles 31 residents of her island, bringing a poignant eye to a bittersweet world that’s slowly fading away.
Chavez moved to Japan in 1993 to teach English in Okayama. When the old building she was living in was torn down, she decided to deepen her adventure by moving to an isolated island where everyone knew each other.
Here she discovered the real Japan mostly unchanged for centuries where:
“community bonds of village life are strong and caprices escape unnoticed on this scrap of land hemmed in by shallow seas. The briny borders have preserved the island like a jar of pickles; traditions here have survived decades longer than their mainland-village counterparts.”
Chavez rented a house on Shiraishi that an elderly woman left vacant when she moved to the mainland to live with her son, leaving behind her photographs, kimonos, shoes, and many other possessions. As Chavez interviewed residents around the island about their lives, she pieces together a picture of her landlord’s life, too.
The book consists of profiles of 31 residents, all written with empathy and compassion. The people we get to know and love include:
-- The War Widow, the owner of the home where Chavez lives, whose husband was sent to battle in WW2 only 6 months after they were married and never returned.
-- The Buddhist Priest who took over the duties of the temple and the religious needs of the community from his father.
-- The Octopus Fisherman who returned to the island after the death of his brother. At 40 years old, he’s the youngest fisherman on the island and just one of two octopus fishermen remaining.
-- The Pufferfish Widow whose husband died from eating puffer fish.
-- The Outsider who came from a neighboring island for an arranged marriage and ran the ryokan hotel. Decades later, she’s still an outsider and doesn’t feel accepted into the insular community.
-- The Foreigner, Amy Chavez herself, a blonde, blue-eyed teacher.
One of 250 small inhabited islands, Shiraishi was once a prosperous village, full of fishing boats on one side of the island, and rock quarries on the other.
The island is positioned halfway between Osaka and Kitakyushu in the inland sea, the route for goods and nobles making their way to Osaka and Kyoto, or up to distant Edo. Daimyo lords and their retainers stopped on the island waiting for the tide to turn or the winds to change before continuing on their journey.
Tombs provide evidence the island has been inhabited from at least the 4th or 5th century. Kōbō Daishi, the Buddhist monk who founded the Shingon school of Buddhism even visited the island. A port that forms the focus for life on the island was constructed in the late 1600’s.
With the name of the island meaning White Rock in Japanese, it’s no surprise quarries here were once an important source of stone throughout Japan. Sections of Osaka Castle were built from Shiraishi rock as were Tokyo landmarks such as the Bank of Japan headquarters, the Mitsukoshi flagship store, and the stone torii of Yasukuni Shrine. But once cheaper rock began being imported from China, the local industry collapsed.
From a population of over 2000 people before WW2, there are only 430 residents remaining today. Most have spent their entire life on the island, or returned after retiring from work on the mainland.
On average, the island loses 20 people per year. Some die, some move to the mainland to be close to children and grandchildren, others have to move into elderly care facilities.
The remaining population is aging rapidly. With few young people, the schools on the island, where lifelong friendships were once forged and traditions passed down, have all closed. The few remaining children take a boat each day to attend school on the mainland.
In this isolated community, many customs have developed that differ from anywhere else in Japan. One of the most important is a system to support children called fude no oya (brush parent). Similar in some ways to godparents, fude no oya are a second set of parents in the community, responsible for helping children financially if their real parents are unable to provide necessities like school supplies, and help arrange a marriage when they reach adulthood.
The island’s elaborate bon odori dance, designated an Intangible Cultural Property, is also being lost. A dance for the souls of the warriors who died in battle during the Genpei War that took place in the late 1100’s between the Taira and Minamoto clans, it includes 13 separate dances inside a big circle. Children practiced the complex dance in school, but with few children remaining on the island and no local school, even a simpler version of the dance is in danger of fading away.
Despite the aging and declining population, new residents are not welcomed. In fact, moving to the island requires local council approval. The island remains a tight-knit community of families that have lived and intermarried for generations.
While some residents desire change, others yearn to retire to the quiet place where they grew up. As the population declines, “abandoned houses increase, the wild boar population flourishes, and the stone deities along the pilgrimage path, further consumed by weeds, retreat to the mountains they were carved from.”
Chavez’s descriptions of life on this island are both gorgeous and exacting. There’s a gem of beautiful writing on nearly every page that alone makes the book worth reading. But it’s the profiles of the residents who’ve lived their lives here and who tell their tales of island life, of a Japan as it once was and will never be again, that make this book an essential read by anyone with an interest in Japanese culture.