Hearn’s Ghosts: “Rokuro-Kubi”

While reading a folktale, it dawned on me that Buddhist priests wandering around Japan by themselves are just asking for trouble. This tale from Lafcadio Hearn‘s famous “Kwaidan” series of ghostly Japanese folklore immediately sprang to mind.

Matsue loves Hearn’s ghost stories. In summer of 2013, illustrations like these could be found everywhere. This is from the entrance to the history museum’s cafe, Kiharu.

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ROKURO-KUBI, by Lafcadio Hearn, 1904

Source: The Project Gutenberg “KWAIDAN: Stories and Studies of Strange Things”

Nearly five hundred years ago there was a samurai, named Isogai Heidazaemon Taketsura, in the service of the Lord Kikuji, of Kyushu. This Isogai had inherited, from many warlike ancestors, a natural aptitude for military exercises, and extraordinary strength. While yet a boy he had surpassed his teachers in the art of swordsmanship, in archery, and in the use of the spear, and had displayed all the capacities of a daring and skillful soldier. Afterwards, in the time of the Eikyo war, he so distinguished himself that high honors were bestowed upon him. But when the house of Kikuji came to ruin, Isogai found himself without a master. He might then easily have obtained service under another daimyo; but as he had never sought distinction for his own sake alone, and as his heart remained true to his former lord, he preferred to give up the world. So he cut off his hair, and became a traveling priest,—taking the Buddhist name of Kwairyo.

But always, under the koromo of the priest, Kwairyo kept warm within him the heart of the samurai. As in other years he had laughed at peril, so now also he scorned danger; and in all weathers and all seasons he journeyed to preach the good Law in places where no other priest would have dared to go. For that age was an age of violence and disorder; and upon the highways there was no security for the solitary traveler, even if he happened to be a priest.

 

My Neighbor T-T-T-TORTOISE!?

I don’t have pets, but I do have a giant tortoise in the neighborhood.

No, not like the floods of turtles in the canals. Those ones are charming. Those ones aren’t likely to smash or devour you. Those ones didn’t do anything to receive punishment.

My neighbor is and did.

Long lived as many tortoises are, this guy has been around since before Lafcadio Hearn moved here:

…the most unpleasant customer of all this uncanny fraternity to have encountered after dark was certainly the monster tortoise of Gesshoji temple in Matsue, where the tombs of the Matsudairas are. This stone colossus is almost seventeen feet in length and lifts its head six feet from the ground. On its now broken back stands a prodigious cubic monolith about nine feet high, bearing a half-obliterated inscription. Fancy—as Izumo folks did—this mortuary incubus staggering abroad at midnight, and its hideous attempts to swim in the neighbouring lotus- pond! Well, the legend runs that its neck had to be broken in consequence of this awful misbehaviour. But really the thing looks as if it could only have been broken by an earthquake.

(Lafcadio Hearn’s “Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan,” 1894.)

Hearn’s left a lot of common details out of this brief description. First, let’s address its home, Gesshoji Temple, frequently mentioned in this blog for its famous hydrangea and for being home to the graves of the Matsudaira fuedal lords, such as Naomasa and Harusato (aka Fumai). Each grave is decorated in different ways, including detailed carved gates in Chinese style, often reflecting the taste and hobbies of the lord buried within. It’s always a quiet place, set apart as if in its own world by the thick forest growing in and around it. Francine Prose describes the atmosphere very accurately in this Smithsonian Magazine article:

Something about the temple grounds—their eerie beauty, the damp mossy fragrance, the gently hallucinatory patterns of light and shadow as morning sun filters through the ancient, carefully tended pines—makes us start to speak in whispers and then stop speaking altogether until the only sounds are the bird cries and the swishing of the old-fashioned brooms a pair of gardeners are using to clear fallen pink petals from the gravel paths.

While wandering among the hydrangea–at their height quite soon–and hopefully not slipping on the bumpy old rock paths made slick by hundreds of years of foot traffic and by the fresh rainfall, anticipating the matcha and wagashi waiting for you back towards the entrance of the temple when you’re done with your stroll, and contemplating the peaceful world where the lords’ remains remain, you suddenly run into it.

Better that than it running into you.

I’ve heard a couple versions of the legend aside from Hearn’s relatively innocent version. Sure, the tortoise probably made a big mess of the lotus pond while splashing around in there or just wandering away from his post to geta drink. Constantly being on guard around the graves is bound to make even a stone gaurdian thirsty. But this gaurdian apparently also got bored–and entertaining himself required running amock among the neighborhood, flattening townspeople in the process. In another version of the story, he would even gobble some townspeople up.

Naturally, no one dared to attack the tortoise. What match would samurai swords be for a tortoise made of stone–a seven foot tortoise, at that? At last, a monk came and bound the tortoise to its spot by driving this sealing plaque down its back.

I haven’t heard of it moving around since, and today there is another legend that says it is good luck to rub its head, as that will bring longevity. This seems sure and safe enough during the day, but thankfully the temple usually is closed after dark–if it’s gotten hungry since it’s gotten stuck in place, then perhaps standing so close to it wouldn’t bode well for your longevity.

 

Chilling Summers

In Japan, summer is considered the perfect time to indulge in some spooky stories or visit haunted houses. This rationale behind this is that when you encounter something creepy, it sends chills down your spine and makes your shiver, thereby being an effective way to beat the heat. There is a rich culture of creepiness all throughout the islands, but the San’in region–particularly on either side of lake Nakaumi, right in the middle of the region–actively retains this culture throughout the year.

While Sakaiminato may be a youkai-researcher’s heaven and Matsue’s ghost tours and lectures with Prof. Bon Koizumi (Lafcadio Hearn’s great-grandson) draw visitors from all over Japan, I haven’t been writing as much as the haunts here as I thought I would. I think its because I feel inadequate. Mizuki Shigeru and Lafcadio Hearn are the experts and have already poured their energy into recording these tales, and it feels as though my own writing on the topic wouldn’t compare!

One of the more recent writers to join the story-telling scene is “Frogman”, the creator of a flash animation called “Taka no Tsume” (Eagle Talon). For what I’ve seen of it, it’s a rag-tag group set on conquering the world for the sake of world peace… I think. It goes so fast that English subtitles probably wouldn’t help, especially with many references that might need explaining, so I don’t foresee this getting very popular abroad. That said, it’s the kind of thing that people recognize all over Japan right now.

Frogman is originally from Tokyo, but is in love with Shimane and has lent the fame of his nationally famous characters to the prefecture’s public relations. In a region rich with folklore and stories, he uses “Yoshida-kun” to tell those stories in his slapstick style of seemingly severely caffeinated humor in a very limited span of time. There is even a line of souvenir t-shirts out here in the San’in region, one with Kitaro and an outline of Tottori, and the other with Yoshida-kun and an outline of Shimane. Respectively, they say, “Tottori: It’s to the right of Shimane” and “Shimane: It’s to the left of Tottori.” I find this hilarious, but I live here.

The most recent Frogman–Shimane project is now debuting at the Matsue History Museum–3 minute (or in one case, 1-minute!) retellings of the haunting stories Lafcadio Hearn wrote about!

Salutations: “I had always thought that animating Lafcadio Hearn’s ‘Kwaidan’ would become my life’s work. To think that it would take shape in such a wonderful place as this…!! I am really, truly grateful. I hope you all will enjoy getting scared!” – Frogman, 2013.7.27

This is just one part of the summer Kwaidan festivities going on this summer. Besides overnight ghost story activities for kids, there are also ghost tour scavenger hunt activities that I’ve seen kids on summer vacation walking around with guides for.

The syrup-buying woman

The human-eating turtle

The history museum also has a small haunted house set up themed around Hearn’s writings. What better way to cool off than to visit Yuki-Onna? Take a lantern, listen to the startled screams of people going ahead of you, and then watch your step as you enter the darkness. From the outside, you can hear the amused giggles of the people running the exhibit.

And then you can chill at the museum cafe, Kiharu, with both a cold drink and spooky stories.

Rokuro-kubi

Speaking of Hearn’s “Kwaidan,” perhaps you’re already familiar with the 1964 film of the same title. In case not, here are links to a few of the most famous stories (these are also ones the Eagle Talon team did their own retellings of) on Project Gutenberg, in Hearn’s own words:

Yuki-Onna (The Snow Woman)
Rokuro-kubi (The Long-necked People)
Mimi-nashi Hoichi (No-ears Hoichi)

Hoichi is pretty popular here. This is a statue by Lake Shinji, and I’ve seen a number of costumes and retellings of this story.

While there is hardly any need for me to make my own renditions of the tales, I do find that while I’m showing people around Matsue I frequently say things like, “this is the bridge where this one ghost hates this one song and this one samurai sang it and then…” or “this is the cemetary where…” or “this is the temple where…” as I’m pointing out the sights. I suppose we dohave a lot of ghost stories, don’t we? Seeing as this is the final day of O-bon, I’ll just post this piece of Hearn’s “Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan” to explain why there is no official Bon-odori (O-bon dance) in Matsue proper, though most places usually have a local style of it.

The grim castle has its legend.

It is related that, in accordance with some primitive and barbarous
custom, precisely like that of which so terrible a souvenir has been
preserved for us in the most pathetic of Servian ballads, ‘The
Foundation of Skadra,’ a maiden of Matsue was interred alive under the
walls of the castle at the time of its erection, as a sacrifice to some
forgotten gods. Her name has never been recorded; nothing concerning her
is remembered except that she was beautiful and very fond of dancing.

Now after the castle had been built, it is said that a law had to be
passed forbidding that any girl should dance in the streets of Matsue.
For whenever any maiden danced the hill Oshiroyama would shudder, and
the great castle quiver from basement to summit.