From Bon Odori to World History
From Bon Odori to World History
A Story That Began with a Fish and Connected Suo-Oshima, Aizu, Immigration, the Philippines, and AGARI
Today turned into a truly mysterious and meaningful conversation.
It all began with a simple question:
“What kind of fish is this?”
And before we knew it, the conversation had expanded into Bon Odori, the Heike, Aizu, the Meiji Restoration, overseas immigration, the Philippines, Indigenous peoples, and even my own family roots.
It felt as if one puzzle piece after another was being placed in front of us.
Contents
A conversation that began with a mysterious fish in shallow water
Hirata-san, Nagao Guji, Nagamoto Jushoku, and Nishimura-san
Nishimura-san and his lifelong research into the Heike
A connection leading to Hoshino Tetsuro Sensei
Bringing old Bon Odori traditions into a new form
Teaching the Kudoki rhythm to children on September 24
The world of ethnomusicology
The Bagobo people and my own roots
From Agenosho Bon Odori to Aizu and Fukushima
“Yantose” born from Teru-chan’s poem
Yamaguchi, Kagoshima, Fukushima, and the Meiji Restoration
The history of Bon Odori spreading throughout Yamaguchi
From the Meiji Restoration to overseas immigration
Hawaii, the Philippines, Brazil, Cuba, and Peru
Discrimination and war experienced by Japanese immigrants
My great-grandfather’s journey to the Philippines
A family separated in 1945
Reconnecting with relatives in 2026
Traveling to the Philippines on November 24
AGARI, connection, and gratitude
Bon Odori as a vessel carrying human memory into the future
1. A Conversation That Began with a Mysterious Fish
“Can I ask you something about a fish?”
That was how today’s conversation began.
There were so many small fish swimming in the shallow water.
They were pale in color, and each seemed to have one small white spot on its body.
“What kind of fish is this?”
Even searching online did not give us a clear answer.
Maybe they are still juveniles, and their color or markings will change as they grow.
From there, we started talking about another fish with black-and-white stripes.
“Something like shimadai.”
Since childhood, we have naturally used local fish names such as korodai and shimadai.
As a fisherman, these names feel completely normal to me.
But for someone from another place or another country, even the way we name fish can be part of local culture.
And somehow, from this simple conversation about fish, we began moving deeper and deeper into history.
2. Hirata-san, Nagao Guji, Nagamoto Jushoku, and Nishimura-san
Right now, we are listening to many different people while researching the Bon Odori traditions of Suo-Oshima.
Hirata-san.
Nagao Guji.
Nagamoto Jushoku.
And Nishimura-san.
They are not all studying the same subject.
But each person holds a different piece of memory and history.
From Hirata-san, we hear about Bon Odori.
From Nagao Guji, we hear about the shrine and the history of the community.
From Nagamoto Jushoku, we hear about the temple, local culture, and other connections.
From Nishimura-san, we hear about a much broader history, including the Heike.
One person’s story alone cannot show us everything.
But when we listen to many people, the history gradually becomes three-dimensional.
3. Nishimura-san and the Heike
Nishimura-san has spent many years researching the Heike.
His research is not limited to Suo-Oshima.
He has traveled throughout Japan, including Kyushu, looking into historical traces and connections.
He has also published books.
“What happened to the Heike here in Suo-Oshima?”
“How were they connected to this land?”
These are some of the questions he continues to investigate.
Sena-san is also deeply interested in history, so we have been talking about meeting Nishimura-san together after Sena-san returns from Tokyo.
Recently, history itself has become incredibly interesting to me.
In the past, I thought history was something written in school textbooks.
Now I see it differently.
The place where I live.
The songs I sing.
My family name.
My ancestors.
All of these are part of history.
4. A Connection Leading to Hoshino Tetsuro Sensei
Through Nagamoto Jushoku, the conversation also connected to Hoshino Tetsuro Sensei.
For me, as someone who writes songs, Hoshino Tetsuro Sensei is a very important presence.
Turning words into songs.
Turning hometown landscapes into songs.
Turning life itself into songs.
Preserving people’s feelings through lyrics.
What he did feels closely connected to what I am now trying to do through Bon Odori.
A song may only last a few minutes.
But inside those few minutes, it is possible to carry decades, even centuries, of memory.
That is why I believe in the power of songs.
5. Bringing Old Bon Odori Traditions into a New Form
One very exciting idea came up during our conversation.
Instead of simply preserving the old Kudoki rhythm exactly as it is, we could also bring it into new dances and new forms of expression.
Not destroying the old tradition.
Not replacing it.
But keeping its spirit alive while creating something that can reach people today.
“Take something old and make it something new.”
That idea stayed with me.
Preserving tradition does not always mean repeating the exact same thing forever.
Of course, preserving the original form is very important.
But it is also important for children to think,
“I want to try this!”
And for young people to feel,
“This is cool!”
Maybe both are necessary for a tradition to truly survive.
6. Teaching the Kudoki Rhythm to Children
On September 24, I, Mashi, plan to teach the Kudoki rhythm to children.
The sound of the drum.
The rhythm of the words.
The beat felt through the body.
I am really looking forward to seeing how the children respond.
If possible, I would also like to preserve that moment on video.
From today’s elders to us.
From us to the children.
If we can record the exact moment when culture is passed from one generation to the next, that recording itself will become a treasure for the future.
7. The World of Ethnomusicology
Then another fascinating word appeared in the conversation:
“Ethnomusicology.”
Ethnomusicology does not study music alone.
It looks at the people, land, history, society, daily life, and culture that gave birth to the music.
Ainu music.
Native American music.
Asian traditional music.
Indigenous music.
Music used in social movements.
The moment I heard this, I thought:
“This is exactly what we are doing right now.”
We are not only studying the melody of Bon Odori.
We are asking:
Who sang it?
Why did they sing it?
Where did it come from?
Who did they pass it to?
What history was behind it?
Only by understanding all of that can we begin to see the true shape of the song.
8. The Bagobo People and My Own Roots
At that point, I said:
“My roots are also connected to the Bagobo people of the Philippines.”
Then I heard:
“Indigenous music is actually my specialty.”
That surprised me.
I was researching Bon Odori, and suddenly I found myself returning to my own Filipino roots.
But lately, this kind of connection has been happening again and again.
When I dig deeply into one subject, I somehow arrive at my ancestors.
When I research my hometown, it connects to the world.
When I research the world, it brings me back to my own family.
It feels mysterious.
But perhaps everything was connected from the beginning.
9. From Agenosho Bon Odori to Aizu and Fukushima
While researching the Bon Odori traditions of Agenosho, we began finding connections to Fukushima and Aizu.
There is a history of conflict there.
Yamaguchi.
Fukushima.
Kagoshima.
The Meiji Restoration.
Aizu.
Choshu.
Satsuma.
Each place had its own position and its own history.
Whenever people fight, pain remains.
But after the fighting ends, people still have to keep living.
They sing.
They dance.
Maybe Bon Odori was not only a way to honor the dead.
Maybe it also helped the living repair their hearts and reconnect with one another.
That thought moved me deeply.
10. “Yantose” Born from Teru-chan’s Poem
There is a friend named Teru-chan from Fukushima who has always supported Mountain Mouth.
Using a poem written by Teru-chan, I created a new version of “Yantose.”
I did not want to simply stand in Yamaguchi and say,
“Let’s make peace with Fukushima.”
That could easily become only my own message.
Instead, I wanted to sing using words born from someone in Fukushima.
I felt that might carry a different kind of meaning.
When Teru-chan heard the song, he was very happy.
Seeing his reaction, I felt:
“I’m glad I made this.”
We cannot change history.
But we can create the relationships that come after history.
I believe music has that kind of power.
11. Yamaguchi, Kagoshima, Fukushima, and the Meiji Restoration
While researching the word “Yantose,” I also learned that the word “yanse” still exists in Kagoshima.
That created another connection between Yamaguchi, Kagoshima, and Fukushima.
Choshu.
Satsuma.
Aizu.
The Meiji Restoration was a major turning point in Japanese history.
What I am touching through Bon Odori is not simply the history of a dance.
Behind it lies the history of Japan itself.
A single lyric.
A single call.
A single movement in a dance.
Any of these may still carry memories from the past.
That is what makes this so fascinating.
And that is why I do not want these traditions to disappear.
12. Bon Odori Spreading Throughout Yamaguchi
During our conversations, we also heard that this style of dance may once have been performed in many different places throughout Yamaguchi Prefecture.
The number “82 locations” came up.
If that is accurate, it represents an incredible spread.
There may be places where the tradition has already disappeared, but where the same kind of song once echoed through the summer night.
The same drums.
The same calls.
The same circle of dancers.
People welcoming their ancestors.
People sending them off again.
Bon Odori belongs to individual communities, but it may also have been a culture that connected communities together.
13. From the Meiji Restoration to Overseas Immigration
Then the conversation expanded again, this time into the history of overseas immigration.
Many people left Yamaguchi and Kagoshima and traveled overseas.
Hawaii.
The United States.
The Philippines.
Brazil.
Cuba.
Peru.
Why did so many people cross the sea?
The changes of the Meiji era.
Land.
Jobs.
Population.
Government policies.
Many different forces came together, and Japanese people began moving around the world.
My own ancestors were part of that history.
14. Hawaii, the Philippines, Brazil, Cuba, and Peru
Crossing the sea did not mean entering a dreamlike life.
Many immigrants faced harsh labor and difficult conditions.
Different languages.
Different cultures.
Different food.
Discrimination.
And still, they worked.
They built families.
They raised children.
They sang.
They prayed.
And in each country, a new Japanese immigrant history was born.
This year, that history has suddenly begun to feel very personal to me.
15. Discrimination and War Experienced by Japanese Immigrants
We also heard stories about Japanese people in Cuba during wartime.
Men were detained.
Wives and children walked for hours to visit them.
They were allowed only a very short meeting.
They were not allowed to speak Japanese.
So they simply looked at one another.
Then the families walked for hours again to return home.
It was painful just to hear about it.
We also talked about Japanese Peruvians who were taken to the United States and detained.
Discrimination against Japanese people in America.
Neighborhoods where Asians were not allowed to live.
A time when Asians could not freely marry white Americans.
It is hard to imagine now, but these things happened not so long ago.
Our predecessors survived through those times.
16. My Great-Grandfather’s Journey to the Philippines
Then there is my own family.
My great-grandfather traveled to the Philippines.
There, he met an Indigenous Bagobo woman.
They built a family together.
One of their children became part of the family line that eventually led to me.
That means Japanese history,
Philippine history,
and Indigenous history
all flow together inside me.
For most of my life, I knew very little about this.
But the more I research my ancestors, the more I begin to find answers to the question:
“Who am I?”
17. A Family Separated in 1945
In 1945, around the end of the war, my grandparents returned to Japan.
Some of their siblings remained in the Philippines.
From that point, the family was divided between Japan and the Philippines.
There were no smartphones.
No social media.
Air travel was not something ordinary people could easily do.
Families who became separated could remain apart for decades.
That must have been a normal reality for many people.
18. Reconnecting with Relatives in 2026
And now, in 2026, I have been able to reconnect with the descendants of those relatives who remained in the Philippines.
I think this is truly amazing.
Decades of time.
National borders.
War.
Language differences.
And yet, one message can begin with:
“Are we possibly related?”
And suddenly a family reconnects.
Sometimes I wonder how our ancestors would feel if they could see this happening now.
19. Traveling to the Philippines on November 24
Starting on November 24, 2026, I will travel to the Philippines for about ten days.
I will meet relatives.
I will visit places where my ancestors lived.
I will listen to stories.
I will look at old photographs.
I will probably sing.
We will probably share meals.
I know I will learn many things I have never known before.
For me, this is not simply an overseas trip.
It is a journey to follow the continuation of my ancestors’ story.
And I feel it may also become a journey to rediscover myself.
20. AGARI, Connection, and Gratitude
On my mother’s side of the family is the surname:
“AGARI.”
Lately, this word has become more and more meaningful to me.
AGARI.
Tsunagari — connection.
Arigato — thank you.
When spoken aloud, the sounds somehow feel connected.
I call it:
“Language magic.”
The more I research AGARI, the more people I meet.
More relatives.
More countries.
More stories.
And the more I discover parts of myself that I never knew before.
That is why the phrase
“AGARI Connection”
has become so important to me.
21. Bon Odori as a Vessel Carrying Memory into the Future
When I look back at today’s conversation, it is incredible.
It began with a fish.
Then Bon Odori.
Shrines.
Temples.
The Heike.
Aizu.
The Meiji Restoration.
Immigration.
America.
Cuba.
Peru.
The Philippines.
The Bagobo people.
And finally, my own family.
At first, they all look unrelated.
But once we start listening carefully, they become one long line.
Recently I have begun to feel:
“Bon Odori is like a vessel carrying human memory into the future.”
Words are carried inside songs.
Rhythm is carried inside drums.
Prayer is carried inside dance.
And generation after generation, those memories continue to move forward.
That is why I want to preserve this Bon Odori.
Not only as an audio recording.
I want to preserve people’s feelings.
Their history.
Their smiles.
Their pain.
And someday, I hope children in the future can look back and say,
“So this is what people long ago were thinking and feeling.”
I am a fisherman.
I am a musician.
I am not a professional historian or researcher.
But I can sing.
I can listen.
I can play the drum.
I can laugh with children.
So I will preserve these stories in the way that I can.
Today, another piece of the puzzle found its place.
And I know there are still many empty spaces left.
Who will I meet next?
What stories will I hear?
What songs will be born?
I cannot wait to find out.
A journey that began with Bon Odori is now crossing hometowns, countries, generations, and oceans.
And perhaps in the end, every path comes back to our own lives.
Thank you to my ancestors.
Thank you to my hometown.
Thank you to everyone who continues to meet me along the way.
I will keep singing.
Keep dancing.
Keep listening.
Keep preserving.
And keep connecting.
AGARI Connection.
People to people.
Past to future.
Japan to the world.
Everything connected.
And today, another new story begins.
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