Piczo

Ban Ban Zai

At 16 years old I am just about to go home, or at least to the place I was born. I guess this sentence can be read in a lot of ways. 16 year old girls always go home after a night of hanging out with their friends. And yet, I ask myself when I have ever been a conventional teenager? Truthfully, I do not think ever really. At 16, I wonder how many people in this world can say that they survived an entire year of living abroad in another country. And for those who have been able to do it, I wonder if they ended their year on such a high note, as I am about to. I am going back to America this Monday, August the 13th. But in the mean time, I'm finishing my year abroad in Kochi, Japan by dancing in the city's most famous festival, the Yosakoi Matsuri. On more than one occasion I have talked about Yosakoi. Mostly about how the Matsuri is one of the bigger reasons why I opted to stay here for the entire year. That's not to say I would have wanted to come home earlier, but when I set the date it was in November of 2006, and I did not know that this year was going to turn out to be nearly perfect. Instead my host father made me promise to stay for the festival. And so I did. But when he made me promise to stay, I seemed to take it as promising him I would dance in the festival. And so I did. My Yosakoi team was the newly formed Mama Shotenkai (Mama Township Stores)The nice thing about being newly formed was that no one had any expectations on it. The team was considered to be in the low category, or not a big competitor in the dance competition part of Yosakoi. What I mean is that this year, there will be 192 teams dancing up and down the streets of Kochi in Yosakoi. On the third day, only a few top scoring teams get selected to participate in the Zen Koku Kai Tai, which is basically the All Japan Yosakoi Dancing Competition. Ban Ban Zai was most certainly not going to be in the same league as some of those teams. And truth be told, I was happy about that. I joined a team to have fun, enjoy the festival and my last few days of Japan, not worry about being perfect and competitive. On the hot morning of August the 10th, I woke to the sound of alarm clock and the whistling of Michiyo as she did the laundry right outside my window. The night before she gave me a button up collar shirt because we would be needing a shirt that wouldn't mess up out hair. A few moments after I got dressed, Michiyo and I set out for the hair salon right around the corner. On the way there, I realized just how nervous I was. In fact, I could barely stand up straight. Michiyo laughed when I told her how nervous I was, and then proceeded to tell me not to be nervous. She explained that Yosakoi was about fun and dancing, and Ban Ban Zai dancing was going to be great. I believed as we headed up into the 2nd floor of the salon and were greeted by the beautician. Ban Ban Zai was very strict in that all of the dancers had to have their placed on top of their head and covered by a purple cloth to match with out uniform. Michiyo went first, and I followed. It was actually quite painful, with the beautician stabbing me n the head with a million little bobbie pins and remarking at how large my head was. When I finally revealed I can speak Japanese, she got all flushed and pretended to have not heard me. But in all, my hair did look great, and there was certainly no denying that. Back at the Katou's house, I unbuttoned the shirt and dressed myself in the green Yosakoi uniform for the team. I couldn't tie everything properly, so I asked Mamiko and Katou Okasan for some help. When Michiyo and I were all decked out in uniform, Michiyo forced me to put on some makeup. And for those of you who know me, you know that I hate makeup. Needless to say, after she plastered my face with red lip crap, I found tissue and wiped it all off. The Katous then insisted that we take half a million pictures, and we posed gracefully inside and in front of the house. I'm not going to lie and say that as we walked over to the Sunny Mart, which was the meeting place of the team, I was not nervous. I kept worrying that I would screw up beyond all fixing and embarrass myself, but let's not forget, that I still am in Japan, and in Japan there are like 50 foreigners in the whole country. And all 50 of us tend to get stared at... alot. So when normal Japanese-looking people make a little mistake, it's just a little mistake that nobody notices. But when I make a mistake, the whole population up the the emperor of Japan will know about it and discuss it at dinner the next night. But again, we are still in Japan, so even though everyone is going to notice my mistake, they are also going to applaud the fact that I came out there and participated. When Michiyo and I arrived at the Sunny Mart, many of our teammates were already scrambling towards the huge coach buses at the end of the lot. We boarded the bus, and the 20 or so dancers that were already seated applauded as we walked down the aisle of the bus. It was a pretty comforting feeling knowing amidst all the nervousness. Parked right next to the bus was a large truck painted with splashes of purple, green, red, and white. On the back was a huge picture lantern with Ban Ban Zai written on it. Set up on the way back was a huge stereo system. You see, teams are required to have these mascot truck things because they are obligated to play their own music. The Ban Ban Zai team also hired some singers to sing along with the dance routine, and they were to stand on top of the bus while it zoomed along the streets. As Michiyo explained all this to me, the nervousness was painted with a splurge of excitement. Yosakoi had not even begun for the team, and I was already wondering why no one ever hears about Yosakoi outside of Japan. The team's first dancing destination of the day was the Kochi Federal Government Elderly facility. This was a bit strange for me, when Michiyo read it off the list of dancing destinations. I honestly did not think old folk homes existed in Japan because of the high level of respect for the aged. It always appears that the elders of the family always live with their children and grandchildren, no matter what. Michiyo explained that in rare cases, elders aren't allowed to live with their children, don't have children, or have outlived their own children. That's why this particular sort of place is rather dismal. The ride was short, but we took the road alongside the mountain until we reached a run-down old government building. There was already a Yosakoi team on spot, and as they boarded their bus, we departed ours. This particular bus somewhat of a warm up for the team, and it did not count for any scores in the whole competition. When asked why were performing for the facility, the dance instructors replied that it was just the right thing to do. Inside the building, there was very little room and so we had to form lines in the hallway and squeeze in real close. It wasn't very comfortable, but no one could complain as a few old Japanese men and woman eagerly trudged our of their rooms to watch us perform. Michiyo stood in front of me, only about 1 foot away from 3 old Japanese grannies that were toothless and possibly drooling. Amazingly enough, they could see me, and were taking great pains to communicate to the other elders that there was a Gaijin on the team. We performed our dance, though I personally feel that I did terrible. In fact, I managed to knock the wooden Naruko instrument out of my neighboring dancers hand, not once, but twice during our performance. Still, though, no one seemed to care. Not even the person whose Naruko went fluttering across the room. By the end of our dance, quite a few old folks had wandered over to watch me. They clapped and cheered as I waved goodbye to them. I had no admit, the performance wasn't great, but it served as a warm up for the coming performances. Our next destination for dancing was the opening of the Mama Shotenkai Street. Basically we were going to kick off the competition in Mama Township by dancing down the street of our sponsors. But first we were to take a team picture in front of the Mama Dollar Store. The 100 members of the Ban Ban Zai team assembled on long bleachers and stood with smiles as a camera man shot a round of pictures. I, being the goofball that I am, put my two Naruko instruments on top of the person in front of me to look like 'bunny ears.' She is going to hate me when those pictures are published! When we were finished, we noticed that some people began to crowd the street. These were the people that were coming out to see us dance, which trust me, is a really scary thought. As we climbed down from the bleachers, the teachers informed us we would be trekking up the very beginning of the street. At approximately 12, the loud Ban Ban Zai bus was to begin and our Yosakoi season was to officially begin. In the meantime, the team stood in the sweltering sun, complaining of dried throats, sweat pouring down our foreheads, and nervous feelings creeping up our guts. I must have told Michiyo over 100 times that I couldn't do it. As we waited around, I occasionally heard my name being called out. First Naoko and Ojisan Masaki arrived. Ojiisan held onto his fancy camera and promised to take some pictures of me, while Naoko hugged and me and wished me the best of luck. She told me that she and her father had danced Yosakoi for years, and she was very proud of me for going out and trying it. Just as the team assembled in the middle of the road, Osaki Otosan and Hikari appeared out of nowhere calling my name and cheering for me. Toshiki and Mamiko Katou also arrived to see my big performance. Oddly enough, though, this did not make me nervous. In fact, I suddenly felt so confident that my heart nearly burst with pride. The 3 most important factors of my exchange year had come to watch me dance. Now I could list all the things that my exchange to Japan has given me, confidence, self-assurance, etc. But I can't help but realize that all these people love me enough to come and watch me dance, and cheer for me along the way. And in the middle of a sweltering August afternoon, the colorful Ban Ban Zai bus began our song. The best 3 days of my life had begun. On the whole street, we were able to dance the theme song about 5 times. Since the song is about 3 minutes and 30 seconds, and the song is fast paced, we were sweaty throughout the whole experience. But nothing, not a few simple mistakes, or the occasional "GAIJIN!" call could take light off of my experience. We danced over the bridge and down the streets, through territory that I have come to call my close home living with the Katou family. People watched us in awe, because nobody expected us to be as good as we turned out to be. My host families all met up with one another and chased my dancing team down the street cheering and calling for us to smile at the cameras. In that 20 or so minutes that I danced, I must have smiled through all of it and laughed and cheered. Not even 10 seconds into the dance, and I knew that staying until the end of this year to participate in Yosakoi, was perhaps, the best thing I ever did. Well, except maybe coming to Japan in the first place. I wish I could go over ever single move, emotion, all the colors and stores and noises and smells, just everything but I feel like no one but me will really understand it all. When we got to the end of the street, Michiyo and I raced with our line all the way to the tent advertising drinks. The Mama Shotenkai Drink booth served us delicious chilled tea, which I poured down my throat. The day had just begun, as my host families swarmed around me to congratulate me on successfully completing my first dance. Osaki Otosan, wearing an American Flag tee-shirt was covered in sweat, as he embraced me in a somewhat-forced hug. I asked him about Kaho and Ebuki, his daughter and niece, who were dancing Yosakoi at the Obiyamachi shopping center at that very moment. He threw his hands in the air and told me he'd rather see me dance. Naoko and Ojiisan asked Michiyo where our next venue was, and then promised to come meet us over on Kamimachi Street. Before I could stay and chat, the Ban Ban Zai teachers were calling for everyone to get on the bus on the double. We were expected at the Kamimachi venue for our next dance. On the coach bus, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. I pretty much scarfed down a Calorie Mate bar, which is the Japanese version of a Granola Bar. Actually Granola Bar's are like Christmas Ham compared to Calorie Mate being dog food, but I was hungry, and wasn't going to complain. At Kamimachi, our bus pulled into line in between a line of other buses and teams waiting to be judged. This particular venue was the first of our destinations, in which judges would be giving us an actual score based on our dance. The dancers of Ban Ban Zai didn't really care about the score, but they did care that this was also the first chance to receive a medal. You see, at many venues, in addition to giving the whole team a score, the judges are allowed to hand out medals to particularly good dancers. Our teachers had warned us not to get our hopes up, but there is no denying that everyone really wanted to get a medal. A few minutes of waiting for our chance to dance, Naoko and Ojiisan arrived. Naoko and Michiyo talked a little bit about Yosakoi, and it was nice to see my two adopted older siblings conversing. When it was time for us to begin, we lined up in our formations, and waited for the song to come bursting out of the stereo. The Kamimachi street is a lot more narrow than Mama, and so there was more than one occasion when I stomped on Michiyo's feet. The first few times caused us to burst into laughter at my spazziness, one occasion even cost us a chance to get a medal. But we didn't let that bother us, we were too busy laughing at ourselves, one of her better quotes goes like, "Good god, Julie! Your feet are enormous!" It was funny because when she screamed it out, the music was at a quiet slow moment, and everyone on our team was able to laugh. When the venue was finished, we assessed our teammates, to see if anyone had won a medal. Luckily, little 9 year-old, Mi-chan had won the first medal for the team. I first met Mi-chan at one of the Yosakoi practices, in which she ran up to me and began speaking in funky English. Now normally, I frown upon the Japanese speaking to me in English, but little kids are usually deathly afraid of me and never approach unless obligated. I learned that she had lived in Boston for a few years with her parents, and desired to learn English above all else. It came to a point where me speaking Japanese over her poor English became more practical, so I promised to teach her a few American kiddy games. And sure enough, as soon as Mi-chan was done showing off her golden medal she pranced over to me and forced me to teach her the correct words to Bubble Gum Bubble Gum. The little circle started off with just Mi-chan, Michiyo, and I, but by the end of the day, had grown to well over 10 people, including little kids who acted as if they were afraid of me. I found that every time we had a few moments between dances or free time on the bus, Mi-chan and company tracked me down for epic battles of thumb wars, Poop in the Barnyard, Patty Cake, and Hand Slap. I dominated in Hand Slap, but got pulverized in Thumb Wars. I just claimed that my thumb was too sweaty to really be able to compete with her, even though she was undoubtedly stronger than me every time. Our next dancing destination was Masugata, a small street in the middle of the street. We had about an hour to kill, so I hung out with Naoko and Michiyo and watched the other teams dance along the street. There was one team from a school in Tokyo that had 3 other Gaijins on it. I got to say, seeing others like me was a bit of a relief. SO much so that I fell into the Japanese habit of screaming, "GAIJIN!!!" and chasing the dancers down the road on the sidelines. Naoko and Michiyo, in fits of laughter, had to remind me that I was in fact, a gaijin, and not to forget it. A few minutes after I calmed down, I decided to head to the bathroom, where I had to wait in a line for about 25 minutes. It would have been 40 minutes, but a group of young school girls took one look at me, and scattered in fear. Sometimes it pays to be a gaijin. When it was time for Ban Ban Zai to dance, I put on a smile and walked with Michiyo side-by-side to our spot in the formation. The music began, and we did our thing, about twice at Matsugata. There was a large stand in the middle of the street that was handing out medals, and scoring our team. I made a note that the better dancers of our team, those who were placed in the front, were being plastered with medals. I promised myself to go and congratulate them. One nice thing I noticed was that in the middle of the venue, a large formation of Tosajoshi girls had formed. I immediately recognized Aimi, and the rest of the Tosajoshi Track and Field club. As I passed my they chanted my name, "Judii...Judii... Judiii.... Judiii!!!!!" I smiled and tried hard to cover the couple mistakes that I was unmistakeably making. At the end of the street, the team raced over the water booth and guzzled down some cups of water. The teachers told us to drink as much as we could and remain hydrated, because the next venue was going to be tough. We were heading to Atago, the straight, sun-beaten shopping district. It probably was not going to be as long as the Obiyamachi venue, but since Atago was out in the sun on this humid scorching August afternoon, we were all a bit nervous. The bus ride was quick, but I managed to shove down the last Calorie Mate Bar, and hope for the best. Since I had never danced Yosakoi before, I really had no idea what to expect and was listening to the moaning and groaning of my teammates. Growing tired of their worries about the length and heat of the street, I declared that I was excited for Atago. The other dancers called me crazy, and part of me agreed with them. As opposed to the long waits of the other venues, Atago was a mere 15 minutes. The street had very few people coming out to watch the occasion, but they had still gone way out and decorated for Yosakoi. Tiny random Naruko's hung from the roofs of the shops, and store clerks put out Good Luck signs for the dancers. I was so pumped when that music began, that I didn't even realize how many times we were performing the dance. The street, probably about 3/4 of a mile, was the last thing I worried about as I danced along, smiling and enjoying my final days in Japan. I was into the dance, that I did not even notice when we reached the Judge stand. It was only when a chubby Japanese judge pointed at me and had another street vendor tell me to go and visit him, that I realized that we had been dancing for well over 20 minutes. When I ran over to the stand, the judge ushered for me to bow my head. I did so, and then he whipped out a little shining medal and placed it over my head. I was ecstatic and thanked him about 10 times in English and Japanese. Then he pointed for me to get back into the line up. Medal-claded, I jumped back into line, excited and smiling, as I completed the final stretch of Atago. At the end of the road, I lent Michiyo my shoulder and we tiredly headed to the water booth reaching out some much needed fluids. The whole dancing team was exhausted, but we still had many more venues to get to. Luckily we had about an 2 hours, until we were expected at Umenotsuji. The Ban Ban Zai staff had rented out an old lot on the other side of the city, where the group headed for dinner. When we parked and settled down, Bento boxes that had been specially made and designed for the dance team were passed out. The boxes had a small cartoon Ban Ban Zai dancer on the package, along with kind words of support. I gobbled it down, and then drank about 3 bottles of the Japanese sport drink Pocari Sweat. (Yes I know- a sport drink called 'Sweat' is not exactly a refreshing sound.) Before we could even begin to digest, it seemed, the buses were again off and headed for Umenotsuji. This venue was in the back of Tosa High School, the top school in Kochi. When we arrived, the 3 bottles of Sweat had caught up with me, but I was not able to find a bathroom in time. The sun was going down, and the traditional Japanese lanterns lit up the street, as we watched competiting teams dance down the road. When it was our turn, I realized just how badly I needed to go to the bathroom. But I held it in, though I'll admit that it was not exactly the most comfortable experience I have ever had. At the end of the dance, the venue served us a lemonade/tea, and I must have drank 4 glasses, because I was sure there would be an available bathroom soon. Sometimes I think, I'll never learn. One of the parents in charge of the support for Ban Ban Zai dancers laughed at me when I asked her for a bathroom. Then, when she realized I was serious, she gravely began searching for possible places. Alas, no bathrooms existed at Umenotsuji, and we couldn't stay for very long to look. In fact, we were already late for our 2nd to last venue of the day, and probably one of the most important of all locations, Otetsuji. Otesuji is a street from Kochi castle toward east. There are schools such as Otemae High School, Tosajoshi, and Otemae Elementary School. Nichiyo-ichi(Sunday Market) also runs along this street on Sundays. I remembered seeing people building large stands right outside Tosajoshi, but I did not realize that they were for the prime and expensive seats for bystanders of the competition. Otetuji has 2 parallel streets, called East and West. Both offered 2 different opportunites for dancers to get to dance in the best location of the competition. The West street was also where a cameraman was located for the Kochi regional television. But what we did not know was that East Street was where a camera for NHK was located. Mind you, NHK is national television, shown in every home in all of Japan. When we arrivedm I was given the option of using the bathroom and missing out on some of the dance, or dancing the whole thing through. I wanted to dance, but the teachers could see how badly I had to go to the bathroom. I was so fortunate, when another team, that had arrived at Otetsuji early, had agreed to switch places. In a way, the 100 or so Ban Ban Zai dancers had to wait an additional 15 minutes for me to go to the bathroom. I know I should feel guilty about this, but when you got to go, you REALLY got to go. One of the Ban Ban Zai helpers raced with me down about half a mile to the nearest restroom. It is in times like these when you realize the benefit of running track. I was wearing those awfully uncomfortably Zoriis, which are basically the bamboo flip-flops with socks, and quite literally sprinting through crowds of dancers. I had already used the bathroom, when the Ban Ban Zai helper caught up to me, remarking about howfast I am in even painful Zorii's. Luckily, I didn't how her that the skin between my first two toes and broken into a cut and the blood was rushing through the sock. That's the price you got to pay for fun, though. We arrived back with the team, just in time to get into formation with the group. I placed myself between Michiyo and my other chubby neighbor. Michiyo was looking a little bit green, and I asked why she looked every so nervous. She told me that Otetsuji was were huge crowds of people came to watch, TV cameras came to film, and judges came to score. Before I could reply, the music came booming on the stereo and we were off. Otetsuji is one of my favorite spots in all of Kochi. It is the more urban section of the city, with street lights, bright advertisements, food stands, and an all-around warm and welcoming atmosphere. And on this night of Yosakoi, the atmosphere was ten times stronger. The traditional Japanese lanterns lit the way as we danced and clapped down the street, never faltering the smiling department. About the second time of our dance, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a huge black things swooping down from the lights. I couldn't make out what it was until I siddenly found a huge NHK camera in my face taking in everything I was doing. I got a little bit nervous and sort of messed up, but never stopped laughing and having a good time. When we crossed the main roads onto the judging station, which was significantly larger and broghter than the other stations, a woman began placing the coolest medals on the necks of the girls in front of me. Unlike the little yellow metal I received at Atago, this medal was a medium sized shining medals surrounded by huge red flower pedals. I danced on by the awarder, until one of the judges motioned for her to follow me and give me a medal. She pretty much chased me down the street until she caught up to me. I bowed my head, and was given a red flower medal for wonderful dancing. I thanked her, and feeling quite proud of myself, continued down the street with stars in my eyes. EVen though I had the medal for superb dancing, it still didn't make my clumsiness cease. Infact, I obliviously smacked a Naruko out of the hands of my chubby neighboring dancer. It went flying into the air, and I didn't even realize it until it came down and smacked one of the dancers in the head. I'm not going to lie, it was pretty embarrassing. When we finished, drank some water, and competed in a few Thumb Wars, it was time for our final dance of the day. We were going to be the final team and clser at the Mama Shotenkai. Since we opened the street, closing the streets of our sponsors seemed right. Under the lights of our home sponsors, we finished up the same place that we started out on. This time Captain Jack and Masaki Okasan came to watch. WHen we had finished with the dance, Captain Jack told me some pretty crazy news. I asked him how he liked my performace and he said that he had already seen it. I asked him where, and he replied on Japanese National Television. That camera that had zoomed in on me at Otetsuji was an NHK nathional camera! I had been seen on television all across Japan. He said that the nightly national news showed about a 60 clipping of the festival, honoring the best team in Kochi, and the most random one, Ban Ban Zai, which was the only Kochi Yosakoi team with a Gaijin dancing on it. He then proceeded to tell me that my dance resembled that if a mangled Octopus. Sometimes his jokes never get old. That night, I thought about everything that had happened over the course of the day. I think it was them that I realized that I had just lived, possibly, the best day of my life. I hoped that the next day, the second and possibly last day of the festival would be just as great if not even better than today.