Watersports Hurray!

I awoke early this morning, a Sunday; not because I had church or because it was the first morning of my new plan to get a firmer, more shapely body. Today, in the village where I live, is the day when all 447 villagers gather at the beach to watch children play in the ocean. It is the annual celebration, unique to this island, of the relationship between the sea and its people. High tide and opening ceremony converge at 7:30 and last minute preparations must be made. Chairs set up, sound equipment checked, ladders refitted into the floating platforms – enough to justify having to rise at the ungodly hour of 6:30. I’d truly like to be a morning person, for many reasons, but at this point in my life, the effort outweighs the benefits. And so, straining my limbs and eyelids against gravity I yank my body from its nest, pull on swim suit, rash guard, and newly screened Tonaki festival t-shirt, grab a bun my neighbor's kid brought over the previous day, put on my hat, sunglasses, and water shoes, grab my camera and stumble out the door in the direction of Higashi Hama (East Beach).

There is a certain affection people here have for elements of nature and though the ocean has, at times, delivered sickness injury, and even death, it has also given health, healing, and life. One of the boys I teach had a brother who was taken by the sea. Countless other students have parents, grandparents and other relatives who make their living from aquatic harvests. On weekends I see young boys with their fathers and fishing rods at the port with lines in the water. At low tide, men and women, young and old with baskets and wide-brimmed hats can be seen walking far from shore collecting shellfish for the evening meal. Near the close of the day, as the sun sets, human silhouettes with long spears move about the reef, flashlights searching, hoping to find octopus or squid to slice up and serve their families, raw with soy sauce and wasabie. It’s not hard to believe how some feel these natural elements have some kind of literal life or soul.

The opening ceremony took place much like any here do starting with the vice principal bowing at the foot of the platform, then bowing again before the mic, saying something like, “Today’s Water Sports Festival has now begun,” then backing away from the mic and bowing, walking down the steps and bowing to the Board of Education, then bowing a final time to the principal before reclaiming his place at the front. So begins the procession of opening speeches and profusive bowing from the PTA head, board of education supervisor, student body president, and the principal. The students standing at attention in front of the platform in rows according to grade, appearing attentive but hardly listening, heads full of excited, anxious thoughts on the carnival of events to follow. Villagers in the shade under tents to the left facing the water, fanning themselves in the already sweltering heat, smiling at the kindergarteners unable to keep their thoughts from manifesting visibly. The thing that makes this ceremony distinct is its location - on the beach just 15 feet from the water.

It is a special day and the national and local media agree. NHK has assigned a crew of seven to man four cameras, one in a huge pressurized container for submersion. A helicopter makes several passes while the Okinawa Times photographer checks equipment. Two other stations from mainland Japan are also ‘on location.’ Of course this intensifies the excitement.

After the opening, students are led in a routine of stretching and warm-up exercises by a classmate on the platform after which they scramble quickly into the water to cool off. I’m trying to keep the happy droplets off my lens as the students splash each other in the frenzy about me.

The first event is the kindergarten and grade one one-on-one obstacle course race. A ball is splashed from the starting line to a hula-hoop held vertically to be climbed through before finding a beanbag under water, catching a dangling popsicle with the mouth and depositing the beanbag in a bucket at the end. Kazuki, believing the contest to be finished once the popsicle has been obtained, wanders distracted from the course, deaf to the rest of the world hysterically laughing and shouting him towards the finish.

Race after race, relay after relay follow with students showcasing the water skills they have been working on throughout the month, from splashing water into their faces and kicking their legs in the shallows to the front crawl and diving. Sugare and Homare, the grade 8 twins take the underwater swim hands down by swimming the entire length of the ‘pool’ and under the floating platform. 9th grade Mitsuki wins the long distance swim. Having ‘practiced with the team,’ I win the race amoung cameramen to the optimum shooting spot for most events.

After a few student events, members of the community have a chance to cool off in the adult relay. The PTA, Town Hall, Post Office, Elementary School teachers, Fishermen’s Co-op and electric company have all registered teams, as have members of the east, west, and south sides of the community. Other random teams formed after extensive discussions about who’s a faster swimmer than whom at the local watering establishment have also donned swim caps and bathers.

I’m to swim first with the Junior High School teachers’ team. During the weeks leading up to the event after the swimming area had been set up I had been frequenting the ‘pool’ to cool down and exercise after work. I would often meet other members of the community who were there practicing for their event. I thought this must be an important race and that perhaps I should practice too. I’m not an exceptional swimmer by most standards and I thought that people were just being kind and trying to make conversation like when they tell me time after time that I’m good with chopsticks, but in the small population of mostly somewhat overweight middle aged men and women of Tonaki apparently I’m quite fast. I thought that perhaps it was from all the splashing as I made my way across the length in crude form that made it simply appear as though I was fast. I started to become worried as people would stop me on the street and ask me to be a part of their team in the days leading up to the festival. Though my team didn’t win I did my part and won my leg and maintained the quack reputation of Tonaki’s fastest man in the water. Thankfully the lap-swim area was dismantled after the festival so I don’t have to step to any challenges for another year.

Another few relays, a Hari boat race, a cute dance from the kindergarteners, grade ones and twos, a free-for-all watermelon and popsicle grab in the ocean, and beanbag bucket-ball and the event was over. Of course, no Japanese event is complete without a closing ceremony with another string of speeches and the vice principal’s final declaration that the festival has officially finished. Everyone stayed to take down tents and chairs, dismantle the floating pool, and do a final beach cleaning. People who had come to the island for the fanfare took the specially appointed Sunday afternoon ferry back to the mainland. And though everything now appears as it was before the event, stories will live on for weeks to come around evening picnic tables, on benches at the beach, in the schoolyard, in the single aisle at the store, and on tatami mats in the restaurant.