It’s September, and my time in Japan is almost over.
 
Two weeks ago, I performed in three puppet scenes. Friends from my time in Japan and visitors to the Jurobe Yashiki Theatre gathered to watch this final showcase, along with a cameraman from NHK TV and a friendly reporter from the Tokushima Newspaper who had previously written a feature on me.
 
For the first scene, Ebisu Mai, which tells the story of a jovial god who goes fishing, I operated the left hand. This scene was performed with the troupe Jurobe-Za.
 
For the second scene, Yaoya Oshichi, the story of a young maiden who risks her life for the man she loves, I again operated the left hand. Hureai-Za taught me this scene.  
 
Finally, for Keisei Awa No Naruto, I was the main puppeteer for Otsuru the pilgrim in the story of her reunion with her estranged mother.  This was about the sixth or seventh time I performed this scene with my host troupe, Naruto-Za.

More video of these performances coming soon!

​At the end of the show, I teared up thanking everyone. The thanks and speeches continued at a farewell dinner that evening, but I want to say a few more thank-yous now, as I feel I’ve shared a lot about my adventure in Japan and not as much about the people who made it possible.
 
A huge thank you to Satou-San, the leader of Jurobe Yashiki, who organized my entire summer and frequently drove me to and from rehearsals, took me on field trips, and taught me  Japanese.
 
Thank you Komada-San, who traveled with me and Maria to Awajishima, Kyoto, and Naoshima, drove me to rehearsals, and brightened my days with her smile.
 
Thank you Rica-San, for helping me learn Ebisu-Mai and communicating with me in my broken Japanese.
 
Thank you Iwasa-San, Mori-San, and all the other members of the Jurobe Yashiki staff who welcomed me to the theater and made me feel at home.

Maria, Satou-San, and Komada-San on our trip to Awaji Island

Komada-San on our trip to Naoshima

Thank you Tamai-San and Seinen-Za for giving me the opportunity to do the kojo and perform at the Awa Odori festival in Tokushima.
 
Thank you Jurobe-Za for being so patient with me as I learned Ebisu-Mai. Thank you for taking the time out of your days to teach me that funny little performance, and for encouraging me and laughing with me.
 
Thank you Hureai-Za for rallying to teach me Yayao Oshichi in just a few short weeks.
 
Thank you to all the members of Naruto-Za, for watching over me like mothers and grandmothers. For feeding me, for teaching me Japanese, for patiently rehearsing with me again and again, for saving newspaper clippings with my name, for supporting me in my efforts to learn Awa Odori and Ningyo Joruri. Special thanks to Midori-San, Namiki-San, Murakami-San, and Miori-San for all the extra time they put in to help me.

Maria, me, Midori-San, Hattori-San, and Namiki-San at a farewell lunch

The women of Naruto-Za in their puppet blacks

Thank you Hattori-San. It’s impossible to express what this woman did for me. Starting on my first day in Japan, she patiently taught me Ningyo Joruri, unfazed by our language barrier. Everything I learned is thanks to a foundation of skills that she built, bit by bit, over the course of many private lessons. She lent me my puppet blacks, my water bottle, my dancing socks, my kimono, and a million other useful things. She drove me to my Awa Odori performances and helped me with my kimono every night. She is an expert puppeteer, puppet-carver, kimono-maker, and potter, and one of the most powerful and generous women I know.

Maria, Hattori-San, and me

​Thank you Ya-Chan, Nao-Chan, Takuma-Chan, Ayami-Chan, Eri-Chan, Omar, Saki, Quan, and the other Claire for being such warm and wonderful friends.
 
Thank you to all the members of Uki Uki Ren who taught me Awa Odori and loved me like a sister.
 
Thank you to my parents for flying out to see my final showcase and for supporting me in this adventure and in all things.

Thank you to Martin-Sensei who made this life-changing experience possible.

Me with Saki and Omar

We celebrate Maria's birthday with Yayoi and her family

Maria, Eri, Komada-San, and me on our trip to Naoshima

​And finally, thank you Maria. Words do not do her justice. She housed me, fed me, drove me around, translated everything, helped me understand my schedule, taught me Japanese, traveled with me, and became my best friend. She has an unrivaled warmth and kindness, and I'm lucky to know her. 

Celebrating Maria's birthday in Kobe

Awa Odori (Tokushima Dance) was one of the most rewarding experiences of my summer. While I participated in the downtown festival as a puppeteer, my highlight was dancing with Uki Uki Ren troupe in the small suburban town of Naruto.  
 
In June, I practiced with Uki Uki Ren every Tuesday. Though women dance in both the male and female style, I chose the female style, Onna Odori. Every week, the Onna Odori dancers lined up in rows of three and practiced our steps in black platform sandals called geta, walking back and forth to the music of drums, stringed shamisen, flutes, and a bell called a kane. In July, we practiced twice a week and added deceptively challenging arm movements to the Onna Odori. The two women beside me in line quickly became my mentors, teaching me the choreography for our upcoming stage performance and street parade. 

Me wearing a dance kimono (with a fan tucked in the obi), and my straw cassa

These two sisters stood next to me in line and became my Awa Odori mentors

On August 8th, the best four days of my summer began. Hattori-San, the unflappable octogenarian who taught me the bulk of my puppetry skills, became my right-hand-woman. Every night, she strapped me into my dance kimono, fastening three layers of fabric to my body with what seemed like 100 clips, belts, and small pink ropes.
​
On the first night, I was paralyzed with fear during our onstage performance. Luckily, I had chances to improve. For the next three days, the dancers and musicians of Uki Uki Ren paraded down the crowded suburban streets of Naruto. It was so hot that women slipped ice packs and fans into the folds of their kimonos, sweating underneath their taco-like straw hats. I carried a towel and mopped my brow between dances, drinking beer from a refreshment cart wheeled by a team of hyper-organized dance moms.

The Onna Odori dancers of Uki Uki Ren

​I packed my traditional white socks with cotton to soften the repeated blows of the geta, and woke up every morning determined to rest for the few hours before Hattori-San and I had to do it all over again. Though exhausted, I couldn’t help smiling as I wobbled down the street. By the end of the week, my form had improved remarkably. I grew close with the dancers in my troupe, who watched over me like so many sisters, mothers, and grandmothers. It didn't escape me how lucky I was to experience Awa Odori as a foreigner. A year ago, who could have predicted that I would be doing a 500-year-old dance on the streets of Naruto, Japan? 

A few weeks after the festival ended, I danced one last time, performing with Uki Uki Ren at a hotel. My parents were visiting, and sat in the audience with Hattori-San and my host sister Maria. There were fewer dancers than usual, and I learned at the last minute that I would have to do choreography beyond walking in a straight line. I was terrified, but surprised myself by stepping in time without incident. Looking out into the audience, I saw that both Hattori-San and Maria were crying, and my heart almost burst.

After our performance, my fellow troupe members showered me with hugs and goodbye gifts, my mother snapped pictures, and my teacher slipped my borrowed sandals back into my hands. I'm packing them into my suitcase tonight, and have no idea what I'll do with them, other than look at them and remember the time I ventured outside my comfort zone and found nothing but love, support, and sweat in the process.

   I performed in my first Ningyo Joruri puppet show! And then because I am bad at blogging, I performed in three more and am just writing about it now.  
   So far, I’ve been in two scenes from the play Keisei Awa no Naruto. Ningyo Joruri performances often consist of a single scene- called a “dan.” It’s unclear whether the two performances from Awa no Naruto are separate or two consecutive parts of the same dan, but they tell the story of two parents, Jurobe and Oyumi, who are reunited with their daughter, Otsuru. In the first scene Otsuru happens upon her mother’s house while on a pilgrimage. Though Oyumi recognizes her, she decides to keep her identity a secret. This twenty-minute scene is performed daily at the Awa Jurobe Yashiki puppet theatre and museum. For my debut, I was the lead puppeteer for Otsuru, proving once again that I will always play a child and/or that my troupe recognized that I don’t have the arm strength to operate an adult puppet. I will be performing this scene again several times, culminating in a showcase at the end of August.

Posing with troupe members, Maria, and my neighbor after my debut performance.

Naruto-Za before my debut.

   The second scene takes place directly after the interaction between Oyumi and Otsuru. Oyumi changes her mind and decides to go after her daughter and tell her the truth. In the meantime, Oyumi's husband Jurobe runs into Otsuru and brings her back to the house. Desperate for money, Jurobe unknowingly kills his own daughter. His wife discovers the tragedy, but they have little time to mourn as they are immediately surrounded by brigands. I operated one of the one-man brigand puppets at the Summer Puppet Festival in Tokushima, which took place last weekend.

​Operating a one-person puppet (the brigand on the right) in Keisei Awa no Naruto

   Also at the Summer Festival, I had the opportunity to announce the title of the scene for a performance of Hidakagawa Iriai Zakura, a story in which a young woman turns into a snake in pursuit of the man she loves. The announcer, known as the kojo, is usually masked, but the troupe decided to leave my face uncovered, and I ended up on national television. Sadly, I forgot my gloves and my glaring white arms ALSO ended up on national television from backstage.

​Doing the kojo for Hidakagawa Iriai Zakura

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   My peanut butter crisis is over so here's some background information and an update on what I'm learning this summer. 

Introduction to Ningyō Jōruri Puppetry: 

​   This style originated in the 1600s and is also known as bunraku, which comes from the name of a particular troupe. Ningyō means puppet, while jōruri refers to the sung narration. During performances, the tayu (narrator) sits offstage, fully visible to the audience, reciting the entire play and using a different voice for each character. The narrator is accompanied by a musician playing a stringed instrument called a samisen.
 
   Each puppet is manipulated by three black-clad, hooded puppeteers. The main puppeteer, the omo-zukai, operates the head and the right hand, the hidari-zukai operates the left hand, and the ashi-zukai operates the legs. 

Puppet blacks, hood, and toe-socks:

What I'm Learning on a Daily Basis:  

   I'm learning how to operate the kashira (head), hidari (left hand), and ashi (legs). I am also learning four different scenes with four different puppet troupes:
 
  On Mondays, I rehearse with Jurobe-Za, operating the left hand of the god Ebisu in 
  Ebisu-  Mai.
 
  On Thursdays, I rehearse with Hureai- Za, operating the left hand of Yayoa Oshichi, who is         rushing to prevent the death of her lover on a snowy night. 

Learning to operate Oshichi's left hand: 

   On Saturday morning, I rehearse with Naruto-Za as the main puppeteer operating Otsuru, a
​   young pilgrim girl. 
 
   On Saturday evening, I rehearse with Seinen-Za, operating the feet of a puppet performing a     traditional dance called Sanbaso.

Learning to operate the legs of a Sanbaso puppet: 

Other Stuff I'm Doing: 

Sushi dinner/hanging out with my 2-year-old Japanese tutor: 

Day trip to Awaji Island: 

Hiking Yama Inu Dake: 

​Want more puppet and non-puppet content? Follow me on Instagram @clairederr

Raw shirasu fish with raw egg.

My beloved peanut butter.

   My second week in Tokushima ended in exhaustion after my digestive system rejected a meal of raw fish and raw egg and I woke up at three a.m. to hike up a mountain. Feeling  burnt out, I splurged on an overpriced jar of Skippy and spent a morning eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich alone in my room. The peanut butter had an almost ridiculously healing effect, and got me thinking about the familiar amidst the unfamiliar.
 
   I spent the first eighteen years of my life outside of the United States. A common criticism of “expats” (or whatever you want to call the community I grew up in) is that they build a protective bubble of familiarity and fail to integrate into their host culture. It’s important to examine the privilege of that bubble, but the pressure to break out of it can create a kind of integration Olympics- Who has the most local friends? Who can drink the tap water? - that positions an entire country as a growth experience rather than a real place. When we insist that the expat bubble is not the “real” country, what are we saying about that country? That only the poorest and/or most different-from-home parts of reality there are real?

   Growing up, the expat bubble prevented me from experiencing certain aspects of life in Macedonia, Zambia, Burkina Faso, Tunisia, and Bangladesh, but it also provided the familiarity that made it possible for me to exist as an other for eighteen years. My experience last week reminded me that sometimes you need twenty boxes of Lucky Charms to make it through three years in Ouagadougou, and sometimes you need a PB&J to make it through three months in Tokushima, and now that I’ve remembered to breathe and paid $4 for a thimbleful of Skippy, I feel ready to take on the adventures of the next ten weeks. 

   Stay tuned for more (maybe I'll actually tell you about the puppets at some point?) and follow me on Instagram for regular updates!