The bun’ya bushi 文彌節, Myth, and the Local Festival

Introduction

Local festivals remain, even today, profoundly significant moments for small communities across the globe. The bun’ya bushi, a precursor to bunraku, continues to thrive in five small territorial communities in Japan, playing a vital role in their festival celebrations. Considering that the bun’ya bushi—an archaic and unrefined art form—has endured due to the dedication of the communities preserving it, we pose the following questions: Does the bun’ya bushi still hold a meaningful place in community rituals? In the past, what rituals served as its foundation? Could these rituals have been universal? What are the modern-day practices that sustain it? While the communities that safeguard the bun’ya bushi still perform it during local festivals, how do they perceive and experience these festive moments?
 
The bun’ya bushi stands out for its extraordinary ability to endure through generations, even though it is regarded as a simpler theatrical form compared to bunraku. Despite its more rudimentary nature, it has successfully retained its charm, continuing to engage audiences in the communities where it has been preserved and passed down.
 
To explain this unexpected longevity, we hypothesise that its survival is deeply linked to the profound connection between territory, collective memory, and rituals. The bun’ya bushi is not merely a form of musical storytelling; rather, it is a cultural expression deeply rooted in its geographical and social space, shaped by shared memory and reinforced by communal rituals that have ensured its continuity.
 
The territory is not just a physical location but a cultural and symbolic entity that reflects the identity and history of a community. It serves as both a material and immaterial container, where shared memories accumulate and ritual practices are consolidated. As Clifford Geertz explains in In The Interpretation of Cultures (1973), culture is described not merely as a collection of observable behaviours—such as customs, traditions, and shared habits—but rather as a system of control mechanisms. These mechanisms function as structured guidelines, including plans, rules, and instructions, which shape and regulate human actions. Applying this framework to bun’ya bushi, its endurance is closely tied to its embeddedness in a specific territory and a community that, through rituals, has preserved the tradition while simultaneously renewing its significance.
 
The collective memory, as described by Maurice Halbwachs (1950), is a cultural construct that enables a group to recognise itself in its past, maintaining a connection with its territory. The bun’ya bushi has survived because the collective memory of its community has continuously attributed value to this theatrical form, first associating it with religious rites and later with secular ceremonies. This transition demonstrates how collective memory is not static but adapts to cultural and social transformations, maintaining a continuous thread between past and present.
 
The rituals, as emphasised by Martine Segalen (1998), are essential tools for ensuring community cohesion and reinforcing collective identity. In the case of bun’ya bushi, rituals have played a crucial role: initially serving a religious function rooted in sacred celebrations, later evolving into a secular tradition, becoming part of the social fabric of the community. This shift from sacred to secular ritual illustrates how rituals remain adaptable and retain their significance over time, continuing to act as a social glue.
 
 When we talk about community, we think of the German sociologist Ferdinand Tönnies, who, in his 1887 book Community and Society, defined the community as “a social organisational structure of limited extension, in which the inhabitants have common characteristics” and are bound by shared norms of behaviour, values, religion, history, traditions, and customs. Examples of communal bonds include family relationships, neighbourhood connections, and friendships: in short, all those relationships that “do not pursue a specific goal but are ends in themselves” (Bagnasco A., 1992, 2006-2014).
 
Research on communities often defines identity as the collective traits and characteristics recognised by members who share common values and social connections. Territorial identity, in particular, has long been regarded as synonymous with the concept of community (Martucci P., 2022).

But how can we define identity? And in particular, social identity? We make an easy connection with the theory of social identity: the theory of social identity (also called SIT, “Social Identity Theory”) was born in England in the seventies from the studies of social psychologists Henri Tajfel and John C. Turner, in order to analyse the psychological processes and social cognition that occur in group and intergroup dynamics.

The most important process analysed by SIT is the influence that the group exerts on its individual members, concerning the development of their sense of self (or self-concept) and their self-esteem. Every human being naturally tends to aggregate into groups and to show favouritism towards his own group (ingroup) compared to the members of another group (outgroup) (David, B., & Turner, J. C., 1999, 115-134).

Against territorial identity, some scholars have distanced themselves, suggesting that with the development of a globalised society, identity elements, and consequently communities, should be negated. In fact, exchanges between people and inevitable contaminations should lead individuals to open up to others without raising barriers and creating closures to safeguard the existing. Those who support these theses assert that “identity is negative and should be erased,” as it would only be able to manifest itself as a defense of the existing and as a preservation of the status quo. According to the anthropologist, Remotti, identity is a formula of significant compromise between change and continuity, a mixture of permanence (security and stability) and variance (uncertainty and change). For him, it is a myth of our time that affirms the idea of unreality (Remotti F., f.e.1943, 1996, 9).

Moreover, a current of historical and anthropological studies in recent decades has highlighted the artificial nature of local identity, shedding light on its modes of social construction and identifying local traditions as invented traditions, particularly within the framework of a historiographical conception that considered all traditions as invented. (Hobsbawm E.J., Ranger T., 1983).

To assert that local identity is a process of construction does not mean denying the historical reality of identities or their ability to influence historical processes. For example, the fact that a tradition is invented does not prevent its recipients from experiencing it as true and being influenced by it in their behaviour (Cavazza, 2004). This kind of statement closely resembles the criticisms directed at local Japanese history studies, which are accused of fostering a certain nationalism.

Studying Japanese local history often faces criticism. The historian Konita Seiji 小二田誠二 lamented the difficulty in detaching it from the perception of being a tool for promoting nationalism. He states that terms like furusato and kyōdo emerged in academic research in the mid-Meiji era and were introduced into education system in the 1930s. The magazine, “Kyōdo,” launched in 1930, advocated for studying Japan’s local history to revitalise cultural identity, linking this approach to patriotic indoctrination. The early 20th century saw a government-run regional revitalisation movement led by Maeda Masana, aiming to improve rural planning and compile local histories to support rebuilding efforts after the Russo-Japanese War.

Konita argues that while past studies were centrally controlled, modern research should become more autonomous and decentralised. He emphasises the need to approach local history without the stigma of nationalism, allowing for varied interpretations and avoiding exploitation by the central government. This reflects a broader understanding that local history can be viewed through different lenses. (Konita S., 2023)
 
Studies on bun’ya bushi fall fully within the field of local history research, as this artistic expression is deeply rooted in the territory and the community that has preserved and renewed it over time. Its continuity depends not only on the aesthetics of the narrative but also on the social function it performs in strengthening the cultural identity of specific geographical areas.
However, local history research, particularly studies on performative traditions like bun’ya bushi, often faces prejudice among Western and Japanese historians, who tend to regard it as secondary to national or global history studies. This perspective reflects a certain skepticism toward cultural territoriality, sometimes seen as an obstacle to building an open and dynamic identity. Such an outlook, influenced by the idea that local identities are artificially constructed or simply “invented traditions,” risks underestimating the actual impact these phenomena have on historical and social processes.

Despite the criticisms, local history is essential for understanding how communities construct and transmit their values. In this sense, bun’ya bushi is not merely an artistic tradition but a crucial element in shaping collective memory and the evolution of local identity structures. Studying it means recognising the importance of material culture and performative practices in shaping a community’s historical consciousness.

Another important element for the internal cohesion of individuals belonging to a community is represented by rituals and is the symbolic appeal that they can have. Van Gennep, in his 1909 book The Rites of Passage, spoke of the necessity for human groups to organise themselves into a more or less complex structure of spaces, competencies, and characteristics to ensure internal cohesion.

Martine Segalen, in her Rites et rituels contemporains, states that ritual is a set of formalised, expressive acts, bearers of a symbolic dimension. Ritual is characterised by a specific spatial-temporal configuration, by the use of a series of objects, by systems of specific behaviours and languages, by emblematic signs whose codified meaning constitutes one of the common goods of a social group (Segalen M., 1998).

In Europe, the years 1930-1970 were characterised by large-scale migrations that emptied the countryside, depriving it of its inhabitants and therefore of social life, while the new urban places that welcomed them proved unsuitable for building a collective culture.

Since the 1970s, things have changed, due to the re-emergence of local identities and the development of immense temporary migrations caused by tourism. Among all the causes of revitalisation of public rites, in fact, the presence of tourism plays a role of great importance (Segalen M., 1998).

An important element of the construction of identity in the community is linked to ritual and the symbolic aspects contained therein. In fact, human beings communicate and interact through ritual practices and representations that involve all forms of expression: corporeality, symbols, social customs (Wulf C., 2009, 11).

For Wulf, rites are constructions of research and creation of the cultural world by people. Rites enable institutions to “fulfill their social functions.” Without rituals there would be no communities. The “performative symbolic content of ritual activity creates and strengthens community identity (Wulf C., 2009, 21 / 35).

Ritual has always been the main characteristic of the festivals which have spread and consolidated in tradition and popular culture, with connection to ceremonial events which have relevance as they refer to the seasonal cycles of nature, responding to the criterion of being lived in communities. In this sense, the celebration has always been understood as the period dedicated to rites and liturgies, very distinct from daily life and work, which aimed to celebrate a symbolic collective ritual to represent a reversal of roles, in which the subject, at times, covering his body and face with a mask, denied his ordinary identity and took on a different one. All this allowed him an unusual freedom in interpersonal relationships: the representation of a popular theatre of archaic origins and traditions was staged, through the execution of actions, movements and gestures, in a range of bodily expressions of immediate significance [1] (Mazzacane L., 1985, 9-16).

In the past, bun’yabushi was performed during Shinto festivals or religious matsuri. Sasaki Yoshihisa tells us about a register, called Shikōhen (信仰篇) which reported the events of the festival at the Kumano Shrine in the city of Hatanochō-shi in Sado island. Roughly a hundred years of events from 1769-1866 are recorded. The temple paid puppet troupes for their performances (Sasaki Y., 1997, p. 12).

This is a concrete proof that the bun’ya puppet theatre was linked to religious festivals as well as to deadlines of the lunar calendar perhaps linked to agricultural phases.

In Fukaze, Ishikawa Prefecture, the bun’ya ningyō was performed in the three days of the New Year (January 14, 15, and 16 in the old lunar calendar) (Satō A., 1998, 268).

In Response to a specific question of mine, professor Nonaka replied that, in Tōgō, Kagoshima prefecture, until 1930, the bun’ya ningyō was staged during the Obon, the feast of the dead on August 15, and during the harvest festival in November (11月の収穫祭), but it seems that, in the latter case, the puppet show was irregular: if the harvest was missing it was useless to celebrate. The shrines where the puppet theatre was staged were: The Suiten Jinjya (水天神社) and the Suwa Jinjya (諏訪神社) both in Tōgō Onobuchi, a hamlet of the city of Satsumasendai. The theatre was part of the ritual celebrations, both the live one and the puppet theatre. It can be defined as a ritual within the ritual.

Humans have long used puppets, or human simulacra, in religious rites and shows, from statues of divinities to voodoo dolls and modern robots. The bun’ya bushi retains ritual aspects, particularly in the staging of the phallophores [2].

In ancient cultures, puppets served purposes beyond entertainment; they were used in religious ceremonies and rituals, often linked to burial practices. This tradition persists in some African communities, where puppets are believed to house the spirits of the deceased or ancestors.

In summary, puppets evolved from cult figures in religious rituals, with movable limbs added to reflect divine-human relationships, and have played significant roles in both ancient and modern cultures. It seems, that among the earliest rituals employing puppets, two were the most important:

 1) funeral rites, connected with the cult of ancestors.

2) fertility rites.

According to the Dutch researcher W.H. Rassers, the cult of ancestors and funeral ritual gave the first impulse for the creation of puppet theatre. Rinnie Tang expressed a similar thought while discussing funeral rituals in China (Jurkowski H., Francis P., 2014, 167).
 
Initially, animism was prevalent. It was believed that inanimate objects like stones, trees, clouds, and animals possessed a spiritual essence—anima. Similarly, ceremonial figures, as they participated in rituals, were thought to be endowed with life, thus becoming idols.

The subsequent phase involved the animation (manipulation) of these idols, leading to their transformation into puppets. These puppets were then assigned roles that can be categorised into two main types:

• Ritual and magic, practices still observed among many African and indigenous American tribes.

• Theatrical roles that have evolved over the centuries, influenced by cultural and social dynamics, as well as theatre itself.

Regarding the theatrical roles of puppets, they can be delineated as follows:

• The puppet as an android, perceived as an artificial human, astonishing audiences with its lifelike resemblance. The transition from an inanimate figure to one with life marked the initial stage of the puppet’s theatrical metamorphosis.

• The puppet as an actor’s stand-in, entering the miniature stage just as a live actor would, representing not only its own existence but also the character’s, aspiring to be seen as a diminutive homunculus (Jurkowski H., Francis P. , 2014, 70).

It is necessary to make a premise: in Western societies there’s a longstanding belief that puppet performances are primarily for children.  This notion took root in the 18th and 19th centuries, when French and Italian entertainers performed in the palace and gardens of St Germain-en-Laye to amuse the young Dauphin. Indeed in the past in Europe puppet theatre was not exclusively for children; it was a form of entertainment for all ages (Jurkowski H., Francis P. , 2014, 2).

In the latter half of the nineteenth century in Europe the publication of Charles Magnin’s Histoire des Marionnettes en Europe in 1852 played a crucial role in spreading knowledge about puppet theatre and recognising it as an art form (Jurkowski H., Francis P. , 2014, 11).
 
From that moment on the authors who deal with puppet theatre make no difference with live theatre. Indeed, the stages of their development coincide; therefore, wanting to talk about puppet theatre we must introduce some anthropological theories on live theatre but which can be applied to both.
 
There are three major anthropology schools of thought on the origins of theatre; one of the most widespread is that of the school of James Frazer (active between 1875 and 1915). The second school was the school led by Bronislaw Malinoski from 1915. The third school was Lévi-Strauss’ structuralism. The three theories, although different, have some points in common:

* Importance of ritual and myth in every type of society.
 
* Theatre was born from primitive ritual (Brockett, 1968, 3-8).

 However, the myth, before being represented in the ritual, must be narrated, and the storytellers took care of this and then joined in society with the puppeteers.

According to oral tradition, the first puppet appeared in dreams and myths, and then in legends and tales. Located outside of real time, its roots lie deeply in the imagination. Attested in several places simultaneously, this unusual birth has been explained in many ways but with one certainty: the African puppet is an archaic fact.
 
Thus an Ibibio myth collected in southern Nigeria by Percy Amaury Talbot (1877–1945, British anthropologist) reveals that puppet theatre originates from the land of the dead, an underground world where its plays are regularly performed. Akpan Etuk Uyo, a living person, had descended into this realm of the dead. Returning among men, he taught them the art of puppetry, then died for spreading it.
 
According to another story, the puppet shows come from Obio lban lban, a village of sorceresses, where the acts featuring two puppets originate (Darkowska Nidzgorski O., Nidzgorski D. 1998, 9).
 
In Japan we find the myth of the fisherman Hyakudayū who finds Hiruko or Ebisu adrift and realises that it is a divinity. The deity Hiruko, also known as Ebisu, requested a veneration hall be constructed for him. Dōkunbō, a priest, was the first to officiate Hiruko’s worship. Unfortunately, after the death of Dōkunbō, the deity unleashed severe punishments. Hyakudayū designed a puppet resembling Dōkunbō, which appeased the deity. The ebisu-kaki were those who animated the puppets used for purification rituals but were also bearers of misfortune because they remained in contact with the souls of the deceased (Law, 1992).
 
Indeed the puppet was not confined only to funeral rites but had functions related to sorcery or witchcraft. It could be the container to recall the spirit of a deceased person or to drive it away by sacrificing the puppet. Jane Marie Low talks to us about puppets used as shintai (神体), spiritual vessels that are considered as abodes where the spirit of a deity may reside (Law, 2015).

The Fang tribes of Cameroon and Gabon use puppets in an initiation ritual known as melane, symbolising the initiates’ first encounter with their deceased ancestors. The ritual’s climax is meticulously orchestrated: the initiates, young boys, must spend time in seclusion to meditate, receive teachings, and consume special foods. After ingesting certain substances, they are led at night to a different hut to witness a rod puppet performance, which represents their ancestors (Jurkowski H., Francis P., 2014, 169).

In Zaire, the Bwende tribe conduct a unique ritual known as Niombo, which facilitates the peaceful departure of the deceased from the village community. Niombo refers to a coffin shaped like a large mannequin, which is done for the tribal chief and must have his own characteristics. The creation of the Niombo can commence while the tribal chief is alive.  The Niombo is three meters tall and four metres wide (Jurkowski, H., Francis, P., 2014, 170-171).

The authors Henryk Jurkowski and Penny Francis explain this ritual as something similar to the embalming of Egyptian mummies, but we see it as a representation of death that materialises in the creation of puppets: an inanimate body that needs a mechanism or structure to move. It used to be able to do this alone, but now it needs someone to help. The puppet is an inanimate body that needs someone to move it: the puppet is the representation of death.

The Niombo, a human-shaped sarcophagus with the characteristics of the deceased, is a sort of robotic support structure for the disabled, with the disability in this case being death itself. This could be the reason for the creation of puppets: the puppet is the dead body operated by strings, as is done to make the deceased move. Therefore, the puppet represents the deceased.

The narration of the Myth

But after animating, moving, making the puppets like androids, who narrated the myth?

In medieval Japan, storytellers had a decisive social and cultural role. Like the ebisu kaki, they did not limit themselves to narrating but performed apotropaic rites, examples of which we will give in the following pages. The storytellers all descended from the biwa hōshi (琵琶法師). The biwa hōshi are the oldest category of storytellers found in medieval chronicles; from them descend the sekkyōshi (説教師).

In the Middle Ages, lower-class monks who traveled as storytellers brought with them moral stories, linked to Buddhist religiosity, which were narrated in the open air with the aim of spreading the belief. These were the so-called shōdō or Buddhist sermons and belonged to the literary category of honchi monogatari (本地物語) which can be summarised as a genre of stories about the origin of sacred places or myths, which see as protagonists individuals persecuted to a painful death of hardship or torture, who are saved by Bodhisattvas or who will be reborn in the afterlife themselves as Bodhisattvas (Araki S., Yamamoto K., 1973, 318).

Later the honchi monogatari will be called sekkyō and from oral literature will be put into writing and will enter in the theatres (Muroki Y., 1977, 393-395).

Puppeteers and ritual storytellers, as we know, will go into partnership in the first half of the 1600s, transforming their apotropaic rituals into theatre. Thanks to Jane Marie Law’s study (1992) we know that the ebisu-gaki puppeteers performed purification rites by forcing tormented spirits to enter in the puppet which was then sacrificed, while for the biwa hōshi the most widespread theory (Araki, Yamamoto, Muroki) since the 1970s was that they brought the Buddhist faith to the miserable population who were consoled by the promise of a better afterlife or by rebirth as a bodhisattva.

However, as correct as this vision may be, it does not include for us all the aspects of the narrative of the biwa hōshi which, in particular, narrated the fall of the Taira clan. The stories did not always have a perfect adherence to the Buddhist belief that advocates detachment from earthly desires. These were war stories that had as their final result revenge on their enemies; if this can be defined as a religious story at least according to Western standards it needs to be better defined. Our idea is that they were celebrations of mythical heroes who could take on the role of protective deities of a territory as in the case of Shusse Kagekio, tutelary deity of southern Kyūshū and the area of Yamanokuchi. Narrating the deeds of a hero in turn refers to the rite of pacification of a deceased hero. For this reason we believe that the ebisu-gaki and the sekkyōshi carried out the same task: to pacify the dead.

For instance despite the uplifting tasks, the spreading of the Buddhist faith practiced by official monks, it is unclear why, like the ebisu-gaki, the sekkyōshi also belonged to the category of people involved in crafts or work considered impure and subject to contamination or kegare (穢れ) such as the burial of the dead (Matisoff, 1977, 115).

One of our hypotheses is that the sekkyōshi, as well as their masters, the biwa hōshi, were ritual lamenters in the archaic era of Japan, very similar to the professional mourners who were found in southern Italy until the 1950s. The task of the professional mourners, as has been ascertained by cultural anthropology studies in Italy and Europe, was essentially to carry out an apotropaic rite: it was not just a matter of mourning a dead person, but of removing him from the society of living people, so that he would not harm them, and accompanying him into the world of the dead—in short, a profession very similar to ebisu-gaki.

However we are convinced that the sekkyōshi performed was not only a Buddhist sermon but represented a pantomime of mourning comparable to the funeral laments. We have no clear proof of this thesis of ours but a series of clues.

Regarding bun’ya bushi there are examples of a genuine celebration of local heroes, as in the cases of the bun’ya ningyō puppet theatres of Onobuchi (a hamlet of Tōgō city) and Fumoto (a hamlet of Yamanokuchi city) in southern Kyūshū. The bun’ya bushi appears to have perpetuated a tradition of deification of the illustrious ancestor. It is closer to the biwa hōshi and sekkyō tradition than bunraku, heir to Chikamatsu Monzaemon’s sewamono. The bun’ya bushi has always maintained a more archaic tradition by staging various works that belonged to the narrative of sekkyō.

The crisis of grief and the inability to express loss, led to the development of narrative forms like Greek Tragedy, which evolved from rituals performed at tombs. Ridgeway’s work (1910) suggested that tragedy wasn’t originally tied to Dionysus but to hero-tombs rituals.

The role of mourning and funeral laments in various cultures, emphasising their significance in sacred popular traditions. 

The anthropology of mourning aims to find common archetypes in funeral rituals.

In ancient Mediterranean cultures, formalised mourning rituals helped reintegrate the deceased into society. The “crisis of mourning” refers to an inability to express grief, leading to states of stupor or self-destructive behaviours.

The southern Italy funeral lament, a controlled and ritualised expression of grief, helped manage these emotional crises. Funeral laments served as apotropaic rites, intended to remove the presence of the deceased and prevent their return. (De Martino E., 1958, 50-56).

The Planctus, carried out by professional mourners, adheres to a set of traditional rhythmic gestures, transforming cries and howls into emotional refrains through established expressive techniques. This includes an “epic” narration of the deceased’s virtues, focused on the family context. The ritual requires strict adherence to prescribed mimicry. While ancient epos, tragedy, or lyric on death have become literature and poetry rather than active rituals, the funeral laments of southern Italy (up to the 1950s) offer insights into their cultural function. Even though the folk funeral lament has lost its direct connection with the major themes of ancient religious civilisations, it can still provide valuable clues for reconstructing the ritual narrative in the best-preserved areas (De Martino E., 1958, 59-97).

An explanation for the funeral lament would thus be that of a real magical formula designed definitively to remove the presence of the deceased.

The described process of lamentation and gestures appears to conceal an apotropaic ritual aimed at warding off the return of the deceased rather than expressing genuine grief. This is supported by customs such as burning the deceased’s clothes or opening windows after death, and is further evidenced by the unique closing phrases of the funeral lament, such as: “I have nothing more to say to you, I have nothing more to do to you, take care and come in a dream to tell me if you are happy with everything what we did to you” (De Martino E., 1958, 108).
 
The studies of Mediterranean classical literature also explores the relationship between folkloric and literary dirges, particularly in Greek culture, and their influence on poetic genres like epic and tragedy  (Gagliardi P., 2017, 39-59).
The similarities between Japanese sekkyō and other forms of sermons literature are notable.

Fumoto 麓 and Onobuchi 斧淵

In the city of Tōgō, specifically Onobuchi, the deeds of the local hero Kon’nōmaru of the Shibuya clan were celebrated through the staging of Genji Eboshi-ori, with performances managed by the vassals gōshi (samurai) of the same Shibuya clan. In the article “Tōgō bun’yabushi ningyō jōruri no sonzoku yōin” 東郷文弥節人形浄瑠璃の存続要因」(factors that contribute to the survival of the Tōgō bun’yabushi puppet theatre), dated 2014, the two authors Kamimura Mai and Nonaka Tesshō are looking to explain why in the Satsuma fiefdom (current Kagoshima prefecture) the opera Genji Eboshi-ori was performed in the local bun’ya puppet theatre with a sort of religious sacredness.

The frequent performances, over 300 years, were supported by the local samurai’s strong sense of aristocratic pride, as they claimed descent from the Minamoto clan. The puppet theatre and performances served as a cultural and traditional glue, reflecting the community’s values and heritage.

The two authors use the term pride and sense of inheritance (誇りと相伝意識) or “being faithful to the inheritance” (世襲 を拘泥する); what exactly connects the Tōgō Shibuya clan to Genji Eboshi-ori is the character of Kon’nōmaru (金王丸_who is identified with one of their ancestors.

Genji Eboshi-ori seems, at first glance, to be about Ushiwakamaru (Yoshitsune) and his mother Tokiwa Gozen, but it is also a story about the faithful servants who supported them. These were Kon’nōmaru, Tōkurō Morinaga (藤九郎盛長), and Yaheibyō Munekiyo (弥平兵 衛宗清). Women named Hakutae白妙 and Shinonome東雲 also fervently try to support Ushiwakamaru and Tokiwa Gozen. (Kaminura M., Nonaka T., 2014, 40).

Incidentally, if Shibuya Kon’nōmaru Masatoshi (金王丸正俊) were to be matched with a historical figure, he would be identified as Shibuya Shoji Shigekuni渋谷(庄司)重国. According to multiple genealogies of the Shibuya family, there were several individuals called Kon’nōmaru during this period, but the only one who fits the description of “a youth who followed Yoritomo during the Heiji Rebellion”〈平治の乱当時に義朝に従った童〉 is Shigekuni. A segment of the Shibuya family from Sagami Province (相模国) relocated to the Shibuya estate (Shibuya-sō 渋谷荘) in Musashi Province (武蔵国), the area now known as Shibuya Ward in Tōkyō. Shibuya Ward is home to Kon’nō Hachimangu金王八幡宮Shrine, which is dedicated to Kon’nōmaru and where he was buried (Kamimura M., Nonaka T., 2014,  41).
 
In May 1966, the Spring Conference of the Japan Dramatic Society (nihon engeki gakkai no shunki taikai 日本演劇学会の春季大会) was held at Nishōgakusha University (二松学舎大学). The university director, Harasawa Hitomaro 原澤仁麿, had a conversation with the professor of Waseda University, Sugino Kitsutarō (杉野橘太郎), saying that: “I come from Miyazaki [the prefecture bordering Kagoshima where the city of Tōgō is located]; here there is a puppet theatre called funniyabushi フンニヤ節.” Professor Sugino was very surprised to hear this news and promised to visit the area soon, where he learned that a type of jōruri similar to that of Tōgō had been passed down nearby (Kamimura M., Nonaka T., 2014, 44).

Kagekiyo legends and blind performers

Unlike the town of Tōgō Onobuchi, the village of Fumoto, in Miyazaki Province, despite being an outpost of the Minamoto, seems to prefer Shusse Kagekiyo to Genji Eboshi-ori.
 
The bun’yabushi has spread at Fumoto, a fraction of the city of Yamanokuchi, when the gōshi 郷士 of Fumoto saw it in a show during the sankin kotai, the journey that they had to make every year to go to the shogun’s court, and they brought along a troupe of puppeteers and storytellers. Even in modern times, individuals coming from samurai families (shizoku 士族) have continued to be the bearers of this performing art (Nagai A., 1993).
 
Until the Meiji and Taishō periods, bun’yabushi was performed during local celebrations and inauguration ceremonies. From the late Taishō period through the Second World War, formal performances were suspended, but in 1951, a preservation society was formed to revive it, and it has continued to this day. From Showa 45 (1970), regular performances were held every March at the Fumoto district community centre. However, in April of Heisei 4 (1992), a facility named “Ningyō no Yakata” 「人形の館」(Doll House) was constructed as a preservation and exhibition venue. There are plans to hold performances there four times a year.
 
The traditional repertoire includes two jōruri plays, Shusse Kagekiyo and Kadode Yashima, each consisting of seven acts. Additionally, there are two kyōgen interlude plays, Taro no Gozen Muke and Higashidake no Shishigari, with some newer additions, as well as a song called Musume Teodori (Nagai A., 1993, 4).
 
During the Meiji and Taishō periods, it is said that they also performed Sanbaso (三番叟). Additionally, for entertainment, they sometimes make the puppets dance routines such as Hanya-bushi ハンヤ節.
 
Shusse Kagekiyo is a play believed to have been written by Chikamatsu Monzaemon for Gidayū around the second year of Genroku era (1689). Later, Yamamoto Kakutayū slightly revised the wording of the Takemoto Gidayū text and adapted it into his own storytelling style (Nagai A., 1993, 4).
 
In the local tradition of passing down the bun’ya style, it was initially transmitted through the Kakudayū lineage. However, around the time of suspension and shortly thereafter, it was adapted to the Gidayū style.
 
As a literary source, there is a record in the jōruri manuscript of Shusse Kagekiyo from the 9th year of  Bunsei era (文政九年1826) mentioning the performance of Funya-bushi, 「フンニャ節」 allowing us to reliably trace the tradition from the late modern period (Nagai A., 1993, 4).

The vestiges of the past

In the strategic area north of the site of the land steward’s temporary residence in Yamanokuchi Fumoto stands Yamanokuchi Castle. According to legend, it was built by Taira no Kagekiyo during the height of the Taira clan’s prosperity.　
 
In the Sangoku Meishō Zue (三国名勝図会) [3]  it is written: “There are mountain ridges to the left and right of the castle. The right one is called Kame-no-O亀の尾, and the left is Tsuru-no-O鶴の尾, and Kagekiyo is said to have lived on Kame-no-O.”
 
This confirms that, by the Tenpō era (1831-1845), the legend had firmly taken root in Yamanokuchi as a local tradition.
 
Near the ruins of Fukuōji Temple ( 福王寺), across from the Furōchi river, there is an ancient stone pagoda known as the grave of Hitomaru-hime, Kagekiyo’s daughter. Thus, in Yamanokuchi, there are still fragments of legends related to Kagekiyo and Hitomaru-hime.
 
According to Yanagita Kunio’s views, it’s plausible that a professional traveling entertainment troupe once existed in this area, creating and spreading the stories that transformed Kagekiyo, a relatively minor figure, into a heroic character. This troupe likely played a part in establishing the artistic foundation that helped bun’ya bushi ningyō jōruri take root in Yamanokuchi (Nagai A., 1993, 8).
 
Traditionally in the Hyūga region, including areas beyond Yamanokuchi, there has been a lot of legends about blind groups like the Heike zatō (平家座頭) (blind musicians) and the jishin mōsō 地神盲僧 (blind monks). For instance, the origin story of the blind monks mōsō relates that “during the reign of Emperor Kinmei, a blind man named Sukeyoshi no Renshi祐教礼師 living in a cave at Udo鵜戸 in Hyūga, (today Udo Jingū 鵜戸神宮shrine), learned the rituals of worshipping the earth deity from a stranger. These rituals spread throughout Kyūshū and Chūgoku as the practice of the blind monks. Thus, Hyūga is regarded as their place of origin (Nagai A., 1993, 8).
 
There are several other sites related to Kagekiyo, including Ikime Shrine in Miyazaki City and the Kagekiyo Mausoleum in Shimokitakata. Additionally, there are various legends and relics associated with Kagekiyo in the surrounding areas, such as the Kagekiyo mound, Hitomaru-hime’s grave, the ruins of Kagekiyo’s former residence and grass hut, the well where Kagekiyo washed his eyes, the cherished biwa named Kasugano (春日野), and a thousand-armed Senju Kan’on statue he once revered (Nagai A., 1993, 9).

Until 1830-44, in Shimokitakamachi the tomb of Kagekiyo, about 60 cm high, was exposed outside. When the cult promoted by monks spread, people with visual impairments visited the tomb and ground some dust from the tombstone because, according to a legend, it is said to cure eye diseases. This belief spread endemically from the mid-19th century. In the Wakan Sansai-zue (和漢三才図会, Sino-Japanese Illustrated Encyclopedia), printed between 1711 and 1736, there is a quote relating to this tomb (Satō, 1998, 278).

According to the Hyūga Chishi (日向地誌, the Topography of Hyūga, 1884), it is said that these legends of Kagekiyo were already firmly established in the land of Hyūga by the middle of the 16th century. Namely, this can be confirmed from the Obi Kikō  (飫肥紀行), the travelogue of Obi,  by Ito Yoshisuke 伊東義祐, completed in the fifth year of Eiroku (永禄) era (1562), that there was a description regarding the grave of Kagekiyo, a member of the Taira clan.

Now, the tales about Kagekiyo that appear in these legends are separate and independent from the image of Kagekiyo depicted within the Taira clan.  Mukai Yoshiki (向井芳樹) points out that the remains of Kagekiyo were originally under the management of people from the jishin mōsō blind monks lineage. (Nagai A., 1993, 9).
 
Furthermore, it was speculated by Araki Shigeru that the group of jishin mōsō in Kyūshū played a significant role in the development of this tale.

Incidentally, the jishin mōsō, who managed these unique legends of Kagekiyo, were shamanistic religious practitioners (jujutsu-tekina shūkyō-sha, 呪術的な宗教者) who recited the Jishin Dharani Sutra (地神陀羅尼経) while playing the biwa (lute) and worshipped the divinity of the earth.

From among this blind group emerged the Heike zatō (平家座頭), blind itinerant musicians,who narrated tales of the Taira clan and made performing arts their main profession. In the medieval period, they organised the tōdōza which also included the Kagekiyo faction, that is worshipped Kagekiyo as an ancestral deity. Along with the Semimaru faction, it was called the Jishin faction and was regarded as “utterly low” according to the Zatō Shōshin no Ki  (座頭昇進之記) from the Edo period.  (Nagai A., 1993, 9).

Masafusa’s diary

An even more important document is certainly the diary written by Katō Masafusa (加藤正房) in the Chikuzen Fukuoka domain. Various entertainers visited the home of Masafusa.  By looking at their activities, we can gain clues about how the Yamanokuchi district received performance arts. The author, Katō Masafusa, served as the genkan-guard captain of the Minaki Kuroda (三奈木黒田) clan, senior retainers of the Fukuoka domain, and worked in their residence in Fukuoka castle. He lived in Minaki village in Chikuzen, which was his fiefdom. According to the Fiefs Catalogue (Chigyōmokuroku 知行目録) from 1612, Minaki village was the largest village in the Minaki Kuroda clan’s territory.
 
In Minaki village, the rural samurai traditionally lived intermixed with the farmers, forming a rural samurai society centred around the Ochaya, 御茶屋, the residence of the Minaki Kuroda family (Nagai A., 1993, 11).
 
Masafusa’s diary meticulously records the daily lives of rural samurai or retainers from the third year of the Empō era (1675) to the second year of the Genroku era (1689). It provides valuable insight into not only jōruri but also the relationship between the people of Minaki village and performing arts.

The entertainers appearing in this diary include a diverse range: kōtō (勾当, Heike reciters with an official role in a temple), zatō (座頭, singers of brief songs and jōruri), women performers like goze (瞽女, groups of monks, from various areas, reciting and dancing the Nenbutsu). The Mirei family (美麗) of Noh actors who showcased shimai (仕舞, short Noh dances), utai (謡, chanting), and hyōshi (拍子, rhythm), and actors like Matayū (又太夫) who performed tachimai (立舞, standing dances) (Nagai Akiko, 1993, 11).
 
In the activities that these artists held at the home of Katō Masafusa there were also magical rituals, such as doing the amagoi (雨乞い), that is, praying for the arrival of rain. Additionally, among the various artists who stayed, sometimes for weeks, at Katō Masafusa’s house, were performers of Ōsaka Kuzure (大阪崩). The narrator of Ōsaka Kuzure was a blind koto player whom Katō Masafusa calls kama zatō (嘉麻座頭). However he called all blind entertainers zatō, but it is known that in Chikuzen, blind monks would go around the temples and do exorcisms (kōjinbarai, 荒神祓い), and then perform a ballad called kuzure. This ballad, Kuzure or Ōsaka kuzure, which is not a sutra, refers to the fall of Ōsaka Castle (Nagai A., 1993, 12).

The author Nagai Akiko argues that when it comes to jōruri, the focus tends to be on the sophisticated performing arts that are part of urban culture, especially in the three capitals, (although jōruri was also loved by samurai who lived in rural villages), and the fact that it has become so popular that it can be seen as another aspect of jōruri. Today ballads of the kuzure genre are performed by the higo-biwa who were also present during the Katō Masafusa period but were not explicitly named. However, Nagai Akiko points out that Katō Masafusa called all blind artists zatō, and therefore it is probable that he was referring to the higo biwa (Nagai A., 1993, 12).

Even today, the higo biwa, widely performed in the Kumamoto area, is a storytelling genre where blind performers narrate stories while playing the biwa (lute). Professor Tanabe Naoyuki defines it as “a form of narrative music similar to ancient jōruri, such as Uji Kadayū bushi (宇油嘉太夫節), bun’yabushi, and sekkyō jōruri, that uses the biwa.” Professor Hyōdō Hiroki comments on the melody of higo biwa, noting that “its somewhat monotonous (even-timed, isochronous) narration tempo and phrasing align more closely with the bun’yabushi style than with the irregular Gidayū style.”
 
When comparing the higo biwa to kuzure, a narrative storytelling art performed as entertainment by the blind monks in the Chikuzen region, similarities emerge. For instance, both use the biwa as an accompanying instrument, tuned in a standard three-string tuning, and incorporate Gidayū jōruri and sekkyō jōruri in their repertoires, as far as existing scripts show (Nagai A., 1993, 13).
 
Backed by the influence of the tōdōza, the zatō performers traded their biwa for the more fashionable shamisen and became actively involved in the performing arts, narrating jōruri, among other things. However, there were still higo biwa performers who continued to use the biwa. They were professional entertainers who specialised in narrating jōruri, but their origins trace back to a lineage of religious figures who read the Jishin Sutra with the biwa and were also involved in religious ceremonies like watamashi (移徙) . They likely didn’t adopt the shamisen due to these religious links.

From this, it becomes clear that both kuzure, narrated by the blind monks of Chikuzen, and the jōruri narrated with the higo biwa, share a similar essence. Just as kuzure narrates battle stories like the Ōsaka Kuzure to console the spirits of those who died in the battle and pacify their resentment, the jōruri narrated with the higo biwa must have initially been a form of chanting to soothe spirits before it became a secularized performing art  (Nagai A., 1993, 13-14).
 
Ridgeway citing the fifth book of Herodotus’ Histories states,

No fact in Greek city life is more familiar than the practice of burying the founder of the town or some great chief in the market-place, in order, that his spirit might keep watch and ward over his people, and that his bones might be kept as safely as possible for fear lest they, and consequently his spirit, might fall into the hands of an enemy, as had happened (so said the legend) in the case of the bones of Orestes. (...) This was no exceptional case, for an examination of Pausanias (Greek writer and geographer, 110–180 AC approximately), will convince anyone that there was not a town or a village in Greece which had not its own hero or heroine (Rigdway W., 1910, 27).

It is now clear that athletic feats, contests of horsemanship, and tragic dances are all part of the same principle—the honouring and appeasing of the dead.  (Rigdway W., 1910, 38).

The concept of territory

The bun’ya bushi retains connections to an archaic theatre characterised by ritual elements,  supported by strong local traditions. Rituals are defined as repetitive social practices with symbolic activities that strengthen collective belonging.
With societal development in the late 20th century, there was a shift away from traditional rituals, predicting their end. However, some ritual forms persisted, illustrating their inherent value in expressing daily behaviours and societal norms (Segalen M., 1998).

The concept of territory (in anthropology and sociology) is similar to that of culture, with which it shares a significant feature: both are products of human action and thought (Zola L., 2009, p. 8).
 
The territory and its culture are products of the action of man who in his historical evolution has always taken into account space, landscape, and heritage. The first (space or landscape) is the anthropological place with boundaries, limits, and rules that regulate its use and commit man to respect hierarchies and laws; the second (heritage) is the result of the presence of man in all his manifestations, in relation to the culture that asserts itself with its tools represented by the environment and the landscape. Heritage is a cultural, situational and continuously evolving product (Zola L., 2009, pp.7-8).

The landscape is the result of nature modified by man, of the presence of man in all his manifestations of terrestrial being, of his way of organising himself on earth in relation to culture, which has among its instruments of affirmation also the environment and the landscape in which it has taken shape (Turri R., 1974, p.12).
 
This conception has had its foundation in the vision that sees in the landscape the realisation and the mirror of a society or, with a more precise anthropological expression, of a culture. Every territory, especially for those who inhabit it, is not a simple surface characterised by the presence of human settlements and natural elements, but incorporates and reflects the history of those who have lived there, their choices, the changes that have occurred, the relationships that have been established between them, the conflicts that have arisen, the material expressions—such as everyday objects—and immaterial ones—such as songs, fairy tales, stories (Zola L., 2017, 8-9).

The territory therefore appears, to use Clifford Geertz’s words, a thick description, a “dense description” that the anthropologist attributes to ethnographic practice, considered a stratified hierarchy of meaning structures. (…) The territory, seen from this perspective, appears not only the fruit of the combined action between ecological-environmental and cultural elements, but also and above all an entity that produces meanings: in a word, one could say that it is itself part of the heritage (Zola L., 2017, 9).

 The territory, therefore, produces and transmits meanings and, consequently, reveals the networks of relationships that underlie them. The awareness of the existence of a complex local heritage, both material and immaterial, closely linked to the territory, finds expression in the “genius loci”, which in Anglo-Saxon literature is sometimes defined as the “sense of place”. This sense of territory, of local identity, is what ultimately makes a person happy or unhappy to live in a certain place, which convinces them to stay or emigrate, to work with others or to isolate themselves (Zola L., 2017, p. 13).

The village festival and events related to folk culture and traditions

Among the major rites of a community there is the celebration/fest (Territorial festival) is “a complex of social actions that acquires identity and strength in the interpretations of the actors, in the practices they put into practice”, claims Apolito, who underlines the importance of the festive ethos, understood as “the expression of a standardized system of organisation of the instincts and emotions of individuals” (Apolito P., 1993, pp.73-79).

We can better understand the role of theatre in the communities aggregated to the bun’ya bushi if we insert it as an event that involves the entire community, just like a local festive activity: not only theatre but an occasion for its participants to meet: puppeteers and spectators. All this contributes to the construction of a “community identity” that is part of a specific territory with a specific culture.

Apolito divides festivals into:

• Religious: They contrast sacred and profane time, recalling mythical and divine events.

• Historical-reenactment: They associate the recurrence with the foundation of social order, often with dramatisations.

• Transgressive: They temporarily abolish social norms, allowing excesses and role reversals. (Carneval in Europe, Kinosuke Ningyō, Daikagura太神楽 in Sado)

One of the most important forms of social aggregation is represented by the participation of a large audience in food festivals, which constitute “a recently established collective phenomenon,” probably heirs of the ancient ceremonies with which in the past it was customary to accompany the consecration of places of worship through fairs, markets and collective consumption of food. The food festivals today represent one of the most popular recreational events with a participatory consensus, attended by many regulars of the so-called “hit and run” holiday. They also represent one of the most recurrent ways in which urban society relates to the world of folk traditions (Di Renzo E., 2005, pp.306-321).

Festivals and Rituals in Sado:

a) The Sado Food Festival / Sado Shoku no Jin さど食の陣

The Sado Food Festival is a major tourist event that features local food and sake made with seasonal Sado ingredients, aimed at both islanders and tourists. A wide range of foods from inside and outside the island come together for this special occasion. It is held from 22 to 24 November. 

b)  Oni-taiko 鬼太鼓 and the Daishishi 大獅子

In Sado, in parades and religious festivals, they use the Oni-taiko 鬼太鼓 and the Daishishi 大獅子, often paired together. Oni-taiko, which literally means demon-drum, are dancers with demon masks who perform a ritual dance, with stereotyped static figures, turning around a drum placed on a stand while they beat it with mallets, while the Daishishi is a large lion’s head to which is attached a long cloth (which represents the body) supported by hoops under which there are seven people who make it dance in a ritual way. These two groups of masked dancers are mainly used in religious festivals, processions related to some shrine, such as the festival of the Odawara Shrine (小田原神社). The highlight of the annual festival is the welcoming of the omikoshi 神輿 at the shrine, these two groups have an active role throughout the procession. While the omikoshi goes towards the shrine, stopping at intermediate stops (called otabisho 御旅所), the Oni-taiko and the Daishishi welcome the omikoshi.
 
c) The Ryotsu Tanabata Matsuri 回両津七夕まつり

The Ryotsu Tanabata Festival and the River Opening (kawa hiraki川開き) are held in August. This is a matsuri with a series of events to celebrate the Children’s Tanabata Festival and the opening of Ryotsu Port. Participation in the festival is especially felt in the urban areas of Ryotsu 両津 district, and Minato 湊districts. It all started with a commemorative event in 1898, when Ishi Port was designated one of the Seven Ports of Japan. There is usually a drum and flute parade (kotekitai鼓笛隊) and a children’s float parade (kodomo dashi pare-do子供山車パレード), folk songs, and a performance of Demon-Drums (Oni-taiko鬼太). The festival ends with a spectacular fireworks display; and of course, the main event is: the Sado puppet show competition (佐渡人形芝居大会 Sado ningyō shibai taikai). 両津七夕まつり・川開き（8/7、8） | さど観光ナビ (visitsado.com)

d) Hamakawachi Festival’s Oni-Daiko浜河内まつりの鬼太鼓

In the southeast of the Hatano area, during the annual festival of the Kawachi 河内神社 Shrine in the village of Hamakawachi, the Oni-daiko and the Daishishi  visit 30 houses in the village.

The Oni-daiko are of the type maehama (前浜), in which two demons dance and play drums facing each other. The performance includes : A red demon (赤鬼), a blue demon (青鬼), a small demon (小さい鬼) and  a performer with a half-mask called Rōso (ロウソ), who presents drums and flutes and showcases flowers (o hana お花) or gifts (go syūgi, ご祝儀) received during the dance. (The official website of the Sado Cultural Foundation refers to flowers, but these are monetary gifts.) During the festival, as each household invites relatives and friends during the visit of the Oni-taiko, there are many “gifts”, and the demons dance for each gift received.

Homeowners can request to see a particular demon, and the Rōso responds to these requests by naming the demon who will dance. On the day of the festival, the great lion visits each house before the Oni-daiko, shaking his head to the rhythm of the songs used to drive away evil spirits. https://sado-geinou.com/geinou/hamakawachi/

Figure 1. A frame of the village festival of Hamamachi, the Rōso dancing with the Little Demon. (83) 【1989年／密着映像③】河内祭り【佐渡／鬼太鼓／大獅子】 - YouTube 佐渡・浜河内祭り (youtube.com)
 
It seems that for each request made by the residents, 1,000 yen is offered, but the requests vary, and the offering can go up to 5,000 or even 10,000 yen. The Japanese house is raised by about 40 cm with a balcony that runs around it. The main room where guests are welcomed faces the street. On those occasions the family sits around the small table with the sliding doors open to the street. The procession arrives and stops in front of the house and one of the dancers, after doing some dance figures, takes the head of the Daishishi and places it on the small table where the family is gathered, a series of welcoming phrases follow and the Oni-taiko dances begin which can last up to 20 minutes, accompanied by flutes. The family donates money to the two groups.
 

Figure 2. One of the men who maneuvers the Daishishi from under the hoops places the Daishishi’s head in the small table in the living room of the house. (83) 【1989年／密着映像③】河内祭り【佐渡／鬼太鼓／大獅子】 - YouTube
佐渡・浜河内祭り (youtube.com)

Figure 3. A flower is given. (83) 【1989年／密着映像③】河内祭り【佐渡／鬼太鼓／大獅子】 - YouTube
佐渡・浜河内祭り (youtube.com)
 
After visiting all the houses, at sunset, the Oni-daiko and Daishishi return to the shrine. In the shrine’s courtyard, the Oni-daiko continue to dance for a long time, changing dancers, as if they want to prolong the end of the festival. Additionally, the great lion Daishishi slowly ascends the stone steps to the shrine three times. Finally, it circles the shrine three times with great vigour and is placed before the altar (https://sado-geinou.com/geinou/hamakawachi/)

The Hamakawachi festival is reminiscent of the processions that take place in southern Italy. The statues of the Madonna and also of some Saints are carried around the village on a decorated cart. The streets are pre-established. Families who want the Saint to stop in front of their door make the gesture of offering money (10 and 20 euros). The cart stops, the money is offered, the sacristan rings the bell, the group of transporters shouts with joy, and the priest gives the blessing. Naturally, the Hamakawachi dance is much more elaborate, from which it is clear that the offering can reach 10,000 yen.

The Hamakawachi, with its house-to-house procession, symbolic offerings, and ritual performances, shares striking parallels through the lens of Lello Mazzacane’s theory of festive structures (Mazzacane, 1985).

Mazzacane classifies religious festivals into three distinct institutions: pilgrimage, sacred representation, and patronal feast, each narrating a single story in different ways. The Kōchimatsuri procession, presents a communal and symbolic interaction between people and divine figures, embodying the collective experience of requesting protection, celebrating prosperity, and reaffirming communal bonds. The Oni-Daiko dancers and Daishishi lion, in particular, resemble the structural role of sacred representations, where actors take on supernatural roles, embodying spiritual protection and ritual transformation, just as Catholic processions feature saints symbolising divine intercession.

Similarly, Maurice Halbwachs’ theory of collective memory (Halbwachs, 1950) offers insight into how ritualised festivals serve as tools for cultural continuity. The repeated enactment of Oni-Daiko performances, ensures that historical traditions are preserved through participation. This embeddedness in memory, coupled with monetary offerings, demonstrates how festival rituals function as structured social acts, reinforcing community identity through symbolic exchanges.
 
e) The Daikagura太神楽

On June 15th, in Hamochimachi, the Tsuburosashi festival is held, where a dancer plays with a wooden stick in the shape of a phallus. The dance is called “Daikagura”「太神楽」and is dedicated to the Sugawara Shrine菅原神社. (https://sado-geinou.com/geinou/tsuburosashi/)

In this whole scenario, puppets are included; while the old historical dramas seem to have lost their appeal, the comic operas where Kinosuke shows his penis continue to be successful.
 
f) The Recycled Rite of Harigoma (春駒)

An example of a renewed or recycled rite is the Harigoma performed in the town of Noura on Sado Island. Harigoma is a traditional Japanese performing art of the door-to-door (montsuke 門付け) type, where performers visit each house in the village during the New Year to wish for abundance and prosperity. Although it was once widespread throughout Japan, today it is practiced only in a few locations, including Sado.
 
In Sado, there are two types of Harigoma: the “riding type” (kijōgata 騎乗型), where performers wear a wooden horse head attached to their waist to appear as if they are riding a horse, and the “handheld type” (tegoma 手駒), where performers hold a wooden horse head in their hand. The riding type is called “male Harigoma” (otoko harigoma), while the handheld type is called “female Harigoma” (onna harigoma).
 
A distinctive feature of Sado’s Harigoma is the use of slightly deformed wooden masks. Currently, Harigoma is performed during the New Year in the villages of Hamamatsu  and Noura, both with the female type.
 
It is not known exactly when the tradition of Harigoma began in Sado. The painting “Aikawa Twelve Months”「相川十二ヶ月」by Ishii Bunka 石井文海) which depicts annual events in the towns around the Sado magistrate’s office during the Tenpō period (1830-44), depicts a Harigoma during the month of February, suggesting that this art form has existed since the Edo period. (https://sado-geinou.com/geinou/harigoma/ https://sado-geinou.com/history/harukoma)
 
What is particularly interesting about Harigoma is that it was not present in Noura until the 1970s. It was requested by the residents of Noura who wanted a door-to-door rite for the New Year, as their community did not have such a ritual. Those who introduced Harigoma to the community were members of the Bun’ya Ningyō Noura Futabaza (文弥人形 野浦双葉座) troupe, who, between puppet shows, visit the houses of Noura residents to wish for household safety, abundant harvests, bountiful fishing, road safety, prosperity of descendants, and other good and fortunate things for the coming year.
 
The Noura Futabaza troupe is relatively new: it was founded in 1979 on the initiative of the first president, Usuki Tsukasa, with the support of 10 members. The puppeteers studied under the guidance of Hamada Moritaro, while the narrators (tayū) studied with Kajiwara Sōraku (梶原宗楽). The debut took place in 1980, and since then they have been committed to preserving bun’ya ningyō puppets and training successors. In 2019, they celebrated the 40th anniversary of their founding. In 2021, the group consisted of 12 members, including 10 puppeteers (4 women) and 2 narrators, who are dedicated to their practice.
 
The tradition of Harigoma in Noura began in the 1980s when Adachi Kakutarō from Akitsu taught this art. Since 1987, they have started visiting houses during the New Year. In 2003, the Noura Harigoma Preservation Association 野浦春駒保存会was founded with the aim of preserving and passing on this tradition (https://www.facebook.com/noura.futabaza.harigoma/)
 
(Author’s Note: in addition to the online sites, I received some of this information thanks to an interview with Mr. Gotō Yui (後藤唯), the tayū of the Bun’ya Ningyō Noura Futabaza troupe. Mr. Gotō is a 40-year-old teacher who dedicates his free time to the company’s shows)
 

Figure 4. The ritual of Harigoma. Photo Mr. Gōto Yui's collection
 
 
Unlike older traditions that evolve organically within a cultural space, Harigoma was actively adopted by the community to fill a symbolic gap in their New Year celebrations. This highlights how rituals can be both inherited and consciously constructed, reflecting Segalen’s theory that ritual is a formalised, expressive act that embodies deep symbolic meaning (Segalen, 1998). Harigoma, though a borrowed tradition, has since become embedded in the identity of Noura, demonstrating the dynamic nature of cultural transmission.

More remarkably, Harigoma was introduced to Noura not by religious authorities or external cultural organisers, but by members of the Bun’ya Ningyō Noura Futabaza troupe, a puppet theatre group specialising in bun’ya ningyō storytelling. This dual function—as performers of dramatic narratives and ritual enactments—creates a unique intersection between theatre and ceremony, reinforcing the performative nature of communal bonding. Their role as storytellers mirrors Geertz’s concept of culture as a system of symbols (Geertz, 1973), where narratives—whether staged or ritualised—help shape shared meaning and identity within a community.

This connection between performance, ritual, and memory resonates with Halbwachs’ theory of collective memory (Halbwachs, 1950), emphasising that traditions remain alive through continuous reinterpretation. The Noura Futabaza troupe, by alternating between puppet theatre and ritual performance, actively reinforces social memory, ensuring that past traditions are not simply preserved but revitalised and reaffirmed within contemporary contexts. Their door-to-door Harigoma visits, in which they offer blessings for household safety, bountiful harvests, and prosperity, function not merely as ceremonial performances but as mechanisms of cultural renewal.

The puppeteers of Noura, much like their stage performances, mediate between past and present, sustaining the community’s cultural consciousness through both artistic representation and ritual action.

g) The Kurumadaue (車田植)

The Kurumadaue is a rice cultivation rite passed down by the Kitamura family (北村) in the village of Kitanoshima (北鵜島), located at the northern end of Sado, to pray for a bountiful harvest. This rite, which preserves the appearance of rice planting ceremonies from the Nara era, was designated as an Important Intangible Folk Cultural Property (重要無形民俗文化財) in 1979.

The rice planting takes place on the Ōta (大田) day of May, as the final planting in the Kitamura family’s rice fields. The planting begins in the sacred field (Kamisanda 神さん田) located at the mouth of the field and ends in the bell-shaped field (Kurumada 車田), considered auspicious.

On the morning of the planting day, the head of the Kitamura family prays for the safety of the work by placing three bundles of seedlings in the alcove (tokonoma). Then, he heads towards the Kurumada along the mountain path that runs along the Kitanoshima River.

Upon arriving at the field, the head of the family offers sake to the field, facing the mountainous side called Ado (アド), and prays. Next, three young women (saotome 早乙女) each receive a bundle of seedlings from the alcove (tokonoma 床の間) and advance to the centre of the field, planting half of the bundle each. From there, they plant the seedlings in a circle, moving backward counterclockwise.

It is said that the neatly planted spiral-shaped field (うずまき状) is a sign of the descent of the gods. At the edges of the field, a rice planting song with lyrics praying for a bountiful harvest, such as “The spiral-planted field will lower the ears of rice” (植えた車田は穂に穂が下がる), is sung. After about an hour, the planting is completed, and a meal called kobirii (こびりぃ), consisting of red rice onigiri and homemade pickles, is offered to participants and spectators.

In addition to the Kurumadaue, the Kitamura family performs other agricultural rites to pray for a bountiful harvest, such as the welcoming of Kadomatsu (門松迎) on December 1st and the welcoming of “water” (wakamizu 若水) on the lunar calendar day in February (https://sado-geinou.com/geinou/kurumadaue/).

The kadomatsu  are traditional Japanese decorations made for New Year’s Eve. They are a type of yorishiro, or objects intended to accommodate ancestral spirits or harvest kami. Then the Wakamizu is a rite in which water is drawn from a well or spring early in the morning on New Year’s Day. It is believed that Wakamizu has the effect of “regenerating life,” an idea said to derive from the ancient belief in “Ochimizu” (the water of youth possessed by the god Tsukuyominomikoto 月読命). Additionally, Wakamizu is closely related to Onmyōdō (陰陽道, the way of yin and yang), where it is believed to have the effect of warding off evil spirits (https://www.nihon-trim.co.jp/media/31782/#:~:text=).

These customs of the Kurumadaue remain only in two places in Japan: the city of Sado and Matsunoki-cho in the city of Takayama, Gifu Prefecture.

The Kurumadaue rice planting rite represents a deeply symbolic act within Japanese agrarian traditions, embodying territorial continuity, communal participation, and ritual transformation.

Martine Segalen (1998) emphasises the social role of ritualised practices, noting how they structure communal belonging and reaffirm territorial identity. The Kurumadaue ritual does precisely that—it transforms a practical necessity (planting rice) into a ceremonial act, ensuring that both the landscape and its inhabitants maintain a shared tradition. By involving young women in the planting process, the rite preserves intergenerational transmission, reinforcing Segalen’s theory that rituals function as vehicles for cultural continuity.

This rite also recalls some now-disappeared Italian practices of blessing the fields to ensure abundant harvests, known as Rogations. The Rogations were penitential processions held on the occasion of the feast of San Marco (April 25) and in the three days preceding the Ascension. The term derives from the Latin Rogo, meaning to ask, to beg, and their purpose was to invoke divine protection on crops and communities.

These processions were divided into the Litaniae Maiores, celebrated on April 25, and the Litaniae Minores, held in the three days before the Ascension. Both had a fundamental role in ensuring the fertility of the land, protecting from natural disasters, and strengthening faith. During the Rogations, the faithful recited the Litaniae Sanctorum, accompanying their walk with prayers and hymns, fostering a deep sense of communal participation (Menchise R., 2023).

The processions of the minor rogations took place over three consecutive mornings: Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, when Ascension fell on Thursday. The route began early in the morning and could stretch for several kilometres, ensuring that the entire parish territory received the blessing. These processions always departed from the parish church, heading toward a significant location—such as a shrine or crossroads—where the priest blessed in the four cardinal directions, invoking divine protection against lightning, hail, plague, hunger, war, and earthquakes. The faithful responded with the supplication: “Libera nos Domine.” Upon returning to the church, the priest recited the oratio finalis of the Litaniae Sanctorum, followed by Mass.

The major rogations, prescribed by the liturgical calendar for April 25, have even older origins, rooted in the pagan Rogalia, with processions in honour of Ceres, goddess of the harvest, to propitiate agricultural abundance. Ovid, in the Fasti (I century A.D.), already described this tradition.

During the papacy of Gregory the Great (c. 540–604 AD), the Church institutionalised the rite, designating the major rogations as “Litaniae Maiores”, while the minor rogations were established in the days preceding the Ascension.

In the past, in rural areas of Italy, during the rogations period, farmers crafted crosses from pruned branches, embellishing them with blessed olive branches. According to a widespread belief, these crosses, planted in fields and vegetable gardens, served to ward off witches and devils (Menchise R., 2023).

Collective memory

One of the main tools that support the process of building both individual and collective identities is memory. In particular, it is becoming increasingly clear that when we talk about territory, as a heritage, we are often faced with processes of identity construction that aim to give historical depth to a human group and to root it in a specific territory, real or imaginary (Zola L., 2017, p. 14).
 
Maurice Halbwachs argues that collective memory is not merely an accumulation of individual recollections but the result of a social process that structures and transmits the past within a community. Groups construct a “fund of memories” that sustains shared identity, always anchored in a specific space and time. Memory is not a natural fact but a cultural construction: what is remembered is selected and imbued with precise symbolic meaning, while other elements are excluded or forgotten. In this way, recollection is never neutral but responds to the needs of cohesion and continuity within the community that preserves it (Halbwachs M., 1950).  
 
Living in a place, even for a short time, always leaves a mark on our history and identity. We collect memories that are stored in long-term memory. This memory, known in psychology as autobiographical memory, contains spatiotemporal information that defines the “where” and “when” of a memory’s formation. This is why smells, tastes, and many other sensations related to those years, especially when one lives in their so-called homeland, form the primary backdrop upon which one’s personal narrative is built (Casey E. S., 1987).

The strong bond with one’s “village” falls within the realm of those cultural manifestations that the anthropologist Clifford Geertz has defined as primordial loyalties, which are processes of attributing meaning to certain relationships and objects. (Geertz C., 1994)
 
We will never have absolute certainty that this local historical literature presented by the various communities holding the bun’ya bushi is accurate; however it is shared by them and taken for granted.
 
Memory, history, and places are at the basis of the sense of belonging and the creation of collective identities. The result of their articulation are the places of memory: as some anthropologists point out, they can have both a temporal and a spatial dimension. From a spatial point of view, places are “sites”, endowed with symbolic values that refer to a past constructed and reinterpreted through memory. (Zola L., 2017, p. 18)

If  we examined the concept of memory through the theories of Maurice Halbwachs and Edward S. Casey, it is now essential to consider the institutionalised role of memory, which manifests in spaces dedicated to its preservation and reinterpretation, such as museums.

These two perspectives intertwine when we consider museums not merely as containers of the past, but as active interpreters of memory and producers of cultural identity. As Zola, Tucci, and Bravo point out, museums act as bridges between history and territory, transforming memory into a dynamic and participatory process. The inclusion of intangible cultural heritage, such as performative traditions and community practices, further strengthens this connection, allowing museums to transmit and reinterpret collective experiences, keeping the relationship between territory and culture alive.
Museums increasingly are not mere containers of the past, but become interpreters of memory and producers of identity. They perform a connective function between environment and history, between territory and memory (Zola L., 2017, p. 18).
 
Demo-ethno-anthropological goods are difficult to understand if separated from the territorial context of reference: this situation occurs, for example, when a material testimony is placed within an exhibition space. The separation of the good from its primary environment often causes a de-contextualisation: through georeferencing, however, it is also possible to re-locate it, albeit virtually, in the place from which it was removed (Bravo G., Tucci R., 2006).
 
The interplay between memory, history, and territory shapes collective identities and reinforces a shared sense of belonging. Whether preserved through performative traditions or institutionalised within museums, memory remains a dynamic force that continually reinterprets and strengthens cultural identity, ensuring that historical narratives remain relevant in evolving societal contexts.

The Museums

a)    The Higashifutaguchi Historical Folk Museum
 
In the city of Higashifutakuchi, the performance of the local puppet theatre, are held at the Higashifutaguchi Historical Folk Museum (Higashifutakuchi Rekishi Minzoku Shiryōkan東ニ口歴史民俗資料館 ).

The puppets in Higashifutakuchi and Fukaze are bun’ya ningyō puppets. The puppet show, in this area, is called oguchi dekumawashi 「尾口のでくまわし」and  has been recognised as intangible cultural heritage of the country, and  refers to both of the above: the city of Higashifutakuchi and the city of Fukaze. Both of them are ko-jōruri ningyō (Satō A., 1998, 267).
 
The Higashifutakuchi Historical and Folklore Museum was opened in December 1976 (Showa 51) as a facility for the preservation of materials and the performance stage of the “Bunya Ningyo Joruri.” The performances are held every February during the  bun’ya festival or bun’ya matsuri (文弥まつり) (https://www.city.hakusan.lg.jp/bunka/bunkazai/1006458/1006459/1002375.html)
 
 

Figure 5. In the photo, we can see the Higashifutaguchi Historical Folk Museum,  from the collection of professor  Matsushita Omihito.
 
 
b)    The Yamanokuchi Fumoto bun-ya bushi Puppet Theatre Museum

There are two places in Kyūshū where bun’ya ningyō puppet theatre has been preserved: Fumoto a hamlet of Yamanokuchi (chō) city, of Miyazaki Prefecture, and Onobuchi a hamlet of Tōgō-(chō) city in Kagoshima prefecture. The Yamanokuchi Fumoto Bun-ya bushi Ningyō Jōruri Puppet Theatre Museum opened in 1993 with the aim of preserving, exhibiting and regularly performing puppet theatre that has been passed down in Fumoto. (https://www.city.miyakonojo.miyazaki.jp/soshiki/53/2777.html)
 

Figure 6. The entrance to the Yamanokuchi Fumoto bun’ya bushi Ningyō Jōruri Shiryōkan, 山之口麓文弥節人形浄瑠璃資料館. Photo by Nakamoto Shōshi (中元照視)
 


Figure 7. The theatre room: It is not only a museum but also a cross between a museum and a clubhouse: there are objects put on display. A room where shows are held, but it is also used to bring together the troupe and volunteers who contribute to the preservation of the bun’ya bushi. Photo by Nakamoto Shōshi (中元照視)
 
 
Local festivals and museums are configured today as the result of the process of revitalisation of the past. In the re-proposal of a festival of heritage or traditional taste, as well as in the preparation and care of a museum, there is a mix of past community and family relationships, roots, agriculture and agrarian landscapes as natural: festival and museum are therefore reused in the key of reaffirmed belonging. Festivals and museums are therefore the symbolic representation of the community that perpetuates it and that, at the same time, identifies in them the elements through which to manifest its own specific identity. (Zola L., 2017, p. 12).
 
The territory is a place lived by individuals who produce memory. Memories of the past overlap with the present creating new networks of meanings. A heritage is not a monument, one does not live on a monument, but the idea of the transformation of cities/villages/rural areas into heritage presupposes an articulation between the production of places, which aims at the valorisation of a past in an area combined with the production of a territorial identity (Zola L., 2017, pp.7-21).

Notes

1. The author, citing previous anthropological works from the 60s, refers to Christian representations of southern Italy: Processions, Via Crucis etc

2. In Sado Island, in addition to the historical dramas performed in bu’ya bushi, the Kinosuke farce is still very popular, a crazy puppet who at the end of each performance, shows off his penis by urinating on the audience. Naturally we are reminded of the phallophores, described by Aristotle, which in the classical Greek and Roman ages were processions with enormous phalluses that sprayed grape juice and honey into the fields to help fertilize the earth. But more than this, the connection is even clearer with an ancient Egyptian ritual described by Herodotus of Halicarnassus in his “Histories” of the fifth century BC (but reported by Charles Magnin in his famous book of 1852). During this Egyptian rite, on the occasion of the feast of Osiris/Dionysus, Egyptian women paraded through the streets carrying puppets moved by strings at their side that were equipped with an enormous penis. The women moved the puppet and the penis which was as big as the puppet itself about 52 cm. (Furnari, 2024)

3. This is a document compiled by the Satsuma domain in the late Edo period that describes the topography and famous places of its territory, which includes Satsuma, Osumi, and parts of Hyuga

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Article copyright Rosa Isabella Furnari.

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