Hina Matsuri

March 3rd was traditionally Girl’s Day, a national holiday when families pray for the health and happiness of their daughters. Nowadays it is no longer a holiday but the Hina Doll Festival is still celebrated. Families display sets of dolls that have often been handed down through generations, and make offerings of fresh mochi (rice cakes) coloured green, white and pink and cut into diamond shapes. The red/pink is for chasing evil spirits away, the white is for purity, and the green is for health. The sets of dolls are displayed on a five or seven tiered stand covered in red carpet, like a small set of stairs leading up to where the Emporer and Empress perch on the top step. The next step contains three court ladies, followed by five musicians, two ministers, and three servants ending the bottom row in a five-tiered display. Some of the older dolls I saw were over 100 years old.

Hina Matsuri, like many things Japanese, was a cleansing custom originally imported from China: a girl’s imperfections are passed into a paper doll which was subsequently floated down the river. In some regions the custom is still practiced. My friend Omae San invited me to view the Hina Doll Festival in the neighbouring town of Utazu. The weekend after the 3rd, families and businesses within the old part of the town had opened up their homes for the general public to view their displays. To be honest, I was much more interested in seeing the inside of Japanese homes than in viewing the doll sets; many newer versions I had seen for sale in stores, and considered a tad gaudy for my taste. We went to the Utazu Town Office to drink some ceremonial sake and collect a map of the walking route. Some 80 or 90 residences were partaking in the festival. It was a beautiful late winter’s Sunday, crisp and blue, pleasant in the sun, a tad nippy in the shade. Our first stop was a very large, old house that has been restored as a museum of some sort. Guides were on hand to explain the history of the dolls and the house, and between their exuberance, Omae San’s patchy English and my delinquent Japanese I think I became more confused than enlightened. I spent a lot of time nodding my head enthusiastically and spouting Ahh sooo desu ne, guessing at meanings that an occasional ray of understanding would splinter into beautiful rainbow textured shards.

In the first main room, a women dressed in a kimono, knelt in front of a Koto, a thirteen stringed zither like instrument, which she was delicately playing. It lent a perfect atmosphere to this perfectly preserved old house built around a central garden, the rocks, moss and stone pools the zen image of how a Japanese garden should look. The corridors that edged the house double as an insulation barrier; large windows letting in light, the rooms themselves separated by sliding paper screens that can be opened or removed to allow ventilation and more or less light as desired.

We finally head back outside and followed the meandering groups of people drifting here and there. Some houses had a small display viewable through a window, others had devoted whole rooms to the hospitality of their collections. A few stores had joined in the celebrations; I particularly enjoyed the contrast created by this small grocery store that had forsaken product space for doll space, and a fish shop that had managed to squeeze in a display.

One of the last houses we visited was home to a women who had spent some time studying in Australia, some years back. On display they had a picture painted by an old man of the district, which she insisted on giving to me. It being Sunday afternoon, the Matsuri was drawing to a close and she had been looking for a suitable home for this piece. In a gesture of international solidarity, I a chance stranger she had just met, was to be the recipient of this gift. She also made the gift through Omae San, so I wasn’t really sure if she was giving it to me or not until we walked outside and Omae San presented it to me. Another instance of the generosity of spirit of the Japanese people that has made me feel so welcome since I have been here.
Thank you.