The Realm of Reason

"In the vortex of this debate, once the battle lines were sharply drawn, moderate ground everywhere became hostage to the passions of the two sides. Reason itself had become suspect; mutual tolerance was seen as treachery. Vitriol overcame accommodation." - Jay Winik, April 1865

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Day 9 In Okinawa

Gateball: a lot like croquet, but played by Obaas and Ojiis (old women and old men).  I've been looking out for a game in play.  But really, finding one whilst tooling around the island is long odds.  Today, however, I found one.  Rather, my wife spotted it while we were in Gushikami.  We were down south on a mission to pick up some Okinawa glass we had ordered to have our last name carved into.  Wicked cool looking.  


While meandering back from the glass factory, we spent some time on a beach just south of Itoman.  When the tide is out, you can walk out to a couple islands attached to the beach.  Pretty cool, too.  Hodson, Loris, Johnny and I went there once, and had to hustle back to the shore as the tide was racing back in, and nearly stranded us on the islands.  Miwa and I had no such problems.  We sauntered our way out, talked to some lady who was heading into the waters to gather some sort of seaweed.  We took some pictures, then got back into the car to continue our meanderings.

Like I said, as we were passing through Gushikami, Miwa spotted about 8 Obaas and 1 Ojii playing Gateball.  I had to watch.  We swerved to make a turn into a neighborhood, parked on the narrow street adjacent to the flat grass and sand field, and parked our bums on a bench.  They didn't notice me at first (the big gaijin sitting behind one of them).  There was one in front of me with her back to me, all  the others were on the other side of the field.  When the Obaa in front of me made a good shot, my quiet, but discernible reaction startled her.  She turned around to see a gaijin grinning at her.  I encouraged her, and she followed her ball back toward the others who were playing, giggling as she went.

It was quite a spectacle, watching all of these Obaas heckling, coaching, and kibitzing each other's play.  I never really learned the rules of the game, but as Miwa and I sat and watched, we think we picked up on most of them.  As the game wrapped up, they all went and sat down on the other bench on the field.  We moseyed over and asked them if I could take a picture with them.  They giggled, offered us snacks, and I sat down and broke snacks (not bread) with them.  Miwa snapped a few shots, told them our story (that we are from the States, but Miwa is a local, and I had spent a couple years here).  They asked where I lived, and I told them Shuri, Itoman, Naha, Gushikawa, and Tomigusuku.  Of course, they were quite pleased to hear that I lived in Itoman for some time, the closest location to Gushikami.

As we sat there chatting (me calling them a group of bijins, and they continuing their giggling and food pushing), I saw some tour buses go by, departing from the nearby Heiwa Koen (Peace Park).  If you've ever seen those buses, you know folks get right off the plane at the airport, hop on the bus, go to the hotel, get back on the bus, and from one tourist trap to another.  The tourist spots, I suppose, have their value.  But I couldn't help to think that the folks on the buses would have been much better served if they had parked the bus next to the Gateball field, gotten out, and watched these Obaas for a few minutes, listen to them banter, and eat some snacks with them.

Okinawa isn't Kokusai Dori, Heiwa Koen, or the Monorail.  Okinawa isn't even Shurijo.  Okinawa is Obaas and Ojiis playing Gateball.


1 comment:

  1. Great post. I think this is my second reading of it. I am bored and at work. I often thought of the gunjins who would shop for Oreos and Jif on base and send home bingata to their families in the States to give them a taste of the Okinawan culture they were "experiencing." Those gunjins had no idea where they were living. I pity them. A few years living in cinder-block base housing, thinking they were living in Japan.

    We were so lucky. Let a gunjin go door-to-door or only a week and then they might begin to get an idea of what we got to see.

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