"Happiness Brings Happiness" Life in a Tokyo Kominka
2010 Jul/Aug
VIEWPOINT
By Jillian YORKE (Freelance translator)
I've often felt that longer you live in a country, the less you know about it - or rather, the more you realize how much more there still is to learn and how little you really know. My three years of living in a small cottage on the grounds of a 150-year-old traditional Japanese house (kominka) have given me a different, deeper view of Japanese culture than I ever experienced during my previous 29 years of living here. Moving In "It would be great if someone could live there," mused my friend Masatoshi Mutoh. We looked at each other and simultaneously said, "How about you?" and "How about me?" He'd just taken me to see the kominka in western Tokyo that had belonged to his uncle Shigeo Sakurai, and has been managed by a family trust since Mr. Sakurai's death a few years earlier. I was instantly captivated by the grounds - wild, spacious, and full of huge trees! Apart from the dignified main house (omoya), there was an impressive old stone lantern, a bamboo grove, a kura or traditional-style storehouse, a pet dog, an Inari shrine, and a hanare or small cottage - my possible future home. In spite of the uninspiring appearance of the cottage itself - cold, dark, dilapidated, and with no utilities - I immediately felt a powerful spiritual resonance with the property and was thrilled to have come across such an amazing find in busy, cramped Tokyo. Several months later, on March 26, 2007, I moved in. The young employees of the moving company couldn't understand why anyone would want to live in an inconvenient old house with no mod cons, and seemed eager to get away as soon as possible. Indeed, there are some drawbacks. Although it's pleasant in summer, my place is freezing cold in winter, and I share it with numerous insects and sometimes quite invasive and noisy mice. But I feel privileged to be living here. My first meal at my new home, known as "Wa no Ie Sakurai" ("Sakurai House of Peace"), was some roasted sweet potatoes that my landlady had just cooked on an open fire and kindly shared with me. Looking back, this set the tone of things to come. My life here has been blessed by an ongoing close interaction with nature. Mr. Mutoh and his relatives had long been considering the possibilities of what to do with the property, including knocking down all the buildings and constructing an apartment building in their place, which would have made economic sense and, unfortunately, has been the fate of many an old building in Tokyo... <<BACK

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