ORIENT: Ainu

Ainu: Japan's Vanishing Race
by Lee Sellers

Joining in the circle of broad smiles and swift moving feet, I quickly caught on to the beat of a dancing group of energetic, jovial people. Enthusiastic spectators surrounded us with clapping hands. My eyes danced around the circle, taking in the elderly men, proudly clad in dark cotton robes. These men were the elders of the Ainu (pronounced "eye-noo"), once Japan's original inhabitants, now remnants of a fast vanishing race. Looking around me, I realized how fortunate I was to observe these fascinating people---during a three-day festival filled with song, dance, storytelling, eating, and history lessons.
Viewpoints on the Ainu's origin differ. Many of the elders teach that their race came from outer space. The Ainu refer to themselves as "The Sky People." They even have a monument on a hilltop in the Saru Valley in the exact spot they believe their people first landed on earth. Scholars suggest other theories---that the Ainu are of Caucasian descent who crossed a land bridge from the great plains of Siberia. Traces of their Caucasian roots could be seen in their physical features. Some believe that they are of Mongolian heritage. A smaller percentage think the Ainu's roots are connected to the Australian aborigines. Still, others wonder if they are descendants of northeastern Hokkaido's prehistoric people, or the last of a separate race that occupied Hokkaido for more than 7,000 years.
Studying the rather light-skinned, broad faces of some of the elders, I wondered how much longer the pure Ainu would last. Before moving to Japan in 1978, I had read that less than a hundred pure Ainu existed. Today, nearly 24,000 citizens of Japan identify themselves as Ainu---few of which are pure-blooded. Most of the Ainu had intermarried with the Japanese to survive. Now, elders are struggling to preserve remnants of their past, while linguists feverishly work to transfer the oral language onto paper before it is permanently lost.
Inside the building of reed-lined walls and wooden floors, time did not deter this group from celebrating. As midnight passed, the older Ainu only became less inhibited. At three in the morning, my hostess, Reiko, a young, warm and friendly Japanese woman, coaxed me to return to her home for a few hours of sleep.
The next morning, hazy light under overcast skies had replaced the darkness. I was thankful Reiko lived in Shiraoi, a small town along Hokkaido's southern coast, host town of this colorful festival. I had visited a few Ainu tourist shops in other areas of Hokkaido, but Shiraoi gave me something I didn't find among the woodcarved trays or woven goods of the stores. Shiraoi's Ainu festival provided me the bigger window which allowed me to peek into the fascinating culture of a vanishing race of genteel people---a window I crawled through---to experience all the Ainu had to share.
More than the bow and arrow, or carvings displayed in museums, the festival challenged me to be part of their cultural history.
My disappointment over the rather drab weather was soon replaced by the excitement of new sounds, smells, and sights. A deep, loud sound held the crowd's attention, as an Ainu woman played an instrument resembling a "Jew's harp," known as mukkuri. Performing solo, her face showed intense concentration, as she played a tune recalling a story of hunters stalking a bear.
During the festival, I learned about the importance of the bear. The Ainu were traditionally hunters and gatherers. Through the generations, the bear has held a special position of respect---a mediary to the spirit world, as well as providing a source of food, clothing, and medicine.
Although a number of Ainu adopted the Japanese religion of Shinto or Buddhism, and a growing number of Ainu choose Christianity, traces of the Ainu's original religious beliefs, which were animistic, can still be seen today. Many of the Ainu rituals are requests for favors or for protection from Hokkaido's harsher side. The Ainu religion saw elements of nature as spiritual beings, called kamui. For years, the Ainu gave thanks to the spirits of bears in a sacred ceremony called iomande. Although the ceremony, in which a bear was sacrificed, was outlawed by the Japanese government some years back, I saw reminders of this practice at the Ainu village---forked sticks displaying the fearsome skulls of bear.
At the festival, some of the younger Ainu men, clothed in bold geometric-patterned robes, displayed their skills with swords. Their performance, an interesting mixture of dance and fighting, sent my thoughts back to the 17th century. Hokkaido natives were fed up with constant battle for their land and its resources. The Japanese, who had pushed their way north from Japan's main island, continued to create conflict with the Ainu. Much of the native's hunting grounds, as well as water sources previously stocked with salmon, smelt and trout, had become depleted. Taxes and tight controls were placed on the Ainu's freedom to trade. Much of their land was awarded to Japanese officials. Pushed too far, the Ainu started a huge revolt in 1668. After much bloodshed, the Ainu were defeated four years later. Despite the defeat, a somewhat peaceful 200 years followed for the Ainu. Trade with the Japanese resumed. In museums and at the festival, I saw some old, beautifully-detailed lacquer bowls, as well as other prized items received in trade with the Japanese. I was amazed how well-preserved the lacquerware was, inspite of Hokkaido's extreme cold weather.

A young Japanese girl attending the 3-5-7 Festival at the Hokkaido Shrine

Fur, beef jerky and woodcarving were not, unfortunately, all that the Ainu had traded. During the Meiji Period, the Ainu were forced to give up their native language, clothing and culture. Increased contact with the Japanese also brought disease and sake. Many Ainu died as a result. Following the Meiji Restoration, Hokkaido started agricultural development. The government tried to wean the Ainu from their hunting and gathering traditions. In return, they received awards of farmland. But along with the farming economy came inequalities in wealth and education. Laws created made it illegal for Ainu to hunt or cut wood on land that was originally theirs.
More than a century later, the Ainu still feel the effects of discrimination. Although small in manpower, Ainu rights groups, such as the Hokkaido Utari Association, strive to improve their conditions through politics. In 1993, Ainu delegations actively participated in the "United Nations Year of Indigenous People." Having experienced challenges similar to that of the American Indian, the Ainu feel a strong tie with native Americans' rights groups.
Few Ainu children speak the Ainu language since its use in Japanese schools was outlawed. Except for traditional Ainu robes, chokers decorated with charms, and large gypsy-looking hoop earring they wore, the Ainu seemed much the same as their Japanese counterparts. As I watched the girls gracefully mimic Hokkaido birds, I felt some hope for the Ainu race. As long as the Ainu can participate in festivals which rekindle their traditional beliefs, language, music and kinsmanship, perhaps there is a chance their culture will remain intact. History and teachings are shared through epic poems, chants, lullabies and prayers---and with completion of a full dictionary in the Ainu language, chances of survival of the Ainu culture increase.
The Ainu Poroto Kotan (Ainu Pond Village) houses one of my favorite museums for viewing pieces of Ainu history. Located in Shiraoi, the museum building resembles a chise, a traditional Ainu hut, although it is modern and larger. It is filled with Ainu costumes, skillfully carved knives and tools used by the Ainu. The clothing was crafted from barks of trees and animal skins, and tools were carved from deer antlers, ivory, walrus tusk, whalebone and wood. I viewed with lingering fascination the Ainu boots which resemble the Eskimo mukluks, made out of salmon skin. And I wondered if, fins and all, it would have made my feet warmer.
As I walked through the village, I saw true replicas of the chise, arranged like a traditional Ainu village from a few hundred years ago. The simple wood-frame hut was covered with bark, bulrush or grass and crowned by a thatched roof. Rafters darkened with soot were another reminder of a vanishing people's past. My nose was drawn to the wonderful fresh aroma wafting from a smoking hearth inside the traditional style home. One of the huts had illustrations of tattoos which were historically worn by both men and women. Although this practice was outlawed by the Japanese years ago, I did see an elderly woman at the festival whose mouth was encircled with what looked like dark blue crayon. Traditionally, women wore tattoos to attract husbands.
Outside the chise were smaller huts fashioned out of reeds and raised on stilts to keep food dry. Ainu villages were often located near water or forests. During the summer, men fished from dugout canoes and women gathered berries, nuts and roots for food. The rest of the year was hunting season. Before Hokkaido was developed by the Japanese, the Ainu had little difficulty locating game. Today, hunting abundantly in Hokkaido's forests would be as difficult as determining the origin of the Ainu.
Dr. Rein Kilkson, a friend and Physics professor from the University of Arizona offered some interesting thoughts about the Ainu's origin. While visiting me in Hokkaido, he observed intriguing similarities between the Ainu culture and that of Estonia, his home country. There is, he noticed, a distinct parallel between the two cultures in language as well as in handicrafts. Pointing to some woven Ainu headbands displayed in museums and gift shops, he noted that their patterns were identical to designs also found in Estonia. Mt. Fuji, he said, is an Ainu name, probably named after the Ainu fire goddess. I had thought Mt. Fuji was as Japanese as you could get. On Honshu, other traces point to the Ainu's wider occupation before they were driven north by the Japanese. Other indications of these can be found in names of certain places---lakes, rivers, and mountains. Towns, once carrying Ainu names, were replaced with Japanese names. Perhaps, further linguistic studies will tie the Ainu to Kilkson's people. Whomever they are linked to, however, my visits with them are some of my most cherish memories.
At the festival, as young Ainu girls prepared to dance for the outdoor audience, their faces showed few of the Caucasian features so evident in the faces of their elders.
Happy and carefree, they laughed and played like Japanese girls their age. Their warm friendly faces revealed no undertones of concern for the future of their race---and, sadly, I wondered if they realize their people sit on the edge of extinction.

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