A Prayer with Color
CATEGORY: Tradition
THEME: Festivals and Ceremonies
Interviewee: Mr. Norihiko Watanabe, Minamiaizu Town Tourism and Products Association
Tajima, in the town of Minamiaizu, is a region where a beautiful and mysterious festival has been handed down since ancient times.
The Aizu-Tajima Gion Festival is one of the three major Gion festivals, ranking alongside those of Kyoto and Hakata.
On a brief summer morning, as the shadows of the mountains fade, a quiet fervor begins to fill the town. The sound of drums reverberates in the distance, and people gather in front of their homes. Among the rituals of the festival—which spans three days, typically from July 22nd to 24th—there is one that begins earlier than all the rest: the "Nanahokai Procession," in which seven vessels are offered before the deity.
The Shichihoki ritual involves preparing seven vessels—filled with cloudy sake (sacred offering), red bean rice, and mackerel—and carrying them in procession to be offered to the deity. The cool morning air gently settles upon the shoulders bearing the weight of the offerings. The procession is formed with dignified composure; the "Seven-Time Messengers," guards, bearers of the vessels, and representatives from the households on duty advance slowly along the street. Their movements are not ostentatious; they are quiet and poised, maintaining perfect form.
This procession has long been known as the "Bride's Procession" because women clad in ceremonial finery join the ranks. Their attire is far from uniform; unmarried women wear furisode kimonos with their hair styled in the Shimada manner, while married women don Edozuma kimonos and marumage hairstyles. These and other forms of formal dress—attire marking the various stages of life—stand side by side, united in a shared prayer. The hues of crimson and indigo, along with the glint of gold thread, unfurl in the morning light, while steps clad in white tabi socks tread firmly upon the stone path.
The backbone of the festival is a rotational system known as Otōya. Rather than leaving matters solely to the head priest, the townspeople themselves have long shouldered this responsibility; preparations begin six months in advance, and the procedural details are handed down from generation to generation. As each person quietly fulfills their role, an order is established—and that order safeguards the prayers.
This festival embodies a history spanning more than eight centuries and was designated a National Important Intangible Folk Cultural Property in 1981. While preserving an unchanging core, it has evolved to the present day by absorbing the textures of daily life from each successive era. Its history is one of giving form to joy against a backdrop defined by the seasons of a mountain-enclosed landscape, long winters, and limited contact with the outside world.
The attire worn by a bride is, by nature, an expression of a singular, momentous occasion. Here, however, that personal celebration dissolves into a collective prayer. When a garment meant for one individual transforms into a prayer for the well-being of the entire community, the attire transcends mere color to embody profound meaning. White forms the core of purity, while other colors add the warmth of everyday life. Neither is dispensable; neither is in excess or lacking.
Inconvenience and hardship are not merely things to be overcome; here, they have served as a reason to kindle a light among people. The sense of connection forged while gathering around the fire during the snowbound season lives on in the summer festival. The painstaking effort and preparation behind the attire, the silent breathing, the resolve to fulfill a role—all of this dwells within the steps of the procession.
The procession moves forward. The weight of the seven vessels gradually shifts onto their shoulders, and the hems of their robes rustle in the wind. Crimson, indigo, and white blend softly together in the same light. The garments themselves remain silent, yet their colors speak. These colors do not clamor; the colors of prayer quietly warm the town.
As the sound of footsteps slowly fades, the atmosphere of morning returns to the street. Even as the festival draws to a close, it quietly prepares for the beginning of the coming year. Roles are exchanged, and hands change; yet, it is not merely the procedures that are passed on. The spirit of caring for others, the touch that breathes life into the town—these, too, come to rest upon new shoulders.
In this town nestled among the mountains, splendor is not mere decoration; it is an extension of daily life. The colors of the bridal procession exist not to adorn the past, but to illuminate the present. That is why the Gion Festival is more than just a beautiful spectacle. Prayers take on color as they manifest, and those colors return into the prayers. It is this cycle that quietly strengthens the town.
Location: Tajima area, Minamiaizu Town | Nearest Station: Aizu-Tajima Station