【KAKINOKI villege SHIMANE JAPANJIKKA scenes 01（May 2014-2015）-tea season-】

 

外国人はもちろん日本人すらほとんどの人が知らない、小さな小さな村「かきのき村」。

ここに私のおばあちゃんち、つまり私の実家がある。

 

ずっと自給的な暮らしを続けてきたこの村に、いま、私と同世代の人たちが日本全国からたくさん移り住んできている。

 

都会に憧れて上京し今は渋谷に住んでいる私だけれど、

都会から村に移り住んだ彼らに出会って、村の見えかたが変わってきた。

 

手の届く範囲のものを愛でる生きかた。

手の届かないものは必要ないという潔さ。

彼らのその生きかたに、どっちつかずの私はぐらぐら揺るがされる。

 

撮影をした5月は１年分のお茶をつくる季節。

この時期、村の暮らしはお茶を中心に営まれる。

天気がいい日はおしゃべりしながらお茶つみをし、天日で乾かして、代々伝わる鉄釜で煎る。

 

お茶を煎る香りをかぐと、気持ちがふわりとろけて頭がシャキっとするから不思議だ。

もやがかった春の空や、満開の桜に囲まれてお酒を飲むときに似たあの感覚が、東京に戻っても忘れられない。

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Kakinoki Village. A tiny, tiny village that most Japanese people, let alone any foreigners have ever heard of, is where my grandmother lives. In other words, it’s my hometown.

For a long time this village maintained an autonomous, self-sustaining way of life. Nowadays, young people of my generation are migrating here from all over Japan.

Idealizing city life, I myself had moved to Tokyo, where I now reside in Shibuya. But meeting those young folks who had made the reverse move, I began to see my village in a new light.

The cherishing of what is within reach. The dignity of accepting what is beyond reach as inessential. Their way of life shook me, and I felt myself wavering in my own indetermination.

The month of the shoot–May–was harvest season for the year’s supply of tea. All around the village, tea was the center of life. On a sunny day, we would spend the day picking tea leaves through hours of chit-chat. Then we’d lay the leaves out in the sun to dry. And finally, brew it in our iron kettle, which has been passed down from generation to generation.

When the aroma of the brewing tea hits me, I’m overcome with a warm feeling that melts over...and I feel a sudden sharpness. It’s a curious thing.

This distinct feeling is much like the one that I get while gazing at the hazy spring sky, or drinking under the cherry blossom trees in full bloom. Even back in Tokyo, I still cannot forget.