十五 – The Ainu of Asahikawa

Last week, on a crisp snowy day, I visited the recently relocated Kawamura Kaneto Aynu Museum, which is the repository of cultural artifacts and information relating to the Ainu people of the Asahikawa area.

The Ainu are considered to be the native people of Hokkaido, southern Sakhalin, and the Kuril Islands. They have lived in Yaunmosir (Hokkaido) for more than 15,000 years, and are the major ethnic minority in the Japanese islands, with a distinct and unique culture and way of life.

In the 18th century, there were estimated to be 80,000 Ainu across the three areas, but by 1868, due to factors such as forced assimilation, family separation and the effects of smallpox, this number had declined to around 15,000 in Hokkaido, 2,000 in Sakhalin, and as few as 100 in the Kuril Islands. While official figures estimate the current number of Ainu to be 25,000, unofficial estimates suggest that the total is more likely to be around 200,000 as due to their almost total assimilation into Japanese society, many are unaware of their ancestry.

Immediately prior to the Meiji era (late 19th century) Japan’s northern-most island was known to its southern neighbours as Ezochi, and other than some small Japanese settlements on the southern coastline, was largely ignored. Up until this time, the Yaunmosir Ainu lived peacefully, in harmony with nature. As recorded by the early 20th century Ainu transcriber and translater, Yukie Chiri, in her book, Selected Stories of the Ainu Gods, “The people of Yaunmosir, the Ainu, honoured the natural world as kamuy (gods) and lived abundant lifestyles filled with prayers, singing and dancing: their lives were bright and busy, mixed with laughter, tears, anger and joy”.

In 1869, however, Japan was concerned about a possible Russian invasion, and in order to prepare their northern defenses, they annexed the entire island, at which time the name was changed to Hokkaido. Before long, ethnic Japanese began arriving in the Asahikawa area. The Meiji government had a colonisation policy of land reclamation, with total disregard for Ainu concepts of land ownership. In fact, at that time, many Japanese settlers regarded the Ainu as, “inhuman and the inferior descendants of dogs”.

Sadly, the Ainu story from this point, has unfolded in much the same way as that of other marginalised peoples, where they have suffered the loss of their autonomy, lands, and traditional ways of life. They have endured forcible relocation from their kotan (villages) and have been prohibited from fishing, hunting, and speaking their own native language.

Despite these terrible losses, the Ainu people have survived, and from what I have read and been told, there is a small but strong community in Asahikawa and the surrounding area. The snowy field may be vast and filled with obstacles, but the Kawamura Kaneto Aynu Museum  is a priceless seed sown very deeply at its heart.

Museum history

Around the time that Hokkaido was annexed and the Seventh Division of the Japanese Army was established in Asahikawa, an influx of ethnic Japanese visitors came to Chikabumi Kotan, where the local Ainu people then lived. To help the newcomers understand Ainu heritage, their leader, Kawamura Itakishiroma, constructed a traditional Ainu dwelling separate from his own, which he used as a venue to explain the Ainu culture. And thus, the museum was born.

From this time, the role of director of the museum was passed down within the Kawamura family, and they are still strongly involved with preserving Ainu knowledge. Similar to Māori, although on a much smaller scale, the Ainu of Hokkaido, are gradually restoring their mana through the recreation and enactment of traditional ceremonies, and by sharing traditional customs and traditions. The museum as a living tribute to the Ainu way of life is integral to this process.

On the day we visited, we were the only visitors–in fact, the only other person I saw was the woman who collected my 800 yen entry fee. The modest collection of beautiful artefacts provided much food for thought. In many ways, the museum itself feels somewhat dispossessed, or perhaps, displaced, situated as it is, right in the middle of an impersonal cross-hatch of suburban streets. The imagery evoked by the exceptional carvings of bears, fish and birds suggests rugged mountains, fertile plains, thick forests and sparkling streams–memories trapped within the static forms.

I was hoping to see some photographs from the old days, especially of Ainu women with their traditional facial tattoos, or of the children of the times, but there were few on display. Some images can be found online, of course (and the ones I’ve used here are open domain images from Wikimedia Commons). We all know that the early anthropologists were naturally curious about the ways of life of indigenous people, and that they rarely took the feelings of their subjects into account. The brochure I picked up at the museum also had some interesting photographs.

Some more about traditional Ainu culture

The division of roles

Ainu women had a very hard life, or as the documentation in the Anyu museum puts it, their noses were kept to the grindstone. They gave birth to and raised their children, foraged for edible plants, produced everyday items, wove fabrics, gathered firewood, and occasionally, even carved wood. They didn’t waste a single material, and decorated everyday items with traditional patterns, which have been passed down from mother to daughter. These are often abstract designs that represent objects found in the natural world.

Ainu men engaged mainly in hunting, fishing, trading, and offering prayers to the deities. They were also required to protect their families and villages. The tradition for succession, was that eloquent orators who displayed courage and dignity, and excelled in dexterity, were selected by the people to be village chiefs; hereditary succession was forced on them after annexation.

Bears – Kamuy imoka, a gift from the gods

Hokkaido is home to the Ussuri Brown Bear, and these animals were (and are still) extremely important to the Ainu, for their fur, their meat and also because they are believed to be gods in human form–in fact, in the Ainu language there are over 80 words for bear. Kim-un kamuy (the god that is always in the mountains) is the word used most often. According to Ainu tradition, in the world of the gods, gods exist in the same form as humans, but when they visit the world of the humans, they take on the form of animals. People who had been visited by bears, therefore, were considered to be trusted by the gods.

In the older times, cubs born during hibernation were raised with care by human famililes. The mother of the household would breastfeed the bear cub and it would be raised until about two years old, as if it were their own child. Then on a cold winter’s day, when the temperature dropped to around -30 degrees, the little bear’s spirit would be ritually parted from its body, and the spirit would return to the world of the gods, where its ‘real, dear mother’ would be waiting for its return. The iyomante (ritual) would last for three days and three nights, during which the sad parting from the bear cub would be transformed into the power to overcome winter.

In the museum I think I saw more carvings of bears, than of any other creature.

Facial tattooing

Ainu women traditionally underwent facial tattooing, and to a lesser degree, arm and hand tattooing. Only women were tattooed, and only women were the tattooists, and this practice continued down the matrilineal line. Tattooing was prohibited by the Japanese at various times both before and after annexation, but it wasn’t until 1998 that the last fully tattooed Ainu women died. It is unsurprising that the  practice took such a long time to fade out, as being tattooed was traditionally a prerequisite to marriage and to the afterlife.

When I first was shown photographs of an Ainu woman with the traditional tattoo around her lips I was fascinated. To my western, kiwi eyes, this looked so unusual–both alien, and yet, beautiful. If you are interested in reading more about the tradition, and also the different patterns and designs, Lars Krukak’s website, ‘Tattooing among Japan’s Ainu People’ is well worth a visit.

The past and what it means for the present

I suppose that life ‘goes on’; the sheer energy of birth and death has its own momentum. We can look back at the atrocities of the past and see how they are reflected in the terrible things that are still happening, right now, this very moment as I write.

I think about loss of culture and how this can impact future generations, and of the way that the history of Ainu is so very similar to the history of Māori in my own country of Aotearoa. I think about the Middle East and feel dread about how today’s actions are affecting countless children, countless women, countless future generations.

I also like to think (hope?) that for every terrible thing we hear about, there is somewhere, some positive thing occurring, no matter how small the scale, that might be the first tiny seed of change. I wonder how many people have hoped or prayed for the same thing, only to be disappointed.

It does seem to me, however, that the Ainu haven’t given up. They are not merely looking back and dwelling on what they cannot change; they are making their way forward and picking up the pieces of their history. Rebuilding and relearning.

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Sources

Ainu People, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ainu_people

Hokkaido, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hokkaido 

Kawamura Kaneto Ayno Museum, (visited by author, 23 March 2024)

https://www.larskrutak.com/tattooing-among-japans-ainu-people/

Wikimedia Commons (photographs with no licence restrictions)

Yukie Chiri, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yukie_Chiri