HAWAIIAN STYLE
Japanese culture, fun reign in this parade
By Wade Kilohana Shirkey
Advertiser Columnist
Call them Mr. and Mrs. Parade. Organizer Nelson Fujio has several hundred under his belt. And his wife, Diane, isn't about to let a parade pass her by, either. Together, they're an encyclopedic resource of trivia about Sunday's Honolulu Festival grand parade in Waikiki.
Advertiser library photo • March 10, 2002
• Method behind the madness: Credit dwindling tourism. The once-populous coal-mining town of Omuta, Japan, hometown of the parade's finale, the Fire-Spitting Dragon, had become a "ghost town," Fujio said. A reorganized and heavily promoted annual matsuri, or festival, now attracts more than 2 million visitors a year.
Members from Inaho Adult Mikoshi Yumotosuikokai carry their float down Kalakaua Avenue at last year's Honolulu Festival grand parade.
"The place was choke!" Fujio said of the wall-to-wall people.
Honolulu Festival, similarly, is a way to bolster sagging visitor figures during slow tourism months. It attracts some 4,600 performers, artists and dancers from cultural groups across Japan — not to mention the aunties and uncles, kids and friends that trip along for the ride.
More than 87,500 residents and visitors took in the first Honolulu Festival in 1995. Attendance was more than 333,500 last year.
• Sunday drivers: Imagine the huge floats as "houses on wheels," said Fujio — two of 'em, in the middle, and no steering. Pulling the monstrosity forward is easy, Fujio said. But, the strongmen from Japan have to throw their weight into the thing to turn it. The big wooden wedge, like a tire chuck? "That's the brake," he said.
One float consist of some 53 feet of beautiful lanterns formed into the shape of a gigantic boat. It doesn't have wheels, but two metal skids. Its 1.8-ton mass is pulled down Kalakaua by 80 men, much like a sled.
• Turn signals: Men atop the big floats use theatrical "firesticks," much like the "flashlight" guys who guide a plane in on the tarmac.
Those guiding the floats on the ground watch these firesticks for direction.
• Secret of dragon breath: The fire and smoke from the fire-spitting dragon are nothing more than fireworks on bamboo poles outside the dragon's mouth.
• "Halau there!": Participants from different regions of Japan are similar to hula halau — or krewes in New Orleans' Mardi Gras. Each is distinguished by its own color of kimono, hapi coat or yukata.
Furthermore, only the kupuna are honored with places atop the floats. And, if you listen, you'll hear commands called out to direct the float, much like the kahea in hula. And, similar to the vocal "Makaukau?" call for readiness in hula, the distinctive three sets of claps signal the picking up of the mikoshi, shrines.
• No longer only a guy thing: Until recently, only men were allowed atop the floats: taiko drummers, flute players, chanters. Watch carefully this year: You'll see one little shrine that breaks the rules.
• "Let's take this little number for a ride": Usually made of washi paper anew each year in Japan, our visiting fire-spitting dragon is welded aluminum. It's the showroom model, one usually on permanent display in Japan as a tourist inducement. Sorta like the old Dole Pineapple water tank.
"We're getting the demo!" joked Fujio. And the darned thing, like everything else, had to go through customs.
• A piece of the action: Paradegoers here will NOT be encouraged to take home a piece of the dragon for good luck as in Japan. "Yeah, right!" said Diane. This one, remember, is welded metal.
• Rice is nice: The huge, 140-pound distinctive float of tier after tier of tiny white, lighted lanterns on bamboo stringers — balanced on the hips, foreheads, shoulders and palms of walkers — is symbolic of grains of rice. Each Japan matsuri, Fujio said, encourages good harvests of some main staple: rice, vegetable, fish.
• The Wild, Wild East?!: When they have matsuri in Japan, Fujio said, there are essentially no laws. "Rules are suspended," or overlooked, much like Mardi Gras. "They love their festivals. This is a time of joy," Fujio said. "When they come here, they think they're at home. ... We have to 'brief' them: no fighting; no sake or beer drinking in public; no spraying the public with fireworks for good luck."
