Dosojin Fire Festival

In a little town 90 minutes north of mine, there is an annual event that is a site to behold. On January 15th every year, in rain, sleet or snow, hundreds of tourist flood the town as they hold the Dosojin Fire Festival. It dates back to 1863 and is held as a prayer for good luck, health, and plentiful harvest.Two days before the festival all the men in the village who are 25 and 42 construct an 18 meter tall shrine from birch wood. Twenty-five and 42 are thought to be unlucky ages in this town. Then the priest blesses it. On the evening of the 15th the sake starts flowing as the tourist pour into the town. As my friends and I drove the narrow streets scanning for a parking spot, we could see the festivities had already started. A small fire is started up in the center of town and the villagers, followed by tourist, make their way to the shrine which is in an open field at the bottom of a hill.

Left: Men of the village in charge of giving out free sake to anyone who will drink it.
Right: My friends Nina and Charlie who joined me on the journey. We are wearing about 4 layers each!

We parked just below this hill and arrived to the shrine before the procession had. Free sake was being passed out in jugs by the locals, and clearly the 42 year old men had already had their fair share. Granted they were seated on top of this enormous shrine which later was to be set afire. It would take a lot of sake for me to get up there too. Some HUGE poles with lots of decoration were being erected and we spent the first 20 minutes trying to avoid being in their way, and running from village person who was swinging a giant torch into the audience.

Left: Hundreds of papers filled with kanji fly in the cold wind over the spectators.
Right: Raising the shrines. The guy with the torch is in the background.

Around 8:30 my feet had started the first stage of frostbite, I had located all of my foreign friends who had made the journey and the fun really got started. As if on cue the crowd became a mob pushing to be closest to the rope line which was the only protection we had from the fire. At the top of this small hill was a huge fire used to light the bundled bamboo torches on fire. At the bottom, the shrine. Men dressed as police were on one side of the rope, and the spectators on the other. Then CHAOS! The villagers lite their torches and began charging the shrine. In front of the shrine, under the drunk signing men who were perched on top, were the 25 year olds who, in their drunken state, were given the duty of protecting the shrine with their own torches. There was a fierce battle.

Left: The 25 year old men face the first onslaught of torches
Right: The 42 year old men enjoying the view

The charging villagers dramatically waved their lit torches over the audience as they headed back for battle. Sometimes they were kind enough to stop and shake it over us, sending embers and small flames into the mosh pit. At one point three people had to extinguish all the fire on my jacket. When a torch came into the audience, everyone pushed and pulled to get out of harms way. Two old ladies fell at my feet, practically being trampled. Australians were shouting for more fire and sake. All of this lasted about 1 hour.

The villagers and their torches marching into battle.

I was exhausted and ready to see the end of the festival. Eventually the shrine does catch on fire, the men on top stop singing, take a bow, and get down as fast as possible. The defenders wander off with their soot covered bodies and the giant shrines erected earlier go into the bonfire. The shrine collapsed after about 15 minutes, which sent the crowd scrambling to get out of harms way. If only I had some marshmallows.
The bonfire at the end. The platform that the 42 year olds were sitting on eventually collapses.