Konomiya Hadaka Matsuri (Naked Man Festival)

This barbarous tradition was, of course, outlawed long ago, but, even without the brutal murder of a stranger, it could be argued that the custom existing today is only marginally more humane and slightly less painful for the shin-otoko (man of God), who represents the human sacrifice of yesteryear. Also referred to as the naoinin or “misfortune-bearing person”, the chosen individual must run naked through the streets of Inazawa while being chased by festivalgoers until he reaches Konomiya Shrine.

Charged with what felt like an inexhaustible amount of sake, the stench of sweat and the roar of the crowd, who scrambled to grab bits of my headband and armbands, which are supposed to bring good luck, the sense of unease and apprehension I felt at being virtually naked, bitterly cold and one of the only foreigners involved in the festivities soon dissipated.

Being British, and therefore sympathetic to Inazawa’s history of plague, bad luck and terrible weather, I decided to experience the festival for myself by joining a team of men from a nearby community. Our first stop was a local nursing home, owned by one of the participants, where we bathed and cleaned ourselves in preparation for the day ahead. Next was a local primary school, where a breakfast of sushi, karaage (fried chicken), sake and beer was served. Once we had enough alcohol in our bellies to make us feel less self-conscious about the daunting task ahead, it was time to strip down completely, before being man-handled into an eye-wateringly tight loincloth (known as a fundoshi), which offered little in the way of warmth and even less in the way of dignity. But, spurred on by fear, testosterone, the onset of drunkenness and the pride felt in helping to carry the naoi-zasa ¹, I began the march towards Konomiya Shrine with my new brothers-in-arms.

Charged with what felt like an inexhaustible amount of sake, the stench of sweat and the roar of the crowd, who scrambled to grab bits of my headband and armbands, which are supposed to bring good luck, the sense of unease and apprehension I felt at being virtually naked, bitterly cold and one of the only foreigners involved in the festivities soon dissipated. Despite my newly inflated confidence I couldn’t help noticing that amongst my mixed (but entirely male) bunch of comrades, formed mostly of run-of-the-mill businessmen, software developers, mechanics, and engineers, a number of slightly less savoury-looking characters were also taking part in the day’s events, emblazoned with large and intricate tattoos suggestive of ties to the yakuza (Japanese mafia). At times, sweat and blood streamed from the stampeding horde as it charged forwards, the object of its desire being to touch the shin-otoko. Many men participate during their yakudoshi (unlucky) years of 25, 42, and 61, hence their eagerness to come into contact with this “chosen one”, who is said to dispel bad omens and ward off evil.

Inevitably, chaos ensued, with many a scuffle, scrap and the occasional full-blown fistfight, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed by another cup of sake.

All images copyright © Thaddeus Pope. All rights reserved.