CHAPTER IV.

An Ainu Festival.

The Ainu have few public performances, and no special time of the year is fixed for them. As it so happened, a festival--a "Iyomanrei"--took place while I was at Piratori.

The performance was held in a large hut belonging to the heir apparent to the chieftainship of Piratori. I went to the hut and asked whether I could attend the performance. The host, in answer, came to meet me at the door, and, taking me by the hand, led me in. I was shown where to sit, on the southern side of the hut, the place of honour for strangers, and my host sat in front of me and saluted me in Ainu fashion.

Benry and several old men were squatting on the floor, Benry in the middle, and he was again gorgeous in his regal clothes. Some of the others, who wore a crown like Benry's, were chiefs of the neighbouring villages, who had come up for the grand occasion.

One by one all the men present rose and came to stroke their hair and beard before me, and I returned the compliment as well as I could in Ainu fashion. The hut was gradually getting filled, and each man that entered first saluted the landlord, then Benry, then myself, and ultimately the two guests between whom he sat. Women and children occupied the darker west end of the hut, and they took no active part in the function. Other chiefs came in, and Benry was surrounded by many of them and by elderly men.

The whole group of these chiefs, with their long white beards, lighted up by a brilliant ray of sunshine, which penetrated through the small east window, was extremely picturesque.

In its savagery it was almost grand, with a barbaric quasi-animal sense of power and irresponsibility. In truth, it was a wonderful sight to see all these hairy people assembled in this small place--men, yet not men like ourselves--men, and not brutes, yet still having curiously brutish traits athwart their humanity.

The performance was simple, but really fine in its simplicity. A fire burning in the centre of the hut, and filling the place with smoke, added, by its suggestive dimness, to the picturesqueness of the scene. It was strange that the only ray of sun which came in should fall on the most interesting group. Was it chance or design? Rembrandt himself would have delighted in painting that scene.

Benry looked every inch a king, and several of the younger men were busily engaged lighting his pipe and refilling it with tobacco. He puffed away at such a rate that no sooner was the pipe filled than it was smoked and handed over again to undergo the same process.

Two large casks of Japanese _sake_ were brought in, and each man produced his wooden bowl.

The host came slowly forward, and planted an _Inao_--a willow wand with overhanging shavings--in one corner of the fireplace; then muttered a few words, which implied that the _sake_ could now be poured out. A Japanese lacquer rice-box was filled with the intoxicating liquid, and no sooner had this been done than old Benry, forgetting his dignity, jumped up and made a rush for it, filled a large bowl, and retired to a corner to drink it. All the men present followed his example. Benry was never selfish when he had had enough for himself. He filled his bowl again and brought it to me, saying that I was a friend of the Ainu, and must join them in the drinking.

My attention was suddenly drawn to three old chiefs, who, half drunk, stood in front of the small east window. They dipped their moustache-lifters in their bowls, waving them towards the sun as a salutation to the "Chop Kamui," the "Great Sun." There was no religious character attached to this libation offered to the sun, no more than when we take off our hats passing a respected friend in the street. It is a mere sign of respect, not of worship. Besides, it must be clearly understood that no "offerings" of wine are ever made by the Ainu to the "Great Sun," and that the "libations" offered are invariably consumed by the offerer.

I managed to get several sketches of the assembly, and every moment I expected to get into trouble again; but this time they took it most kindly.

The hut became very stuffy, owing to the large number of persons and the smoke. There were nearly two hundred people in it, packed closely together, and there was nothing in the show to interest one--certainly not the disgusting sight of this drunkenness, which, moreover, became monotonous as well as disgusting.

I stroked my hair and beard--the latter only figuratively--in sign of salute, to the host, Benry, and the other drowsy chiefs, and, carefully avoiding pushing or treading on any member of the unsteady crowd, I made my exit.

Oh, what a treat it was to breathe fresh air again!

Outside the hut the pretty _menokos_ (girls) of Piratori were having a lot of fun all to themselves. They were all dressed in long yellowish gowns, with rough white and red ornamentations on a patch of blue cloth, on their backs; and each girl took a very active part in a game, or a kind of savage dance, called Tapkara. They all ranged themselves in a circle, and a child or two was sometimes placed in the centre. The game consisted in collectively hopping an indefinite number of times, calling out either the name, or the accompanying sound, of some of their everyday occupations, and clapping the hands so as to keep time. For instance, one sound was "Ouye, ouye" ("Fire, fire"), and they all blew as when making a fire, and hopped till they were nearly senseless.

Then the next was "R-r-r, r-r-r, r-r-r," and with this they imitated the pulling of a rope.

Then "Pirrero, pirrero; pirrero, pirrero," was the sound accompanying the action of rowing, imitating the squeaking of the paddle produced by the friction on the canoe.

The movement of the arms changed according to the sounds uttered, but the hopping was kept up continuously. The game reminded me much of our Sir Roger de Coverley, in a more barbarous form, but certainly not less pretty than our old country dance.

Late in the afternoon all the men came out of the hut, and by a winding path I was taken to the valley along the river, at the foot of the cliff on which Piratori is built. Benry and all the other chiefs remained on the cliff. Bareback races formed the next and last event in the programme, and the chiefs were to witness them from their "high point of view."

There was great excitement as to who should ride the ponies. The Ainu are fond of sports, and I noticed that ultimately they were sharp enough to select their jockeys from among the lightest men. The winner of each race had a good time of it, but the other unfortunate jockeys were pulled off the ponies by the angry mob, and knocked about as worthless beings.

The evening came, and with the dying sun ended that memorable day of festivities. I retired. Distant sounds of the _menokos_, still enjoying themselves, came to me with the wind, but fainter and fainter they grew as it was getting darker.

"Pirrero! Pirrero! Pirrero!" I heard again, till at last the sounds faded away into a mere murmur, and I fell asleep.

The morning that I left Piratori, old Benry put on his regal clothes and crown to bid me good-bye.

"Nishpa, Popka-no-okkayan" ("Sir, may you be preserved warm"), said the old chief, in the Ainu fashion of bidding farewell; "I have a pain in my chest, owing to your leaving Piratori, but I shall accompany you part of the way."

I dissuaded the old chief from doing that, but he went on, with his plaintive voice: "Nishpa, you must tell in your country that Piratori is a nice place, and all the Ainu are good people. Not like the Shamo" (Japanese; also half-breeds), "for they are bad. You must return soon," he added, and, taking my hand, he pressed it to his hairy chest. He then took me to his hut again, and there renewed his farewells, and I renewed mine to him, to his _great_ wife, and to his house, for it is part of the Ainu etiquette to bid good-bye to the house of a friend as well as to the owner of it.

The return journey to Saru Mombets was accomplished without much difficulty.