Dear journal, perhaps you could help me untie a knot in my brain tonight. There is much to do tomorrow and I need to sleep, yet my mind is completely blocked. But before I get ahead of myself let me calm down like the good monks would tell me to, and outline what exactly is troubling me.
I wake up a little before the sun rises. Despite the darkness this is when I have the most energy. I prepare the “lesser grains” into a hardy porridge and by the time I’m done the sun has risen. I wake my sons (three first names) and my wife Sumika. We eat, talk about last night’s dreams, go over what work there is to be done for the day, and soon after we get right to it.
Simply put, our job is to survive. Fundamentally we are farmers. Every day my sons and I plow the fields, plant crops, pick herbs, and feed our pigs. We specialize in rice farming, although we’ve had to work to terrace the land to allow it to be planted. With the rest of the land we grow wheat for ourselves. Converting the fields was taxing, and maintaining them is not much easier, but the harvest is consistent and plentiful which makes all the labor worthwhile.
When the sun is just past its peak in the sky I stop for the day, and I go talk to my wife. While we work the fields she spends her time keeping up the home and working on her passion: paper lanterns. Her designs are truly inspired, although she only did it for fun before I convinced her to let me sell some in town. I have lunch while she finishes up and we make idle conversation. Then I take the paper lanterns she prepared the day before and take them into town.
As I walk through my village I see my neighbors going about their own business. Most are still tending to their crops or fields, others are repairing or improving their homes, and some are simply chatting with one another. I stop by each neighbor I meet and talk with them for a while. Sometimes I help chop wood, or move something if they need my help. The village is small but everyone here is like an extended family to me. We all work for and with one another to endure life’s daily grind.
It takes me a while, perhaps a little less than an hour, to make it from my home to town every day. The town itself is of course bigger than my village; more buildings, more closely packed together, more people going about their daily tasks, and sometimes that means more trouble. The town is basically a pit stop travelers use when moving between the mountains, and so I usually don’t recognize all of the various faces. However I make a point of visiting all of the locals I do know before I find a place to sit down and sell my paper lanterns.
However when I went into town this afternoon I was surprised. The normal shouts and inaudible chatter had turned into hushed whispers, and all of the town’s inhabitants, no matter who they were, stood at the edge of the street huddled together as if awaiting a parade. I had an idea of what was coming and knew I wouldn’t be able to sell any lanterns, so I stayed in a friend’s store and watched the event as it went by. First came the guards, armored only around the chest and carrying yari spears. They flanked a small procession the head of which was a fully armored samurai with a face mask. His armor was intricately crafted, and his face masks made him look like a demon. The tail of the procession was a man in beautiful Japanese words for nice clothes, and in his belt he carried a daisho set, and next to him rode another samurai who only lacked a helmet and face mask. The fanciful man was the lord of the area; the man who technically owned my land.
The samurai next to our lord took out a scroll and began to read a proclamation. He spoke of modern dangers: bandits, rogue samurai, and an army growing in the west. He explained that in order to protect us, and to keep away the enemy army, he would need to collect taxes early this month. With that they turned around and rode off.
I walked back through my village to my home and told my family the bad news. This month’s harvest was coming along well. For a while there I even believed we would have some rice for ourselves this winter. As it turns out we will need to subsist off of our small supply of wheat a while longer. We may even need to butcher some of the livestock early. The only slightly good news is that my wife’s lanterns have been providing us decent additional income. Perhaps when the new year comes around we can afford some luxuries, but it’s hard to tell what the future holds if a war comes to our village.
I should be asleep, I need my strength for tomorrow, but the image of our landlord will not leave my mind. His armor was immaculate. How many people must have it taken to source the materials, refine them into usable materials, and ultimately transform them into armor? What about his soldiers and their spears, or his swords? We live in poverty in part because he takes our food in order to support his lifestyle. However one could argue it’s necessary. After all, he dresses himself in armor in preparation for war. Who would defend us if he did not organize the men and materials necessary for defending us? I find this argument lacking. Perhaps if I were allowed to keep my food I too could afford a spear and armor. Maybe if the rest of my village could do the same we could defend ourselves from outside threats instead of relying on a man in a mountain castle. Or maybe we could simply trade with other villages and discourage war and conquest altogether. It’s hard to say. I live this life right now, and it’s only through hard work and significant luck that I’ll be able to overcome my current circumstances.
Douglas Rysdyk 