Koto Lessons and Old War Stories: Building Bridges Through Music Exchange
Alyssa Cantrell (Akita, 2016-2019)
International exchange centered around music has an important, and often overlooked, role to play in U.S.-Japan relations, as I discovered through my experience learning to play the koto. A traditional Japanese instrument in the zither family, the koto has been deeply ingrained in Japanese culture for many centuries. It was first introduced to Japan from China during the early Nara period (710–784 CE) and has made countless appearances in Japanese literature, mythology, and other forms of theater.(1) Perhaps its most famous appearance is in The Tale of Genji. Written in the eleventh century by Murasaki Shikibu, its titular character finds himself falling in love with a woman he has never met just from hearing her play. (2)
Another notable mention of the koto is in the world of yokai—supernatural beasts and spirits in Japanese folklore—in which the famed instrument claims a spot. When a koto has been neglected for many years, it will turn into a creature called a koto furunushi, playing old, forgotten tunes when no one is around.(3) So potent is the koto’s power that when deprived of a musician, it will resort to playing itself. It is no wonder that the koto is so deeply entrenched in Japanese culture, and it was this allure that first drew me to it.
The first time I met my koto teacher, I spent no less than four hours in her humble, traditional Japanese style residence. She lived in the countryside of a small town called Konoura in Akita Prefecture, which was a fifteen-minute drive from Nikaho, my new home upon joining the JET Program. A few weeks prior, I had mentioned offhand to a woman in the adult English class I taught once a week that I was interested in learning to play a traditional Japanese instrument. She kindly arranged an introduction between myself and a koto student named Yabe-san, who took me to her instructor’s home for a visit.
We rang the doorbell and a voice called out inviting us to enter. “Ojama shimasu,”—please excuse our intrusion—we responded in the traditional manner, leaving our shoes in the front hall and entering the living room.
“Irasshai,” the woman welcomed us in kindly. She was elderly—in her early eighties. However, there was not an ounce of frailness in her tiny frame. She kneeled elegantly in the seiza style, her legs folded and tucked delicately under her body. The set of her shoulders was unassuming, yet proud.
Following Yabe-san’s example, I knelt and bowed, forehead nearly touching the floor. The elderly woman responded in kind, and after introducing herself as Tsumura-sensei, immediately launched into her entire life story. Through my intermediate level of Japanese and Yabe-san’s occasional translations, I did my best to piece together the threads of her life.
She grew up in the southern part of Sakhalin Island, she began, the long strip of land just north of Hokkaido, which at that time belonged to Japan.(4) However, once the Soviet Union declared war on Japan, she, her mother, and her younger sister were forced to flee south to Hokkaido to escape the invading Soviet army. Although food was scarce and her family often faced starvation, it was there that she discovered her love for the koto and eventually made her way to the town where she now lived to work as a music teacher. There weren’t many textbooks for music or even other general subjects, she explained, so she wrote several of them herself. She received some from the occupying American soldiers, but as they were in English, she had to work hard to translate them.
As I struggled to process this unexpected onslaught of information, she sat me down next to a koto and offered me a handful of finger picks, called tsume, to try on. She showed me how to fit them on my right thumb, index, and middle finger, then began to instruct me on how to pluck the delicate strings. The instrument had already been tuned, and thirteen white kotoji—movable bridges placed under each string—pulled the strings taut where they were set diagonally down the body. She placed a piece of music in front of me—Sakura Sakura, the standard piece for any new learner. Though I was initially confident in my musical ability with my previous experience playing piano and French horn, this faded quickly as I looked at the unfamiliar music notation.
Unlike the staff notation used in western music, koto music uses kanji. Thirteen kanji—one through ten along with three additional characters—represent each string of the instrument. More complex markings indicate more complicated movements, such as when the left hand is used to press down on the string on the opposite side of the kotoji to lower the note by a half or a whole step.(5)
Despite the obvious learning curve, Tsumura-sensei praised my efforts. She graciously lent me all of the tools I would need to practice at home, and I carefully packed the six-foot instrument, tsume, and sheet music in my car.
My second lesson took place two weeks later and was a different experience entirely. As I sat down and prepared to demonstrate my progress on Sakura Sakura, we were interrupted by a loud disturbance outside, which turned out to be an inebriated neighbor wandering the streets. Tsumura-sensei went to scold him emphatically and walk him home. When she returned, all further intentions of practice were cast aside and I was given an hour-long lecture on the importance of finding a good man to be my husband. I left without having played a single note.
Lessons continued to be a unique experience. Sometimes we would spend an hour practicing uninterrupted, other times the hour-long lesson would turn to three hours as she regaled me with stories of her past. I never knew when to take out my tsume—did I put them on immediately and sit in discomfort as the tight bands constricted my fingers or did I leave them off and risk a scolding for not being prepared? While I was itching to get my fingers on the strings, get the lesson finished, and get home so I could eat dinner after a long day at work, I also appreciated it for the unique experience that it was.
I often struggled to grasp all of the details in Tsumura-sensei’s stories, but she was unfazed. One common experience I had with many of my Japanese neighbors was that if I showed even a small sign of confusion, a hint that I did not fully understand a word or phrase they uttered, they would panic and all communication would shut down. Not so with Tsumura-sensei. She plowed on no matter what, and it was my responsibility to do my best to keep up with the conversation. There was no time to interject and ask questions, only listen and try to follow her story as best I could. Despite the language barrier and difference in past experiences, she seemed happy to just have someone who would listen attentively to her life story.
After about a year of taking lessons and finally performing Sakura Sakura at my first concert, Tsumura-sensei confided in me a more personal account of her past. I found out that she’d had four older brothers who, along with her father, had all lost their lives in the war. She told me about the lingering pain of the trauma that she felt even years after the fighting had ceased, and how it was so unbearable that she had considered taking her life at times. She avoided waterfalls at all costs as the roaring rapids reminded her of the bombs that were dropped during her escape from Sakhalin. But she finally found peace in the comfort of the koto and devoted her life to it. Finding solace through music—this was something we both understood and needed few words to convey.
However, the historical backdrop that framed Tsumura-sensei’s personal experience with World War II was not a topic that I remembered learning in school, and I found myself researching it out of curiosity. The war did not end with the August 6, 1945 bombing of Hiroshima. The Soviet Union declared war on Japan two days later on August 8, and within the next week, Soviet forces had entered Manchuria and Korea, both of which were under Japanese control, as well as the southern half of Sakhalin. The Japanese defensive line in Sakhalin was able to do little more than slow the advance to allow as many civilians as possible time to escape, and the ones who did not were machine-gunned by the landing Soviet troops. After the fall of Sakhalin, Japan prepared itself to prevent any more Soviet landings, as they were well aware of Stalin’s designs to take Hokkaido—one of the four main islands that make up Japan—which also happened to be where Tsumura-sensei had fled with what remained of her family.
Hokkaido, of course, was not overtaken by Soviet forces. Despite the Soviet invasion, the United States conducted a second atomic bombing on August 9 in Nagasaki. Following this attack, Emperor Hirohito announced the surrender of Japanese forces on August 15, bringing an end to hostilities. President Truman denied Stalin’s request to revise the draft of General Order No. 1 regarding the handling of Japan and allow for the northern half of Hokkaido to be surrendered to Soviet forces. However, the Soviet forces continued occupying Sakhalin, and the complete repatriation of the survivors from Sakhalin to Japan was completed the following year.(6)
After my second year of lessons, I decided it was time for me to play one final concert and then focus on my plans after JET, which involved several graduate school applications. However, it was not in Tsumura-sensei’s nature to let me leave her house empty handed. Before my final lesson, she traded out the usual presents of oranges and freshly baked cakes for a more priceless gift—my very own koto. I had it restrung and meticulously packaged and mailed to the United States, promising myself that I would continue to practice diligently in honor of my teacher—or at the very least to avoid unintentionally creating my own koto furunushi.
I saw Tsumura-sensei one final time before I left Japan. She had invited me to one last concert, which coincidentally took place on her eighty-fifth birthday. Her students performed renditions of several popular songs, and when Sakura Sakura began, I reflected on my experience learning how to play the koto. All of my memories regarding this instrument are now inextricably linked with Tsumura-sensei’s interminable stories about her past, her willingness to welcome a foreigner into her home, her kindness and generosity, her frustration and admonishments. When I look back, what astounds me the most was that there was no bitterness in her voice as she recounted her past trauma, just her eagerness to share her life experiences with someone who was willing to listen.
Years later, I often wonder about her in the context of events unfolding all around us. I think about the people who have lost their lives and the family members who remain and will carry their trauma with them, like she has. I think about the family members of other survivors of World War II who have documented their feelings regarding the current conflicts and voiced their fear that it will leave lasting scars on civilians and their children for generations.(7) I feel grateful that Tsumura-sensei discovered her passion for the koto so many years ago and ponder how this passion could be shared with others who now need a coping mechanism as much as she did.
After all, despite the little recognition that music has received in the context of global health, research has proven it to be an effective strategy for coping with trauma. Medical studies show it to be an effective means for reflection, self-expression, mood improvement, and more.(8) Though I can only guess at the specifics of Tsumura-sensei’s initial reasons for learning to play the koto, it is clear that it has provided her with no small amount of comfort as she struggled to process the loss of her home and family. Perhaps she, as many others who have found solace through music, felt that she was able to connect with something deeper than herself and express emotions that otherwise could not be conveyed through words.(9)
Along with the innumerable mental benefits it provides, music also proves to be a valuable tool for community building, and it has an important role to play in U.S.-Japan relations. As I experienced firsthand, it creates a reason to continue bringing individuals together—a precious opportunity in our increasingly isolated society. Outside of our lessons, there was no other place that I would have had any kind of sustained interaction with Tsumura-sensei, and having a common activity that kept our hands busy provided us both the occasional respite from our weighty conversations by allowing us to focus on something else for a few moments at a time. While my experience consisted mostly of a one-to-one relationship with Tsumura-sensei, music can also impact the larger community through organized exchanges.
A few music exchange programs have already been established with the purpose of deepening U.S.-Japan relations through music. For example, the Midori Foundation, created by renowned musician Midori Goto, offers several programs both in the United States and in Japan. The New York-based Midori & Friends provides the opportunity for local youth to explore music from around the world while the Tokyo-based MUSIC SHARING introduces Western classical and traditional Japanese music to schools and other institutions.(10,11) Another organization, the Study Abroad Foundation of the Arts (SAFA), holds concerts in local Japanese communities through their Japan LIVE! concert series with the intent to foster cross-cultural communication.(12)
A few programs have been specifically created in the aftermath of the Great East Japan Earthquake of 2011 to provide support for Japan’s recovery in the wake of the disaster. One of these programs, the TOMODACHI Initiative, collaborates with other cultural exchange programs and offers several music-specific programs, such as the TOMODACHI Goldman Sachs Music Outreach Program, which aims to “have Japanese and American youths communicate through the universal language of music and performing arts and to have the participants deepen cultural and self-understanding”.(13)TOMODACHI also partnered with the Fukushima Youth Sinfonietta (FYS) in 2016 to commemorate the fifth anniversary of the earthquake. The FYS is a youth orchestra that developed out of the aftermath of the March 2011 earthquake that primarily consists of middle school students in Fukushima. Many of the students have attested that the program has “brought [them] closer together, helping them express themselves freely and overcome their inner fears.”(14)
For these reasons, it would be effective to increase the number of organized music exchanges between the United States and Japan. As many of the current organizations focus on youth, it would be beneficial for adults to have similar opportunities, such as through grants to local community groups to purchase instruments and group lessons with an instructor. This program could take place in both the United States and in Japan with the purpose of bringing together the local residents and foreign nationals residing in the community, such as a group of local Americans and Japanese expatriates meeting together to make music in the United States, and vice versa in Japan. This exchange would be valuable not only in improving the overall mental health of its participants, but also in increasing mutual understanding between Japanese and Americans.
After all, when music becomes the focus of the meeting, the differences between our two cultures seem much less daunting, and the language barriers less insurmountable. In the space that music provides, stories can be told, and after all, it is stories that connect us. Regardless of nationality, age, or background, everyone has a story worth telling. The important thing is to just listen.
About the Author
Alyssa Cantrell taught English as an Assistant Language Teacher on the JET Program from 2016-2019 in the rural town of Nikaho, Akita Prefecture. She has a BA in Elementary Education from the University of Oklahoma and an MA in Japanese Language Pedagogy from The Ohio State University. She has many years of experience teaching English as a second language, and has taught beginner and intermediate level Japanese as well. She has a keen interest in international education and now works as an Immigration Counselor at Purdue University in West Lafayette, Indiana, where she helps advise more than 10,000 international students from over 130 countries.
References
(1) Henry M. Johnson, “Koto Manufacture: The Instrument, Construction Process, and Aesthetic Considerations,” The Galpin Society Journal 49 (1996): 38–64, https://doi.org/10.2307/842391/.
(2) Murasaki Shikibu, The Tale of Genji (New York: Knopf, 1992).
(3) “Koto Furunushi,” Yokai.com, the online database of Japanese folklore, accessed October 16, 2023, https://yokai.com/kotofurunushi/.
(4) Encyclopaedia Britannica Online, s.v. “Sakhalin Island,” accessed October 16, 2023, https://www.britannica.com/place/Sakhalin-Island/.
(5) Toby Loftus, “Koto and Japanese Music,” Finding Ojisan, Finding Myself (blog), June 6, 2016, https://tobyloftus.wordpress.com/2016/06/06/koto-and-japanese-music/.
(6) Robert D. Eldridge, “Pacific War Hostilities Didn’t Exactly End on August 15, 1945,” The Japan Times, August 18, 2022.
(7) Liz Prager O’Brien, “‘Generations of Hurt’: Children and Grandchildren of War Survivors Fear Ripple Effect of Russia’s War in Ukraine,” NBC News, March 26, 2022.
(8) Sandra Garrido, Felicity A. Baker, Jane W. Davidson, Grace Moore, and Steve Wasserman, “Music and Trauma: The Relationship between Music, Personality, and Coping Style,” Frontiers in Psychology: Cognition 6, no. 977 (July 2015), https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2015.00977/.
(9) Julie Sutton and Jos De Backer, “Music, Trauma and Silence: The State of the Art,” The Arts in Psychotherapy 36, no. 2 (April 2009): 75–83, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.aip.2009.01.009/.
(10) “World Music Performances + Workshops,” Midori & Friends, accessed December 21, 2023, https://www.midoriandfriends.org/program/celebrate/.
(11) “About MUSIC SHARING,” MUSIC SHARING, accessed December 21, 2023, http://www.musicsharing.jp/en/profile/index.html/.
(12) “Music Exchange Program,” The Study Abroad Foundation of the Arts, accessed December 21, 2023, http://www.studyartsabroad.org/safa-musicexchange.php/.
(13) “Programs & Activities,” TOMODACHI, accessed December 21, 2023, https://usjapantomodachi.org/programs-activities/cultural-programs/.
(14) Fukushima Youth sinfonietta, accessed December 21, 2023, https://www.fukushimamusic.org/.
JETs on Japan is a partnership between USJETAA and Sasakawa Peace Foundation USA (Sasakawa USA) that features selected articles of JET alumni perspectives on US-Japan relations. The series aims to elevate the awareness and visibility of JET alumni working across diverse sectors and provides a platform for JET alumni to contribute to a deeper understanding of US-Japan relations from their fields. The articles will be posted on USJETAA’s website to serve as a resource to the wider JET alumni and US-Japan communities on how alumni of this exchange program are continuing to serve as informal ambassadors in US-Japan relations.
Submissions are encouraged from mid-to-senior level professionals who are established in the current fields OR current/recent graduate degree students in both master’s and doctoral programs.
