Tabula Sarasara

–Interpreting about shochu and remembering my grandfather

Last month, I had the chance to interpret another event with the Smithsonian, this time themed on Satsuma Shochu, a distilled drink (shochu) from Kagoshima prefecture. I was thrilled to be involved, since Kagoshima, the second most southern prefecture in Japan, has a very special place in my heart. But more on that later . . .

Satsuma, the land of the brave

The event featured five speakers, including restaurateurs (the founder of Daikaya restaurant, who I was starstruck to meet!) and beverage specialists who spoke about shochu, and Kagoshima natives who discussed the prefecture’s characteristics from various angles. I interpreted for Mr. Yuichiro Hamada, CEO of the Hamada Shuzo distillery and Chair of the Kagoshima Shochu Makers Association.

Audience members seemed enthused to learn about shochu, but Mr. Hamada made the topic even more accessible by talking about the movie The Last Samurai: the model of Katsumoto Moritsugu (played by Ken Watanabe) was Saigo Takamori, a renowned historical figure from Kagoshima. Mr. Hamada said that Saigo embodied the samurai spirit, bringing together warriors to oppose the new imperial Government of Japan by leading the Satsuma Rebellion (1877), the last civil war in Japan.

Even before this conflict, the Satsuma domain (as Kagoshima used to be called during the Edo period) had been unique. As a region, it recklessly went to war with Great Britain (1863). Mr. Hamada also talked about how, when Japan was closed off to any interaction with most countries, Satsuma disobeyed orders by sending several students to study abroad (1865) in London. In honor of this, one of Hamada Shuzo’s shochu brands is called “Kaido” (meaning “children of the sea”) and is in a red bottle–commemorating how, when the students embarked on their forbidden trip, no one could see them off at the port except for the red, setting sun.

Shochu in practice

Mr. Hamada also talked about the culture of “daiyame”–a word that means to “stop being tired” in the Kagoshima dialect–and how people in Kagoshima get together to enjoy shochu with dinner and celebrate the end of the day. He also discussed his childhood growing up as a shochu maker, and the three distilleries his company owns. One of them is inside an old goldmine, and shochu made there uses a special kind of fungus called “gold koji” (koji are usually yellow, black or white). His staff uses the old mine carts to go back and forth in the long tunnel–and outside working hours, tourists are welcome to use those carts, too!

Creative takes on shochu

The following day, my friend and I attended a shochu-themed reception held in conjunction with the Smithsonian event. This reception, hosted by the Embassy of Japan, featured seven pairings of shochu cocktails and appetizers from bars and restaurants around DC. While I don’t usually drink, I couldn’t resist trying a pink shochu cocktail called “Cherry Blossom,” and a bottled yuzu shochu from Kagoshima. Both were so pretty and delicate, completely changing my view that shochu was a drink for older men. There are more than a dozen different kinds of shochu, including those using sweet potato, barley, and brown sugar, and I’ve heard that the tastes of those main ingredients really come through. So creating cocktails must be tricky–but this was just like a refreshing juice!

Memories of Kagoshima

Working with this event reminded me of my grandparents. When I was a child, my mother’s parents lived in Kagoshima City, and my father’s parents were in Sapporo. So whenever I visited Japan with my parents, we visited two completely different cities that were almost at the northern and southern ends of the country.

Hokkaido is beautiful, but lesser known Kagoshima is also very unique. The majestic volcano of Sakurajima, a symbol of the prefecture, is active and often spewing ash, which falls in whatever direction the wind blows. When I was a child, the ashes rained on Kagoshima City in the summer. When I once attended a local school in June and July (summer break begins later than in the U.S., so a lot of parents send their children to Japan during that time), my classmates and I were gray from head to toe, the ash sticking to our sweaty limbs as we ran around.

My grandfather was in Kagoshima because he was the head of Kagoshima Bank. He was allocated a big house that had three bathrooms, a long hallway in which he liked to practice putting, and various treasures (including books, a huge tortoise shell that hung on the wall, and beautiful golden clocks with pendulums). He bought laser discs (which were cutting edge at the time), including several for me to watch when I visited, including The Dark Crystal and animated films.

And he loved to drink. My image of him will always be of him watching baseball with a glass of beer. But he also worked very hard. As a young man from Tokyo, he got into the top school at the time and entered the Bank of Japan. (I was horrified to hear from my mother later on that, the very day he was accepted at the Bank, his father said, “now we’re set for life” and actually quit his own day job!)

My mother notes that my grandfather worked so much because he wanted to give my grandmother the life she deserved. He dreamed of retiring and traveling with her. My grandmother had lived with and taken care of my grandfather’s parents, and raised three children (who added to her work by constantly adopting new pets from the streets!).

But he passed away before he could retire. I still remember when I was five years old, when he lifted his shirt and showed me the stitches on his stomach. He was beaming, proud of having survived cancer. But his illness came back, and he passed the following year. (I wrote a story about this in college.)

Even though my grandmother was originally from Tokyo, she continued to live in Kagoshima after that. She moved to a small apartment and continued to cook for herself, including laborious ceremonial dishes on New Year’s Day, and always served my grandfather at the butsudan (Buddhist altar) before taking her first bite. Whenever my mother visited Kagoshima with the intention to help, my grandmother insisted on hosting her as a guest, and they often argued on who should look after whom. For decades she remained active in her community, from golfing to chorus, to playing mahjong with friends. But she’s in her 90s now. Having survived a few cancers herself and lost some of her friends, she moved back to Tokyo a few months ago, to be closer to my mother and my uncle.

Now I have no family in Kagoshima. When my grandfather passed, he became someone that I could only recall from childhood memories and my mother’s stories. But now, more recent moments from Kagoshima–like Sakurajima’s ashes when we visited my grandmother in the summer, the local sweets that she continued to send to me over the years, as well as the stubborn but kind spirit of the local people–have also become bittersweet memories.

Those memories came rushing back to me with this Satsuma Shochu event. One speaker talked about the melancholic beauty of the ashes falling from Sakurajima, and it was wonderful and heartbreaking at the same time. Many see the ashes as a nuisance, and I didn’t know anyone else who thought they were pretty! Having been reminded of the history of the prefecture, I also felt proud to be connected to such a unique place. And when I told my mother about Mr. Hamada’s speech, she said that my grandfather enjoyed “daiyame,” and that he would’ve been thrilled to know that I was involved with this event.

A few weeks ago, I received a letter of thanks from Mr. Hamada. I was so touched that he took the time to write. And I realized that thanks to this job, I now know someone in Kagoshima again. I hope to one day ride those mine carts in his distillery and create new memories. Like those shochu cocktails, perhaps I can add some new lighthearted experiences to those strong memories of my youth, creating a swirl of unforgettable impressions of Kagoshima.

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