Night of the Namahage
The moon was large and low in the sky, larger than I had ever seen it. Its beautiful light danced on the snow and illuminated the forest I was walking through. Up a steep and untouched hillside, I waded through the thigh high snow seeking the shrine where the garbs of the Namahage were to be blessed. As I reached the top of a snow covered hill, tasting blood in my mouth, breathing heavily, and certainly lamenting the cost of my journey, I came to the small shrine. Once there, the Japanese men blessed the Namahage garbs and shared sake (Japanese rice wine). We then dressed in the Namahage garb and became the Namahage. As we climbed down, I realized that I was certainly the largest Namahage on the mountain. I had woven my own Namahage garb. Because I am by no means a small person, meant I had to make my garb much longer than the others. To make matters worse, the masters who are trained in the art of creating such garb were excited and seemed to be playing a sort of practical joke on me. As I braided the stock, they would hand me more stock. With each exchange the amount of stock given to me increased more and more until I was nearly braiding small tree trunks! Trembling and screaming for a re28