Tojinbo by Takeji Asano, 1900-1999

(Image from artelino.)

Legend says that in the 900's, a Buddhist monk named Kakunen pushed another monk named Tojinbo off a steep cliff near Fukui. Some say the murder was inspired by a rivalry for the love of a beautiful woman named Aya. Others say Tojinbo was a very unpopular monk who often shirked his duties and angered his peers. Some suggest the two had been drinking. In any case, Tojinbo died, and being understandably upset over his own untimely demise, he haunted the cliff each April and caused violent storms and waves.

Some years later, another monk took pity on vengeful Tojinbo, and called for a memorial service in his honor. Tojinbo was somewhat soothed, and the storms stopped.

Or was he?

Today the area named for Tojinbo is as famous for its picture-postcard views and unique geography as it is for its plague of suicides. Geologists note it for a specific type of columnar jointing which is found in only two other places in the world. Most other people note it grimly as the site of almost one suicide per week on average. A small island lying directly across from the morbid cliff is said to be haunted by the bodies that frequently wash up on its shore. The island Oshima is so well-known as a haunted place, it was even featured on one of those "True Stories of UFOs and Ghosts" type TV programs a couple years back.

After hearing last year Oshima was haunted, I of course wanted immediately to go. I asked a few Japanese friends with cars, and one finally agreed to take me, at midnight even; he was a big, cool, slightly cynical, punk-rock sort of man in his early 30s, and he wasn't afraid. We met at a bar at 11 pm, and made the walk across downtown to his car, chatting and joking amicably on the way. But as we neared his car, he started to walk more slowly, and by 11:30, he had backed out completely. He called his own bluff. He was scared.

Last weekend I returned to Fukui, in my own car, to visit friends. And again I determined to see Oshima. I took two friends with me for the sorely-needed trip out of town, and I stopped by my ghost-scared Japanese friend's shop to invite him for a second chance. He turned me down. Not only were there ghosts, he assured me, but his band's bassist had just broken her leg at Oshima a month previous. Because of ghosts, he said. Whatever.

Our schedule wouldn't let us make the trip at midnight, so dusk had to do. We made bad jokes about the ghosts that my friend said would follow us back home, but as we actually neared the island, we all became palpably quieter. By day, the tiny island is the home of a rather unremarkable but ghostless shrine, and we parked the car amongst family station wagons leaving for home. Still, there was definitely something desolate about the place, and even creepy.

Unfortunately, the island proved anti-climactic. A long red bridge connects the tiny island to the mainland. At the end of the bridge is the shrine, and off to the left a path. The path circumscribes the island, about 2 km around, dotted with signs detailing the area's geographical wonders for visiting school groups. There was a small grove of unabashedly creepy trees, a couple of creepy-sounding bird calls, but that was about it. Maybe we should have gone at midnight after all. We drove on a couple minutes to Tojinbo.

Tojinbo is gorgeous, stunning, picturesque. Its geography is strange -- 20- and 30- meter columns of vertical rock pieced together into cliffs. In low tide, pools of vivid green water are created immediately adjacent others of vivid blue. In high tide, violent foamy waves seethe amongst near-black rocks. Tojinbo is at all times dramatic.

The first time I visited Tojinbo, a friend told me about a free telephone booth near the top. Because the area was such a popular suicide spot, a free phone booth was actually provided to give those in a moment of desperation a chance to call a friend or family member and talk. I didn't actually see the phone booth that first time, but I was stunned by its existence anyway. But this time, perhaps because of the letdown of Oshima, I suppose we had half-wanted to see at least a flying candle or hear some disembodied wailing in Japanese, we decided to seek out the booth.

The main area of Tojinbo is well-photographed, and we wandered all over the recognizable part of it without seeing any phone booths. The cliffs seemed awfully touristy and public for a suicide spot, but then again, Tokyo train tracks don't exactly offer privacy to their frequent jumpers either. We finally gave up and looked instead for a restroom on the way back to the car, as it was getting dark. On a pitch-dark side path near a smaller, hidden cliff, there with grotesquely-glowing lighting in the near distance, was the phone booth.

It wasn't where we expected it to be, but after a moment it made sense. This was the part of the cliff not photographed, less dramatic, more private, and... directly across from Oshima. We recognized the booth though immediately. It was not free in the sense of no coin-slot, instead it seemed to be supported by donations. On the tiny shelf where the phone book usually sits, was a small hill of change, mostly bronze 10-yen coins oxidized green with age, or salt-air. Several brand new coins gleamed unsettlingly on top. The phone books sat stacked on the floor. A lonely path led briefly along the cliff, and of course we had to look.

We stared out at the view that must have been the last sight of so many other people. It felt strange to be staring at this as a group of three, when it was so clearly a view meant for one. A lone Japanese pine twisted out over the sea, defying the sober finality of the drop below it.

I don't know what we were expecting, but somehow it wasn't this, and it was. There was no high fence here to obstruct anyone from jumping, instead a single low chain ran for several meters only and then stopped. My friend translated a simple black-on-white sign further up the path near the edge as, "Make that call," and another directly across from the booth as, "Don't hurry to die; no one can replace you." The ghost-hunting suddenly didn't feel like lighthearted fun. There was nothing to be said that didn't feel trite, so we said nothing at all for a long time. It made me feel only sad, and helpless, and then glad to be alive, and more than that, glad to be glad.

Comments

[Christopher]

After watching Ju-On, I am less likely to consider speaking about ghosts and such in Japan. It's just unsettling on a couple levels.

Either way, great little story about a little place in Japan. Thanks for sharing...

[Bob M]

Great, some of your best writing. I was with you on the trip. Thanks for sharing and taking me somewhere I am not likely to go myself.

[M Sinclair Stevens]

Really intriguing post. I'm glad you've decided to stay in Japan another year. You share some fascinating things.

[martine]

goosebumps. thanks for the ride.

[karla]

I was trying to find more concrete information about these ghosts legends surrounding Oshima, but couldn't. Although the island is a popular stop on tourist bus routes through the area, none of the sites I found mentioned its being haunted. The closest I found was something like, "The locals have interesting stories about Oshima. Maybe you'll be lucky enough to get to talk to one of them and find these out," but absolutely no hint of what these stories involve. The place was even featured on a TV show once! I'm quite sure that if there were a haunted island in America, there would be giant neon billboards around it, costumed ticket-takers, maybe even sponsorship from Disney. Weird.

[Sharon]

Yeah. What Tomo said. (Because I could not have said it better myself)
Thanks for the link to columnar jointing. It makes a geology geek like me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
And thank you very much for your incredibly well written story.

[tomo]

wow... it was almost like I was there... the fear, the laughter, the surreal phone booth and the serious look into mortality and the last view many people had before they let go of this world. this was intense karla. thanks for your curiosity and courage to go check it out, and your skill in bringing me along with you on your trip.