Kamikatsu’s last thatched house
the importance of protecting 'old'
Dear friends,
I really appreciate the feedback and love from my first letter of 2022. When people tell me they read the newsletter I feel so much gratitude. I’m glad that parts of it seemed to resonate with you or you found it interesting.
My letter this week starts with a question, “Why do we value things?” Broad question, I know. I suppose the follow-up question is that why do we value old things?
This letter is in part admiration for cultural heritage and traditional architecture, as well as a tiny request to support this project that I will explain in more detail later.
I was born in Toronto, the capital of the province of Ontario, in Canada. Like many cities, it’s a dynamic metropolis with a core of soaring skyscrapers. I grew up looking at modern architecture—a plethora of concrete and steel. Lots of shiny tall things, lots of greys. While the rural suburbs, where I grew up, were rows of nearly identical brick homes. For me personally, it was all pretty unexciting.
I didn’t grow up seeing ‘old’ buildings. Old is probably a very relative term, depending on where you’re from and the history of the place you call home. It really wasn’t until I started travelling that I had a lived understanding of ‘cultural heritage’ through architecture. While there are no doubt historic, or culturally significant buildings in Toronto, I’m hard-pressed to compare those buildings to the special places I saw abroad.
Since moving to Japan, I've been amazed at how casually I hear the people list the age of buildings. 100 years old seems young. Old structures, temples, shrines, and relics that date hundreds, if not thousands, of years old, are immaculately preserved.
It wasn’t until I started seeing architecture, much, much older than anything I had seen growing up in Canada, that I could understand how ‘old’ architecture could help us understand deeper layers of our existence. I draw on a quote by Juhani Pallasmaa, “the significance of architecture is not in its form, but in its capacity to reveal deeper layers of existence.”
a symbol of community
Perched at the top of the mountain in the Yaeji region is Kamikatsu’s last standing kayabuki (thatched roof) house. While there are well-known villages across Japan that have entire villages of thatched houses, in Kamikatsu there is only one remaining.
Kayabuki is a type of roof structure using kaya (grass). It is sometimes called straw-thatching or grass-thatching depending on the material used. There are thatched roofs all over Japan, and each has its own characteristics in terms of materials, the shape of the ridge, and the thatching method.
But why is this important? Why does it matter that a very old house, a former private residence, could be on the brink of disappearing? This circles back to the earlier question I asked myself, ‘Why do we value (old) things?’
To answer that, I think it’s important to study the term ‘cultural heritage’—a phrase that I became familiar with in my master’s programme. ‘Heritage’ is something that is inherited and passed down from previous generations. While ‘cultural heritage’ implies belonging to a community—it’s a marker of history and identity. Even the natural environment is considered cultural heritage since communities identify themselves with a landscape. Cultural heritage can also be intangible: oral history, craftsmanship, skills and knowledge passed down through generations.
I think the kayabuki house is part of Kamikatsu’s cultural heritage and is a symbol of the community. I think that old architecture, such as this one, contribute to our collective memory, culture, history, and our understanding of ourselves. Even though this isn’t my history or culture (it wasn’t one passed down to me), I have the privilege of being able to spend time in such a place gives me a greater understanding of Kamikatsu.
temagai spirit
The very brief history of the house was that it was owned by the Hanano family and constructed as a typical farmhouse of that time. Over time the house became abandoned and a group of local people decided to repair the house, including replacing the thatched roof. The roofing was not done by professional thatchers but by local people using materials procured in the area and based on the methods they used when they were young.
In the old days, people from each house in the village would come out to help, and they would maintain the roofs of everyone in succession, “this house this year, that house next year” and so on. This culture of mutual help and support is called "temagai" in Kamikatsu. It's a way of paying each other back through labour, not money.
Since this thatched house is currently the only thatched roof in the town, there is no one to come and replace the thatched roof. The 2012 revival of the thatched roof was completed because of the commitment of the elders, who had inherited the knowledge and skills of thatching, and the generosity of volunteers to help with the labour.
The last remaining kayabuki house is now being managed by the “Kamikatsu Thatched School” (かみかつ茅葺き学校), which is an organization that provides experiences and lessons of traditional life at the kayabuki house. In Japan, thatched houses are often designated as cultural assets, and in many situations, people are only allowed to observe them as they would an art piece in a museum. However, this kayabuki house is a space that can be used freely and is meant to be enjoyed.
The Kamikatsu Thatched School uses the word “school” because it is a place where people can learn. They teach about farming, forestry, fishery, wisdom that is necessary for living in the mountains. The elderly are excited to be able to pass on their knowledge, experiences, and skills (intangible cultural heritage).
Lastly, re-thatching the roof is an expensive and necessary endeavour to maintain the structure. The market price for replacing a thatched roof is said to be about 15-20 million yen (~175,000 USD), but the Kayabuki School was able to source a contractor that will guide the re-thatching for about 2 million yen (~13,000 USD).
There has been a fundraising campaign that started a while ago but will only be open for 3 more days. They’ve met the goal of 1.2 million yen, but they actually lowered their target for the campaign and they want to raise 1.5 million yen.
I was really happy to help the fundraising campaign by translating their page into English. So if you’re interested in reading more about the history and background, please check it out. And of course, if you feel at all inclined to give, please consider!
https://readyfor.jp/projects/kayabuki
To once again quote Juhani Pallasmaa: “There is tacit wisdom of architecture accumulated in history and tradition. But in today’s panicked rush for the new, we rarely stop to listen to this wisdom.” To preserve an old building is to honour the memories and wisdom of those who came before us, and so much of the cultural heritage is lost when we lose an old building. There is knowledge embedded in our architecture—the lessons, skills, and histories of people who made gave shape to a shared identity.
Happy Sunday or Monday, wherever you are. May you move through this new week with compassion for yourself and those around you.
Continue to stay warm! I’m writing from a very cozy home and hope you’re feeling warmth too.
With love,
Kana