Saki-Matsuri Stories from the Gion Festival Floats of Kyoto

With its elaborate floats and spectacular processions, the Gion Matsuri rightfully holds its place as one of the three great festivals of Japan.

Yet its origins lie in crisis and its 1,110-year history has been marked by challenges. The floats, the highlight of the Gion festival, can be seen as the townspeople's creative response to both personal and collective disaster, with solutions woven into stories passed down through generations.

The city of Kyoto was plunged into chaos when the Onin War, a brutal succession dispute, broke out in 1467 and dragged on for 10 years. Flames consumed much of the capital and many treasured floats were destroyed by the fires of war.

Suspended for 33 years, the Gion Matsuri was finally revived in 1500 but the century that followed continued to be a turbulent one for the provinces of Japan as well as the capital. 'The Citadel of Peace and Tranquility,' mourned one aristocrat writing in 1527, 'is now dead'.

The common people of Kyoto did not take this lying down. Organizing themselves into guilds and neighborhood associations, they united against samurai warlords and resisted their demands, at times, forcefully.

The wartime experiences of the townspeople influenced the formation of the neighborhood blocks known as cho (町), which emerged from the chaos of civil war as the defining unit of urban life. Japanese cities continue to be organized around the cho which, in Kyoto city, also serve as the basis for the communities that preserve the Gion floats.

Yamahoko: Live Long and Prosper

The procession of these floats - the Yamahoko Junko - now takes place in two parts: the Saki Matsuri, or Early Festival, held on July 17, and the Ato Matsuri - Later Festival - on July 24.

Over the centuries, a huge amount of time and resources has been invested in constructing, decorating and operating these floats. Exactly what are the subjects of this massive undertaking and what is it about them that continues to engage the imagination and rally communities?

With its prayers for longevity, the theme of a hoko float like Kikusui Hoko strikes an immediate chord, especially with those who have felt the ache of ageing or come face to face with mortality.

Naginata Hoko, with a purifying halberd at the tip of its towering mast, also needs little explanation as to why the float leads the procession - across cultures, blades have long symbolized strength and authority.

Likewise, Niwatori Hoko, which calls for peace in the world, holds universal appeal, just as Tokusa Yama and its story of a parent finding a long-lost child cuts across borders.

It's the praying mantis, the destruction of musical instruments and the mimicking of farm animals that need some explanation.

Toro Yama Float: Fight Like a Mantis, Sting Like a...

The origin of this float lies in the last battle of 14th century nobleman Shijo Takasuke, who died protecting the emperor from a warlord's army.

A townsman living in the same area as the Shijo clan linked that courage to the ancient Chinese idiom about a praying mantis raising its forelegs to stop a cart - a fearless stand in the face of overwhelming odds.

He donated a figure of a praying mantis - toro - which was set on a Shijo family carriage and paraded with the other floats in 1376, the 25th anniversary of the nobleman's death.

The Toro Yama has been destroyed by fire three times: each time, like a praying mantis refusing to back down, the float was restored.

The current version made its debut in the procession in 1981 - the only Gion festival float that carries a mechanized puppet. As the float's wheels turn, the praying mantis on the carriage moves its forelegs and flaps its wings, delighting the crowds with its lifelike motion.

Float neighborhood Toro Yama Cho may lie on the edge of the festival area but it never fails to attract scores of visitors. Many join the long line to draw an omikuji fortune with the help of another praying mantis puppet.

When the handle is turned, the praying mantis spins round to a model of Yasaka Shrine, which presides over the festival rites. The doors of the shrine open, a ball plops out and the praying mantis, wings flapping, catches and delivers the fortune.

Hosho Yama: Nothing says 'I love you' like grand blossom larceny

No less daring is 10th century nobleman Fujiwara no Yasumasa, described in Japanese medieval literature as one of the four legendary warriors of the middle ages.

He courted a woman just as famous - poet Izumi Shikibu, who was known for the passion of both her verses and her love affairs. According to one anecdote, she asked the commander for plum blossoms from the main hall of the imperial palace.

Despite the guards shooting at him, he managed to steal a branch - the Hosho Yama float shows him offering the flowers.

Shikibu married the commander and they left the capital together when Yasumasa, whose name can also be read as Hosho, was appointed governor of Tango province.

Hosho Yama should not be confused with Ato Matsuri float Kuronushi Yama, which also has an array of blossoms.

The male figure beside them is early Heian poet Otomo no Kuronushi - he wears kimono, not armor - and the flowers he is enjoying are sakura. They are, presumably, not pilfered from the palace.

Kakkyo Yama, Moso Yama: Every Day is Mother's Day

A classic Confucian text, The 24 Paragons of Filial Piety, serves as the inspiration for Kakkyo Yama and Moso Yama.

The Kakkyo Yama float is based on the story of Guo Ju, who lived in poverty with his mother, wife and child. When he realized that there was not enough food for all of them, he decided to sacrifice his son to save his mother.

But as he dug a hole to bury the boy alive, he found a pile of gold and a note saying that it was a gift to him from heaven.

The float carries statues of Guo Ju - Kakkyo in Japanese - rejoicing with his son.

Though less extreme, the story depicted by the Moso Yama float also encourages filial piety. It tells of Moso, or Meng Zong, who lived during China's Three Kingdoms Period (220-280). His father died when he was young and Meng Zong and his mother struggled to make ends meet.

One winter, his mother fell ill and the physician prescribed a soup of fresh bamboo shoots. Despite knowing that they were out of season, Meng Zong went into a bamboo forest and began to dig.

Not finding any, he wept - and as his tears fell onto the snow, he heard a loud noise. To his astonishment, he saw bamboo shoots sprouting from the ground. He dug them up and cooked them for his mother, who recovered after drinking the soup.

Hakuga Yama: No One Gets Me Like You Do

Honoring a different kind of bond, Hakuga Yama features another story from ancient China. One day, as gifted guqin player Boya, or Hakuga, was boating along a river, a sudden downpour struck. Moved by the moment, he began to play his zither.

He sensed that he had a listener, which made his music more expressive. Stepping ashore, he found a woodcutter on the riverbank - despite being a total stranger, Zhong Ziqi not only heard the music but also understood it on a profound level.

When Boya played a piece evoking towering mountains, Ziqi remarked, “The melody is as majestic as Mount Tai.”

When the composition was inspired by rushing waters, Ziqi exclaimed, “It sounds as vast and powerful as the great rivers.”

In that moment, Boya knew that he had found a true friend.

The two promised to meet again. But when Boya returned from his travels, he learned that Ziqi had died of illness. Grief-stricken, Boya visited his grave, played one final melody then shattered his guqin.

The story goes that Boya never played his zither again because he did not think there was anyone left in the world who would understand his music.

Hosho Yama shows the scene in which Hakuga destroys his zither. The float celebrates friendships that transcend differing backgrounds and stands as a reminder that, if found, such bonds should not be taken for granted.

Taishi, Yamabushi, Hakurakuten: Different Faces of the Wise

Many of the Saki Matsuri floats highlight the importance of human relationships but more than a few emphasize the need for wisdom.

There is the intelligence and foresight embodied by Shotoku Taishi, the 6th century prince regarded as the father of Japanese Buddhism - the Taishi Yama float shows him chopping down a tree to build a temple.

His establishment of a centralized government must have made him particularly attractive at a time of civil war when provincial warlords tore the country to pieces.

There is the crazy wisdom of Zen master Dorin, whose preferred meditation spot was the top of a pine tree. The Hakurakuten Yama float depicts the story of Chinese poet Bai Juyi (Hakurakuten in Japanese) visiting the sage - tree included - and questioning him about the nature of Buddhism.

There is also the wisdom that comes from practicing Shugendo, the path of the mountain ascetics known as yamabushi. The Yamabushi Yama float carries a figure of 9th century practitioner Jozo Kisho, remembered for using superhuman powers to right the Yasaka Pagoda when it began to tilt.

Kanko Boko: Inclusive Hiring Practices Can Save Your Life

And then there is the wisdom of Lord Mengchang, the ancient Chinese statesman whose unusual approach to recruitment is celebrated by the Kanko Boko float.

Known as Moshokun in Japanese, the lord had a longstanding practice of welcoming commoners to join his ranks. He accepted everyone who came, regardless of age, appearance, skills or lack thereof. He even took in those with criminal records.

According to one estimate, he had as many as 3,000 people in his retinue, which he maintained despite the burden it put on the clan finances.

His hiring policy was justified when he was forced to flee the army of a hostile king. Racing through the night, he reached Hangu Pass - the final barrier between him and his home country - but the guards would not let him pass because of an order to keep the gates closed until cockcrow.

Fortunately, Lord Mengchang had with him a retainer with a talent for mimicking all kinds of sounds. He crowed like a rooster, waking up nearby roosters and fooling them into crowing as well.

Hearing this, the guards opened the gates and the lord and his followers crossed over into safety.

Taking a leaf from its own book, Kanko Boko was the first of the floats to admit women to its musician ensemble - Gion bayashi, the festival's distinctive music, had until then been a male-only preserve.

Invisible Treasures of the Gion Festival Floats

Awarded Unesco Intangible Cultural Heritage status in 2009, the Yamahoko Junko procession was recognized for its cultural and historical significance as well as for its role in the community.

When Kyoto neighborhoods created their floats hundreds of years ago, they decorated them with treasures: Gobelin tapestries, Persian carpets - and stories.

More than entertainment, these stories point to qualities believed to have the power to overcome hardship, just as the floats were thought to have the power to expel disease.

The tapestried floats of the Gion Matsuri may seem like exotic relics but at their heart is a question that continues to be relevant: what is it you believe in?

The floats carry the townspeople's answers. More than a few believe in the power of the gods. The power of love is another popular choice, as are courage and wisdom.

In an age of science, belief can seem as outdated as a wooden carriage. Yet faith can bear fruit and where it exists, giant wheels can turn, gold can be gifted and bamboo shoots can appear in the snow because miracles, like stories, never go out of fashion.

Written by Janice Tay

 

Maps and Illustrated Digital Guide

To see where the Saki-Matsuri and Ato-Matsuri floats are assembled and parked for viewing, take a look at this charmingly illustrated digital map. A collaboration between the Kyoto Shimbun newspaper and digital map platform Stroly, the map provides float construction dates as well as a 2025 overview of the Gion festival's events and rituals from July 1 to 31.