The way of the watermelon
August 30, Locarno Beach. A ring of thirty or so Japanese and Japanophiles of various ages sit cross-legged on the grass for the highlight of the Mokuyokai summer barbecue. In the centre of the ring lies a watermelon awaiting its destiny—to be cracked open by someone of sufficient skill and purity of heart. The clean garbage bag spread under the watermelon to catch the debris flaps in the breeze, so I pin down the corners with plastic forks.
aki is a Japanese Martha Stewart, with expertise in many areas, including suika wari, watermelon breaking.
Taki is a Japanese Martha Stewart, with expertise in many areas, including suika wari, watermelon-breaking. She knows the rules of engagement and is good at telling people what to do. But when she calls for volunteers, she gets no response. As one of the designated helpers, I feel obliged to get things going and leap up to demonstrate my technique. Long ago, I read the Book of Five Rings by the legendary swordsman Miyamoto Musashi. His principles of earth, water, fire, wind and void have been useful in combatting warriors, outwitting business competitors and now perhaps, bashing watermelons.
Taki ties the blindfold around my head so tightly that I begin to see stars. Then she spins me around ten times. I probably shouldn't have had a hamburger and a rice ball and half a smokie and tossed salad and potato salad and three raisin oatmeal cookies and a piece of cake and an apple and a bottle of Thinkgo organic juice with echinacea and bee pollen. I just hope I don’t lose it all now.
inally, after it seems like I’ve made enough a fool of myself, I swing downward haplessly and strike the watermelonless earth.
Earth
Taki puts the stick in my hand and pushes me into battle, hopefully in the right direction. My head continues to spin and it takes all my concentration just to remain upright, never mind headed in the right direction. What I didn't count on are all the people simultaneously shouting directions in English and Japanese: “Right!” “Migi!” “Left!” “Hidari!” Some of them must be intentionally misleading, but which ones are they? Finally, after it seems like I've made enough a fool of myself, I swing downward haplessly and strike the watermelonless earth.
Water
Perhaps now the others realize that they cannot look any more foolish than me. A stream of participants follows. One person is so enthusiastic the wood snaps. It was a sample brought by Emi, one of the organizers who works for a Japanese housing manufacturer and I begin to wonder about the quality of the houses her company builds. Anyway, we continue with the shorter piece, which actually makes it easier to hit, if you think about the trigonometry. One or two others manage to hit the watermelon and make it look easy. They flow to the target like water.
he barely misses her husband, who is remarkably stoic through it all.
Fire
But since the watermelon has not actually been cracked right open, Taki continues to recruit. A Japanese woman takes her turn and immediately makes a bee line for her husband. Her mistake, or perhaps her strategy, is to listen to one fellow she thought she could trust. She barely misses her husband, who is remarkably stoic through it all. Everyone howls with laughter. She looks surprised and embarassed when she takes off her blindfold. I wonder how long it will take to put out that fire.
Wind
Others seek more reliable guides. Gloria, a cute young Chinese girl, sits in line with the watermelon calling out directions in earnest. Others, like me, imitate her high-pitched voice to add to the confusion, so the directions once again become just howling wind.
Void
One formidable woman marches straight for the target and delivers a near lethal blow to the watermelon. She shares her insight with the awed audience. She recognized certain voices and remembered where they were sitting. This way, she could use the sounds to orient herself like a bat using echolocation. She knew how to treat the content of the chatter as null and void.
The watermelon gets turned over to expose the unbroken surface and the next person is able to finish off the job. I help clean up the spoils of war and wield the big knife with a dexterity that would make Musashi cringe. Still, I eventually manage to chop up the prize for all to share with my fingers still intact. The way of the watermelon is sweet and juicy.
This article was originally published in the November 2000 issue of the Mokuyokai Newsletter.