Picture a quarter million people converging downtown on the
city, all with the single purpose of pulling a 200 meter, 43 ton rope to win
the world’s biggest tug-of-war. The anticipation built all day with the first
people showing up in the morning to look at and take pictures beside the rope
which stretched down the center of Highway 58 in downtown Naha, Okinawa. I got
there and looked at the rope which stood 4 feet tall with hundreds of arms of
additional rope which would later be spread out to give more people the chance
to pull. My first thought was “Wow, all this way to look at a rope and then
maybe pull on it later” but I sensed something in the air that I couldn’t minimize,
despite my best effort. I remember reading that this is a tradition and that
the tug of war symbolized a 
reenactment of the epic wars between East and West
Okinawa during the reign of the Ryukyu Kings in the 16th
century. It was the 43rd
Great Tug Of War tourist and world record holding event, but the tradition had
been going on for 400 years; my cynicism subsided as I weighed the span of time
and the power of tradition. I got a bite to eat from a road-side vendor:
something like an omelet with cheese, slaw and a variety of toppings and
seasonings which was delicious but hard to eat with chopsticks. I remembered to
not rub my chopsticks together to scrape off any burrs or splinters, as this is
only done as a death and burial ritual, and dug in. But I forgot the rule about taking your trash home with 
you
since there are no waste receptacles on the streets, so I just returned my
paper plate and chopsticks to the vendor who disposed of them for me since I
asked so nicely in butchered Anglo-Japanese.
Warriors and clans began gathering in late morning with great displays
of Karate katas (Karate was created in Okinawa) and strength and control as one
man at a time, they carried their banners on long heavy wooden poles with
unbalanced and top-heavy emblems and colors flying at the top in the breeze.
All this amid the clamor of shouting, banging drums and clanging gongs. The mood was getting more intense as the
seemingly endless parade of clans moved down Kokusai-dori and the crowds began
to throng toward the site of the main event. I thought the tug of war was to
start
at 2:00, but I was wrong…the spectacle started at 2:00. First we had to have several false starts as
the many tourists attempted to get on the rope only to be directed to drop the
rope and move back. There were speeches telling the story of the war, welcoming
of dignitaries, a giant ball full of balloons and confetti had to be split from
east to west, the “kings” of the east and west had to meet in the middle for
their battle, then the east rope and west rope had to be moved together to be
joined, then the slack had to
be taken out of the rope (remember we’re talking
about a 43 ton rope (that’s 86 thousand pounds to you and me). Then finally, a
few minutes after 4, in the hot, hot sun the war began. With a great and mighty shout the two sides
began to pull. Loud chanting of “OYO,
OYO”, ringing bells, clanging gongs, beating drums, whistling (Okinawans love
to whistle) created an electricity as the war went on. Then one side won, but I have no idea who. I have a feeling it doesn’t really matter
anyway because Okinawa was united. I managed to beat the crowd back to the
monorail to get to my ride and go home afterward, and unlike the aftermath of a
FSU game, there was no ongoing shouting and drunken melee. People just getting back to their lives.
On an unrelated note: the typhoons were nothing to write
home about, at least from where I watched them; they passed far enough south
and north to not give me any trouble. Just a lot of wind and rain. I think my perspective is different since I don’t
have kids at home, I don’t have a giant live oak tree hanging over my head and dropping
limbs. And if there is damage to my abode, I just move. If my car gets damaged,
I just get a new one.
