The Wave

This is Germaine Dietsch’s adaptation of an old Japanese folk tale.

Long ago in Japan, high on a mountain by the sea there lived an old farmer named Hamaguchi. With him lived his grandson, Tada, who called him Oji-san, which means grandfather in Japanese. Tada loved his grandfather dearly and revered him for he knew he was old and very wise.

At the base of the mountain, near the beach that skirted a bay, was a village. Many of the villagers fished, but the food that was their mainstay was the rice they grew in their fields on the mountain beside the long, winding road that lead up to the rice field of Oji-san. Their rice fields were precious to the villagers. In spring they planted each precious rice seed and in summer, tended each precious plant. In autumn, when the rice stalks turned golden and dried in the sun, they were stacked, ready for the harvest that meant food for the entire year.

One day in autumn Oji-san and Tada stood on the balcony of their house looking out over the golden rice fields down to the village. The crops had been good this year and there was going to be a celebration in the courtyard of the temple. People were stringing colorful paper lanterns on the houses and putting banners around the temple. The air was still and heavy. Oji-san noticed the banners were not moving.

“It feels like earthquake weather”, said Oji-san. No sooner had he said it that the house started to rock. It wasn’t a strong enough quake to frighten Oji-san, he had been through many earthquakes. But this one was strange…a long, slow shaking as if caused by changes far out in the deep sea. As the quaking stopped, Oji-san’s keen eyes looked out to the sea. The water darkened suddenly…it was drawing back from the beach… the sea was running away from the land! Oji-san and Tada saw the villagers running from the streets and from their houses, all gathering on the beach. The water kept drawing back, baring the sand. There were fish jumping on the wet sand, delighting the children, but the people were perplexed, they didn’t understand…but Oji-san did. He remembered stories of long ago told him in his childhood and he understood what the sea was going to do. He had to warn the villagers! But how could he get a message down the long winding road… there was no time to tell the priest to sound the bell! He had to act. “Quick!” he said to Tada, “ Light me a torch!”

Tada lit a torch and gave it to his grandfather. The old man took it and ran to the field where his dry rice stalks stood, ready for harvest…. his precious rice…all of his work for the last year, all of the food for the year to come. He thrust the torch into the dry stacks and set the rice on fire…they burst into flame; sparks flew up into the air.

Tada ran after his grandfather. “Grandfather why? What are you doing??” he shouted. Oji-san didn’t have time to answer…he had no time to explain…he was thinking only of saving those by the edge of the sea.

Tada ran crying into the house. He was frightened. He thought his grandfather had lost his mind. Oji-san went on, setting fire to stack after stack of dry rice stalks until his entire field was afire.

Down below, the priest in the temple looked up and saw the blaze on the mountain. He set the big bell booming. When they heard it, people turned from the beach and began running up the winding road to put out the fire. The young men were the fastest; then came he mothers and fathers with their children and the old people too…all running to help put out the fire. Oji-san watched…“Faster, run faster”, he whispered.

The young men arrived first and started trying to put out the fires fire. But it was too late to save the field of Oji-san. They stood and stared at him in sorrow. Then Tada came running from the house. “Grandfather has lost his mind,” he yelled. “He has gone mad! He set fire to the rice on purpose!”

“You set the fire on purpose?” some of the men shouted angrily. “The old man must be mad” others murmured. “Next he’ll set fire to our fields!” They looked at him threateningly.

The old man raised his hand, pointing toward the sea. “Look!”

The people turned to look. There at the edge of the horizon, they saw a long dark line of shore where no shore had been before…it was moving toward them…that long line of darkness was the returning sea… towering like a cliff, yawning like the open mouth of a monster… coming toward them more swiftly than dragon kites.

“A tidal wave!” The shout went up. Suddenly all the shrieks and all the shouts were cut off by the shock of the great wave striking the shore with a force that sent a shudder through the mountain. There was a burst of white foam like a flash of lighting, and spray that went up the mountainside. When they looked again, they saw a wild, white sea raging over the place where their homes had been. It drew back roaring, sucking, tearing out everything as it pulled back…and then it struck again…and again and yet again, though each time with less strength. Finally, the sea returned to its place…leaving only wreckage behind.

Around the house of Oji-san, there was a shocked silence. No one spoke. There was no more village...only scattered pieces of thatch along the shore. Then, quietly, the people knelt and thanked Oji-san for saving their lives.

“Eventually, the people rebuilt their village but they did not forget Oji-san though he was now old and poor. They built a temple in his honor. It is said the temple still stands. It honors a wise old man who sacrificed his own riches to save the people of his village.