漁師町・佐島の「御船歌」Fishermen's Summer Festival in Sajima, Yokosuka City
- Mariko Miki- The Blue
- 2024年7月14日
- 読了時間: 4分
(English follows Japanese)
この週末は日本全国アツい夏祭りわんさかですね。
どこのお祭りに行くか迷いつつ、隣の隣の漁師町・佐島のお祭りへ。
数年前に「三浦半島の海の女性研究者座談会動画」を制作したとき、この辺りのお祭りの話が話題に出たので横須賀市の重要無形民俗文化財に指定されている「佐島御船歌」の動画の一部を差し込みで使わせていただいたのですが、その時に年配の漁師さんが歌われる姿に、
「これ、カッコいいな〜。絶対いつか生で見たい! 聞きたい!」
と思っていました。で、行ってきました。
見てきました。聞いてきました。シビレました。
観光客を呼ぶためとか、ショー的エンタメとしてではないからこそのカッコよさ。
チャラいカタカナがない世界。
文化人類学・民俗学者の西岡陽子氏の下記サイトによると、
「『御船歌』とは、近世期に幕府や藩の新造船の船下ろしや領主の船出などに歌われた儀礼的な船歌」
とのことで、明治時代になって幕藩体制が無くなったことにより各地で多くの御船歌も消えてしまったそう。
個人的には「漁師さんなど海と生きる人たちの海に対して祈りや感謝から生まれた歌」ではなく、お偉いさんのためにつくられ・歌われたものと知ると正直ちょっとがっかりする部分はありますが、それでも歌詞を眺めてみると、やはり豊漁や安全への願いや海への感謝の気持ちなどが込められたものも多く、浜からエンヤコラと船を引いて出し入れし、GPSも魚群探知機もない手漕ぎの船で命懸けで海に出ていた時代からテクノロジーのおかげで便利さと安全を手に入れた今の時代では漁師さんや漁村で暮らす人々の海への気持ちや意識も変わっているとは思いますが、歌に残されている海への想いや感謝がこの先も受け継がれていくことを願ってやみません。
「佐島観光親善大使」として佐島の魅力を伝えている友人のご実家で、佐島産の天草で作られたお母さま手作りの寒天と、佐島で夏祭りの時に作られ奉納され、家族や親戚で頂くという「ヘラヘラ団子」も頂いて、新興住宅地育ちで「夏祭りに地元に帰って同級生や親戚に会う」ってなことが全くない私は「こういう地元がある人、うらやましいなぁ」と思いつつ、「今住んでいる場所に、もっと根を張りたいな」と。
*佐島観光親善大使Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/sajima.ambassador

地元出身の友人のお母様手作り寒天デザート
Homemade "kan-ten" (agar) dessert

同じく手作り「ヘラヘラ団子」
Homemade "hera-hera-dango" dumplings
This weekend, summer festivals are bursting with excitement all over Japan.
While wondering which one to go to, I ended up heading to the one in Sajima, Yokosuka City, a neighboring fishing town just a couple towns over.
A few years ago, when I produced the video “Roundtable Discussion with Female Marine Researchers of the Miura Peninsula,” the local festivals in this area came up in conversation. So, I included a clip from the “Sajima O-fune-uta” (Traditional Boat Song of Sajima sung during the ritual festivals and special ocations), which is designated as an Important Intangible Folk Cultural Asset by Yokosuka City.
I remember seeing an elderly fisherman singing it in the footage and thinking:
“This is socool. I have to see and hear this live one day!”
So I went. I saw it. I heard it. And I was blown away.
There’s a raw coolness that comes from the fact that it’s not done as entertainment or to attract tourists.
A world untouched by flashy marketing terms or trendy buzzwords.
According to cultural anthropologist and folklorist Yoko Nishioka’s website, “O-fune-uta” were ritual songs sung during the launching of newly built ships for the shogunate or local lords in the early modern period. Many of these songs disappeared across Japan after the Meiji restration, when the feudal system was abolished.
Personally, I’ll admit I felt a bit disappointed when I learned that these songs weren’t originally born from the prayers or gratitude of fishermen and others who lived by the sea, but were instead created and sung for the elite. Still, when I look at the lyrics, many of them do carry heartfelt wishes for bountiful catches, safe voyages, and deep gratitude toward the sea.
Of course, times have changed.
Back then, they hauled the boats in and out by hand from the shore, rowing out into the ocean without GPS or fish finders—risking their lives each time. Thanks to technology, today’s fishermen and coastal communities enjoy more convenience and safety. So naturally, their relationship with the sea and their mindset toward it may have shifted. But even so, I truly hope that the feelings of reverence and gratitude toward the sea, preserved in these songs, continue to be passed down for generations to come.
At a friend’s family home, I had a special opportunity to enjoy some homemade "kan-ten", agar jelly, made by her mother using local ten-gusa (a type of seaweed), along with a traditional summer festival sweet called “Hera-hera Dango” that’s prepared and offered during the summer festival, then shared with family and relatives.
Having grown up in a cookie cutter neighborhood in the suburs, I never experienced “going back to my hometown for the summer festival to see family, relatives, and old claamates.” So, seeing people who do have that kind of hometown makes me feel a little envious. At the same time, it also made me think—I want to plant deeper roots in the place I live now.