sabato 11 agosto 2018


A lot of rain didn’t stop the annual protest against the destruction of Henoko Bay, today, at Onoyama Koen, Naha. Nor did the ridiculous circus of the ultra-nationalists, a evergreen play that never misses this kind of situation. Many people dressed in blue – the color of the ocean, in danger to build a larger military base for the American Marines of Camp Schwab – participated in the park near my home. As usual my fresh haircut must have made many people think that I was a not-so-well-disguised Marines’ spy… So much that a young journalist of the Ryūkyū Shimpō, one of the two main newspapers of Okinawa, interviewed me. Tomorrow I guess I’ll be on the paper. I hope they’ll publish the photo with Sato-doll, the alter ego of my wife that today couldn’t come to the event and so gave me her… fabric-clone to bring along.

The most touching moment? Just before the rally started, when some people on the stage gave their sincere ARIGATOU to Takeshi Onaga, the popular governor of Okinawa that passed away three days ago after over four years in charge. The thankful sign has been followed by a recorded message of Onaga. Hearing his voice once more, but this time without him in person, was quite moving. And so the minute of silence to commemorate him.

As usual, some people wore dugong-shaped hats, to symbolize the rape of Mother Nature through one of the most endangered animals of the archipelago. Then everybody showed their NO signs to photographers and TV video-cameras, to stress once more their clear opposition to the further militarization of Okinawa (Miyako-jima will be the next victim, with a huge project for a Japanese military base wanted by the prime minister Abe). Once more, nature bye-bye for the happine$$ of the weapons lobbies.

I just finished to tell my Italian friend Gino at the phone that this year I hadn’t seen the kinky ultra-nationalists, a group of loud and cheesy guys paid by Tokyo that have their gang-base in Itoman. Few minutes later they arrived, with six vans and a bunch of flags of the kamikaze period. War music, terrible (plumber/electrician) fashion, tattooed fingers, under-elementary school education and several haircuts to be reviewed by some consultant. I don’t know why, but every time I see them I immediately remember the epic scene of the ‘Nazi of Illinois’ in the glorious movie ‘The Blues Brothers’. As usual they made their karaoke-style show, yelling first-graders-level offences to the pacifists, with a wonderful yakuza intonation that my friend Gino can imitate as a master. Their yells, actually, sounded more like guttural sounds as of somebody puking… I love this kind of anthropological moments and my Nikons always ask me to bring them to such juicy shows.

As many other times before, some pacifist got fished by the funky-guys provocations and started an almost-fight. Always almost, because the game here is every time the same: the police blocks the plumbers, pushes them back into their kinky vans, then they can start the circus again. In the end nobody gets hurt and the right of expression for everybody has been respected (no matters how miserable and ugly that expression may be). Often, watching this kind of situation, I think of my country, where stones and bottles would fly like seagulls on the face of everybody for half square kilometer all around… Here nobody visits hospitals or police stations afterwards.
Japan, undoubtedly a interesting country.

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