The Big Sort: 11 - My granduncle
A day with my granduncle.
Gifu
2022.08
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When I was in Gifu last month, I was told that a present had just been delivered for me outside, only to discover 2 plastic rubbish bags tied in tight knots and dumped on the side of the road. All I could make out of its contents was its pukey brown colour. Disappointed and a bit scared, I put on gloves and timidly peered in.
It turned out to be decades-old straw from the roof of a kayabuki house that my granduncle was restoring, which basically meant I'd landed on agricultural gold. Now I was even more weirded out. I was working on a permaculture project and this was exactly what I’d been looking for. How did he know?
I only started hanging out with my granduncle recently, but we’d known of each other for a while. He'd heard about me from a drawing that my grandparents used to hang above the sofa in the living room. It was an ink still life of a piece of corn in its withering husk that I’d made when I was 8, which had apparently left a deep impression on him.
I knew of him because every winter, he’d leave a white cardboard box outside my grandparents’ front door without saying a word. It contained 8 pieces of perfectly jammy hoshigaki, packaged individually in washi paper with a watercolor persimmon printed onto it. They were sealed with branded red square stickers and came with a little leaflet that explained where he’d handpicked the persimmon. He made it all on Illustrator on his Mac. He’s 70 something.
Anyhow, the straw gift reminded me that I hadn’t seen him in a while, so I called him up to go for a hike. When he said he’d pick me up at 3:40am, I laughed thinking it was a joke, but there was silence on the other line. His life revolved around sunrise and he didn’t mess around. He arrived at exactly 40 minutes past.
As we walked up the mountain in darkness, he yodeled and someone responded with “Ooooooh” from above. I followed up with an “AaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAARRRGGHHH%!?H”HH!HHHHHHHH” which said: I’m tired of blow-drying the curls out of my hair so that I come across professional, putting make up on so I don’t look 15, and shaving my fingers. I’m heartbroken that my fiercely independent grandmother is losing her memories and health and will to live and I can’t do anything about it. And I'm feeling restless that war feels imminent, the rivers are flooding across the country, the Amazon is burning, and we live in a society that is designed to encourage consumption not creation.
I think he was expecting more of a cute “yahooo” followed by a giggle. He just stood there staring at me in shock as my shout echoed for four seconds.
That morning, the sky was overcast. There was a momentary slither of red glow that broke through the clouds, but there was no sunrise. After the hike, we stopped at Lawson to buy breakfast — a raisin loaf for him and melon bread for me, then continued to his kayabuki house to make coffee. He insisted on brewing it with twigs and acorns even though he had a gas stove. We spent a couple hours cleaning the garden with kayabuki craftsmen from Hida who’d come to do final touches on the roof. I took these photos then.