Thatched houses have existed in Japan for at least 5,000 years, but today they’re found only in a handful of villages across the country. As a young man, Haruo Nishio, now 51, moved to rural Miyama in the mountains north of Kyoto to become a thatcher. Against all odds, he mastered this ancient craft and launched his own business, Miyama Futon & Breakfast, renting traditional rural homes and sharing his devotion to thatched houses. His book, “Why I Became a Thatcher,” is available on Amazon.
1. When did you move to Miyama?In 1994, after graduating from university in Kyoto, I moved to Miyama to apprentice as a thatcher. When I was a student, I couldn’t imagine myself wearing a suit and belonging to a company. I had a vague idea that I wanted to live in the countryside and work with my hands. I had no money, no special abilities; only motivation and physical strength. I (saw) an article on apprenticeships for thatchers. (It) said that in Miyama there were only two craftsmen, in their 60s, who didn’t have any successors. I instantly decided to go.
2. Did your family support your decision? No one agreed with me. My friends and relatives all said, “Are you stupid? Thatching is going to disappear, why would you choose this career after graduating from university?” My father got me a job offer from an insurance company, but I turned it down and came to Miyama instead.
3. How did you adapt to your new life? I was young and enthusiastic, but after a month I was already regretting my decision. It was just too physically hard, and I only had rainy days off. A thatcher expects to have the day off if the weather forecast says it will rain, but if you wake up and it’s sunny then you have to work.
4. Why didn’t you just return to the city? I was the first person from the city to take up the position of apprentice thatcher. If I quit so easily, Miyama would be labeled as a no-go place for city people, so I was told that I should stay for at least five years.
5. How did you eventually establish yourself as a thatcher? I started my apprenticeship aged 23. My master didn’t teach me anything directly, I had to learn by watching him. We couldn’t work in the winter because of the snow, so I also opened a baked potato shop in the city. When I was 26, I went to the U.K. and worked with a British thatcher for a month. Five years later, due to uncertainty about the future, I became depressed and could no longer work in thatching. I got a job in sales in the housing industry, which I did for four years. This experience gave me insight into construction and real estate, which eventually led me to my current business of renting out houses. Later, I became a thatcher again. Back then, there were many elderly thatchers in the country but no successors, and I felt that, if things continued as they were, traditional buildings’ local characteristics would disappear. After a few years, I went on a nationwide training course. I learned techniques from all over Japan and was able to respond to requests for work all over the country.
6. When you moved to Miyama, there were only two thatchers, how many are there now? About 15. Most of them go outside Miyama for work though because there are no thatchers in more than half of Japanese prefectures.
7. You lived with your family in a 160-year-old thatched house called Hanabusa for seven years. What was it like? I was happy to live in a thatched house, but there was always something uncomfortable about it. There were inconveniences, such as not being able to have a children’s room, but something else didn’t feel right. The question, “What is good about thatched houses?” arises from the expectation that people in the past built these dwellings because they were energy efficient, quiet inside, had good insulation and so on. However, there’s nothing good about thatched houses. This is because the houses built in the past weren’t created for people. Perhaps they weren’t houses at all but places of worship, and were built out of gratitude to God, Buddha and our ancestors.
8. What do you mean? Thatching is closely associated with Shinto religion and the imperial family. When the Japanese emperor accedes to the throne, a thatched building is erected exclusively for this purpose. I believe that thatched roofs are so sacred that they create a space of nothingness, including invisible energies. (In addition), the sound “kaya” (which means “thatch” in Japanese) is so ancient that it’s even used in the name of a god — the father of Emperor Jimmu, Japan's first emperor — who was born in an unfinished hut made from thatched cormorant feathers.
9. You rent Hanabusa and other renovated traditional houses to tourists. When did you start your business, Miyama Futon & Breakfast? I stopped living in Hanabusa with my family in 2011 and created the first thatched house rental for tourists. I could use the house to welcome guests as gods and restore the thatched roof to its original form.
10. What do your guests like about staying in a thatched house? Modern people rely on words too much. In the past, the Japanese didn’t only express themselves in words, but left a form behind. We owe the blessings of the sun, soil, air and water to the gods and ancestors who laid the foundations of our lives for us. The thatched roof is a form expressing this spirit. Conversely, the form affects the mind and that’s why seeing or staying in a thatched house brings back a sense of nostalgia and peace of mind.
11. There are many types of thatched houses all over Japan. What is unique about Miyama’s? They’re characterized by a large triangular gable called irimoya-zukuri and a large tree marked with x-shaped ornaments, called "umanori," is used as a weight on the ridge. The number of umanori is always odd. In addition, there are no fences in Miyama’s houses, which represents the open-mindedness of the people who saw no boundaries between private and public. The people of Miyama are aware that the mountains, fields and houses belong to everyone, and that to have ownership is simply to be their custodian.
12. In the past, labor and resources such as the susuki grass used to make thatched roofs were shared in Miyama, how about today? When I became a thatcher, it was still customary for neighbors to come and help. Nowadays, specialized contractors like us procure materials and people to complete the work but, until recently, thatching was maintained by the community. Replacing a roof requires a large quantity of thatch. Therefore, thatch-owning households formed a group and brought the thatch, rope and bamboo to the few houses that would be thatched that year ... it was possible to make thatch without any cash intervention other than artisans’ daily allowances.
13. Did this spirit of mutual support extend to other aspects of life? It also (applied) to agricultural work such as rice planting and harvesting, for example. Also, when I first moved to Miyama, I often received vegetables and other gifts from neighbors. As a city person, I felt I had to give something back, so I sometimes bought things and gave them away. However, someone advised me that I should share when there was an abundance of blessings, and I started distributing things to those around me when, for example, my friends gave me more tangerines than I could eat. In this kind of environment, one can survive even in times of trouble.
14. In what ways has Miyama changed? From the 1960s onward, when Japan’s rapid economic growth began, some houses changed their thatched roofs to tiles or covered them with tin. Plus, the roofs’ maintenance became an individual households’ responsibility. (Also), as depopulation progresses, ownership is inherited by grandchildren born in the city or transferred to city people through sales, which leads urban thinking to prevail.
15. Would you like to see a return to how things were before? The former system of mutual help seems very desirable, but from another perspective, there’s a lack of freedom involved; to be cast out of village society meant that you couldn’t make a living. People had to conform to the majority, even if it meant suppressing their ideas.
16. Kayabuki no Sato is the most famous village in Miyama and was declared a Preservation District for Groups of Traditional Buildings by the government in 1993. What impact did this have? I became an apprentice thatcher the year after, in 1994. At the time, there were only three thatchers in their 20s in the whole of Japan, including myself — a state of near extinction. Thatched roofs were disappearing, so this recognition was a major milestone and opportunity. Kayabuki no Sato receives subsidies from the national, prefectural and municipal governments, while in other parts of Nantan, the city has its own subsidy system. Thanks to the inns we operate, thatched houses are being turned into income-generating properties that can be revitalized with private funding.
17. Is this enough, though? When I went to the U.K., I wondered why there were so many thatchers and even thatching schools. Why is it that there are so many thatched roofs in Europe while they continue to decrease in Japan? In Japan, wooden houses lose almost all their value after 30 years, while in the U.K., for example, the older a house gets, the more valuable it becomes. If the roof of a 100-year-old house in Japan is repaired at a cost of several million yen — zero value is still zero value — and the act of repairing the roof can only be described as a hobby. Living as a thatcher in these times is tantamount to being a terrorist or fighting a guerrilla war. Cultural assertiveness alone isn’t enough, so how can we keep thatching alive? This is why we turned thatched houses into income-generating properties.
18. Why should thatching be preserved? Tiles and tin sheets are factory products that cease to exist when the factory stops producing them. But thatch, a plant, grows forever if it has sun, soil, air and water. By building a roof with this plant, we’re telling the story of eternity. Modern people may think that steel and concrete are sturdier and more reliable. However, the ancient Japanese knew that grass, a soft and rotting material, is eternal. They had a sense of scale that transcended time, as opposed to the modern way of thinking, which is ephemeral: If it rots, change it, if it’s broken, fix it.
19. Are enough young people interested in thatching to enable it to survive? Young people are intrigued. When we advertise part-time jobs in thatching, we get a flood of applications, 80% of which are from women in their 20s and 30s.
20. What is the greatest joy that thatching gives you? My master passed away having given us everything he had. The master’s spirit lives in me, and when I feel present in that eternal time, I’m free from anxiety and fear of death and have peace of mind. In Shinto, there are no founders or scriptures. Instead, we’re left with a message of eternity in the form of a form.
You can follow Haruo Nishio’s work on TikTok at @japanesethatchingguy
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