A Handful of Salt (2011) Movie Script
1
Facing the Sea of Japan,
at the very tip of the Noto peninsula,
this is Suzu,
a place where a traditional craft
is still practiced today.
Long time ago, there were many
salt farms called Enden in Suzu.
People here have been making salt
for many generations.
Ryoichi Toya is a Hamaji,
a master salt farmer.
His work starts with the sunrise
by scattering seawater onto the sand.
This process, Shiomaki,
takes nearly a decade to learn.
The bucket used is called Ochoke
in the Suzu dialect.
Sand raking process is called Komazarae.
These words have been used
for many generations.
Hamatori-san, salt farmers
They are young at heart.
Hamatori-san look serious
and cool as they work.
There is no such thing
as retirement here.
A special structure is built
to gather dense seawater.
Sand seems light when they shovel it,
yet, sand is anything but light.
For the sand to dry,
the sun is necessary.
Making salt, covered in sweat.
Tadashi Okeda used to be
in the Japanese Defense Army.
Even he says that salt making is
harder labor than his last job.
Salt can be made even
out of a grain of sand.
That is why a handful of sand
is like money.
Because it can't be mass-produced,
they care about the details.
Saltwater is poured over
the gathered salt to collect brine.
Brine is five times
the density of seawater.
Not only is brine salty,
it is also heavy.
Two tubs weigh 70 kg.
There's no one left to
make new tools.
Tools are essential in salt making.
Watermelon!
Wait, wait. We need water.
Bring a knife!
Gathering sand. Then scattering.
Skill and wisdom repeated
and handed down the generations.
How did people discover
the flavor of salt?
Was it because the sea and sand
were in front of them?
Stars twinkle above.
The waves whisper.
The moon whispers,
"It's going to be a long night."
Water evaporates from the brine.
A familiar nostalgic smell.
The sea smells familiar
because it is our mother.
Karara, salt crystals,
begin their dance.
Watching over the fire.
he will not sleep tonight,
Time for the mountain
and the sea to wake up.
Birth of new salt.
The origin of life.
The birth of salt.
From the moment of our birth,
human beings can't live without salt.
The salt must taste good,
but also must be good for the body.
People of Suzu has been doing
this work for so many generations.
Salt is easy to obtain nowadays.
But before, it was very difficult
to produce salt in Japan.
Japan gets much rain but there are
no rock salts or salt lakes.
So they came up with a process
of boiling salt out of seawater.
Many regions of Japan
begun to make salt.
In Edo period, the third Kaga-han lord
Toshitsune Maeda became prosperous
by taking advantage of Noto coastline,
and monopolizing the salt market.
Rice did not grow easily
in his territory.
So he permitted his people
to pay taxes in salt instead of rice.
In Suzu, where mountains
face the sea,
salt making is an important
source of cash.
This image was taken
half a century ago.
Children helped out adults.
Labor was done by the entire family.
This is Asako Shigemasa.
Until she married at age 18,
she never worked on a salt farm.
She married a cousin she never met
who had just returned from the war.
People marry for love now,
but we got married
because our parents told us to.
He was probably of the same. I said
yes because my parents told me to.
This place had radio and electricity.
I fell in love with the convenience
than my husband.
Now that I think about it,
it's very silly.
Eventually, electricity would have
come to my hometown Maura.
I didn't know that back then.
My parents didn't want me to marry
someone from my hometown.
They thought marrying me to someone
from here was good,
it's closer to school
and there's electricity.
They said you're young but marry,
your aunt lives there.
They talked me into it.
That's how I ended up here.
Back then, you had to wear
kimono and Amikasa hat,
dress up like a samurai
and work under the hot afternoon sun.
Now that I think about it,
I don't know how I did it.
I wouldn't be able to do it now.
If you ask a young woman
to do the same now,
she wouldn't do it.
We have three children. My husband never
once hit them. He is a gentle man.
Junichi Yamagishi has been doing
this ever since he was a small boy.
How did the salt farms look to him
as a child?
Like the way how highways
are connected now,
salt farms were all connected.
I just thought this was my calling.
I thought I'd eventually take up
the family business.
When I was small,
I used to go to the well
to get water for my father to drink.
Salt making was the only work I could do
if we were to keep living here.
During its heyday, most of the people
living here were making salt.
I thought this was the only way
to make my living.
We kids weren't really working.
More like playing.
I played on the farm
while my parents worked.
I played while they kept their eyes on me.
Instead of raking the sand
by pulling the tool,
I rode on the back and pushed down
while someone pulled. That kind of play.
Salt making,
handed down from ancestors.
Salt of Suzu, so renowned that
it was used by the Edo government.
People believed as long as
they made salt, they could survive.
But industrialization descended
upon this region as well.
Population in Japan increased.
Industrialization pushed nations
to increase its wealth.
With the Meiji Restoration,
cheaper salt were bought from abroad.
The number of
domestic salt farmers decreased.
And with the Russo-Japanese War,
the demand for greater quantity
of salt rose.
Salt must be procured domestically.
That's how the government
monopolization of salt began.
The only thing protected was
the technology to mass produce salt.
Suzu salt began to
disappear with the postwar
rapid economic growth.
The government officials made us stop.
They wouldn't listen to us, we told
them we couldn't make our living.
They told us to stop,
and most of us did.
Those salt farms were cultivated
and made into rice fields.
You can't see what
it used to look like anymore.
When the officials told us to stop,
we had to listen to them.
Our family was allowed to run
the salt farm until the end.
We did it for 2 or 3 years
after everyone stopped.
It was awful.
I wanted to keep making salt,
but it was the government order.
They said they'd give us 30,000
to 50,000 yen if we stopped.
They told us that refined salt
will take over the market,
and eventually salt making
would die out,
so that now was the time to quit.
This was where they boil the brine,
and over there was the salt farm.
Houses over there are all built
where the salt farms used to be.
I've been working
ever since I was three.
It's complicated to explain,
but we gather sand over the board.
Like this...
This size. If you go over there,
you can see it.
They use them.
You can't see it now,
they don't work in the morning.
50 meters that way.
Lunch break.
Ms. Asako Shigemasa,
do you know her?
Asako and I are the same age.
She was born near Tarumi Fall.
Water comes down the mountain.
She was born near that fall.
Aiko Hariishi,
who remembers what it used to be like.
When World War II ended,
it was such a chaotic time.
Nobody knew what to do.
You went away to the city
after you graduated junior high.
No, no more.
That's when the salt farms disappeared.
We started growing tobacco instead.
That's when most disappeared.
The salt farms were still there,
but the farming itself stopped.
We started growing tobacco
and I helped out.
My parents grew them.
Back then no one went to high school
after middle school.
We all left to work in big cities
like Osaka or Tokyo after graduation.
My parents were still healthy,
so they decided to grow tobacco.
I don't know the reason but within
2 years, we couldn't sell them freely.
We could only sell it to
the monopoly bureau.
You met Mr. Kakuhana,
who still maintains salt farms.
Maybe he wanted to protect
the culture of the place.
He was the only person
who kept making salt.
Kikutaro Kakuhana
Salt farms would have disappeared
had it not been for this man.
He is the man who holds the key
to this craft.
Near the end of World War II,
many items were scarce, even salt.
But there was no one left
to make salt.
He was ordered to make salt.
He and seven others were
sent back from the front to Suzu.
War and salt.
This experience set the rest of
his life onto the salt making path.
Now that he has passed away,
his son, Yutaka, and his family
have taken on the family business.
My dead father...
65 years ago, during World War II,
he was drafted...
they happened to look
into his background.
They found out that
he was a master salt farmer.
It was near the end of the war,
and there was no salt
to be found anywhere.
His skill saved him
from going to the front.
He stayed near his home
until the end of the war.
That's why he thinks that
salt saved his life.
He used to say that
salt making saved his life.
Salt saved a life.
Salt keeps saving lives.
Knowing that salt making was his fate,
he promised to keep making salt for
his friends who died in the war.
His passion moved the officials.
He was allowed to keep making salt
while others had to stop.
The officials' justification was
to continue the tradition,
and to secure resource for tourism.
Salt farming was tossed about
in the waves of modernization.
He simply wanted to
keep making salt,
but it was not easy.
The more salt he made,
the more money he lost.
But he could not give up.
Together, as a family, as one,
they protected the salt farm.
He made us work really hard.
It was so hot. During summer,
when other kids were
swimming in the sea,
I had to work.
I don't remember swimming, ever.
We start at the hottest time,
around 2 or 3 in the afternoon.
That's when kids want to take a nap
but I couldn't. I had to work.
I wondered why I had to work so hard.
I learned everything back then,
and that's how I became
who I am today.
His father never forced Yutaka
to take over the business.
His life as a salt farmer
came about naturally.
He worked in cities during winter,
and made salt in summer.
When his farm was appointed
as an Intangible Cultural Property,
Suzu city awarded him the Distinguished
Service in the Field of Culture.
He wrote a letter of thanks for the award.
The letter is full of gratitude toward
his wife who had always supported him.
"...there was always my wife, Eiko,
who helped and supported me."
"I will continue making salt
as long as I live."
The passion and skills
Kikutaro left behind
have been handed down to his son,
Yutaka, and his grandson, Hiroshi.
Hiroshi keeps learning
so he can make salt
as good as his father
and his grandfather.
I don't think about what I do as
tradition, or something I have to do.
Just because my family was the only
salt farmer at times when no one was,
people call it tradition,
but that's just what people say.
We were just lucky. I don't think
my son will follow my footsteps.
For whatever reason,
since I am making salt,
so why not do my best?
That's what I think.
The only thing I am
good at is making salt.
I can proudly tell people
that I make salt.
But I don't think I can
surpass my father yet.
I have so many more decades
to learn from him.
Yutaka is needed
to add the finishing touch.
The family farm is now designated as
an Important Intangible Cultural Property.
What is tradition for Yutaka?
Tradition? That's an exaggeration.
It's not a question of whether
this is tradition or not.
People older than me were doing it
ever since they were small,
and they stopped.
I don't think they
ever thought about tradition.
We just got lucky.
By chance, they designated us,
and our status rose.
I just wish someone
will continue this work.
That's it. I don't think about this or
that.
Salt making needs to continue. He wants
someone to keep this craft alive.
This is Yutaka's simple wish.
Well, it may be my calling.
You must take pride and
responsibility towards what you do.
No matter what kind of job you do,
realize that it's your calling
and do your best.
Here is a man doing what he is called
to do, salt farming.
Time moved forward,
eventually settling down.
After the war,
productivity of salt making increased,
and the salt quantity stabilized.
Finally, in 1997,
government monopoly on salt was abolished.
Salt made out of love and care
of an entire family. A taste of home.
To make salt once again...
Suzu's salt making took a small
but big step forward.
The Okunoto Salt Farm Village
started out with
tourist buses stopping at
Mr. Kakuhana's farm.
People looked out the windows,
and left in a few minutes.
Opportunities missed!
We wanted to find a way to make people
step out of the bus and see what we do.
That's how the idea
for the Village came about.
The Village opened in 1995,
and celebrated its 15th year.
The Village also serves as a rest stop.
People can experience salt making.
We first approached
Mr. Kikutaro Kakuhana
to lead the project
but things got complicated
so instead we found two experienced
people to serve as Hamaji.
Later, we needed someone younger,
and we approached Mr. Toya who used to
work at a construction company.
And that's how he ended up here.
A sweet, hard working man.
After working in various jobs
in Tokyo and here,
he became a Hamaji at age 49.
A new challenge at middle age.
There was so much I didn't know.
My master said
I had to observe and learn.
He didn't teach you?
No.
I asked when I had questions.
Only when I couldn't figure it out on my
own.
He told me to learn by observing.
That was his style.
He'd throw everything out,
even our lunch...
Really short tempered.
He was that kind of man.
Women would bring lunch,
but they would be too scared to eat.
Minami the strict master.
Tomosada the compassionate master.
Toya learned everything
from these two masters.
There is another man who learned from
Master Minami, and became a Hamaji.
Kenichi Nakamae
Mr. Minami?
He was really stubborn.
Told me to see everything through.
Told me to plan in detail.
Yes. I think I've always liked making
salt. It suits me.
When the Okunoto Salt Farm Village
was created,
I went every day. Every single day.
Two men became Hamaji at the same time.
Does he regard Toya as his rival?
I'm so busy I don't have time
to care about what he is doing.
He's really busy. I'm really busy,
so I have no idea what he is doing.
If we don't understand something,
we ask each other.
Is he my rival?
Well, not quite.
Nakamae became so involved that
he closed his construction company.
People thought I was crazy.
It all started out as a hobby, though.
But more and more,
I wanted to make good salt.
The kind I used to eat
with rice balls when I was a boy.
I just couldn't forget that taste.
It all started out by chance.
But this became my main job.
There's something about the umami of salt,
its base flavor.
People's taste buds are so numbed from
eating too much chemical additives
and it's only natural
to get bored with that flavor.
You can't get bored with natural flavor.
It is a familiar flavor.
Good taste is good taste.
If good tasting salt can be made any time,
we can create jobs.
This could solve the depopulation issue.
This is Takumi Mondera.
He works in the construction business
and also makes salt.
We can store up to 80,000 liter of
seawater in the underground tank.
This is a slope evaporation system,
a part of salt making.
This process makes the seawater thicker.
This process is not effected by seasons,
giving a stable environment to make salt.
So many different products.
He is a person with many ideas.
Recently, he started to make soba noodles.
Why salt and soba noodles?
Two things provide good health
and long life to people.
One of them is salt.
Another is buckwheat
which is an ingredient for soba. In the
past people served soba to show
hospitality.
Maybe it doesn't connect
with construction business,
but this is a way of
giving back to the community.
I own a company, but I also have
these thoughts about food.
By combining these, I thought that perhaps
I could make an industry out of it.
Here, the mixture of cold and warm
currents
creates mineral-rich high quality salt.
There's so much I learned from making
salt.
His passion led him to
begin farming buckwheat.
Yamagishi gives lectures on salt farming
at Mondera's company.
He was a school teacher
after his family gave up making salt.
Kakuhana, Mondera, and Toya all had
Yamagishi as their teacher
when they were young.
He is a man passionate about
the revival of salt farming.
Growing up seeing my father's serious
look while working,
I understood you need dedication
in order to make good salt.
I always wanted to
be involved in making salt,
and now, with the revival,
I finally feel like it is my turn.
What it means to know authenticity,
it's not just skills but also about
attitude.
I must pass down passion toward
making salt as well.
I've been doing my best with that in mind.
Here is another man who started making
salt with the slope evaporation system.
Shoji Koyachi
He used to be a wood fitting craftsman.
He became a salt maker 8 years ago.
It took courage but I knew I had to do it.
My thought is that wood fitting craftsman
thrive within a community.
Money circulates within the community.
When I say "foreign money",
I don't mean foreign money from abroad,
but money from outside the prefecture
I've wanted to start a business that can
bring in foreign money. I kept wondering
what I could do,
The answer was in front of me.
Suzu used to make salt, I'm going to make
salt.
I didn't know whether it was right or
wrong,
but I just started it.
Using his job experience, he uses reed for
the screen to spray seawater on.
Reed screen is durable and stays clean.
He also built a duct to the vat to prevent
the room from getting smokey.
It also prevents the rust from falling
into salt.
Adding modern improvements
to traditional salt making tools is
Koyachi's style.
Women now work in the boil down process.
It's hard labor. Are they okay?
I've been doing this for 5 or 6 years now.
Before that, I sewed.
I did many different things.
Salt is like working with something alive.
It's a lot of fun.
There's always something new.
I'm enjoying it a lot.
I go to many places to promote my salt.
I even went to New York with my salt.
I'm very happy.
It's SALT, so I cannot carry 'A LOT' with
me...
Even his jokes are original.
What do Kakuhana, the original salt
farmer, think about this revival?
I never thought it would turn out this
way.
The flavor of the salt differs by who
makes it.
And we don't bother each other by asking.
At first they came to observe.
But they are all doing it their way.
Everyone has different taste
and different ways of doing things.
My predecessor was angry.
He said we didn't know how to scatter
sand.
You need to distribute sand evenly.
If not, when you scoop up the sand,
you end up with thick area and thin area.
I wasn't good, so he yelled at me
to go learn from Mr. Kakuhana.
They are not good with the boil down.
When you see the product,
you can see it.
It's the boiling skill.
It creates unevenness in quality.
It makes so much difference in quality.
Kakuhana and Toya are former classmates.
The competition starts!
It was really difficult.
The most difficult and important
part of salt making is the boil down.
And it's the most difficult part.
My classmates started salt making.
What are they thinking?
The Okunoto Salt Faming Village is
about 15 years old, and not long enough.
Same with Koyachi.
There's also Mr. Yamagishi, the teacher.
He used to be our teacher.
He's imitating me as well.
He's doing the slope system.
A bit showy, I think.
At first, people told me
the salt was too salty,
or so bitter it felt like the tongue
was being stabbed.
That was 7 years ago.
Exactly half the time
I've been making salt.
When my predecessor passed away
7 years ago, I took over.
Even though I'm supposed to be a master,
I can't make
the same quality salt consistently.
To make impressive salt...
Let's say I make 50 batches.
There's only 20% that I feel is any good.
There's only that much salt that
I can be proud of.
It's not just the taste, but the way it
looks, how fluffy it feels.
Salt making is not easy.
Master Toya's challenge
for the perfect salt continues.
People copy me. People started copying
when the monopoly was abolished.
They think they can make money out of
salt.
It's not that easy.
Master Kakuhana can be honest
because he knows what salt making is.
I'm the 5th generation salt farmer.
They've only been at it for 10 years.
I've been at it for 20, 30 years.
I have to be honest,
as long as I'm a master salt maker,
as a craftsman, I want to make
better salt than anyone else.
Now that he is on this path,
he will not stop.
The passion of people wanting
to revive Suzu's salt
is being felt by the younger generation.
Sho Yoshida works
at the Okunoto Salt Farm Village.
He studied design in Italy.
He became attracted to Suzu salt
when he came home to Noto.
When I first told my mother
about working here, she cried.
She asked me why I wanted to go into
salt making after working in the fashion
field.
They put a lot of money into my education,
so it must have been tears of confusion.
I told them, there's no difference
between designing and salt making for me.
But they couldn't understand at first.
Now, they support me and cheer me on.
I started out by working
with a Hamaji out in the field.
I worked on the salt farm,
and stayed up with the master overnight.
I started learning by working with them.
First day, I was under brutal heat.
I used to work indoors, so I couldn't
stand it.
I had to give up working before others.
That memory is still with me,
but having worked one summer,
I can finally work alongside them.
He mixed the salt and soda,
and created Salt Soda Pop.
It has become a bestseller.
This salt farming process has been
practiced for the last 400 years,
so there is a value in a cultural sense.
I hope it doesn't just stay within Japan.
I want to introduce this to people abroad.
That's what I'm aiming for now.
Rachel Olanoff from the US came to
learn about Japan through salt making.
She has been working
at the Village for 1 year now.
Thank you very much.
Everyone adores Rachel.
She's close with Master Toya.
They call each other
Ray-chan and Ryo-chan.
Maybe we can serve it with miso soup.
The Rice Burger, which was served in
a Local Gourmet Contest, was Rachel's
idea.
Of course this salt was used.
Take a big bite!
A little bite!
She even became
a Coast Guard for one day.
Rachel and Suzu.
When she leaves Japan,
she will take the story of salt making
with her.
Please take care not to fall from your
boats.
Please wear a life jacket while you are
fishing. Okay, Rachel.
Please wear a life jacket while you are
fishing.
It was very interesting.
and I'm so grateful for having given
this opportunity to work here for 1 year.
I met so many different people
within Suzu city.
At this workplace,
I met Ryo-chan, the master salt farmer.
I have a broader perspective
because of this salt.
The hope of many people are
contained in the salt farms.
West wind blows. I'm a hired hand.
The Okunoto Salt Farm Village
celebrates summer by drinking.
The president sings a song
about working on a salt farm.
Ryo-chan
No, no.
Master Toya looks embarrassed.
Ryo-chan
No.
West wind blows.
I'm a hired hand.
West wind blows.
I'm waiting for the sand to dry.
West wind blows.
West wind blows.
I'm a hired hand.
We wait for the west wind to blow.
A special fine granular sand is
used on the salt farms.
People sang this song on the empty boat
on the way to gather this special sand.
The boat, heavy with sand,
was constantly on the verge of capsizing.
Salt farming was a life and death job.
This song was sung by
hired salt farmers who, working under
the brutal sun and cutting wind,
wanted the sun to set as quickly as
possible.
Salt farming died out once.
The song carried with it
the memory of the dormant sand.
In summer, they make salt.
In winter, they go away to cities to earn
money.
To live in Suzu means to embrace nature
and all its rules.
When we were small,
our fathers weren't around.
I was raised by my great grandma.
Both of my parents were not here.
Going to cities started around 1965.
All our parents were absent from home.
Both of them. Both my parents.
Either the sake brewery or construction.
Most of them worked at construction
or textile factories.
Most women went to work at textile
factories.
Yes.
Ms. Yoshimori went to the city but we
didn't.
I've worked in Osaka and Nagoya.
There's no extra job in the city anymore.
They aren't looking for part time wokers.
There's no more work in the cities.
Even if I wanted to, I can't.
In the past, everyone went.
I sometimes do want to go, but I can't
anymore.
You had to work.
We left children with our parents
and went to cities during winter.
Around here, people went to Kyoto area
to work at hotels around the station
or Honganji area.
I moved to that area to work,
an area close to the river...
Shijo-kawara,
helping with restaurants,
something like that.
My aunt lives in Kyoto,
and she knew the famous actress.
They were looking for a cook in Tokyo.
I worked there for a while.
Many unspoken hardships.
But they do not show it.
That's what's attractive about them.
During summer,
you can feed yourself somehow,
In winter, there's nothing here.
But I still need to earn money
for my family.
For 35 years I went to Kansai area
for 6 months to work.
That's why I have
no memory of him being born.
It was normal when I was small.
That's how it was like.
Half a year you make salt,
and in winter, you go away.
It wasn't a matter of being sad.
It was normal around here.
The humble life
depended upon bounties from nature.
It is also the land that
people come back to from cities.
Have you ever thought about leaving here?
No. Never.
Time may change
but nothing changes
about the nature of Japanese people.
Of course,
things keep getting more convenient.
But fundamental things don't change.
As long as I believe in myself,
I can make my living here,
I can also see
wonderful things about this place.
You see it better because you live here.
Cities are fun but I like it better here.
It's easier to live here. Slower life.
I love this life style.
I love nature.
If you live here, it's wonderful.
Gifts from the land and the sea.
But there's nothing here.
There's no movie theater.
So the only thing you can do is play
outside.
And you grow enough rice and vegetables
so you can eat.
And you still have to earn some cash,
so I'm busy, busy.
I grew up here so I don't think
this area is anything special,
I've been here ever since
I got out of school.
Seaweed lay on the beach
because there's no one to gather it.
Only old people are left.
There's no one to harvest seaweeds,
no one young.
So I go down to the beach to
gather some seaweed.
It was as red as a red pine,
but I got rid of the rotten part.
It's as good as the ones
they sell in stores.
Well, it's free
if I go down to the beach.
It's all free. Old woman's life!
In June 2011, Noto Peninsula was
designated as Globally Important
Agricultural Heritage Systems.
Agriculture, fishery,
worship of the rice field god.
The salt farm is one of them.
Under the sun
Abundant rain
The wind breezes
Changing of seasons
The place where you hear the breathing of
the mother earth.
Once a year, the god of mountain
and the god of sea meet to reconfirm their
love.
We are embraced by mother nature.
Potatoes from a neighbor's farm.
When boiled with brine,
it turns into a delicious snack.
It's sweet.
You can eat the peel too.
Everyone says it's delicious.
We think so too.
Once you use it,
you can't use others.
It is expensive,
but you can't stop using it.
A little bit expensive.
I want some discounts
for the ones we use!
When I scoop out the finished salt
and I can feel that it's going to be good,
and when I taste it, and it's delicious.
There's a sense of accomplishment.
I'm glad to be doing this.
And when our repeating customers tell us
how wonderful this salt is,
there's no greater happiness than this.
You just need a pinch of this salt.
Once you wash the rice,
you throw in a pinch.
If you put too much,
it becomes too salty.
This is the secret to cooking delicious
rice.
I can't reach.
Can you plug in the cooker?
Can you reach it?
Great. Just push the start button.
If you want,
why don't you stay for dinner?
Open it.
Try it.
We don't use other salt here.
We only use the salt he's made.
Salt made by her husband.
Salt like no other.
When the spring wind blows over Suzu,
the new year for salt making starts.
They are chopping leftover timber.
It is used as fuel for the boil down.
The sea protects the mountain,
the mountain protects the sea.
They also use small amount of pine trees.
Do we need more?
No.
The sand is waking up from winter sleep.
Does it still smell like the sea?
Bantsuki stops the seawater from
soaking into the ground.
The earth is slowly waking up.
You can almost hear a prayer.
"Let there be good salt this year."
For many generations, the sound of
pounding must have rung through the sky of
Suzu.
"It may go against the sentiment of our
times, but I just know we have to keep
making salt."
words left by Kikutaro Kakuhana
Salt making that almost died out
because of modernization.
There was one man who kept going.
And people gathered around the salt farm
again.
This is a small, small story.
With hope for the future
A handful of wish
Distribution Guli creates Inc.
Facing the Sea of Japan,
at the very tip of the Noto peninsula,
this is Suzu,
a place where a traditional craft
is still practiced today.
Long time ago, there were many
salt farms called Enden in Suzu.
People here have been making salt
for many generations.
Ryoichi Toya is a Hamaji,
a master salt farmer.
His work starts with the sunrise
by scattering seawater onto the sand.
This process, Shiomaki,
takes nearly a decade to learn.
The bucket used is called Ochoke
in the Suzu dialect.
Sand raking process is called Komazarae.
These words have been used
for many generations.
Hamatori-san, salt farmers
They are young at heart.
Hamatori-san look serious
and cool as they work.
There is no such thing
as retirement here.
A special structure is built
to gather dense seawater.
Sand seems light when they shovel it,
yet, sand is anything but light.
For the sand to dry,
the sun is necessary.
Making salt, covered in sweat.
Tadashi Okeda used to be
in the Japanese Defense Army.
Even he says that salt making is
harder labor than his last job.
Salt can be made even
out of a grain of sand.
That is why a handful of sand
is like money.
Because it can't be mass-produced,
they care about the details.
Saltwater is poured over
the gathered salt to collect brine.
Brine is five times
the density of seawater.
Not only is brine salty,
it is also heavy.
Two tubs weigh 70 kg.
There's no one left to
make new tools.
Tools are essential in salt making.
Watermelon!
Wait, wait. We need water.
Bring a knife!
Gathering sand. Then scattering.
Skill and wisdom repeated
and handed down the generations.
How did people discover
the flavor of salt?
Was it because the sea and sand
were in front of them?
Stars twinkle above.
The waves whisper.
The moon whispers,
"It's going to be a long night."
Water evaporates from the brine.
A familiar nostalgic smell.
The sea smells familiar
because it is our mother.
Karara, salt crystals,
begin their dance.
Watching over the fire.
he will not sleep tonight,
Time for the mountain
and the sea to wake up.
Birth of new salt.
The origin of life.
The birth of salt.
From the moment of our birth,
human beings can't live without salt.
The salt must taste good,
but also must be good for the body.
People of Suzu has been doing
this work for so many generations.
Salt is easy to obtain nowadays.
But before, it was very difficult
to produce salt in Japan.
Japan gets much rain but there are
no rock salts or salt lakes.
So they came up with a process
of boiling salt out of seawater.
Many regions of Japan
begun to make salt.
In Edo period, the third Kaga-han lord
Toshitsune Maeda became prosperous
by taking advantage of Noto coastline,
and monopolizing the salt market.
Rice did not grow easily
in his territory.
So he permitted his people
to pay taxes in salt instead of rice.
In Suzu, where mountains
face the sea,
salt making is an important
source of cash.
This image was taken
half a century ago.
Children helped out adults.
Labor was done by the entire family.
This is Asako Shigemasa.
Until she married at age 18,
she never worked on a salt farm.
She married a cousin she never met
who had just returned from the war.
People marry for love now,
but we got married
because our parents told us to.
He was probably of the same. I said
yes because my parents told me to.
This place had radio and electricity.
I fell in love with the convenience
than my husband.
Now that I think about it,
it's very silly.
Eventually, electricity would have
come to my hometown Maura.
I didn't know that back then.
My parents didn't want me to marry
someone from my hometown.
They thought marrying me to someone
from here was good,
it's closer to school
and there's electricity.
They said you're young but marry,
your aunt lives there.
They talked me into it.
That's how I ended up here.
Back then, you had to wear
kimono and Amikasa hat,
dress up like a samurai
and work under the hot afternoon sun.
Now that I think about it,
I don't know how I did it.
I wouldn't be able to do it now.
If you ask a young woman
to do the same now,
she wouldn't do it.
We have three children. My husband never
once hit them. He is a gentle man.
Junichi Yamagishi has been doing
this ever since he was a small boy.
How did the salt farms look to him
as a child?
Like the way how highways
are connected now,
salt farms were all connected.
I just thought this was my calling.
I thought I'd eventually take up
the family business.
When I was small,
I used to go to the well
to get water for my father to drink.
Salt making was the only work I could do
if we were to keep living here.
During its heyday, most of the people
living here were making salt.
I thought this was the only way
to make my living.
We kids weren't really working.
More like playing.
I played on the farm
while my parents worked.
I played while they kept their eyes on me.
Instead of raking the sand
by pulling the tool,
I rode on the back and pushed down
while someone pulled. That kind of play.
Salt making,
handed down from ancestors.
Salt of Suzu, so renowned that
it was used by the Edo government.
People believed as long as
they made salt, they could survive.
But industrialization descended
upon this region as well.
Population in Japan increased.
Industrialization pushed nations
to increase its wealth.
With the Meiji Restoration,
cheaper salt were bought from abroad.
The number of
domestic salt farmers decreased.
And with the Russo-Japanese War,
the demand for greater quantity
of salt rose.
Salt must be procured domestically.
That's how the government
monopolization of salt began.
The only thing protected was
the technology to mass produce salt.
Suzu salt began to
disappear with the postwar
rapid economic growth.
The government officials made us stop.
They wouldn't listen to us, we told
them we couldn't make our living.
They told us to stop,
and most of us did.
Those salt farms were cultivated
and made into rice fields.
You can't see what
it used to look like anymore.
When the officials told us to stop,
we had to listen to them.
Our family was allowed to run
the salt farm until the end.
We did it for 2 or 3 years
after everyone stopped.
It was awful.
I wanted to keep making salt,
but it was the government order.
They said they'd give us 30,000
to 50,000 yen if we stopped.
They told us that refined salt
will take over the market,
and eventually salt making
would die out,
so that now was the time to quit.
This was where they boil the brine,
and over there was the salt farm.
Houses over there are all built
where the salt farms used to be.
I've been working
ever since I was three.
It's complicated to explain,
but we gather sand over the board.
Like this...
This size. If you go over there,
you can see it.
They use them.
You can't see it now,
they don't work in the morning.
50 meters that way.
Lunch break.
Ms. Asako Shigemasa,
do you know her?
Asako and I are the same age.
She was born near Tarumi Fall.
Water comes down the mountain.
She was born near that fall.
Aiko Hariishi,
who remembers what it used to be like.
When World War II ended,
it was such a chaotic time.
Nobody knew what to do.
You went away to the city
after you graduated junior high.
No, no more.
That's when the salt farms disappeared.
We started growing tobacco instead.
That's when most disappeared.
The salt farms were still there,
but the farming itself stopped.
We started growing tobacco
and I helped out.
My parents grew them.
Back then no one went to high school
after middle school.
We all left to work in big cities
like Osaka or Tokyo after graduation.
My parents were still healthy,
so they decided to grow tobacco.
I don't know the reason but within
2 years, we couldn't sell them freely.
We could only sell it to
the monopoly bureau.
You met Mr. Kakuhana,
who still maintains salt farms.
Maybe he wanted to protect
the culture of the place.
He was the only person
who kept making salt.
Kikutaro Kakuhana
Salt farms would have disappeared
had it not been for this man.
He is the man who holds the key
to this craft.
Near the end of World War II,
many items were scarce, even salt.
But there was no one left
to make salt.
He was ordered to make salt.
He and seven others were
sent back from the front to Suzu.
War and salt.
This experience set the rest of
his life onto the salt making path.
Now that he has passed away,
his son, Yutaka, and his family
have taken on the family business.
My dead father...
65 years ago, during World War II,
he was drafted...
they happened to look
into his background.
They found out that
he was a master salt farmer.
It was near the end of the war,
and there was no salt
to be found anywhere.
His skill saved him
from going to the front.
He stayed near his home
until the end of the war.
That's why he thinks that
salt saved his life.
He used to say that
salt making saved his life.
Salt saved a life.
Salt keeps saving lives.
Knowing that salt making was his fate,
he promised to keep making salt for
his friends who died in the war.
His passion moved the officials.
He was allowed to keep making salt
while others had to stop.
The officials' justification was
to continue the tradition,
and to secure resource for tourism.
Salt farming was tossed about
in the waves of modernization.
He simply wanted to
keep making salt,
but it was not easy.
The more salt he made,
the more money he lost.
But he could not give up.
Together, as a family, as one,
they protected the salt farm.
He made us work really hard.
It was so hot. During summer,
when other kids were
swimming in the sea,
I had to work.
I don't remember swimming, ever.
We start at the hottest time,
around 2 or 3 in the afternoon.
That's when kids want to take a nap
but I couldn't. I had to work.
I wondered why I had to work so hard.
I learned everything back then,
and that's how I became
who I am today.
His father never forced Yutaka
to take over the business.
His life as a salt farmer
came about naturally.
He worked in cities during winter,
and made salt in summer.
When his farm was appointed
as an Intangible Cultural Property,
Suzu city awarded him the Distinguished
Service in the Field of Culture.
He wrote a letter of thanks for the award.
The letter is full of gratitude toward
his wife who had always supported him.
"...there was always my wife, Eiko,
who helped and supported me."
"I will continue making salt
as long as I live."
The passion and skills
Kikutaro left behind
have been handed down to his son,
Yutaka, and his grandson, Hiroshi.
Hiroshi keeps learning
so he can make salt
as good as his father
and his grandfather.
I don't think about what I do as
tradition, or something I have to do.
Just because my family was the only
salt farmer at times when no one was,
people call it tradition,
but that's just what people say.
We were just lucky. I don't think
my son will follow my footsteps.
For whatever reason,
since I am making salt,
so why not do my best?
That's what I think.
The only thing I am
good at is making salt.
I can proudly tell people
that I make salt.
But I don't think I can
surpass my father yet.
I have so many more decades
to learn from him.
Yutaka is needed
to add the finishing touch.
The family farm is now designated as
an Important Intangible Cultural Property.
What is tradition for Yutaka?
Tradition? That's an exaggeration.
It's not a question of whether
this is tradition or not.
People older than me were doing it
ever since they were small,
and they stopped.
I don't think they
ever thought about tradition.
We just got lucky.
By chance, they designated us,
and our status rose.
I just wish someone
will continue this work.
That's it. I don't think about this or
that.
Salt making needs to continue. He wants
someone to keep this craft alive.
This is Yutaka's simple wish.
Well, it may be my calling.
You must take pride and
responsibility towards what you do.
No matter what kind of job you do,
realize that it's your calling
and do your best.
Here is a man doing what he is called
to do, salt farming.
Time moved forward,
eventually settling down.
After the war,
productivity of salt making increased,
and the salt quantity stabilized.
Finally, in 1997,
government monopoly on salt was abolished.
Salt made out of love and care
of an entire family. A taste of home.
To make salt once again...
Suzu's salt making took a small
but big step forward.
The Okunoto Salt Farm Village
started out with
tourist buses stopping at
Mr. Kakuhana's farm.
People looked out the windows,
and left in a few minutes.
Opportunities missed!
We wanted to find a way to make people
step out of the bus and see what we do.
That's how the idea
for the Village came about.
The Village opened in 1995,
and celebrated its 15th year.
The Village also serves as a rest stop.
People can experience salt making.
We first approached
Mr. Kikutaro Kakuhana
to lead the project
but things got complicated
so instead we found two experienced
people to serve as Hamaji.
Later, we needed someone younger,
and we approached Mr. Toya who used to
work at a construction company.
And that's how he ended up here.
A sweet, hard working man.
After working in various jobs
in Tokyo and here,
he became a Hamaji at age 49.
A new challenge at middle age.
There was so much I didn't know.
My master said
I had to observe and learn.
He didn't teach you?
No.
I asked when I had questions.
Only when I couldn't figure it out on my
own.
He told me to learn by observing.
That was his style.
He'd throw everything out,
even our lunch...
Really short tempered.
He was that kind of man.
Women would bring lunch,
but they would be too scared to eat.
Minami the strict master.
Tomosada the compassionate master.
Toya learned everything
from these two masters.
There is another man who learned from
Master Minami, and became a Hamaji.
Kenichi Nakamae
Mr. Minami?
He was really stubborn.
Told me to see everything through.
Told me to plan in detail.
Yes. I think I've always liked making
salt. It suits me.
When the Okunoto Salt Farm Village
was created,
I went every day. Every single day.
Two men became Hamaji at the same time.
Does he regard Toya as his rival?
I'm so busy I don't have time
to care about what he is doing.
He's really busy. I'm really busy,
so I have no idea what he is doing.
If we don't understand something,
we ask each other.
Is he my rival?
Well, not quite.
Nakamae became so involved that
he closed his construction company.
People thought I was crazy.
It all started out as a hobby, though.
But more and more,
I wanted to make good salt.
The kind I used to eat
with rice balls when I was a boy.
I just couldn't forget that taste.
It all started out by chance.
But this became my main job.
There's something about the umami of salt,
its base flavor.
People's taste buds are so numbed from
eating too much chemical additives
and it's only natural
to get bored with that flavor.
You can't get bored with natural flavor.
It is a familiar flavor.
Good taste is good taste.
If good tasting salt can be made any time,
we can create jobs.
This could solve the depopulation issue.
This is Takumi Mondera.
He works in the construction business
and also makes salt.
We can store up to 80,000 liter of
seawater in the underground tank.
This is a slope evaporation system,
a part of salt making.
This process makes the seawater thicker.
This process is not effected by seasons,
giving a stable environment to make salt.
So many different products.
He is a person with many ideas.
Recently, he started to make soba noodles.
Why salt and soba noodles?
Two things provide good health
and long life to people.
One of them is salt.
Another is buckwheat
which is an ingredient for soba. In the
past people served soba to show
hospitality.
Maybe it doesn't connect
with construction business,
but this is a way of
giving back to the community.
I own a company, but I also have
these thoughts about food.
By combining these, I thought that perhaps
I could make an industry out of it.
Here, the mixture of cold and warm
currents
creates mineral-rich high quality salt.
There's so much I learned from making
salt.
His passion led him to
begin farming buckwheat.
Yamagishi gives lectures on salt farming
at Mondera's company.
He was a school teacher
after his family gave up making salt.
Kakuhana, Mondera, and Toya all had
Yamagishi as their teacher
when they were young.
He is a man passionate about
the revival of salt farming.
Growing up seeing my father's serious
look while working,
I understood you need dedication
in order to make good salt.
I always wanted to
be involved in making salt,
and now, with the revival,
I finally feel like it is my turn.
What it means to know authenticity,
it's not just skills but also about
attitude.
I must pass down passion toward
making salt as well.
I've been doing my best with that in mind.
Here is another man who started making
salt with the slope evaporation system.
Shoji Koyachi
He used to be a wood fitting craftsman.
He became a salt maker 8 years ago.
It took courage but I knew I had to do it.
My thought is that wood fitting craftsman
thrive within a community.
Money circulates within the community.
When I say "foreign money",
I don't mean foreign money from abroad,
but money from outside the prefecture
I've wanted to start a business that can
bring in foreign money. I kept wondering
what I could do,
The answer was in front of me.
Suzu used to make salt, I'm going to make
salt.
I didn't know whether it was right or
wrong,
but I just started it.
Using his job experience, he uses reed for
the screen to spray seawater on.
Reed screen is durable and stays clean.
He also built a duct to the vat to prevent
the room from getting smokey.
It also prevents the rust from falling
into salt.
Adding modern improvements
to traditional salt making tools is
Koyachi's style.
Women now work in the boil down process.
It's hard labor. Are they okay?
I've been doing this for 5 or 6 years now.
Before that, I sewed.
I did many different things.
Salt is like working with something alive.
It's a lot of fun.
There's always something new.
I'm enjoying it a lot.
I go to many places to promote my salt.
I even went to New York with my salt.
I'm very happy.
It's SALT, so I cannot carry 'A LOT' with
me...
Even his jokes are original.
What do Kakuhana, the original salt
farmer, think about this revival?
I never thought it would turn out this
way.
The flavor of the salt differs by who
makes it.
And we don't bother each other by asking.
At first they came to observe.
But they are all doing it their way.
Everyone has different taste
and different ways of doing things.
My predecessor was angry.
He said we didn't know how to scatter
sand.
You need to distribute sand evenly.
If not, when you scoop up the sand,
you end up with thick area and thin area.
I wasn't good, so he yelled at me
to go learn from Mr. Kakuhana.
They are not good with the boil down.
When you see the product,
you can see it.
It's the boiling skill.
It creates unevenness in quality.
It makes so much difference in quality.
Kakuhana and Toya are former classmates.
The competition starts!
It was really difficult.
The most difficult and important
part of salt making is the boil down.
And it's the most difficult part.
My classmates started salt making.
What are they thinking?
The Okunoto Salt Faming Village is
about 15 years old, and not long enough.
Same with Koyachi.
There's also Mr. Yamagishi, the teacher.
He used to be our teacher.
He's imitating me as well.
He's doing the slope system.
A bit showy, I think.
At first, people told me
the salt was too salty,
or so bitter it felt like the tongue
was being stabbed.
That was 7 years ago.
Exactly half the time
I've been making salt.
When my predecessor passed away
7 years ago, I took over.
Even though I'm supposed to be a master,
I can't make
the same quality salt consistently.
To make impressive salt...
Let's say I make 50 batches.
There's only 20% that I feel is any good.
There's only that much salt that
I can be proud of.
It's not just the taste, but the way it
looks, how fluffy it feels.
Salt making is not easy.
Master Toya's challenge
for the perfect salt continues.
People copy me. People started copying
when the monopoly was abolished.
They think they can make money out of
salt.
It's not that easy.
Master Kakuhana can be honest
because he knows what salt making is.
I'm the 5th generation salt farmer.
They've only been at it for 10 years.
I've been at it for 20, 30 years.
I have to be honest,
as long as I'm a master salt maker,
as a craftsman, I want to make
better salt than anyone else.
Now that he is on this path,
he will not stop.
The passion of people wanting
to revive Suzu's salt
is being felt by the younger generation.
Sho Yoshida works
at the Okunoto Salt Farm Village.
He studied design in Italy.
He became attracted to Suzu salt
when he came home to Noto.
When I first told my mother
about working here, she cried.
She asked me why I wanted to go into
salt making after working in the fashion
field.
They put a lot of money into my education,
so it must have been tears of confusion.
I told them, there's no difference
between designing and salt making for me.
But they couldn't understand at first.
Now, they support me and cheer me on.
I started out by working
with a Hamaji out in the field.
I worked on the salt farm,
and stayed up with the master overnight.
I started learning by working with them.
First day, I was under brutal heat.
I used to work indoors, so I couldn't
stand it.
I had to give up working before others.
That memory is still with me,
but having worked one summer,
I can finally work alongside them.
He mixed the salt and soda,
and created Salt Soda Pop.
It has become a bestseller.
This salt farming process has been
practiced for the last 400 years,
so there is a value in a cultural sense.
I hope it doesn't just stay within Japan.
I want to introduce this to people abroad.
That's what I'm aiming for now.
Rachel Olanoff from the US came to
learn about Japan through salt making.
She has been working
at the Village for 1 year now.
Thank you very much.
Everyone adores Rachel.
She's close with Master Toya.
They call each other
Ray-chan and Ryo-chan.
Maybe we can serve it with miso soup.
The Rice Burger, which was served in
a Local Gourmet Contest, was Rachel's
idea.
Of course this salt was used.
Take a big bite!
A little bite!
She even became
a Coast Guard for one day.
Rachel and Suzu.
When she leaves Japan,
she will take the story of salt making
with her.
Please take care not to fall from your
boats.
Please wear a life jacket while you are
fishing. Okay, Rachel.
Please wear a life jacket while you are
fishing.
It was very interesting.
and I'm so grateful for having given
this opportunity to work here for 1 year.
I met so many different people
within Suzu city.
At this workplace,
I met Ryo-chan, the master salt farmer.
I have a broader perspective
because of this salt.
The hope of many people are
contained in the salt farms.
West wind blows. I'm a hired hand.
The Okunoto Salt Farm Village
celebrates summer by drinking.
The president sings a song
about working on a salt farm.
Ryo-chan
No, no.
Master Toya looks embarrassed.
Ryo-chan
No.
West wind blows.
I'm a hired hand.
West wind blows.
I'm waiting for the sand to dry.
West wind blows.
West wind blows.
I'm a hired hand.
We wait for the west wind to blow.
A special fine granular sand is
used on the salt farms.
People sang this song on the empty boat
on the way to gather this special sand.
The boat, heavy with sand,
was constantly on the verge of capsizing.
Salt farming was a life and death job.
This song was sung by
hired salt farmers who, working under
the brutal sun and cutting wind,
wanted the sun to set as quickly as
possible.
Salt farming died out once.
The song carried with it
the memory of the dormant sand.
In summer, they make salt.
In winter, they go away to cities to earn
money.
To live in Suzu means to embrace nature
and all its rules.
When we were small,
our fathers weren't around.
I was raised by my great grandma.
Both of my parents were not here.
Going to cities started around 1965.
All our parents were absent from home.
Both of them. Both my parents.
Either the sake brewery or construction.
Most of them worked at construction
or textile factories.
Most women went to work at textile
factories.
Yes.
Ms. Yoshimori went to the city but we
didn't.
I've worked in Osaka and Nagoya.
There's no extra job in the city anymore.
They aren't looking for part time wokers.
There's no more work in the cities.
Even if I wanted to, I can't.
In the past, everyone went.
I sometimes do want to go, but I can't
anymore.
You had to work.
We left children with our parents
and went to cities during winter.
Around here, people went to Kyoto area
to work at hotels around the station
or Honganji area.
I moved to that area to work,
an area close to the river...
Shijo-kawara,
helping with restaurants,
something like that.
My aunt lives in Kyoto,
and she knew the famous actress.
They were looking for a cook in Tokyo.
I worked there for a while.
Many unspoken hardships.
But they do not show it.
That's what's attractive about them.
During summer,
you can feed yourself somehow,
In winter, there's nothing here.
But I still need to earn money
for my family.
For 35 years I went to Kansai area
for 6 months to work.
That's why I have
no memory of him being born.
It was normal when I was small.
That's how it was like.
Half a year you make salt,
and in winter, you go away.
It wasn't a matter of being sad.
It was normal around here.
The humble life
depended upon bounties from nature.
It is also the land that
people come back to from cities.
Have you ever thought about leaving here?
No. Never.
Time may change
but nothing changes
about the nature of Japanese people.
Of course,
things keep getting more convenient.
But fundamental things don't change.
As long as I believe in myself,
I can make my living here,
I can also see
wonderful things about this place.
You see it better because you live here.
Cities are fun but I like it better here.
It's easier to live here. Slower life.
I love this life style.
I love nature.
If you live here, it's wonderful.
Gifts from the land and the sea.
But there's nothing here.
There's no movie theater.
So the only thing you can do is play
outside.
And you grow enough rice and vegetables
so you can eat.
And you still have to earn some cash,
so I'm busy, busy.
I grew up here so I don't think
this area is anything special,
I've been here ever since
I got out of school.
Seaweed lay on the beach
because there's no one to gather it.
Only old people are left.
There's no one to harvest seaweeds,
no one young.
So I go down to the beach to
gather some seaweed.
It was as red as a red pine,
but I got rid of the rotten part.
It's as good as the ones
they sell in stores.
Well, it's free
if I go down to the beach.
It's all free. Old woman's life!
In June 2011, Noto Peninsula was
designated as Globally Important
Agricultural Heritage Systems.
Agriculture, fishery,
worship of the rice field god.
The salt farm is one of them.
Under the sun
Abundant rain
The wind breezes
Changing of seasons
The place where you hear the breathing of
the mother earth.
Once a year, the god of mountain
and the god of sea meet to reconfirm their
love.
We are embraced by mother nature.
Potatoes from a neighbor's farm.
When boiled with brine,
it turns into a delicious snack.
It's sweet.
You can eat the peel too.
Everyone says it's delicious.
We think so too.
Once you use it,
you can't use others.
It is expensive,
but you can't stop using it.
A little bit expensive.
I want some discounts
for the ones we use!
When I scoop out the finished salt
and I can feel that it's going to be good,
and when I taste it, and it's delicious.
There's a sense of accomplishment.
I'm glad to be doing this.
And when our repeating customers tell us
how wonderful this salt is,
there's no greater happiness than this.
You just need a pinch of this salt.
Once you wash the rice,
you throw in a pinch.
If you put too much,
it becomes too salty.
This is the secret to cooking delicious
rice.
I can't reach.
Can you plug in the cooker?
Can you reach it?
Great. Just push the start button.
If you want,
why don't you stay for dinner?
Open it.
Try it.
We don't use other salt here.
We only use the salt he's made.
Salt made by her husband.
Salt like no other.
When the spring wind blows over Suzu,
the new year for salt making starts.
They are chopping leftover timber.
It is used as fuel for the boil down.
The sea protects the mountain,
the mountain protects the sea.
They also use small amount of pine trees.
Do we need more?
No.
The sand is waking up from winter sleep.
Does it still smell like the sea?
Bantsuki stops the seawater from
soaking into the ground.
The earth is slowly waking up.
You can almost hear a prayer.
"Let there be good salt this year."
For many generations, the sound of
pounding must have rung through the sky of
Suzu.
"It may go against the sentiment of our
times, but I just know we have to keep
making salt."
words left by Kikutaro Kakuhana
Salt making that almost died out
because of modernization.
There was one man who kept going.
And people gathered around the salt farm
again.
This is a small, small story.
With hope for the future
A handful of wish
Distribution Guli creates Inc.