Sumo at Akimiya

We gathered under the dappled shade of the tall trees at Akimiya Shrine. The wide torsos of eleven professional sumo wrestlers from Tokyo glistened with sweat in the early summer heat. But though we had come to see sumo, they were here to be referees, helpers and guests of honour. Today, young boys and girls of different ages, weights and body types would be squaring off in the ancient Japanese sport.

I sat with some teachers and parents from school, who had nestled in the front row. We sat on mats, the ground cool beneath them. Lunch was a bowl of chanko nabe, known as the food of sumo wrestlers, made and served by the sumos themselves. It's a kind of protein-rich stew, often containing fish, meat, tofu or vegetables.

Mikan stepped up to the arena.  She looked so small compared to some of the other girls participating.  She's in grade four and is as light in weight as she is bright in personality. She flashed the biggest grin when we called out, "Do your best!"  But she's stubborn as nails, so I knew one thing for certain: she would never give up.

She and her opponent bowed to one another.  They stepped into the center of the ring.  Lowered into the sumo squat... and at the signal, crashed into each other.

It was exciting to watch! Mikan's mum and sister behind me were yelling out.  I realised I was, too. Both girls were wearing a mawashi - a kind of belt/loincloth - and this provided a hold and a means to lift the other. Falling down or crossing the edge of the ring means a loss, and most of this match was played right by the rope. Several times it looked like Mikan would be flung out, or toppled, but each time she was able to steady and launch a counterattack.

The cheers of the crowd rose as the match went on. It was a long match.

Both girls were tiring, but Mikan was showing that iron will and despite her skinnier frame, she kept at it.

Her opponent suddenly got a bit of leverage, lifting Mikan up by her mawashi. Mikan steadied, but all at once she was thrown out of the ring. The battle was over. Both girls returned to their respective sides of the ring, and Mikan bowed to the victor. The crowd cheered as they withdrew.  When Mikan turned around to sit down with the other competitors, we saw that she was crying.

It was an emotional experience for these girls. Almost all who lost ended in tears. There was nothing for the professional sumo wrestlers to do but smile knowingly and praise their efforts.


When Mikan finally rejoined us, after the other girls in the round had received their awards, we all applauded her once more. Mikan buried her face in her knees to shut us out. I wanted so much to tell her that I couldn't have been prouder of her, but there was nothing we could do to ease the pain of being bested in the ring.

And so I tried later, after the tears had dried.

"Mikan, you did a great job.  You really gave it your all."

For a split second I thought she was going to smile. Instead she snatched the cap off my head, put it on her own, and stalked off to sulk.

Stubborn as nails.