Dai sho

My classmates and I pose for pictures together between rehearsal and the recital and take several on Wen-Hsuan's polaroid camera that we could give to our teachers with a small gift. We write our messages to our sensei - too little space to express all the gratitude I feel. Meyu and I temporarily shed our hakama. We run through the utai again with Num and resolve to perform it louder still! We are re-hakama-ed by our dresser. As Meyu and I practice walking suriashi in the hall, Oe Sensei comes out, asks us to turn around to check our look, nods and starts to return to the dressing room. I whisper after him, "Oe Sensei!" He turned. I mouth, "Karakarakara'" and make 'twinkle' fingers to remind him of the image he gave me for Hagoromo. He finally grins at me! Now Tamoi Sensei comes out into the hall, and Oe-san gestures to him that we look fine. Always vigilant for unforeseen glitches, Tamoi-san comes to check for himself. He speaks to Meyu. "Tamoi-san wishes to re-tie your hakama." "Dozo," he asks permission. "Tamoi-san wants you to take them off and start again." I drop trou. My sensei kneels, centers my hakama and turns me back and forth as he expertly pulls the straps into place. Oe-san and Tamoi-san demonstrated dressing Katayama-san on the very first day, and I feel absolutely no embarrassment at this ritual - only gratitude that my pants wouldn't fall off onstage! The tightening of the straps focuses my center of energy around my gut - just where all the sensei had said it should be from the start! Standing kamae suddenly feels natural- Note to self: wear a tight sash around your gut when practicing. ... We wait. Meyu and I are getting nervous. "What do we do?" she asks. "I just know I'd feel better if I could wait near sensei," I say. So we poke our heads into the men's dressing room, and our sensei wave us in. Oh, our sensei look resplendent in their white kimono and gray hakama! Like small children saying their prayers, we gratefully sit seiza side by side on the tatami mat floor with our eyes meekly lowered. Our sensei laugh. We laugh at ourselves. It relaxes us. Sensei lead us out to prepare for our entrance. Tamoi Sensei tells Meyu to tuck my yukata down into my obi. I straighten the extra fabric and Tamoi-san gives my hakama one last pat into place. I try to calm my breathing. Suddenly, Meyu grabs me, "Kate, what's the first line?" "What, of the utai?" "No, Tamoi-san wants to make sure you remember your first line." "Ah tsu ma aa so bi no," I sing softly. Tamoi-san smiles in approval - He's right. If you can just get through the first line, everything else should fall into place. I grin back. We kneel. "Onegai ita shimas" If it pleases you. They leave me in the darkened backstage. I hear Meyu's voice strong and clear, and I imagine her dancing among the sakura. She exits. I rub her shoulder and enter. I take my place at the dai sho mae, kneel, open my fan and sing. I rise and feel Oe-san's comforting tweak at the bottom of my hakama. The audience disappears, and I see only the center post behind them and the four pillars as if through the mask. It's over before I know it, and we exit and kneel and bow to each other. "Arigato gozaimashita" Thank you for all you have done. We go out to watch the others perform. The Nihonbuyo dancers are beautiful, flirtatious, graceful, and stunning. The Kyogen actors make me laugh all over again at the jokes I have heard several times, and I marvel at the incredible challenge they had memorizing full scenes, lines and movement, and komai chants and dances as well! We head to the cast party, and I sit next to Katayama Sensei. ARGH! Why can't I speak Japanese so that I could tell him what this experience has meant to me??? An interpreter leans in to me and tells me that I looked great onstage. I thank her and tell her how hard my sensei worked to teach me. Katayama-san gestures to me and says, "Dai sho something something." (The dai sho mae is the first place an actor goes to begin a dance) The interpreter gasps in delight, "He says 'This one is first place.' He says you worked so hard and improved so much." I improved because my sensei worked so hard with me because I was such a disaster! My greatest goal for this evening's recital was to make my sensei proud. They are ichban (number one) dai sho.

In re-reading this months later, I have at last tumbled upon the meaning of Katayama-sensei's compliment. The Dai sho mae is the place on stage where the shimai dancer begins. In that poetic ambiguity and layering of meaning of the Japanese language, Sensei was letting me know that, although I had done well, I was still at the beginning - a lovely lace to be at my age. The journey begins.