The Namahage: The Ogres Who Knock on New Year's Night
On the last night of the year, on the snowbound Oga Peninsula of northern Japan — a fist of mountains punched into the Sea of Japan from Akita, one of the snowiest coasts on earth — the ogres come down from the hills and knock on the doors. Not metaphorically. The household hears them coming: the stamping in the snow, the clash of wooden blade on bucket, and then the roar at the threshold, in the broadest dialect of the north, the two questions every child of Oga has dreaded and treasured for centuries: "Nakuko wa inee gaa?!" — Are there any crybabies in this house?! — "Namakemono wa inee gaa?!" — Any lazy ones?! And into the lamplight burst the namahage: huge figures in demon masks — one red-faced, one blue, horned, wild-haired, mouths full of fangs — their bodies shaggy with great straw coats, a wooden knife in one hand and a pail in the other, stamping, bellowing, searching the room — behind the screens, under the kotatsu quilt — for children who cried too mu...