都会の子は毒されている
今の都会の子供はかわいそうだ。自然に触れる機会がない。触れると言えば、小学生はゲーム機で、中高生にもなるとスマホだ。
小生の近くにイオンモールがあるが、かなり広いスペース(縦10m、横20m)がゲームセンターで、ありとあらゆるゲーム機が備えてある。モグラ叩き、パチンコ、パチスロ、太鼓叩き、レースゲーム、マリオカート、ガンダム、ボンバーガール、景品クレーンゲーム、メダルゲームなど。
頭の中がゲームに毒されてしまわないか。
私が小学生の頃は、母の実家が養老の近くの奥条という山の麓の村であった。夏休みには従兄弟が10人ぐらい集まり、山に登ってマツタケ狩り(新聞紙に山盛り捕れた)をしたり、無花果の木(幹が直径20センチ)に登って無花果を取ったり、河原で川遊びをしたり、鶏小屋に入って鶏に、けたたましく鳴かれたり、栗林で栗を取ったり(靴でイガイガを剥ぐ)、風呂や竈を杉の木や竹で焚いたり(杉の枯葉はジジジジと燃えた。竹はポンポン響いた)、笹舟を小川に流して競争したり、神社近くの競馬場で競馬を見たり、実家の庭にある水琴窟の音を聞いたり、大きな水車小屋の水車(直径七メートルほど)が水をかぶって回るのを見たり、実家の二階の庇一面に干柿が一杯吊るされていたり、山羊の乳を飲んだり、鶏を潰して卵になる前の粒粒の卵の元を見たり、養老山脈の道なき道を上がり下りしたり、脱穀機を空回りさせたり、村祭りの痛快踊り(巨大男根が大きな輪っぱを目掛ける)を見たり……。ああ面白い少年時代だった
City Children Are Being Poisoned
City children are unfortunate. They have almost no chance to come into contact with
nature. What do they come into contact with? Elementary school children contact with game
machines, and high school students contact with smartphones.
There
is an Aeon Mall near my home, and a fairly large area—about ten meters by
twenty—is taken up by a game center filled with every kind of machine
imaginable: whack‑a‑mole, pachinko, slot machines, taiko drumming games, racing
games, Mario Kart, Gundam, Bombergirl, crane games for prizes, medal games, and
so on. I am afraid their minds are being poisoned by such games.
When
I was in elementary school, my mother’s family lived in Okujō, a village at the
foot of the mountains near Yoro Waterfall. During summer vacation, about ten
cousins would gather, would climb the mountain to hunt matsutake
mushrooms—piling them high on sheets of newspaper—climb fig trees with trunks
twenty centimeters thick to pick figs, play in the riverbed, get screamed at by
chickens when we entered the coop, pick chestnuts in the orchard (kicking off
the spiky burrs with our shoes), and stoke the bath and the kitchen stove with
cedar wood and bamboo. (Dry cedar leaves burned with a crackling jijijiji,
while bamboo popped loudly.)
We
floated little bamboo‑leaf boats down the stream racing them, watched grass‑horse
races at the track near the shrine, poured water into an underground pot in the
garden and listened to the beautiful sound of the suikinkutsu, watched
the huge waterwheel—about seven meters in diameter—turn as water splashed over
it, saw rows of dried persimmons hanging from the entire eave of the second
floor, drank goat’s milk, saw the tiny undeveloped eggs inside a chicken that
had just been slaughtered, explored the pathless slopes of the Yōrō Mountains,
spun the threshing machine just for fun, and watched the wild, boisterous dance
at the village festival (where a giant phallus aimed at a large ring).
Ah,
what a wonderfully exciting childhood I had!