My Obachan was ahead of her time

When I was young my Obachan (Aunt Misato), who was spritely right up until the time of her death, would prepare home made creams and lotions. She made these for family and friends, and as gifts for special visitors to take with them. Word would spread around Nagano prefecture’s southern villages that my Obachan would soon be knocking on doors to deliver small jars of sweet smelling cosmetics that she had made by hand. People loved receiving them. And I loved accompanying her on those short delivery runs. It always made me happy knowing that I was related to Obachan – a proud, self-reliant woman in what was, and in many ways still is, a male-dominated society. Although Japan is slowly changing, I know that being a single parent was never easy for Obachan. In fact, sometimes things were really tough. I guess that’s why I admire her so much and why I am taking the time to share her story with you.

You must understand that Obachan never referred to her cosmetics as being “organic”. In fact, the term itself has only recently become popular in Japan. But she was adamant that only the freshest raw materials be used in her homemade creams. And she was careful to ensure that the market gardens and local farms where she sourced her ingredients avoided using chemical additives. Sometimes this would involve lengthy discussions with the growers themselves. By and large, the farmers respected and enjoyed her company. I think they looked forward to seeing us turn up on our bicycles, usually weighed down with fresh produce, for a chat about their crops, the seasons, seed varieties, availability of a particular herb, or just life in general.

Sometimes, I suspect out of pity, we would be invited in to one of the farmers’ homes. Particularly throughout December and January, when snow routinely covered the ground, we would be treated to a warm bowl of stew. After cycling long distances, and generally feeling weighed down by the burden of carrying precariously positioned sacks of vegetables on my bicycle, that stew always tasted great. And Obachan was always happy that her suppliers respected her business enough that they would invite her into their homes.

But pesticides, and the threat they posed to her creams - and human health in general - were never far from her mind. “Satoko, Satoko”, she would say time and time again, “Shodoku wa ne, karada ni yokunaindayo onaka niamo, hifu nimone”. What she was saying was simply that pesticides were no good for me – neither for my stomach (if I were to eat food laced with them), nor for my skin (if I permitted chemicals to be absorbed through my skin’s protective barrier). To which I would merely nod in passive, albeit unconvincing, agreement.

Unfortunately, people’s eccentricity can block what might otherwise be considered an important message. Obachan’s messages sometimes suffered blockages. You see, the circumstances of Obachan’s life had made her different from many of her contemporaries in Japanese society. It wasn’t that her views were wrong, it’s just that not all of them required acknowledgement if you were one of those travelling along a conventional life trajectory. Regretfully, I was one of those that, right up until the time of her death, dismissed much of what she had to say.

Many of the people I’ve become friends with since Obachan’s passing, some of them pioneers of the organic movement, have encouraged me to share her story. I’m going to. In time, I intend to share with you more about Obachan’s life, Japanese organic culture – more commonly known as “LOHAS”, or Lifestyle of Health and Sustainability, and some recipes you can use to make your own organic skin care products at home. I’m looking forward to it. But bare with me while I find my feet - I’m new to this blogging thing!