A sister state relationship — forged after the 1960 'hog lift' — brings a rare Japanese art form to Iowa this week

The Sasago Oiwake Puppet Theater in Yamanashi, Japan. — photo by Matthew D. Nelson

Steam wafts from the big bowl of noodles before me while Yoko Tanaka, the executive director of the Japan America Society of Iowa, shares her plan to bring the Japanese art of bunraku to Iowa. It is a traditional form of puppet theater that dates back to the 17th century. It was particularly common in the small mountain villages of Japan as a way to entertain weary travelers who would put up at inns and lodges for rest on the difficult mountain roads that connect the various prefectures of Honshu, the main island of Japan.

However, the art form has been slowly receding into the past, practiced only in a few isolated centers and communities in Japan. One such community that maintains the tradition is the village of Sasago, thanks to the Amano family, who have been cultivating and practicing bunraku for over 300 years.

Tanaka, through a series of grants and donations, is arranging to bring the Sasago Oiwake (a Japanese term for “fork in the road,” Tanaka tells me) puppet theater troupe to the Midwest for their first-ever U.S. tour.

Tanaka’s connection to Sasago stems from Iowa’s sister-state relationship with the Japanese prefecture in which it’s located: Yamanashi, also home to Mt. Fuji. This relationship dates back to the late 1950s, when two typhoons devastated Yamanashi’s agricultural sector. An Iowan veteran by the name of Richard Thomas, who had formerly been stationed in Yamanashi, was serving as a Pentagon staffer during that time. In response to the disaster, Thomas was able to garner support from Iowa farmers, who came together to airlift a few dozen hogs and a few thousand bushels of corn in an event later known as the “hog lift.” Descendants of the 35 donated Iowa hogs continue to feed Sasago to this day, and seeded a close, reciprocal diplomatic relationship between the two states.

In 1962, as an act of appreciation for Iowa’s support, Yamanashi donated the Japanese Bell of Peace and Friendship that now sits in a gazebo on the grounds of the Iowa Judicial Branch building in Des Moines. Decades later, amid the 1993 floods in Iowa, Yamanashi contributed relief funding. In 2014, Iowa reciprocated when Yamanashi was hit by record snowfall.

I first learned of this seemingly obscure connection back in 2022, when I photographed a delegation from Yamanashi that visited Des Moines. It was there that I first met Yoko Tanaka, as well as a staffer from the prefectural government office of Yamanashi, who was later to become my friend.

Hiro Hayano had been tasked with organizing the delegation in August of 2022, and later invited me to stay with him and his family in Kofu City when I finally visited Yamanashi in October 2024. I soon met his wife Akimi and their children, Aila (9, and something of a child prodigy in music and academics) and George (5, sweet and playful, and apparently aspiring to be a karate master, as evidenced during sparring sessions by his precision strikes to vulnerable targets).

With much excitement, Tanaka shared how a succession of small wins and chance encounters led to this rare opportunity to invite eight bunraku performers from Yamanashi to the U.S., as well as creating an opening for two performances in Chicago before the troupe comes to Iowa.

As I would return to Tokyo in two days, having just booked an impulse flight, I wondered out loud if I could also meet the puppet troupe in Sasago. Tanaka was just as excited about the idea as I was, and we began to form a loose plan for me to meet Mr. Amano and the puppeteers, and perhaps photograph the puppets if they are willing to have me.

“I’ll contact Amano-san first thing tomorrow, and we’ll see if he’s interested in meeting,” she said, and we parted ways.

As we wound through the mountains of Yamanashi Prefecture, Japan, with the windows down, I hear little George exclaim “Fuji san!” from the back seat. And sure enough, the unmistakable profile of Mount Fuji gleamed in the distance, peeking for a moment through brilliant clouds under a cap of snow.

The temperature was somehow in the 60s despite it being February (and below zero in Des Moines, as my friends were reporting from back home). Cherry blossom season was still a couple of months away, but I loved being there in the relative off-season — if such a thing exists in a tourism hotspot like Japan — and even better to be accompanied by local friends who now feel like family.

I sat in the passenger seat as Hiro navigated through the mountain tunnels that have made travel through modern Japan much easier than it was during the period when bunraku flourished. With Akimi and little George in the back seat, we eventually arrived at the rehearsal space in the small town of Otsuki, where Mr. Amano met us outside the small building. He welcomed me quietly but warmly, with a big smile and a handshake. The door behind him opened, and more smiles beckoned us inside.

Despite it being a Monday morning, the members of the troupe had taken leave from work to be there. Though many were masked up, their eyes exuded warmth and excitement at our arrival. After Hiro translated introductions, the performers begin to introduce the puppets first, one by one, taking down the cloth hoods and bringing them to life.

Each bunraku puppet is operated by three puppeteers — one controlling the head and right hand, another handling the left hand, and a third managing the feet. Typically, the puppeteers are visible onstage but hooded and screened in black to blend into the background. The performances are accompanied by narrators (tayū) who deliver the dialogue, and shamisen (stringed folk music instrument) musicians who provide the musical backdrop, known as “gidaiyu.” Both are equal parts in the practice of bunraku.

I was introduced to a spring princess, an old man, a mother, a man with a set of demonic eyes and a flying dragon. The puppets are quite lifelike in their range of movement and facial expressions, with eyes that change out by rotating back into their heads, and mouths that can open and shut in various ways.

After the demonstration, they offered us matcha and delicious local sweets, including mochi, the chewy and delicious rice cakes ubiquitous in Japan. Over these refreshments, we discussed the puppets themselves, which take over a year to craft and are extremely costly to produce. The performers showed me diagrams that detail the puppet-crafting process and pictures of the inside of the puppets’ heads, where the maker leaves their mark.

As the visit winds down and the puppets are put away one by one, we started to pack up and get ready to say goodbyes. I wished the group best of luck with rehearsals and safe travels to Iowa, and said I looked forward to returning their hospitality in my hometown.

While standing outside the car, shaking hands with Mr. Amano, I catch a blur in my peripheral vision. Little George — moving with a swiftness utterly remarkable for a 5 year old — careened towards me with his right arm cocked back. He swung it in an arc, impacting a sensitive target on my person that I would rather not mention by name. I doubled over upon receiving the strike, and can only imagine what Amano-san was thinking as I tried to regain my composure in what I had intended to be a sincere moment of thanks. Hopefully that parting instance will not color their memory of when the Iowan came to Otsuki.

The Sasago Oiwake Puppet Theater will perform in Chicago before paying visits to several high schools in Iowa. They will perform for the general public in Des Moines at the 22nd annual CelebrAsian festival at 1:15 p.m. (with a meet and greet to follow) on Friday, May 23, and at the Des Moines Playhouse at 2 p.m. on Sunday, May 25.