A number of years ago we were lucky to buy an old house in the Japanese countryside. Our luck, though, was not because we were blessed with a surfeit of wealth. It was, instead, that the owner was even prepared to sell his property at all, to us or anyone else.
Travel outside Japan's cities and vacant properties are to be seen everywhere. The lack of a human occupant - but not necessarily a feral one - is frequently obvious because of an appearance made sad by neglect. Perhaps the roof has caved in or a wall collapsed, the last occupant’s possessions visible inside through the gaping hole. Maybe a bamboo grove is advancing menacingly and overshadowing the property. Or, vines coat the entire structure in a thick, verdant matting that almost camouflages it.
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| Idyllic and empty for years |
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| Almost succumbed to nature |
According to the Japanese Government, in 2008 there were approximately 7,560,000 houses empty throughout the nation; a whopping 13.1% of the total housing stock. Given that the population has shrunk since then, the next set of statistics due this year will most likely show an increase in this ratio.
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| The grass is cut but no-one has lived here for at least 20 years. |
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| Another empty property but still with potential. |
Along with a lack of people out and about and large school buildings with only a handful or no students studying in them, empty houses are a pertinent symbol of the inexorable depopulation of the Japanese countryside. Yet some Japanese (and non-Japanese) do wish to move into many rural areas. The crucial problem, though, is that absent owners are too often reluctant to rent or sell their vacant houses. Commonly, instead, the preferred option is to allow these structures to gently decay. Besides being a visual blight on the surrounding neighbourhoods, these uncared for dwellings compound the depopulation issue by not being available to newcomers. A couple of councils in Kunisaki have become concerned enough with the related issues of shrinking population and good housing being left to rot that they have finally been spurred into action. Local taxes have been levied in an attempt to encourage the owners to put the properties up for rent or sale.
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| Before |
So we were very fortunate to gain possession of our old farmhouse, which is situated in a beautiful area in Kunisaki. It had been empty for 17 years and in poor condition. But after several years of reconstruction its has been transformed into an office for some of Walk Japan’s local staff and christened Koumori-tei. We still have further work to undertake in the grounds around the main structure but it is a pleasant and comfortable environment to pursue our duties. It is the core of our Community Project and we like to think it will become a symbol of revival in the wider local community.
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| After: Koumori-tei |
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| Koumori-tei is not a common Japanese office environment. |
Postscript: Koumori-tei (蝙蝠邸) can be translated as bat house. As far as we are aware no superhero has ever lived in it, but a solitary bat was roosting in the house when we first arrived. As we tore down the ceiling and walls around it the bat soon departed elsewhere but its memory lives on in the name.
All the other houses pictured here are within a three minute drive or less of Koumori-tei and are only some of the empty properties in our neighbourhood.
