Mariko: an Irish harper

Do you know the difference between a harper and a harpist? How about a fiddler and a violinist? If you did not know before, you have probably figured it out already. A harper and fiddler play traditional tunes, whereas a harpist and violinist play orchestral music.

Such interesting tidbits I learn from my friend Markio, who is an Irish harper. She is only in her early 30’s, but is finding herself in a budding career that she never dreamed of.

Mariko grew up in Yokohama, and as a child she was pushed into piano lessons. In fact, she started at the wee age of four. Many Japanese kids suffer the same fate from their overly idealistic, but surely wise, parents.

Being the third and last child, she was quite naturally a ham. So at school she joined the drama club. She absolutely adored performing and feeling the rush of energy as she entered the stage and everyone clapped loudly -- of course for her and her alone, or so she felt. Oh, what a thrill to be the center of everyone’s supportive attention.

At age fifteen, in true adolescent style, she rebelled against the relentless parental pressure to become a professional concert pianist by refusing to play the piano ever again. And she would not budge, no matter how hard her parents tried to coax her into changing her mind.

However, the fibers of music had taken root in her, so when it came time to attend university, she opted to study Ethnomusicology. She wanted to create a life of her own, so opted to study abroad at Queen’s College in Northern Ireland. She selected that rather unusual location because it was the only establishment in the United Kingdom that offered that particular field of study. Ethnomusicology is a musical prism, presenting a cross-cultural perspective on music: social, political, economic, historic and so on.

Mariko entered the Social Division of the college, but sneaked over into the Music Department to sing in the choir ... and once again to enjoy the piano, without her parents’ watchful eye.

Irish music can be so lyrical, so haunting, so profound that Mariko fell in love with it immediately. She gradually felt her allegiance shift from the steadfast piano to the Irish harp. Interestingly, she took lessons from a sixteen-year-old high school student, who kindly taught her the basics. But Mariko arranged her own music and developed a very sensitive ear in order to memorize the pieces she heard. Traditional music is not written down, so learning by ear is crucial.

After university Mariko stayed in Ireland doing various odd jobs from waiting in Indian restaurants (where everyone thought she was Chinese) to volunteering in a special needs facility. At that time music was mostly a hobby for her, but she did offer piano lessons at a Rudolph Steiner school for a while.

After ten years of long, dark, wet winters, unimaginative food, and unpleasant immigration officers, she realized it was time to go home. She longed for clearly defined seasons, rice, soy sauce and abundant greens, not to mention the security and comfort of her family.

It was good to be back, but she was very much at loose ends. Her parents had left Yokohama by then and had moved to a teeny village in northern Japan. So, being back was not really going home, but rather a new and different phase of her life.

To keep herself busy, she started volunteering. She played the harp in old folks’ homes, community centers, and local schools. In small towns news flies fast, and soon out of curiosity people came to pay her a visit. Of course, she became a very well known and popular figure in the area. Over the months gradually her territory expanded, so now she covers the entire northeastern region of Japan and has performances booked as far as three months in advance.

Mariko’s harp is a small Camac, so it is excellent quality. She can sling it over her shoulder and (puffing) carry it herself. It slides nicely into her compact car, so the two of them are seen everywhere together.

She adapts her program according to the audience, so easily gets children clapping or oldsters humming along. And even though she is a refined young woman, she is not hesitant to lift up her harp and expose its bottom (!) so the audience can marvel at how it is constructed. She obviously loves to engage the audience, so along with playing and singing, she tells stories and jokes, encourages questions, and even gives a few quizzes.

“Which is heavier, my harp or a ten-kilo sack of rice?” (The rice. Her harp weights nine kilos.)

“How many strings does this harp have?” (Thirty-four. Most have thirty-six, but that number can vary.)

I asked her if she had reached the stage of identifying herself as an Irish harper. She laughed and said, “Good heavens, no! I have so much to learn. And besides, I don’t always play Irish music. And in the future, I would like to attempt the lyre. So, I’d say I’m a musician and leave it at that.”

But then she pauses and adds, “I’m at the age of thinking about a husband and children. And if that happens, I will put my career on hold to nurture my kids. Hmm ... But even then I would play for myself. The concentration required pulls all parts of me together. And that is a very important thing.”