Monday, Oct. 06, 1958

The Happy Farmers

Despite Typhoon Ida's depredations, Japan's rice farmers were counting their blessings last week. By the time Ida struck, the vast bulk of Japan's rice had already been harvested, and peasant pockets were ajingle with the proceeds of the nation's fourth bumper crop (400 million bushels) in as many years.

Along with jingling pockets went expanded appetites. In the quiet little village of Ichijo, 235 miles north of Tokyo, Mrs. Hatsue Sato gazed on her new refrigerator, giggled happily. "Now we have it, we don't know quite what to do with it," she said. "My mother-in-law still insists on cooling the melons in the village well."

Imposed Blessing. For centuries the inhabitants of Ichijo, like the vast majority of Japanese peasants, have lived in tiny wood-and-wattle cottages heated only by a fire pit sunk in the earthen floor. In years when the rice crop was good, Ichijo's farmers eked out a bare existence. When the crop failed, they sold their daughters to the city brothels. Steeped in this tradition, one of Ichijo's wrinkled, kimono-clad elders reflected with horror last week on Mrs. Sato's latest acquisition. "Indecent extravagance," he moaned.

But rural Japan is no longer the place the elders knew. First break in the age-old pattern of peasant poverty came with the land-reform law imposed on Japan by General Douglas MacArthur and the

U.S. occupation authorities in 1946. Today 87% of Japan's farm land is owned by the men who cultivate it, v. 54% prewar. Freed from rack-renting and aided by improved farming techniques, Japanese peasants have steadily increased their output. Before World War II, the average Japanese farmer was lucky to clear $500 (in today's money) a year. In 1958 he can count on an income of about $1,000.

The Supreme Symbol. The pervasive odor of human manure, the characteristic fragrance of Japan a decade ago, has all but disappeared. Today's farmers buy chemical fertilizers instead. In rice-rich Ichijo. almost all farmhouses now have tiled kitchens, running water and--as a supreme mark of gentility--neat, outdoor privies with trim red pillars.

Some of Ichijo's farmers have built themselves two-story concrete houses with fluorescent lighting; others are buying insurance policies, taking trips to hot springs resorts, putting aside money to send their children to college. Japanese women have reacted to prosperity like women everywhere. Complains Farmer Shin Suzuki: "We bought a refrigerator and declined a washing machine. But next day a salesman from the city store turned up with both and pleaded: 'Please try the washing machine for a few days; if you really don't like it, we will take it back.' In the end, of course, my wife refused to part with it."

Not all of Ichijo's new wealth goes for "luxuries." In the nearby market town of Sakata, one store manager reports: "We are selling $800 motor plows at the rate of one a day--one-third down and three years to pay the rest. Formerly, business was good if we sold 30 plows a year." But for today's young Japanese farmer, a motor plow is more than just a useful agricultural implement. Explains one Ichijo villager: "The new saying around here is: If you don't own a motor plow, no bride will come to you."

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