The road here is far from an easy one. The narrow mountain track climbs to a sudden hill. Cresting the hill finally reveals a small church ahead. You may be wondering, as have others, why anyone would build a church in a place like this.
When the Hidden Christians drifted to Gotō at the end of the Edo Period, they did not find bountiful lands. People already lived at the ports and other places where they could fish. The only alternative left to these newcomers was the areas no one had populated yet.
Akabae was one such remote place. They found what little flat land and spring water the mountains held and started new lives. Fertile soil was almost nonexistent–every time they dug plots, they soon hit rocks. Nevertheless, this was somewhere they could worship away from prying eyes. The frontier itself helped defend their faith.
It was not an easy life. Barely capable of harvesting rice, the people relied on sweet potatoes for sustenance. They preserved them in holes called “imogama,” then cut and dried them into the sweet known as “kankoro.” Kankoro is now a Gotō specialty, but its roots are in the survival of a people living in a harsh place.
When the ban on Christianity was finally lifted, there was no longer the need to hide. Eventually, a church was also built here. Worship may have been a pillar of support for the people of Akabae. They led harsh lives; so, they prayed. Prayer kept them going. These layers of cause and effect imbued the region with a deep sense of faith. Maybe that’s why many monks and priests were born from this small church.
Still, time drifts on. Nowadays, only one believer lives in this settlement. Nevertheless, worship here continues to be passed down via the Chuchi Church congregation. The view from this church has also stayed mostly the same as before. View the ocean from the front of the church and you’ll face the Gotō-Nada Sea, beyond which lies Nozakijima. Just how many people have prayed by this ocean?
