久々のブログをこんなネガティブな気持ちで記すのは本望ではない。が、古民家再生における自分たちの記録だから正直に書くのも悪くないだろう。このプロジェクトを開始して一貫して言えることは、大変なのは、３m上から落下し負傷することでも、予期しないダメージに何百万円払う羽目になることでも、大工さんに「無理です」と断られることでも、ご近所から奇異な目で見られることでもない。家族に反対され、詰問され、理解がないために前進できない時だ。
意を決してシドニーから幼い子供達を連れて広島に移住して１年が経った。振り返れば色々なことを達成し、改善できた。漆喰を塗り、喘息気味だった子供達は剥がれ散る綿壁を吸いながら寝ることはなくなった。腐った板の間を張り替え、土間だった時より快適に冬を越すことができた（と言っても室温は−２℃になってたけど）。天井を開け梁を見せた空間にはシーリングファンを設置し、光熱費が軽減された。
数回
の屋根工事を経て、瓦や外壁が通学路に落ちる危険を排除し、雨漏りの心配もなくなった。数カ所陥没していた畳下の床板も直し、トランポリン状態から脱した。蔵は徹底的に掃除・整理し、トイレを増設し、１階は快適なラウンジへ、２階は隠れ家的寝室へと生まれ変わった。
台所の床の傾きを直し、食卓で転がる箸を抑えなくてよくなった。ドアの開け閉めもままならなかったキャビネットは檜で作り直し、衛生面と機能面が向上した。業務用のコンロとオーブン、レンジフッドを設置し、より大勢の人に快適に料理が振る舞えるようになった。布団を打ち直し、毛布を買い足し、真冬でも二家族くらいは泊まれるようになった。
かなりのコストと労力と時間をかけてここまで来た。まだまだだけど、でもやっとここまで来れた。これなら民泊も、と張り切って保健所や区役所や消防署に通い、コツコツと書類を揃えていくうちに大きな壁に出くわした。不動産の名義が父ではなく、何十年も前に他界している祖母のものだった。保健所で民泊を担当している若い男性が申し訳なさそうに呟いた。「法務局で名義変更しないと前に進めませんねー。これは、ちょっと時間かかるかもしれませんね。書類は全て取得した日付から３ヶ月間のみ有効ですから気をつけて下さい」。
遺産分割協議、相続、となると東京にいる両親や兄、親戚が絡んでくる。最終的な相続人は内孫である兄の長男のもの、と主張する母は特に、私たちが勝手に修復したりすることに当初から大反対だ。名義変更した後、どうする気なのか、と大問題になるに決まっている。何にするにも取り敢えず、早目に父の名義にするべきなのは常識（二世代も飛ぶと手続きがえらい複雑）なのに。父は「（司法書士を通さずに）お前がやってくれるなら」と、私が広島法務局と遺産分割協議書、相続関係説明図などを作成する間、印鑑証明、戸籍謄本、固定資産税評価証明書などを入手しておくことに合意。父は自分の生家だし、私たちに多少の感謝を感じてくれているのだろう、母や兄との確執を悪化させない範囲で協力してくれている。が、危惧した通りここで母の妨害が兄経由で入った。
今までも東京の家族から暖かく応援してもらっているプロジェクトではないことは重々承知の上だ。それでも先祖の歴史、家を残す、潰してはいけない、いつか負の遺産ではなく比類なき家宝とみんなが気づくはず、という信念のもとに何を言われても頑張ってきた。が、今日のように家族との電話の後、朝から大泣きすることもある。「もう限界だ」と感じる日もある。
そんな日は冷蔵庫に貼ってある言葉に目を向ける。私が共感したのは、皮肉にも民泊を世界的なビジネスに導いたAir BnBの共同創業者たちを支えたとされる言葉。見かけより小心者の私は特に、人の言葉に一喜一憂しがちだ。よく「雑音に惑わされるな」をじっと見つめる。ブレるな。大義を忘れるな。
そして、何も言わずに一緒に全財産を突っ込み、大きな賭けに出てくれた夫がハグしてくれた。それを見て、いつもは言うことを聞かない猿のような子供たちに「ファミリーハグ！」と囲まれた。次は、涙を拭いてひとりお花屋さん経由で先祖のお墓へ向かう。中尾家の誰も理解してくれなくても、先祖は見ていてくれたはず。喜んでくれているはず。お花を生け、お線香を点けて手を合わせると、私にはおじいちゃんとおばあちゃんの声が聞こえる。「よう頑張ったのう。ありがとう。仲良くやりんさい。」
ダメかもしれない。けど、もう少し頑張ってみる、か。
When Going Gets Tough
Admittedly I’m down. Not sure if I am in the right frame of mind to be writing a blog. But this started as a record of our project, didn’t have any real audience in mind any way so I will write it. Today after I hang up a phone call from my brother, I’m asking myself, can I keep going. Can I take it anymore. Is it worth it.
It is not when I fall from 3m high cleaning the beams and hurt myself, nor when I find out we need to bear the unbudgeted cost of fixing the roof. Not when the builders tell me they can’t do it. Nor when people look at us like we are crazy. What makes it really tough is the fact that my own family (in Tokyo) do not support us and disapprove that we are fixing the house that is NOT going to be ours. And when it counts, they quite often try to make it difficult and punish me. I don’t ask them for any help or support usually. This time I cannot go further without their involvement. Because it is a legal matter and I feel like I’m up against a big wall.
It’s been a year since we made a big decision to move from Sydney to Hiroshima with the kids. Looking back, we have achieved so much and the house has transformed dramatically. With newly plastered “Shikkui” walls, kids no longer get asthma attacks in sleep inhaling fluffs off the deteriorated cotton walls. Our chopsticks now don’t roll off the table with the leveled kitchen floor. The rotten floor boards under the tatami mats are now fixed so they no longer bounce like a trampoline. Utility bills don’t skyrocket anymore or we don’t freeze or boil to death as the seasons change because we sealed the earthen floor with timber boards, filled every gap, put ceiling fans, got a powerful gas heater and two additional air conditioners. Our local school kids are now safe walking along the storehouse as the roof tiles, gutter and walls are reinforced. We are not known as a “haunted mansion” now. We have done a massive clean up in the storehouse. Vintage lounge furniture replaced centuries of accumulated rubbish, and a new toilet was installed. Renewed futons and additional blankets mean we can accommodate another family comfortably even in the middle of winter. Upstairs of the storehouse has turned into a secret hideaway. The dirty old kitchen has been demolished and replaced with a functional custom made cabinet which smells beautifully of Japanese cypress. We also installed a commercial gas stoves, oven and hood range so I can comfortably cook for more people.
We thought maybe we are ready for Air BnB. Maybe we can finally use this house for business. We need to recoup some of the money we spent after all. I started frequenting local government offices making inquiries, filling in hundreds of applications, obtaining various legal documents as required. After about a month into it, we found out that because the house is NOT legally my father’s but it is still in the name of our late grandmother, we cannot do anything with it.
After checking all my applications, the guy at the Public Health Centre said sympathetically, “You will need to sort this out at the Ministry of Justice, don’t you. And this may take a while. Be aware, all these documents are only valid for three months so if expired you will need to obtain them again…”
So now I have to trace back all my grandmother’s line and getting their signatures for renouncing their right of inheritance, recognising my father as the hair on top of all the other stuff I need to do to get there. I also need to either pay for a lawyer or produce legal documents myself. As if this wasn’t a hideous enough task. I could not do this without involving my mother and my brother, who are now very defensive about why I am so keen to do this. It is actually to my brother’s benefit that I do this now before anything happens to my father, which would complicate this legal process even more, but they don’t even know that. They certainly weren’t showing any appreciation when I offered to help with this owner change. All I hear is the usual, what is your intention with the house, it is not even yours. Shouldn’t you be asking for OUR approval with anything you do?
Maybe so but they never cared about the house. Ever. Had my husband and I left it as it was seven years ago, it would have been collapsed long ago.
I hang up the phone with my brother who conveyed annoying messages from my mother and I sobbed. They don’t spend a cent, don’t lift a finger to save this house and yet, they can complain, disapprove what we do, better still try to stop me.
Then came my husband’s hug. And the kids joined. A family hug.
When going gets tough, I do two things; one is to look at the note I placed on the fridge. Ironically, those were the words that got founders of Air BnB through hardships, apparently. “Build something 100 people love, not something 1 million people kind of like”. “Launch as many times as you need”. My favorite: “Don’t listen to the voices that say something’s not possible”.
The other thing I do is go and visit my ancestors’ grave. I got some flowers and walked up the hill. I know who are happy. I know who approve. I know who cheer for me. I tell my grans what a struggle it has been and I feel I have been treated unfairly. I hear them say with their warm unpretentious Hiroshima accents, “We are so proud of you, well done. We appreciate your effort so now stop crying” (OK, I am feeling quite sorry for myself I admit). But I also hear them say, “Don’t fight with others, Yuko. You have to make peace”.
So I get up again. Maybe I can go a tiny bit further. One more baby step… maybe.
