How It All Began

Forty years ago, in the region of Ansero, igusa cultivation was thriving. Wherever you looked, you’d see fields of lush green rush stretching across the land. There wasn’t any dramatic reason I chose this path—it just felt natural. I inherited my family's land and, knowing the climate and soil suited igusa, I simply followed that current.

Back then, the community was filled with igusa farmers. We learned from each other, shared knowledge, and grew together. Although farming equipment was starting to modernize, a lot of the work still required hands-on labor—physically demanding and mentally persistent. But the strong bonds among farmers gave us strength. We supported one another and kept moving forward.

Venturing into EM Farming

For many years, I followed traditional farming methods. But recently, I decided to try something new: EM farming. EM stands for Effective Microorganisms—a farming technique that uses beneficial microbes to enrich the soil, reduce chemical fertilizers, and improve crop quality.

I started small, testing it on a 60-mat field. Of course, things didn’t go smoothly in the first year. Especially in colder seasons, it was hard to manage the plants’ growth. Balancing nitrogen levels was another issue. This year, I’m planning to add fermented chicken manure alongside EM to enhance the soil even further.

But EM farming is not just about applying a technique—it’s about rethinking soil itself. It’s about drawing out the power of the earth without relying on chemicals. I truly believe this method can lead to a more sustainable and environmentally friendly future for igusa farming.

The Challenges Facing Igusa Farmers

As for cultivation itself, I don’t struggle much anymore. With years of experience, I’ve learned how to grow high-quality igusa consistently. The real issue now is the declining demand.

Times have changed. Fewer Japanese homes have tatami rooms, and in new construction, hardwood floors have become the standard. What used to be a staple in every household is now a rarity. On top of that, cheaper imported tatami mats are dominating the market, making it harder for domestic igusa to compete.

Personally, I think Japanese igusa offers superior durability and a richer scent. But that value isn’t always communicated well, and low-cost imports are often chosen instead. If we want to change this, we need to help more people rediscover the appeal of homegrown igusa.

A Future in Need of Heirs

Another pressing issue is the lack of successors. Year after year, there are fewer igusa farmers, and not many young people are taking up the craft. This isn’t just an igusa problem—it’s an issue across agriculture in Japan. But igusa farming, in particular, takes specialized knowledge that can’t be picked up overnight.

There aren’t any formal programs for training successors at the moment. But I hold onto hope that people will begin to revisit traditional Japanese living. There’s a quiet movement growing—an appreciation for the lifestyle of "wa" (harmony and Japanese culture). If that takes root, I think there’s a future for igusa farming.

Consistent Quality, Decades in the Making

When I first started, I was constantly at the mercy of the weather. It was tough to maintain consistent quality. But through years of trial and error, I refined my methods. Now, I can grow igusa that meets the same high standards every year.

Igusa is delicate. It reacts strongly to the slightest changes in weather. Especially during harvest, if you’re not careful with your timing and handling, the quality drops. But with forty years of experience, I’ve learned to make those subtle adjustments—and that’s what allows me to maintain consistency.

The Future of Igusa as a Cultural Craft

Looking ahead, I believe igusa will be seen more and more as a form of traditional Japanese craftsmanship. As people turn their eyes back toward Japan’s cultural roots, new opportunities may arise.

The appeal of tatami isn’t just emotional—it’s backed by science. Igusa has a natural calming scent, regulates humidity, and even helps with electromagnetic waves. But even without all that knowledge, I think the best thing about tatami is simple:
You can lie down on it, anywhere, anytime, with ease.

That kind of comfort—that’s what tatami is all about.

The Most Rewarding Moment

After seven months of nurturing the crop, the moment I pack the freshly harvested igusa into containers—that’s the highlight. Seeing what I’ve grown with my own eyes and feeling satisfied, “This year turned out great,” gives me a deep sense of accomplishment.

It’s not an easy job. But every single task I pour effort into comes together, and knowing that it’ll become a beautiful tatami mat in someone’s home makes it all worth it.

I want to keep challenging myself and sharing the charm of igusa with more people—one season, one stalk at a time.