Helping out a henro.
There are a multitude of legends surrounding the pilgrimage of people who either gave to Kobo Daishi, or refused to assist the Buddhist saint. For those who withheld assistance out of greed or pettiness, the consequences could be severe. A man who refused to give a pear to the Daishi turned around and watched his pears turn to stone. One man, who smacked Kobo Daishi's begging bowl onto the ground, watched in agony as one by one, his eight sons succumbed to mysterious illnesses and perished. As penance for his sin, he did the pilgrimage TWENTY TIMES, and was finally forgiven. In each of these cases, it is not the vengefulness of Kobo Daishi that caused calamity, but the inflexible rules of Karma that prescribe terrible consequences for hurting an enlightened being. On the other hand, for those who gave generously, the rewards were legendary. Near Kirihataji, aka Temple #10, Kobo Daishi asked for some cloth from a local woman. Instead of a random dishrag, she gave him her brand new kimono, and said that one day she too would like to become a saint and help the people find enlightenment. A short time later, the woman realized her true identity: she was a reincarnation of the Boddhisatva Guanyin, and she took her rightful place in the Buddhist pantheon as a symbol of hope and compassion. That tradition of giving continues to this day in Shikoku.
The giving of gifts or assistance is known as osettai. This can happen anytime, anywhere. In fact, me and my Aussie buddy Barnaby were just walking down the street, and some people in a house randomly got our attention. We walked over, always expecting as foreigners to be corrected on some breach of Japanese ettiquette, but it turns out they wanted to give us some tiny clay Buddha statues, with a paper charm inside for good luck! A pilgrim could get used to this. However, the majority of the time, osettai are given out at various designated buildings along the trail where generous locals gather to hand out drinks and snacks. All they ask in return are some stories, a signature in their guestbook, and a thank you note in the form of an ofuda, the paper charms that you write your personal info and wishes on. You place these ofuda in a box at each shrine you visit, and you also give them to those who assist you on your journey.
So where are these osettai locations? Some are on the grounds of the temple, some are on the path leading up to the temple, and other times they operate out of the local city hall, or just somebody's house. In fact, one osettai hut, right near the Okuda-ya guesthouse, looks more like a jumbo tent that someone set up! So they come in all shapes and sizes. Now, the cynical part of me knows this is just good business. If you make it more pleasant by giving out gifts, the pilgrims stay happy and tell all their friends how great the island is, and more people come to visit Shikoku. But cold assessment of osettai culture doesn't factor in the generosity, spontaneity, and multitude of gifts that are given. Some random guy gave me a bunch of tatami coasters to take home! Some other dude on a moped gave me some of his beloved rocks! (It's the thought that counts.) There's no way you can factor that kind of rampant humanity into an excel spreadsheet. And here's the kicker. I started out the journey with 200 ofuda in my Buddhist manpurse. You use 2 at every temple, so at the end of the pilgrimage you should have 24 left. But when I got to the last temple, I had given out every last ofuda.
I think there's some reincarnated Buddhas lurking around the island, and they themselves might not even realize it yet.
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