Harahabuya

Bridging Tradition and Innovation: The Harahabuya Family’s Quest for Coexistence with Nature

How a third-generation craftsman is transforming human-habu relations through art, education, and philosophy

By Evangelia Papoutsaki

In this article, Evangelia Papoutsaki explores how a third-generation craftsman is transforming a legacy of eradication into one of education, creativity, empathy, and ecological awareness. Through comics, character stickers, and philosophical storytelling, the Hara son invites us to rethink our relationship with the natural world—beginning with the much-feared habu snake.

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A Dragon Jar and a Shipwreck

There is a story people tell on Amami Ōshima about how the habu first arrived.* Long before the Hara family built their shop near the Kasari airport, before the prefectural antivenom programme, before any notion of eradication or coexistence, there was a shipwreck. A vessel carrying tribute from the Ryukyu Kingdom  went down somewhere off the coast and eventually drifted ashore at Edateku. Among its cargo was a golden jar, said to be carved with a dragon, and inside it were habu. When the jar broke open on the rocks, the snakes multiplied and spread across the island. The jar itself became something to be wary of. Those who took it home, the story goes, were visited by misfortune, and so it was returned to where it had washed up. Some people claimed to have actually seen the dragon carving. Whether or not they had, the story endured.

It is the kind of origin story that does more than explain a creature’s presence. It places the habu at the intersection of power, danger, and something deserving of respect.  A creature that arrived uninvited, survived catastrophe, and could not simply be disposed of without consequence. Takeomi-san knows this story. Standing in his shop in Naze’s old arcade, surrounded by educational stickers and philosophical comic books, he carries it alongside the more recent histories his grandfather and father lived through.

 

From Extermination to Education

On the southern island of Amami Oshima, the Hara family has carved out a unique niche—one that transforms fear into fascination and coexistence. For generations, their business near the airport in Kasari has revolved around the poisonus habu snake, a creature both revered and feared.

Today, the family’s eldest son, Takeomi-san a 49-year-old visionary, is redefining their legacy by blending traditional craftsmanship with creativity and educational storytelling, all while advocating for harmony between humans and nature. He runs the family’s other shop in Naze’s old shopping arcade. Inside, shelves lined with an unusual collection catch my eye: leather goods made from snake skin, habu inspired T-shirts and educational stickers featuring cartoon animals, and comic books depicting conversations between humans and wildlife.

“I knew I’d do it someday,” he tells me, his hands carefully arranging a display of colorful character stickers. Each depicts a different species native to Amami, rendered in a playful, approachable style that makes even the most dangerous creatures seem friendly. This casual acceptance of his destiny belies the innovative changes he’s brought to his family’s business since returning from university in 2000.

The family enterprise began in 1948, when his grandfather started processing habu carcasses into traditional medicines and leather goods. It was practical work born of necessity. Habu were everywhere, dangerous, and viewed as nothing more than pests to be eliminated. By 1954, Kagoshima Prefecture had begun purchasing live habu to produce antivenom, marking the beginning of systematic eradication efforts that would define human-habu relations for decades.

“People used to think that habu were everywhere and dangerous, so they should kill them,” he explains, his tone reflecting the weight of this history. The push for complete elimination reached its peak in 1976 with the formation of the Habu Eradication Promotion Council. The very name spoke to the era’s mindset which saw these creatures as problems to be solved through removal.

But the Hara son, after spending time at Tohwa University in Fukuoka, returned to Amami with a different vision. “I came back around 2000 with a goal to use the habu in a new way,” he says. More importantly, he recognized that the relationship between humans and habu needed fundamental restructuring. “The most important thing we have to do is make people aware of habu.”

The Philosophy of Coexistence

This awareness campaign began taking shape in 2006, when he started creating educational products that didn’t require habu skin or bones. Character stickers, t-shirts, and eventually comic books became vehicles for a deeper message about coexistence with nature. Each product serves as an entry point for learning about Amami’s ecosystem.

Take his Blue Jay sticker, for instance. The character appears cheerful and inviting, but underneath lies an educational purpose. “Various creatures live in Amami,” he explains. “If you want to confirm their true appearance, pay attention to the name of the creature.” The sticker includes the bird’s name in multiple scripts—hiragana, katakana, and English—encouraging exploration and self-directed learning.

One of his most striking creations features water hyacinth, rendered as a beautiful blue flower character. “The flowers are very beautiful, but in the river, they’re rampant,” he explains. “They have great reproductive ability, and water hyacinth kills marine life below because they block the light.” Known overseas as “blue devils” for their invasive nature, these plants represent one of many ecological contradictions he explores through his work.

This approach reflects his deeper philosophical framework, one that emerged through years of contemplating the contradictions inherent in human-nature relationships. He believes that rhere are various styles of symbiosis, but there are many contradictions when researching symbiosis. “For example, humans kill because they feel disgusted.”

The Manga Revolution

His most ambitious project materialized in 2019 with the publication of his first comic book, featuring characters he’d been developing since 2006. Set in the fictional “Amami Oshima Country”, clearly based on Amami Oshima, the manga explores what would happen if humans, animals, and plants could communicate using the same language.

The central character, Habu Man, learns about human life through direct contact, gradually acquiring language and understanding human behavior. “This Habu Man learns,” he explains. “In his life with people, he started to come into contact with humans and was able to speak, so he began to learn people’s words, then people’s actions and behaviors.”

But this isn’t a simple story. The manga deliberately avoids simplistic conclusions, instead presenting scenarios designed to provoke thought. “The main purpose of this manga is that it is not a story that is concluded,” he emphasizes. “It is more of a question. This is the situation, and these are the facts, but what do you think about the relationship between nature and humans?”

One storyline features mutant millipedes that turn against humans after being killed simply for being “gross.” The resulting conflict serves as an allegory for the consequences of killing based on disgust rather than necessity. “Humans think it’s okay to kill small animals,” he observes. “There are many such contradictions.”

Challenging Human Definitions

Perhaps his most profound insight concerns the concept of ecological balance itself. He believes that the balance of the ecosystem is a definition decided by humans, “so it’s impossible to think about it on a global scale.” This recognition of human-centric environmental thinking permeates his work.

He identifies uniquely human characteristics, like self-sacrifice, helping others, and even suicide, as elements that must be incorporated into any meaningful discussion of coexistence. These qualities distinguish humans from other animals, but they also create responsibilities that many people ignore or avoid.

His work attracts diverse audiences, including tourists seeking unique souvenirs, nature enthusiasts drawn to his philosophy, and children discovering Amami’s biodiversity through approachable characters. Local schools have begun incorporating his comics into their curriculum, suggesting that his educational approach is gaining institutional recognition.

From Fear to Understanding

The transformation in official attitudes toward habu mirrors his personal journey. The Habu Eradication Promotion Council eventually recognized that eliminating endemic species would damage the ecosystem, changing its name to the Habu Countermeasures Promotion Council around 2002. The shift from “eradication” to “countermeasures” represented progress, though true coexistence remained elusive.

Today, habu are still captured in populated areas—fields, roads, and private property—but not in the mountains. This compromise represents practical coexistence which acknowledges both human safety needs and ecological importance.

Standing in his shop, surrounded by the tangible results of years of creative work, he embodies this evolution in thinking. Traditional habu leather goods sit alongside educational stickers and philosophical comics, representing the full spectrum of human-habu relationships. His family’s habu show in Kasari continues to educate visitors about local wildlife, but now it’s accompanied by deeper questions about coexistence and mutual understanding.

 

The Artist-Philosopher

What strikes me most about this conversation is how seamlessly he moves between practical concerns and philosophical speculation. One moment he’s explaining the technical details of sticker production; the next, he’s contemplating the ethics of killing creatures we find disgusting. This integration of everyday work and deep thinking seems natural for someone who’s spent years transforming fear into understanding.

His vision extends beyond habu to encompass all of Amami’s biodiversity. Each character sticker represents a species worth knowing, a creature deserving consideration rather than automatic elimination. By making these animals approachable through art, he’s creating pathways for empathy and understanding that didn’t exist before.

“When I was younger, I even thought habu was a god,” he admits, revealing the spiritual dimension of his relationship with these creatures. This reverence, combined with practical knowledge and artistic vision, has produced something unique, a body of work that simultaneously educates, entertains, and challenges fundamental assumptions about human-nature relationships.

As our conversation winds down, he hands me several stickers featuring his characters. Each one represents hours of thought about how to make Amami’s wildlife accessible to people who might otherwise fear or ignore it. It’s a small gesture, but one that embodies his larger mission about transforming fear into curiosity, ignorance into understanding, and conflict into coexistence.

The habu may still be dangerous, but thanks to one man’s vision, they’re no longer just enemies to be eliminated. They’ve become teachers, characters in stories about what it means to share a world with creatures very different from ourselves. In a time when environmental challenges demand new ways of thinking about human-nature relationships, this quiet revolution on a small Japanese island offers hope that understanding can triumph over fear, and coexistence over conflict.

His comics mirror this evolution, depicting conflicts like “wars” between humans and animals, such as millipedes branded as “invaders”, to critique human-centric views of nature. Two comic books have been published so far, with more planned. An English version may be on the horizon, inspired by global environmental literature. “If a rock can ‘speak’ to someone in Alaska,” he laughs, referencing an anecdote from the interview, “why can’t our Habu stories resonate worldwide?”

 

Legacy and the Future

The Harahabuya family’s story is a microcosm of Amami’s broader tensions, tradition versus progress, fear versus understanding. Their shop near Kasari Airport doubles as an educational hub, offering habu shows and workshops. “We want tourists and locals to leave curious,” he says.

In a world grappling with biodiversity loss, the Harahabuya family’s approach, part commerce, part conservation, part art, offers a blueprint for turning conflict into collaboration. Their message is simple but profound: coexistence begins with curiosity.

With thanks to Miyako Takitani for her help with interpreting during the interview

You can find out more about Harahabuya here:  https://www.harahabuya.com/about-us

*Source of Habu Legend: Transformation Processes of Amami Traditional Culture: Comprehensive Cultural Anthropology Research (edited by Tōich Takahashi, Kokusho Kankōkai, 1983)

** Photos: Courtesy of the Hara Habu Shop website and the author.