Shimei Nakaoji wakes up every morning at 4 o’clock, just before the sunrise begins to warm the horizon, and rises from his futon to begin his daily stretching routine. With a smooth head, wide, boyish eyes, tanned skin and a disarmingly open smile, Nakaoji has a zest for life that can’t be contained. He runs 5km around his neighbourhood five times a week. He is 87 years old, but in his friend group, he’s one of the youngsters.
An octogenarian as sprightly as Nakaoji would, in most parts of the world, be viewed as superhuman – but he’s not so unusual where he’s from in Okinawa. A string of subtropical islands 400 miles south of mainland Japan, Okinawa has miles of untouched beaches, temperate waters, humid air and swathes of lush greenery, its houses are squat and concrete to protect against typhoons. It is also a blue zone – a region where people live exceptionally long lives. Blue zones appear across the world, from Sardinia to Costa Rica, and have a few common threads: low-stress lifestyles, diets high in vegetables and low in processed foods, a feeling of purpose (known as ikigai in Japanese), and strong, supportive communities.
So what is it that makes Okinawa so special? According to a 2015 report from the Okinawa Centenarian Study, there were four times as many centenarians per 100,000 people in Okinawa than there were in the US. Okinawan centenarians are said to be shorter and leaner than other Japanese, and 85 percent of them are women. Many of these elders have a routine rooted in a forgotten way of living, swearing off processed convenience-store food, taking regular exercise and socialising with their communities.
At Emi no Mise, a charming roadside restaurant in the village of Ogimi, proprietor Emiko Kinjo prepares colourful meals with plenty of seasonal, locally grown vegetables, rice and small portions of fish and pork. The restaurant was founded 34 years ago on the radical and forgotten principle that vegetables were not something one bought, but something to be grown and shared in the community. “The elderly are like my teachers. They have fed me their food, taught me how to grow ingredients, and shared their knowledge with me,” says Kinjo, who is 76. “I think it would be a huge waste not to pass on their lifestyles and eating habits to the next generation. There are so many good things to learn.”
Okinawan food, like its vibrantly coloured kimonos, is zestier and more flavourful than on the mainland. Jimami tofu, which tastes faintly of peanuts, is thick and high in protein. There’s goya (a bitter gourd that looks like a nobbled cucumber), cooked with with eggs and Spam to make goya chanpuru; mashed purple sweet potatoes; slow-cooked pig’s feet served with kelp and daikon; and sea grapes with soy sauce. It is a diet high in vegetables and (apart from the Spam) low in processed foods.
Though the Okinawan diet has been touted in the West as the secret to its inhabitants’ longevity, there are other factors that researchers think may hold more importance. Christal Burnette, a Floridian who lives in Okinawa and works as health and plant specialist at the Okinawa Research Centre for Longevity Science under 90-year-old Dr Makoto Suzuki, says that more than diet, a healthy social life – and a sense of purpose – is key. “When I ask old people here what their ikigai is, half of them don’t even know the word,” she says. “So I’ll ask them what their motivation in life is, and they always say ‘Talking with you!’ It’s always about talking with other people, and being with family and with friends.”
I ask what their motivation in life is, and it is always about talking with other people, and being with family and friends.
Okinawa is also unusual among blue zones because its inhabitants have been through war, but according to Dr Suzuki’s research, very few of them suffered post-traumatic stress from it. They do not dwell; they are resilient. “They’re always in the present, never in the past,” says Burnette. Shikou Touma, a bright-eyed 90-year-old we meet who lives with his wife Toshiko on a turmeric farm, lived through the worst of it at the end of the Second World War. “We cannot control the tragic things that happen to us, but we can control the way we face up to them,” reads the logo on his pink T-shirt.
Social support and community happens in many ways among the Okinawan elders: growing vegetables in their farms and sharing them with neighbours, visiting community support groups, or playing bowls. Of particular importance are moais – social gatherings of 10 or so people who meet regularly to talk, eat, sing or work together towards a common goal. Moais historically served as a financial lending and borrowing association, where one person acts as the “treasurer”, taking trust bonds from participants. “The moai is so important when it comes to Okinawan longevity because it’s a cultural aspect you don’t see in many other places,” says Burnette. “If someone is living alone when they’re in their nineties, they’re going to deteriorate very quickly, but if they have a moai every month, it gives them something to look forward to and people to meet.”
This sense of purpose is perhaps the most important thing to note when discussing longevity, says Burnette. Examples abound: as well as talking regularly with his patients, Dr Suzuki, recently got two toy poodles, Milky and Roy, which speed around his house and keep him busy. Toshimitsu Arakaki, 80, a black belt in karate, does 200 punches a day – sometimes practising on concrete roof tiles – and has the gnarled knuckles to prove it. Ryouyu Ishikawa, 92, runs his own business selling Japanese products. Kimiko Kamida, 94, runs a small bar (known as a snack bar in Japan) in Naha city. Her best friend Mitsuko Kakazu, 90, visits her there once a week for a chinwag and a tipple. “I’m working my way through the whisky,” she winks at me, dropping another ice cube into her tumbler of Scotch before serenading the room with a spot of enka on the karaoke machine.
For his part, Nakaoji only started running when he was 47 in an attempt to stave off the physical effects of middle age. “I was getting a big stomach!” he laughs. In the four decades since, he has run countless marathons; I count more than 80 medals hanging on the walls in his hallway.
He tells me that he’s ageing backwards. “I’m always trying to be better than I was the year before. So next year will be better,” he says. How does he stay so motivated? His eyes light up and he flashes his toothy grin. “I just keep running,” he says.
Photo assistant: Ian Barling. Fixer: Christal Burnette. Production: Sara Zion Studios.