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Way of the sword

June 2003

I got beaten up by a fifteen-year-old girl last night. I returned home with a bruised arm and a blue face, and even my ears hurt. She wasn't the only one to give me some stick, either. A room full of Japanese people half my size took their turns at teaching me a lesson or two. Of course, I'll go back next Wednesday night for more. No one said that taking up kendo would be easy!

Kendo. The word literally means, "way of the sword". There are similar phrases for Japanese calligraphy (shodo), martial arts (judo and aikido) and archery (kyudo), amongst others. This ancient tradition is now a sport played by kids and professionals all over Japan and around the world. The metal blades of samurai of old have long since given way to bamboo swords, but the idea of seeking to improve oneself through physical and mental discipline remains the same. I took it up to improve my fitness and as another exercise in getting to know Japan and its people, joining a nearby club that a friend's daughters also attend. One of Setusko's girls, Ai, is also my aforementioned teenage terrorist. Suffice to say that I've got many steps ahead of me on the way of the sword before I can put my students back in their place! :)

Life in Japan is often about doing things in a certain way. Take gatherings of people for instance. For everything from morning meetings to major ceremonies to sports events, proceedings usually get underway with a formal greeting, a collective bow, a set opening phrase and maybe a speech before the actual event begins. And then at the event's conclusion, a similar process ensues to finish things off properly. Some instances of Japanese orderliness are quaint traditions, some are a bit difficult for the uninitiated foreigner to comprehend, and some seem quite useless. But rather than whinge about the system, it's generally easier just to go with it. Eventually, a spark of understanding blossoms in your developing Japanese psyche. Eventually, it makes a little sense.

Kendo is like this. Before practice, you should lay out your equipment in a certain way. When you put your clothes and equipment on, the straps should be tied like this and like that. And when you pack it all away at the end of practice, again, there is a common method. Practice usually follows a set routine of giving and receiving blows, but good technique is less about brute strength and more about holding the sword just so, good balance, correct posture and stance, and timing. If you take up your "shinai" to fight, first you have to greet your opponent by bowing, approaching, drawing your sword from your hip, and crouching before the contest can begin. Do it in reverse when the fight is over - in my case, usually a case of thanking my opponent for giving me a sound beating! When we're all done for the night, the students gather to meditate briefly, thank our senseis and receive commentary.

Actual competition is something else again. I went along to a children's tournament earlier this month. I understand the principles of striking at the wrist (kote), abdomen (do) and head (men), but how the referees adjudicate to decide what is a decent blow and what is not is a bit of a mystery. How difficult it must be to judge a duel at adult level! I'll be waiting a while before I enter competition or go for my first grading.

Last night was my first time to participate fully in the senior class. I'm really a bit big for the junior class now, but I'm not nearly as good or as fit as the older students. It's going to be a tough few months while I try to catch up to a competitive standard. I earned my bruised arm from one of the stronger boys, who missed my kote on that particular strike and the next, but then proceeded to hit accurately and swiftly for the rest of the fight. Fortunately, though, the blue face has nothing to do with copping it on the chin. My gear is still a bit new and the indigo dye tends to rub off after much sweaty work. Duly, in an effort to keep my helmet from moving around too much, I have to tie it tightly - my big ears don't take kindly to being pressed in for over an hour!

After a long session of proving that I'm really quite bad at kendo, I didn't really want to be told that I was wearing the wrong bandanna. I just wanted to go home. But it's important to do things properly. I was a bit tired to be properly grateful to the mother who told me I should wear another sort of towel instead. My first reaction was, you've got to be joking, I wear a second bandanna to reduce the pain of being smacked on the head, does this really matter? Then I remembered that all these people are going out of their way to help me. The senseis who teach me, the women who help to organise the club, the students who put up with my slightly disruptive presence in the class. They don't have to do anything for me, but they do. And they don't need me whinging about my bandanna, so I won't. I've got a lot to learn, but soon I hope it'll be second nature.

I'm happy to say, however, that my sporting prospects are looking more positive on the baseball team. It's amazing what a short session at a batting centre can do to help you see the ball better. The result - a big home run bouncing off the top of the spotlight down the left field line. In fact, the first home run of the season in Nishiiya. Nice. :)

The rainy season has just started here in Japan. By the time it's over in July, we'll be gearing up for another big season of Awa Odori dancing here in Tokushima. I'm also going to Tokyo next week and again in late July. It's going to be a busy summer spent in Japan for me, but that's a good thing - if I was to travel overseas, anywhere, upon my return to Japan I would probably be asked to quarantine myself for 10 days to make sure I don't have SARS! Wherever you are this northern summer, I hope you're SARS-free and having a good one.

Love,

Dave