[Izui
Sensei is the first of several interviews with our MWKF sensei]
When I was seven or eight years old, I
followed my father to a dojo and I was impressed with the men and few
children who were practicing. Because my parents were interested In Kendo,
it was only natural for me to begin my training in accordance with their
wishes so, at the age of nine, I began my informal training with my
father. He gave me an indoctrination course on manners, attitude, seiza,
how to stand, how to grip a shinai, proper kamae, etc. In
1933 at the age nine, I was enrolled in the Seattle Kendokai, which
later became known as the Seattle branch of the Butokukai (its
headquarters in Kyoto was dissolved a the end of WWII).
As
for my sensei, I had many good instructors, both young and old, but
I wish to name four sensei who influenced me deeply. The late
Imanishi, Umajiro Sensei, who was the dojo kantoku (superintendent)
of the Seattle Kendokai. A veteran of the Russo-Japanese War, he
controlled us young bucks’ as would a ram-rod sergeant running his
platoon. Unfairly at first, we young upstarts showed no love for him until
we later realized and began to appreciate the unselfish sacrifice he made
in playing the role of a heavy” for our sake. I believe that he was
instrumental in reorganizing the Seattle Kendokai after WWII. There was
young adult whom I should have called (I did sometimes) Niisan (big
brother), whose name is Shoji, Kazuo (a sensei of the present
Seattle Kendokal until his retirement). He was a very strong person with
arms as large as my legs. Noticeable with his aka doh (red do), I
admired his bold strong, fearless Kendo style. The late Nakagawa, Yoriaki
Sensei, a Waseda University graduate, was the principal of the Japanese
language school to which many of us were “encouraged” to attend daily
after the regular
school
hours. He was also a tough disciplinarian who ran a no-nonsense school,
and his Kendo kamae was of the same nature. His refereeing (only
one person officiating in those days) was something to behold; firm,
crisp, decisive, and fair. The late Takizaki Sensei who was our
chief instructor, was a gentleman and a great teacher. A product of the
old Bujutsu, having been awarded the coveted Menkyo Kaiden
(certificate of proficiency in the martial arts), his Kendo was kiru
Kendo (to cut). He conducted the special Sunday sessions and
among many things, some of us were privileged to be taught the lethal rokushaku
(6 ft.) and shishaku (4 ft.) bojutsu (staff technique). His
Kendo was not of the light razzle-dazzle,’ flashy type, but a very
grand, stately, immovable, ‘no-wasted-motion’ style. Although not a
large man by today’s standards, to do tai-atari against him was as
though bumping against a brick wall in one moment then, his light tai-sabaki
(body shifting) left the attacker helplessly shooting off into space at
the next moment. His patient and gentle way of teaching is something
which I am trying to follow. I shall always be grateful to these
gentlemen.
Recalling
my practices, the very early stage of my training (maybe 6 months) was to
sit properly in selza and to observe my seniors practice. “Keep
your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut.” This was one of some early
advice from my father. Then a long period of correct posture, footwork,
holding a shinai, and finally another long session of men uchi
followed. With no verbal explanation or instruction, a swift slap in the
buttocks with a shinai indicated that I was doing something
incorrectly. Very boring, monotonous, and sometimes discouraging for a
bright-eyed, eager, ten year old. And should I have uttered a word of
complaint to my parents, they would agree with the instructor’s
disciplinary action with an additional brief but firm admonishment. Any
unnecessary conversation would bring the ever alert dojo kantoku
down our necks. The dual kakari-geiko in rotation style at the
Sunday special sessions were quite severe until we all developed the
necessary stamina and endurance. Included in these special classes were
successions of tai-atari followed by an attack to any of the target
areas. The object was not only to attack but also be able to receive such
attacks (butsukari geiko) ... bumping practice.
Different
than today’s Kendo, the techniques of tripping, grappling, wrestling,
and choking, which have been considered illegal when Kendo made its
renewed appearance after WWII, were acceptable in the earlier years and
they were regular parts in our daily keiko. Tsubazeriai,
which is a common sight today, was executed very carefully and seldom,
being aware of ashi-harai (foot sweep). Although we experienced
tournaments and contests, I feel that today’s Kendo seems to be more
contest oriented and speed seems to be an important factor. By today’s
standard the older method may seem much slower. An inadequate strike would
warrant a shout of “KIRENAI” (does not cut!) from the instructors.
Whereas we see much renzoku waza (consecutive strikes) today “ippon
giri de shobu o kimeru” (a decisive one cut determines the result of
a contest) was the atmosphere of the past. Try as I may, I still find it
difficult to execute renzoku waza. Perhaps due to changes of the
times and to the fact that youths of today seem to be more intelligent and
knowledgeable about so many things than we of the 1920’s, they seem to
be more inquisitive about various facets of Kendo. They do not hold back
in asking questions, whereas we accepted any
instruction
or order given by the instructors or seniors.
For
many people, today’s Kendo is considered a sport, with medals, trophies,
recognitions, etc, not denying that there was an element of a sport long
ago. Rules regulating contests yesterday did not seem as complicated as
they are today and such a contest was refereed by one person. There may
have been hansoku (penalty) rulings, but I cannot recall having
anyone charged with any. Teammates did not applaud or shout any
encouragement, advice, or joyous approval. The spectators may have
applauded a good contest, but I do not remember. Many of us probably
started out to train in Kendo as a sport, but later became more involved
in the more difficult combination of mental and physical disciplining.
There was no room for any conceited superstar, for they would immediately
be trimmed down to size by his peers and seniors should he have gotten out
of
line.
I recall our dojo having a very good Kendo person who had come home after
completing his academic education in Japan. Although he was a consistent
winner he was very low-keyed and modest, and we all admired him. Yasui,
Kiyoshi Sensei is still active in Kendo in Seattle, I believe. As for
promotions, they were only upon the recommendation of the chief instructor
and approval by the board of examiners; and the result was reported to the
Kyoto headquarters whence the certificate came. Aside from the shiai
activities and daily practices observed by the instructor, the candidate
for shodan was required to perform all seven of the daitoh
(long sword) Kendo Kata,
and
since there was no kata-yoh (sword used for kata), shinken
(live blade), as well as bokutoh were used. Confidence in one’s
own ability as well as in one’s partner was obviously in important
factor.
The third major ingredient was the nominee’s personal character. In
those days even to become a shodan was a big step and bore certain amount
of responsibility and obligation to Kendo.
To
emphasize the significance of this third ingredient, I have a recollection
of going to my sensei with my father and the sad request to strike my name
off the list of shodan nominations, due to my
unpredictable
temper. A person did not submit a request or an application for a
promotional examination, he was selected.
Unaware
of being taught anything other than the physical portion of Kendo, many of
its philosophies must have seeped into us by the process of osmosis. We
were hardly ever lectured on the subjects except when being reprimanded
for our mischievous conduct. We did not have the
opportunity
to participate in a discussion as it is done today. Apparently we must
have sensed our teachers’ and parents’ thoughts and wishes as to
proper manners, attitudes, etc. Much of the mental
discipline
and manners were taught at home, as it should be, from early childhood
then renewed and polished at the dojo. The teachings taught through
vigorous training programs were of great help to many of us to survive the
troubled times during the economic depression, racial prejudice, war
times, and the post-war times when may of us had to start from base one.
It is still helping me today to approach each day’s challenge with
renewed vigor and enthusiasm. Being taught by my father, 55 years ago,
“To approach each Kendo practice day with the same enthusiasm which I
had on my first session.” Here are some more thoughts: Tanoshiku
manabe (enjoy learning), sunao ni uketore (to willingly accept
any advice or instruction), gambare (hang in there when things
become rough). Those are some of the ingredients for a fruitful daily life
in Kendo or life itself. For one who is good, there is always another who
is better. Kendo life is so exciting for these reasons.
To
do Kendo, as opposed to talk Kendo is very important. Today
no one walks around carrying a heavy stick, much less a sword, so
physically, Kendo, as compared to some other facet of the martial way,
cannot be labeled a self defense mechanism. However, the mental attitude
one develops through the training, will help to avoid trouble and also be
aware and alert for any eventuality. Respect is one of the top priorities
in Kendo. Compassion is another; only one who is strong can be able to be
compassionate towards those who are weaker. In essence, as the
Kendo
ideology states, “To become
a good human being and a useful citizen to one’s community.” -
George K. Izui.
