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I travelled to Okinawa along with some of my seniors in kobudo to participate in the first annual Matayoshi Kobudo Kodokan International Gasshuku and the Traditional Karate and Kobudo World Tournament. However, the trip gave us so much more than that. There were so many small things, corrections, I learned in the two short weeks that I was there, it’s hard to remember them all. My most surprising discovery was that much of what I thought I already understood about karate and kobudo started to make so much more sense when I saw it in context. As kobudo teacher Takehiro Gaja said while driving me to the airport on my final day, “To understand karate, you need to understand Okinawa culture”. He was right — experiencing the culture was just as important as the training.
So, I arrived with my travelling companions at the hotel in the capital Naha at about 8pm. I’d been in transit for nearly 30 hours, a story all of its own. After meeting up with more travelling companions who had arrived days earlier, Arthur Moulas Sensei took us down Kokusai dori (International Street), a long stretch of inner-city Gold Coast, Japanese style. We ventured down some alleyways looking for Goju-ryu sensei Chinen’s restaurant. It turned out he’d been ill and it was closed, but the place next door filled our needs nicely. Travelling with a small group as only one of two first-timers was certainly handy. They gave me tips on how to get around, find the best food and basically fit in as well as possible. Take Kokusai dori, for instance: the people outside restaurants touting for business were often entertaining, but a walk up any alley way will get you better food and more intimate dining for half the price. You might not get anyone who speaks much English though. Okinawa is really set up for tourism, but most of it comes from mainland Japan. It doesn’t matter if you don’t speak the language; I found that even in out-of-the-way places, the people were friendly. Besides, guessing at what you just ordered by pointing at the menu (in kanji, the Japanese script) is part of the adventure.
After arriving, the next three days were spent training at the first annual Matayoshi Kobudo Kodokan International Gasshuku. There were two sessions a day, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. Even for a Queenslander, it was humid. Training was led by Seisho Itokazu Sensei, who runs regular classes at the Matayoshi Kodokan dojo. Itokazu Sensei was assisted by Senseis Yogi and Ohmura. Topics covered included bo, sai and tunkwa (tonfa or baton) kihon waza, bo (long staff) kata (Sushi nu kun, Choun nu kun and Sakugawa nu kun), sai (iron forks) kata, tunkwa kata, and eku (oar) kata. Each session was watched over by Matayoshi kobudo’s soke (head), Yasushi Matayoshi.
Meeting students from around the world was as fulfilling as the training, and during most drink breaks I shared a short word with Rainer from Germany and Serge from Russia. After three days of training, Soke Matayoshi took a busload of students from as far a field as Switzerland, Australia, USA and elsewhere on a whirlwind tour of Okinawa. The first stop, though, was a solemn one, with Soke and all the students paying their respects at the tomb of his late father, Shinpo Matayoshi.
After training on the second night of the gasshuku, a friend and I took ourselves off for a visit to the famous Goju-ryu karate dojo of the late Eiichi Miyazato, the Jundokan. It was quite an experience. First, we phoned ahead from the hotel and were told to arrive at a set time. When we did, we were asked a number of questions by Miyazato Kancho and another female sensei (whose name I never quite caught). After some discussion, it was agreed we could train for the night. After changing we were put through what seemed to be a sort of test by Taira Sensei. Taira was impressive to watch; very explosive. After working through some basics, we worked through the Gekisai ichi and ni katas, after which my friend and I were taught separately as we moved on to Saifa kata. He was taught by Taira and I was taught by Gima Sensei. After a while, we were joined by Kinjo Sensei, who speaks more English, which was helpful. The dojo was empty except for three senseis, us two visitors and one young local. To spend a couple of hours training at the dojo of the successor to Chojun Miyagi was pretty special. Unfortunately, the humidity was taking its toll and I wasn’t getting enough fluids in, so after about an hour or so training, every time I assumed the cat-stance, my calf muscle would cramp. I regret being unable to get back there more than the once, as once we had been training for an hour or so, the three sensei there seemed to warm to us and the training was quite enjoyable. Even in just one session, I learned a lot of little things.
The rest of the first week was taken up with the world tournament. It confirmed my opinion that while these types of events can showcase all that’s good about karate and kobudo, they also turn up some pretty shocking kata. It was certainly well organised, and naturally the level of competition after the first few rounds was at its highest. Still, it’s not really my cup of tea. Day one was dedicated to demonstrations, but unfortunately the Matayoshi group was one of the last to participate, so I didn’t see any other group perform, including the ‘living cultural treasures’, which was disappointing. Day two was the tournament proper (I did better than I thought I was going to, but not as well as I’d have liked!) and day three was for seminars with the leading instructors of all the major styles. I was stoked to participate in a seminar hosted by Goju-ryu karate legend Koshin Iha. Although Iha Sensei didn’t do very much, it was still great fun. The training was lead by Kikugawa Sensei of the OGKK, with Sanchin, Tensho and Seipai katas all covered.
Although there were three seminar sessions on the third day, I only attended the first before disappearing off to my new home for the coming week, Yonabaru town, on the opposite side of the island to Naha (although it’s only a 45-minute bus ride). I was there for training in kobudo with Takehiro Gaja Sensei, but that first night was all about the local culture. Every year, the town of Yonabaru has a massive tug-of-war (you can see it on YouTube). A new straw rope is made every year. It is made in two sections, with each section being about 50 metres long, and about 40cm in diameter — thicker at the front end where the loop is and thinner at the tail, with lots of smaller pulling ropes coming off it. There is the red (east) team and the purple (west) team. Gaja Sensei had organised for us to be on his team (red), so we joined about 100 locals (and some other visitors too) in carrying the rope on logs held on our shoulders, through the town to a field where there were stalls and loads of people, and a grandstand for the local luminaries. The purple team brought their rope in, and the two end loops were locked together with a huge black log. Then it was bedlam as both sides dropped the logs holding up the rope and pulled like mad. I forgot to mention that it had bucketed down about an hour before, so it wasn’t long before the field was a giant mud pit. For the record, red team won. There is actually always two contests, with the first one being the real one, while in the second, the other team is allowed to win — after a bit of a struggle, of course! The whole experience really was amazing. Groups of locals got psyched up with drums, ladies did traditional dances, a giant pole with a giant flower was bounced up and down, and people dressed as kami stood stoically atop the rope as it was being carried (with chanting). The carnival atmosphere and excitement of the actual tug-of-war were topped off with a fantastic fireworks display.
The next week was spent training every night, mostly with Gaja Sensei. We sat and watched him teach some children, and then we would train until our brains could not accommodate another piece of information. It can be quite disheartening when, after practising a kata for what seems like a reasonable amount of time, to be corrected on even the opening movement! Gaja Sensei did say that this is not the normal way to train, but since we were visiting for such a short time, he’d give us many things to go home and practise, rather than offering only a few corrections and expecting them to be practiced until satisfactory before moving on, as is the usual way. The dojos in Okinawa are all pretty small compared to the space we have in Australia, but Gaja’s dojo is small even by Okinawan standards. Only one person could do a kata at a time, and even then I found myself crashing into the punching bags! It does make for an intimate atmosphere though.
Gaja Sensei also introduced me to another Goju-ryu dojo. A short drive from his house into Sashiki town, he took me to the dojo of Nanko Minei Sensei, 10th Dan. For about an hour I had a one-on-one kata session, even though Minei Sensei was suffering with pain in one arm. After a while, he asked me to rest and we sat near his impressive bonsai garden. Although we didn’t really talk because his English is very limited and my Japanese is worse, he seemed very friendly and open. Some time later I also had an enjoyable training session with Minei’s nephew and three visiting Canadians. We worked through almost all of the Goju-ryu kata and I had a lot to reflect on as I walked back to my room. After dropping off my sweat-sodden gi, I walked a little further down to Gaja Sensei’s dojo where my travelling companions were. Sensei was shocked that I would walk 45 minutes to the hotel, let alone the extra 15 minutes back down to his dojo! Distance really is a different concept in Okinawa compared to Australia.
A couple of nights later, Gaja Sensei took me back to the Minei dojo, this time with explicit instructions to not walk back, as it is too far. On my last night of training, I think I’d just received too much information and I was really struggling to do anything right. I asked Gaja sensei if he ever got frustrated at not being able to progress. He said to me, “Many times sensei say, and I do, and I think it is just like sensei say, but he say ‘No’, then one day, sensei say ‘Yes’.” On an earlier night, the whole group of us had gone out for dinner with Gaja Sensei and he explained about the concept of muchimi. He said that all Okinawan karate and kobudo has muchimi, but it is difficult to explain. He said that many times he would practise and his sensei would say there was not enough muchimi, then every now and then he would say “Toh, toh, toh!” — meaning, ‘Yes, that’s it!’
On my last day, Gaja Sensei picked me up from my room, and took me to visit his friend who has a karate museum in his upstairs (so he told me in the car). Who should his friend be, but none other than Tetsuhiro Hokama Sensei! I sat and listened to a fascinating conversation between two bona fide karate masters (they would speak in Japanese and then tell me in English some of what they were talking about) before being shown around the museum. It was one more experience to top off an amazing fortnight.
Of course, while I was still in Okinawa the lessons kept on coming. As Gaja Sensei drove me to the airport (he wouldn’t hear of me catching the bus or the monorail) he passed on some more advice. As I mentioned earlier, he first told me that he felt it was important to understand Okinawan culture to understand karate. And last he said, “Allan, always thinking karate, even when driving the car or motorcycle,” and I could see that he was holding the steering wheel in the same grip that he would hold the gripping jars (used for strength and conditioning training or hojo undo), with the thumb folded in.
Although my stay was brief, I learned a lot and had more memorable experiences than I can write about. For any serious karateka who has ever wondered if it is worth the effort to go to Okinawa, it’s a no-brainer. I’ve already started to plan my return visit.
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