Men in Blue Skirts

Kendo experiences at a Japanese High School

(July 1993 - August 1994)

by Simon Bradley

"imagine you are holding a cup of water, there are two ways to empty the cup, pour the water out slowly and the cup will be truly empty, throw the water out and drops of water will remain in the cup, these drops represent 'zanshin', your will to continue"

Contents

1. Departure, Arrival, A sweaty introduction, The High School kendo teacher
2. The High School kendo Club, An idea of what was involved, My impression of that first training session, Bare feet and other hazards to the kendoka
3. Practices, Naremashita ka, A yakuza comes to visit
4. Out of school practices, Kangeiko
5. Kendo New Year, Armour, new for old.
6. Grading in Japan, Watching a grading in Japan, Competitions in Japan
7. Recruitment, Sports Day, Club loyalty in the classroom and my position, Out of school activities.
8. Sources of input. Kendo characters, The Club Yearbook
9. Leaving the Kendo Club, A High School gasshuku
10. Matsunami sensei, The sword, dojo and life
11. Glossary and Appendix

Departure

"Just a minute sir" the security officer commanded me to wait as my bag emerged from the x-ray machine. I shouldn't have been surprised really as the bag he opened did contain a set of kendo armour. I could see him step back and his nose wrinkle at the smell that emerged from inside as he pulled out the kote, men, do and tare with a puzzled look on his face.

I suddenly had the horrible idea that it might be necessary to put the items on or that he was going to ask me to wear the offending items as a way to explain their use. "This is a set of kendo armour - Japanese fencing - which is done with the bamboo swords and..." "oh yes, I know, the one where you hit each other with the sticks" he broke in. I was tempted to stay and argue his definition of 'the way of the sword' but thought better of it especially as I had a plane to catch.

The sticks referred to here are actually shinai, four slats of bamboo held together by pieces of leather to represent a Japanese sword (katana). If they were merely sticks then the idea that you hit each other with them would be a fair description. However as they represent what is probably the world's sharpest cutting blade they should be treated with the respect deserved of such an instrument and as such you are attempting to 'cut' your opponent and not club him/her with a piece of wood.

Arrival

"Sumimasen sore wa nan desu ka?" I had just been stopped by customs officers only this time I was in Japan and the "what is this" question was in a different language. For a moment I thought the officer was pulling my leg or had nothing better to do than ask what I assumed to be an obvious question, after all I was now in Japan where everyone knew about kendo, didn't they? I started to attempt an explanation in Japanese "kore wa kendo no...." and again I found myself being interrupted "oh you are American?" "No I'm from England and this is a set of kendo...." "England, London, Beatles!" "Yes, and this is...." "Bogu desu ne, I know, I play kendo too" So he did know what it was which was more luck than a friend of mine had when he entered Japan, his customs official did not even know what bogu was. He probably didn't make the mental connection between a foreign face and something so familiar as kendo equipment. Surprising as it may sound this is not so unusual, as I sometimes found people not understanding my Japanese for, I hope, the simple reason that they saw a foreign face and therefore assumed that anything it said would be in an alien language to them. Once they realised that I was trying to speak to them in their own tongue their understanding of my garble soon picked up.

A sweaty introduction

After my arrival at the school I had a few weeks before term officially started, in that time I sorted out my domestic arrangements and visited the school to introduce myself to its people and surroundings. I was also warned that on the first day of term the principal would formally introduce me,, to the entire school at assembly. This worried me especially as I knew that I would have to introduce myself to all the students and staff. I decided to prepare a few sentences in Japanese (and English) hoping that would get me off to a good start with everyone. I planned to say basically the same thing in English and in Japanese which would be the absolute minimum necessary such as hello, my name, age, country and request that we all be friends and learn from each other (blah, blah, blah). I had no intention of mentioning kendo as I was feeling fairly shy about my abilities now that I had arrived in the 'land of kendo'.

On the day in question it was as hot as it can be on a Japanese summer's day, that was very hot and humid. The venue was the main school sports hall and by the time I entered the hall with the other teachers of English all the students were already lined up in rows, some eying me curiously but on the whole the majority were fairly disinterested. The principal opened the ceremony with what I can only guess was routine notices for the coming school term, I meanwhile waited, alone, at the side of the stage. I was dressed smartly in shirt, tie and blazer and was rapidly acquiring an unwanted gleam of perspiration, I really wanted to remove my jacket but knew that would only display my condition to the crowd before me. The principal called me onto the stage and I stood nervously beside him as he began to tell everyone in the school about me. He had obviously done his research as he had an awful lot to say about me, my school and university years, about the fact that I was from Oxford, and should therefore speak good English. I was just waiting for him to step aside and let me say my well rehearsed sentences when he started telling everyone that I practised kendo, and had been doing so for a couple of years now, and was keen to join and practice with the school club. So much for keeping a low profile and feeling my way around slowly, I had just been put on display and advertised to everyone and I could see them, those that looked even slightly interested, lining up to take a blow at me. It was my turn, and I was positively dripping by now, not just under my jacket but all over. I stood in front of everyone, which at that time I really did not enjoy, and managed to make it through my self-introduction despite my sweaty brow and clinging shirt. I even managed to get my few Japanese sentences out without looking at my notes. As I left the stage and the hall the principal whispered to me that I should be using as much English as possible, over the year it was probably the opposite that happened in my general chat with teachers and students at the school.

The High School kendo teacher

Here communication was going to be a problem until either I learnt more Japanese or he learnt more English. I took along Kiyokuni sensei, one of my colleagues from the English department, to introduce us and translate for us. The kendo teacher's name was Matsunami sensei and he was a physical education teacher at the school and so was based in the highly casual and relaxed atmosphere of the sports teachers' office which as it happened sat directly above the kendo dojo. Through Kiyokuni sensei I learnt that an American girl, who had been at the school before my predecessor, had also expressed a keen interest to try her hand at kendo. The club had bought her a set of armour and a bamboo sword so that she might be further encouraged to join the club, which she did. She lasted a whole day, but her feet didn't and she never went back.

I tried to convince the teacher that because I had already practised kendo for two years in Britain I knew what was involved and wouldn't be quitting and that my second hand armour really wasn't very nice... Despite all this I received nothing and was treated with suspicion until I proved otherwise, I felt that a challenge had been put before me. I decided to take it up the very next day.

The High School kendo Club

The Club's name was 'Ichiko kendo bu', but the club banner had the character sho on it which means 'to fly' and implies to do so with speed, this should have been a warning to me.

School term had only just started but all the sports clubs ran almost continuously throughout the holidays. I saw it as a good opportunity to see what some of the students were like and get involved with them as soon as possible, I'm sure they saw it entirely differently.

I changed into my kendo outfit in the sports office as a girl waited to put my clothes in a basket and store them somewhere out of site, just as she disappeared a boy from the club appeared to lead me downstairs to the dojo. He had obviously drawn the short straw and led the way in silence with his head down shuffling along in front of me. As the door into the dojo was slid open for me I heard everyone inside call out in unison "kon'nichiwa" and two more boys ran over to take my men out of my hands and place it in position on the floor. People were eying me with curiosity and I was beginning to realise that I hadn't practised for a few months and didn't want to look completely stupid in front of people who were soon to become my students.

The dojo was really quite amazing, in fact I had seen nothing like it in Britain, its floor literally shone as it reflected the overhead lights and the row of armour neatly lined up along one side. The floor had a spring to it and cupboards at one end specifically for storing shinai and equipment in, it was wonderful just to imagine a practice venue where you could leave your armour instead of dragging it home, wet and smelly after each practice.

Although I was greeted loudly when I entered the dojo I could not help but notice that the students were reacting to my presence in various differing ways. Some students looked at me suspiciously, probably wondering what sort of kendo I could do, others hardly acknowledged that I had entered the room, they probably knew that their kendo was better than mine anyway. The funniest group were the first year students who wore expressions of what I can only describe as disbelief on their faces, as if they could not comprehend why I would be doing kendo, let alone whether I could do it and what I was doing in their dojo.

A drum began to sound and everyone scurried into a line behind their respective armours and waited. I didn't know what to do so just followed suit and stood behind my armour which had been placed on the opposite side, the teachers side, of the dojo from the students, this I thought was a bad sign and I seriously hoped they weren't expecting me to be like a teacher, in truth almost everyone in that club was better than I was and my senior in all things kendo related.

"junbi taiso" shrieked the captain and everyone made a circle with their shinai in the centre, "ichi, ni, san, shi" he yelled as he jumped up and down "go, roku, shichi, hachi" everyone else retorted as we followed his example and were led through a whole set of warm up and stretching exercises. So far so good I thought, "shinai motte" came the next command and we all picked up our shinai to begin doing suburi. What we did next was the most painful set of kendo suburi I have ever done and it still is to this day, I was to do it repeatedly during my time at the school and it never got easier, I just became more used to it. The exercises themselves weren't impossible, it was the repetitions and lack of time to catch one's breath between each one that caused the most pain, and in my case the total lack of understanding of what each exercise involved.

An idea of what was involved

Suburi is often seen as a means to warm up the joints and get the muscles ready for the upcoming physical exertion. Well it soon became clear to me that it was an entire exercise in itself, the repetitions, variety and speed were amazing. Things were done in a minimum of fifty and usually a hundred or so, and each different exercise followed on promptly from the last. If the sensei was absent then a slightly more relaxed feel crept into the routine and the pace slowed slightly, which suited me fine. I could never make up my mind whether I should be glad or upset that my presence didn't really affect their attitude to the practice in any way.

On occasion a footwork exercise was included. This was fairly simple and involved each student traveling around the dojo using suriashi footwork. Once one student had traveled to one corner the next one would start following the square, sliding first forwards the width of the dojo, then sideways by its length then backwards and finally sideways again back to the start. Kendo footwork usually requires the right foot to be in front of the left foot, movement should always begin with the leading foot. When traveling forwards this is a right-left, right-left pattern, backwards it becomes reversed to be a left-right, left-right pattern. When moving to the sides you lead with whichever foot is nearest to the direction you wish to travel. As a general rule the feet do not cross and the heels remain slightly off the ground at all times, regardless of in which direction you are traveling.

Once complete everyone followed the senpai's commands "seiretsu, seiza, seiza shite, mokuso, mokuso yame, shomen ni rei, sensei ni rei, otagai ni rei, men tsuke." Everyone was soon up and in pairs ready to go, the addition of me in the line up obviously upset a few people's regular starting positions but I hoped they'd get used to it. Now the real fun began with endless kihon drills each one done many times and by many times I do not mean cutting three men cuts three times with different partners, but, for example, cutting ten men, ten kote, ten do with one partner and then moving on to do the same with another two or three partners. This could be followed with anywhere between fifty to hundred cut kirikaeshi four or five times and then into what is amusingly called teishoku patterns. Teishoku really means something like 'set menu' and is used to describe menus in restaurants, well in this case the word had been borrowed to list patterns of waza to be done in a set order. The variety of teishoku as in any good restaurant was fairly numerous and in this case ranged from A to C. However unlike with food you had to do all of the 'set menu's one after another, and instead of becoming full you would become tired. There is a list of the teishoku in the appendix.

Once these were done the practice would move on to shiai waza, techniques aimed to help one win points in competition, the students didn't seem to need any help, their youthful, slightly arrogant, fearless attitude alone could be felt as they stood in front of you. I on the other hand needed all the help I could get.

Occasionally there would be some jigeiko if senior students, OB/OG (old boys & girls) or the sensei was present but almost always there would be other kihon exercises to end the training session. Everyone would line up and on command, "seiza" kneel and then remove their men, "men tore." Everyone would then once again gather in a circle around their shinai and go through cool down stretches. Practice ends with the same set of rei as it is begun with and then is finally over when the senpai calls out "kore de honjitsu no keiko o owarimasu", and it was all over for the day.

My impression of that first training session

At the end of that first session I thought there were only two main areas of pain, my feet and my ego, it was only when I went to take a shower that I discovered that everything else hurt and I felt like never picking up a shinai again. The bottom of my left foot had disappeared, in fact I had probably left it somewhere in the dojo for some poor student to discover as he diligently cleaned the floor after the practice. I was now concerned about the challenge that I felt had been put before me and whether I was going to be able to survive it. After my shower one of the club members came to take my somewhat fragrant hakama and kendogi off to dry in the sun and I sipped mugi cha whilst trying to talk enthusiastically to Matsunami sensei about the session I had just completed. He asked me if I would be attending the next day, I said that I hoped to but I already had serious doubts both about my mental and physical ability to do so.

Bare feet and other hazards to the kendoka

The next morning the aches and pains had set in, my left foot felt better as the pressure had been off it during the night, however as soon as I stood up I knew I would not be attending practice that day. You can always tell when a blister is really bad, and that is when it does not feel any better even when you pad it and wear a shoe.

Blisters and the like were to plague me for my time practising in Japan, especially at the school dojo where the floor seemed to disagree with my feet or vice versa. I had had similar trouble when I started in England and had always hoped it would improve as my footwork improved and I clocked up more hours of practice, however I can now say that this has not been the case. During my time at the school I wore a foot guard for quite a while, which sort of helped but left me with the dilemma that I would have to eventually stop wearing it. The students seemed to have found what seemed like a bizarre but effective bandage, they used large Band-Aids and heated them with matches before applying them to their feet, this assured that they would not come off even during a rigorous high school training session! These students obviously had a lot of experience with bandaging their feet and toes as most of them had bandages somewhere and a couple of them had them everywhere!

I have now been practising for about eight years and still get blisters if I have a break for a while or if the type of floor disagrees with me. In June 1998 I visited the high school for a "bash" and yet again my left foot left in pieces after hindering my practice with the students and teachers. I was so frustrated because I felt that I was not able to show them my best or usual kendo. After the practice Matsunami sensei seeing my frustration asked me what the problem was, once I had explained he advised me that I had an option. When part of the body is hurting and you still want to practice then you have to find a way to practice so that you limit the pain to that area. For example in this case I should obviously not run around too much but perhaps try to practice in a stronger more solid immovable way using oji waza more often than shikake waza.

Can you imagine the embarrassment as a Samurai of declining to fight on certain floor surfaces on the excuse that your feet are not suited to them!

Apart from my own experiences of blisters there are other hazards to be aware of. For example, shinai are made of four bamboo slates and after a while these are likely to break or at least splinter. In the U.K. when this happened I was told that I must be hitting too hard, in Japan when it happened I was told that I might be practising too hard. In any case a splintered or broken sword should not be used to train with, especially in light of the fact that splinters fit very easily through the bars on the men part of the armour which protects the face.

On occasions when one's kendogi could not dry between practices and you had to wear it again and again it was not uncommon to develop rashes where the heavy, wet material continually rubbed against the skin during the repetitive exercises. Having two training tops helped a bit but was probably more appreciated in winter when a damp and cold top was more uncomfortable than a very wet one in summer.

Practices

"In the summer's heat, train the mind, in the winter's cold, train the body". I did not make practice that second day but did go back the third day and from then on about three times a week during my time teaching at the school. How often I attended practices depended on my schedule as a teacher. The students training sessions also varied according to several factors which included their academic studies, kendo competitions and the seasons.

In the summer practice sessions are shortened and are often in the morning, in the winter they are as usual but also include about ten days of kangeiko before school in the morning. Kangeiko for the high school lasted for between forty minutes to an hour and involved continuous keiko whilst all the windows in the room were opened, this included rows of windows at ground level, just the right height to chill the feet.

Kendo practice seemed to take preference over every other activity for the club members except that is for the school exams. For the two weeks before exams students were supposed to be spending their spare time revising and not training. Prior to competitions the training sessions involved more shiai waza and jigeiko style practice including, on occasion, practice style matches.

During the holidays practice went on and even increased in quantity. The Spring break contained what was called "strengthening training" which really meant a few days of what I can only describe as insanity. During my time at the school I somehow managed to be absent at this time but heard the rumours of students doing a thousand men, kote and kote-men cuts continuously, a drill which lasted somewhere around three hours. This has to be insanity at its finest.

Every Thursday morning there was kawata renshi or as was explained to me "eccentric training" which involved everyone in tracksuits doing strange looking exercises supposed to help in developing the body for kendo. Before these were done there would be five minutes of skipping outside in the schoolyard. Anyone who could do the full five minutes without a break, intentional or otherwise, was let off some of the more difficult exercises that were to follow. Examples of these exercises can be found in the appendix.

I tried these exercises, I did not enjoy them, but was always embarrassed at how old and clumsy they made me feel. I thought I was young, I thought I was fairly fit, I soon discovered that however young or fit you feel there will always be a high school kendo club which is younger and fitter than you are.

Naremashita ka

Students in the school would occasionally watch me with interest as I walked between the changing area and the dojo, they would often ask me "Ichiko no keiko ni naremashita ka" (have you got used to Ichiko's kendo practice yet?) and they were revering to the kendo club's famously hard practice sessions.

I was the first foreign teacher at the school to join the kendo club and it took me quite some time to feel a part of the club and of the practice sessions. It was difficult as at first I was seen just as a new teacher at the school and perhaps as an intrusion into the smooth working routine of the club.

It was not just a case of learning the training routines, but also of making my place in the dojo my own so that it was noticed when I was not present. This took time and commitment on my part and patience and acceptance by the students but did eventually work with the result that students would come and find me and enquire why I had not made practice that day. I went out of my way to go and watch them at competitions and ask them to teach me and tell me what I was doing wrong. I saw how they all joked amongst themselves and even tried to join in. At first they would be very aware of me but gradually they opened up somewhat and we shared some laughs involving both Japanese and English jokes. A few of the students began to try and converse with me in English, either to explain what it was we were trying to practice or just to try and say something amusing. This may sound fairly basic but it was a huge step and more communication than I generally received in class.

After practice students would run over and tie up my armour for me and put it away, they would also wash my head towel and return it for me the next day. I really thought I should be doing all this myself but my attempts to challenge them for the right to look after my own equipment were meet with polite declines. The kohai students who were assigned the deed of looking after my stuff probably would have loved for me to do it myself however the fact that their senpai kept an eye on them meant that they just grinned and got on with it. I finally felt a part of the club when after months of asking for advice about my kendo I finally began to get some from the students. For the most part it was telling me how bad I was at certain movements or techniques, nevertheless it was great to get some feedback in what was, quite rightly, for the most part an action dominated training routine.

A yakuza comes to visit

After practice a few of the students would take everyone's tenugui out to the courtyard between the main school building and the sports building and wash them all under cold water taps in concrete troughs. In the summer, which it was at this time, the students would also refresh themselves with the cold water and chat. On this particular day a few of the junior students collected up everyone's tenugui and went out to the courtyard, the rest of us were in the dojo putting away our equipment as usual when we heard loud shouting coming from outside. We hurried out to see what the commotion was. In the courtyard we found a man undressing himself down to a loincloth, clearly with the intention of having a wash in the water troughs. The kendo club students were being shouted at for challenging the man's presence on the school premises. As we began to assemble it was clear to all of us that he was a yakuza, a member of what is often described as the Japanese mafia, and was covered in elaborate tattoos. I was wandering what he was doing coming to the school for a wash when I remembered that in general those with tattoos are not allowed into public baths, precisely because they are suspected of being yakuza.

The shouting continued and as it increased in volume and aggressiveness my understanding of it diminished completely. The tattooed man in question had just stuck his head under a tap when a couple of teachers arrived. They sort of confronted him about his intentions only for them too to be shouted down. It seemed that there was a silent consensus to 'allow' him to go about his business and hopefully leave. He did eventually go but not before asking a couple of the students what a foreigner was doing in the school to which they replied, rather sheepishly, that I was an English teacher.

Matsunami sensei told me later that the 'painted man' probably had some connection with the fishing ground, which was next to the school. Somewhat puzzled about the connection between tattooed men and fishing I had to ask Matsunami sensei to elaborate. He told me that a section of land next to the school's swimming pool had been converted into small fishing ponds which where hired out to those who could not find a river to fish in. Rumour had it that the enterprise was yakuza owned and obviously managed to stay afloat as whenever I passed it there were always a fair number of older people sitting and staring after their fishing lines as they disappeared into the murky waters of the ponds.

Out of school practices

On Wednesday evenings there was an opportunity to go and train at another high school, which was fairly near to where I lived. I would normally go with Matsunami sensei from school to the practice, however it always seemed to me that he offered me the chance to attend the Wednesday evening practice when I had also trained at the school and was thus not feeling, or at least my feet were not, like another practice. If I ever seemed apprehensive about an evening practice he would say "muri shinaideÉ" which was guaranteed to make me feel that I should attend the practice. I felt that my mind was being played with and yet I was falling for the same persuasions again and again. The practice was at Sakai nishi koko and was attended by some students of that school and quite a few kendo teachers, including a certain Hamaguchi sensei from Osaka furitsu daigaku who is now a 7th dan and was well known for his kendo. These practices involved some drills and then clambering into lines to fence with anyone on the motodachi side. Any hesitation or time wasting would probably have allowed two other hopeful fencers into the line ahead of you. What was fun about this practice was that as a teacher in job title I got to sit in a circle after practice with all the other teachers and drink from a selection of soft drinks or hot/cold sweat tea (depending on the season) where they would chat and discuss anything of interest.

Hamaguchi sensei managed to talk me into thinking about going along to a Saturday morning practice at his university. I eventually attended the practice twice during the year, and again it was another kind of practice and another kind of experience. On the first occasion I arrived at the school so early that I was waiting outside the sports centre for about an hour as the university tennis club began warming up for a competition with another college and the American football club began their training for the day. I guess it was as strange for me to see Japanese in big padded American football gear as it was for them to see me with my kendo gear. Well, any privilege I had enjoyed because I was a teacher at senior high school ended as soon as I entered that university dojo. Those daigakusei were closer to me in age than the high school students, knew nor cared about me, and what is more had already done their time at high school and so continued kendo now because they were good at it or liked it. The practice started with all sorts of drills and waza practice, which at the time meant very little to me. I remember being fairly battered and confused by the time that the jigeiko practice began. It was then just a question of feeling like a target for these students as almost everything I tried was returned faster and more efficiently. There were no drinks or chat afterwards just students disappearing off to meet girlfriends or pursue more relaxing Saturday afternoon activities. I hobbled off home, frustrated but somewhat enlightened.

A friend of mine, who trained at a Japanese university for a year, told me of his own experience which was that the university club you belong to was all important, in this case it was the kendo club. When a first year student dropped out of the club all the remaining club members were told not to talk to the him if they passed him on the campus grounds!

I did on occasion take part in evening practices where kendo teachers from certain school districts got together for a 'bash' and a drink. The level at these get togethers was completely above and beyond me, and looking back on it, it is now that I wish I had such opportunities to practice as my understanding of kendo has grown and I hope that I am now more aware of what I am trying to do. I say hopefully because there are still practices and practice partners which/who reduce my understanding of kendo to almost nothing and baffle me completely.

Now when I flip through one of the two monthly Japanese kendo magazines I sometimes see pictures of , and articles by, people I have practised or queued to practice with! These people that, at the time, meant very little to me and whose names I had great trouble remembering are actually respected authorities on varying aspects of kendo, I still owe one of them three bottles of beer, one for each point lost in a san bon challenge! On a recent visit to Japan I was taken to a practice where everyone was 6th dan or above, not at all unusual in Japan, and the most senior gentleman was Japan's youngest 9th dan. He very kindly gave me a couple of minutes of his time to demonstrate that age and experience can make youth and eagerness feel foolish. I then after the practice of course hurried over to apologise for wasting his time and thank him for the lesson.

Osaka has a well-known castle and right next to this castle is a dojo called the shidokan. Matsunami sensei regularly went to help teach children at this dojo on Friday afternoons and then take part in the adult practice afterwards. I went to take part in both the children's and adult practice both of which were a learning experience for me. The adult practice at the shidokan brought me into contact with a huge variety of kendoka ranging from well known 8th dans to very young 4th dans, in the middle were people of all ages and grades but mostly of around 5th dan. I found that there was a wide disparity even within the 5th dan practitioners which confused me, however I was told that even in Japan it is a mystery how some people reach certain grades, and that I should just concentrate on getting something out of each practice and then move on to the next.

Kangeiko

There is just one other out of school practice that I should mention, and that is because it was simply mind blowing, it was absolute hell to do but absolute bliss to have done. The practice was Osaka taiku daigaku kangeiko. The kangeiko takes place every morning for two weeks, however, I attended just one day, the middle practice of the two weeks which is normally the best attended and therefore the craziest to be a part of.

Matsunami sensei decided to take me to the practice which meant leaving from his place at 3:00am in the morning and driving to the university for the 5:00am start time. It was February, cold and dark and we were held up by a large group of bosozoku cruising the roads early on that Sunday morning. Basically, about four of them would ride incredible slowly and noisily in a line across the road holding up all the traffic, whilst the rest would swerve in and out of all the cars being held up behind. Eventually they dispersed and probably headed off to disrupt traffic elsewhere, all Matsunami sensei had to say, shaking his head, was "wakarahen....."

I thought there was some mistake because when we arrived at the university the whole place was in complete darkness, we even had trouble finding the way to the sports centre. We sat in the car drinking cans of hot coffee until groups of bogu carrying early risers turned up either on foot or by car making their way through the darkness.

The sports hall was very large which it needed to be to accommodate the huge number of people attending practice that day. Once changed I found I was on my own amongst unfamiliar faces and just had to take my lead from everyone else, this initially meant joining the crowd of several hundred kendoka jogging round the room in an attempt to beat the cold. On command everyone tried to line up in the limited space, sit in seiza and then on hearing "mokuso" the whole room fell in to silence. It was really quite a feeling to be one in the middle of a sea of meditating kendoka all probably savouring the quiet before the storm of the forthcoming keiko. It was a race to get your men on and get in front of someone in the two rows of motodachi, people were running, pushing and fighting for a place in a line, any line, something I have not seen very often. There then followed about 45 minutes of kirikaeshi, 45 minutes of kakari geiko and then about an hour of jigeiko. Once through your motodachi it was a case of running to join another line, sometimes you would have to wait and sometimes you would be lucky (unlucky?) enough to find an open motodachi immediately. It felt like chaos, no sooner did my arms begin to hurt from the repetitive kirikaeshi movements when it was time to go in to the kakari geiko practice which, depending on your motodachi, could be short and painful or very long and painful! The jigeiko section was actually more like a continuation of the kakarigeiko section for the likes of me, however the motodachi would also fence with each other which only increased the chaos.

Well it had to come to an end sometime and when it did all the kiai which had replaced the meditation's silence were now themselves replaced by the muffled panting of exhausted fencers. I remember being introduced to and thanking the senior teachers present and hearing Matsunami sensei explaining to everyone how he had only come along for my benefit and how he had only wanted to watch but had had his arm twisted into taking part! It was only when I sat down in a nearby kissaten for some breakfast that I realised how badly blistered my left foot was. I had been successfully ignoring it, probably because it had until then been the least painful part of my body, but now as the pressure came off it I felt it shouting at me for what I had put it through. It really hurt but the feeling of achievement and the tiredness that came from deep down over ruled the pain and I was happy. Matsunami sensei asked me about the practice and called my positive response madness, I still remember being happy, being on a kendo high, and wanting to sleep for the rest of the day.

Kendo New Year

I should mention new year not because of any particular kendo events, almost everything shuts down, but because of an annual event the school kendo club does shortly after the new year has begun. Each year the students run a marathon from the school to a shrine in Osaka and back. My first thought was that a marathon was going to be a very long and painful way to begin the new year, however I soon discovered that to the Japanese the term marathon was a loose term for running events of more than a few kilometres. This particular "marathon" to an Osaka shrine was about a 15km round trip. The next surprise was that we were to run it in our kendo apparel, which fortunately was not to include the armour but just the hakama and keikogi and a pair of trainers.

So we all set off from school in our blue attire, some of the students however did find a way to be individual and that was in colour of their trainers. Almost every colour was represented among their footwear but the winner was definitely a pair of bright yellow trainers that almost blinded when they flashed yellow from under the hakama on every step. As you might imagine the group of us jogging along the streets did attract some attention as well as a few acknowledgements from people who obviously understood that it was "that time of year" again.

Once at the shrine, everyone took the opportunity to rest, buy cans of drink and fool around. I decided that I should have a look around the shrine and buy an omamori for the year ahead and in particular for my grading in March.

At the shrine Matsunami sensei gathered all the students together and said a few words about the past year and then a few about the new year and what the students should be thinking about. He did not speak just about kendo and the club but also about the students' academic studies and conduct in general. We then jogged back to the school along the same route we had come and then everyone dispersed back to their respective homes to enjoy the remaining days off before term began again.

Armour, new for old

Bogu is a necessary evil in the pursuit of kendo. It can be hand stitched or machine made, very expensive, very decorative, but almost always will eventually become smelly and a real pain to lug around from one training venue to another. It consists of a facemask, a breastplate, a waist guard and protective gloves and in all weighs around 10 kilograms. When you first put it on it feels claustrophobic and heavy, once you have sweated in it for several years it moulds to your body shape and feels comfortable. When new it smells very strongly of what I can only describe as new armour, likewise when it is old it smells even more strongly but of old armour, neither of these smells are appreciated by those who do not practice kendo and probably they are at best just tolerated by those who do practice kendo.

When I finally got round to buying my first set of armour in London I was only able to afford a second hand set which I bought from the UCL kendo club of which I was a member. I thought it was a good set and it served its purpose (sort of), which was to protect me from my opponents' blows during practice.

Once I was settled into my kendo routine in Japan and it was obvious that the school club was not going to buy me a new set of armour, as it had for a previous teacher, I decided that I needed a new set.

I went to Matsunami sensei for advice and hopefully access to some good armour at a good price. I was happy, on his suggestion, to leave the selection up to him, the only aspect which I was particular about was that I did not want a yellow coloured pattern on my do and nodo plate, this he said was selfish of me and would increase the price of the armour as the yellow was traditional and standard. I insisted, well, at least I was not asking for a red do, or any other personalisations to the equipment.

When I finally got my new set of armour I was very happy with Matsunami sensei's choice of colour and pattern. He had selected to get a good men and bamboo do and pay less attention to the tare. The kote were enormous, he had somehow assumed that foreigners all had huge hands and so had for me the largest pair available in which my hands literally swam around. I also got a new set of all blue kendo keikogi and hakama, of which the jacket was much too big and so my enormous kote and jacket met just below my elbows.

The very first time I wore my new 'gear' was also the occasion Matsunami sensei had chosen, deliberately I think, to video him and myself practising together. The dojo was empty except for the two of us and the video camera set up in the corner to record our practice. The armour felt really awkward, big and new especially the men which was set up to be tied in what I have heard is called the 'Kyoto' style where the men himo are attached from the top men bars and not the ones near the bottom.

I was put through a series of basic drills such as kirikaeshi and uchikomi geiko before the free practice began. This involved me trying my best to strike Matsunami sensei at will, but really involved him tolerating my flailing about and occasionally allowing a strike to land on target. It would have been hard enough in my old armour but in the new set it was even more frustrating.

It took a long time for the armour to mould to me and feel as if it fitted, but once it did I never wanted to wear the old set again especially as in comparison every strike could be felt through the men and kote on the old set. The students are always on the look out for a new set of armour to hit, they especially like a new do to mark and tarnish and would use any excuse to do just that.

I did have one very embarrassing experience whilst carrying armour around in Japan. When I was on my way from the high school in Sakai to a practice in Osaka I had to change trains at Shin Imamiya station from the Nankai line to the Kanjo loop line, this change involved little more than walking down a couple of flights of stairs. I had my armour and shinai bag resting on one shoulder and began descending the stairs when for some reason I looked up, probably to see where I was going, at the same time I tried to take another step and missed, I stumbled, could not recover, and fell the rest of the way down the stairs into the station's main hall. As I was falling my armour bag and shinai case somehow managed to overtake me and fly through the air into the middle of the station hall. I was a slightly bruised, extremely embarrassed heap at the bottom of the stairs, my bags were scattered about me and to top it all no one around me seemed to care! Passers by gave me odd looks but no one bothered to find out if this "fallen foreigner" was alright. For my part I just did not want to get up, ideally I would have liked to have disappeared through the station floor to the platform of my waiting train below.

Grading in Japan

In a grading you have the difficult and daunting task of trying to show everything you have learnt so far in about two minutes of free practice. You have to demonstrate everything that you did for the previous grade and everything that the judges expect to see for the grade you are attempting now.

Grading requires you to show a certain proficiency for your level of experience. As well as the kendo part you also have to show an understanding of kendo no kata, that consists in total of ten set forms performed in pairs without armour and with wooden swords shaped more accurately along the shape of the katana. Once you have learnt the basic moves in the kata it is up to you to put some feeling and spirit into the 'performance' of them, this is very obvious to those watching and makes the moves come alive, it also requires concentration and a developed understanding of each kata which comes with years of practice.

By the time I went to Japan I had graded up to 1st dan and during my time in Japan I was able to attempt another grading. I was going to attempt 2nd dan at one of the big regional grading opportunities in Osaka. I applied well in advance of the exam date, having had my 1st dan certificate sent out from London, to send in together with my application. There was only one obstacle for me and that was that I was supposed to read, understand and answer the written questions in Japanese, this I was definitely not going to be able to do. I was presented with just one option and that was to receive the questions in advance, work with Matsunami sensei to understand what they were asking and then write model answers for them in English. These were then to be handed in to the regional examining body. When I came to take the exam I was supposed to select two of three questions and answer them in English, in a manner resembling the model answers I had handed in so that they could be checked easily. This I did, and as the written test is often seen as a means to improve one's kendo knowledge rather than test it, I thought that I had succeeded reasonably well. I was later told that my answers may be used in future cases like mine, I could only think that such cases must surely have arisen previously.

On the day of the grading I went together with three students from the high school who were also grading, two for 2nd dan and one for 1st dan, in Matsunami sensei's car. On arrival at Osaka's central gymnasium I could hardly believe the sight. The place was swarming with people, mostly students in uniform, who had come to grade. There were more people there than I had ever seen in one kendo venue before, and this was just one grading day. The grading that day was from 1st dan to 4th dan and so I had a long wait as there were more people attempting the lower grades than the intermediate ones. When it was time for the 2nd dan exam we all sat in lines on the floor and waited to be called forward in groups to men up and do two jigeiko practices and then come back, take our men off and wait. It was that simple, two jigeiko and it was all over and yet when I came off I could not remember a single thing about my performance. I asked Matsunami sensei how he thought it had looked from the viewing gallery and he only replied by asking me how I thought it was. Basically I had no idea and was not going to be told anything either! Once everyone had done there jigeiko there was a break whilst the examiners sheets were collected up and it was worked out who was going to be allowed to proceed to the kata section. The candidate numbers were written on a large piece of white paper and stuck up for all to see at the back of the hall, I had to fight my way forward through the crowds to discover that I could now prepare myself for the delights of kendo kata. 2nd dan in Japan only required demonstrating sufficient competency in the first five kata. This at least I could remember and it went without incident. The final part of the ordeal involved everyone sitting on the floor scribbling away their answers to two of the three written questions. I had done this already but spent a long time on it now as I wanted to make my answers as similar as possible to the 'model' answers I had given in to make checking them easy.

When it was all over we just left, there were no remarks, pointers or bits of advice. In fact it was to be sometime before I was to find out officially that I had passed, and by then the grading was almost forgotten. It was on the day that it mattered to me, and as I walked into the car park I said excitedly to Matsunami sensei "today I am 2nd dan", and he replied "no, today you stop being a 1st dan, now you have to learn how to be a 2nd dan". Well it was true I suppose and I definitely agree with it now but at the time it did feel as if my moment of glory was being deflated somewhat. It is also interesting to note that as I approach a grading I am excited about being that grade, but as soon as it is over I am not satisfied with it and I am immediately thinking about the next grade, the next challenge and especially how to practice in the correct manor for the grade I am and the grade that I will aim for in the future.

Watching a grading in Japan

Later in the year Matsunami sensei was to attempt his 6th dan grading in Kyoto at one of the year's major gradings for this level of practitioner. It was even more fascinating than the grading I had been a part of in Osaka. It spread over two full days and within each grade went according to age. There were so many people grading that young and old kendoka going for the same grade might be up for their grading at completely different ends of the day. Matsunami sensei and I travelled from Sakai to Kyoto by train and began seeing other kendoka travelling in the same direction. Once in the vicinity of the grading venue (which, unknown to me at the time, I was to return to in 1997 for the 10th World Championships) there were more bogu carrying people than anyone else.

Once again I can not really explain the feeling of seeing so many kendoka in one venue, knowing that wherever they had come from and no matter who they were they all shared this one activity, this pursuit, this never ending search for a mental and physical unity within oneself in the face of uncertainty!

Well, in the end Matsunami sensei did not pass and so we were able to leave relatively early, which was kind of a relief as I find there is only so much kendo you can watch until you want to take part. We ended up travelling towards Sakai with some other unfortunates from the grading and it was reassuring for me to see that after such events they too spent time lamenting their misfortune and wondering what had been lacking from their respective performances. To discover whether kendoka were roughly the same everywhere all I needed to know now was whether their discussion would lead them to a beer drinking venue. At Osaka station where we had to change trains for Sakai the others did in fact decide to head off to a bar to continue their review of events. Matsunami sensei just turned to me, sighed deeply and said "aah, zannen (damn), next time will be in Nagoya ." The rest of the journey to Sakai was filled with gossip about the kendoka who we had left to their merriment at Osaka station.

Competitions in Japan

Basically a kendo shiai involves two fencers in a shiaijo attempting to strike each other with valid cuts. A shiai is usually 3 minutes or 5 minutes in duration and is fought over sanbon. The matches are judged by three shinpan and two of the three must award a point for it to be scored. It is not enough to just slash away at your opponent, a valid strike involves what is called ki-ken-tai-ichi, that is one's spirit, sword and body all acting together as one to make a cut on your opponent. The judges are waiting to see this and this is what you have to show them. I say basically because as with most things although it is simple in idea, it is never simple in reality.

Competitions in Japan are not happy memories for me, but they were at least good experiences. I took part in various shiai from school club level, city level and even prefecture level. To be honest I never had any real understanding of shiai until I returned to the UK and began to think about attending squad training. Of course I had taken part in competitions, both individual and team events, in the UK prior to my year in Japan, but I had never got what I would describe as a real feel for what those three or five minutes in a shiaijo facing an opponent were about. In Japan too, I found my attention being focused mainly on the doing of kendo and not so much its application in shiai. The two should be very similar, or even the same, but at my level it was more than enough to work on my own form and cuts without trying to project myself and my cuts onto and through someone. I would describe my appearances as determined but rather confused.

In comparison the high school students could do nothing else, that was what they continually trained and practised for, everything was geared towards point scoring in competition, they knew it, I knew it. I wanted to feel what that was like, but I wanted to be able to switch it on and off when necessary, for winning and losing to matter but not be everything after the moment, for losing to hurt but not for that pain to last. These are points that I am still chasing after but am at least now occasionally glimpsing.

I took part in four competitions in all, two individual and two team. The first was as an individual in the student, OB/OG, teacher competition at the high school. I was the first one to fight and was drawn against an OB. I lost two-one but had the honour of scoring the first point of the competition, a men. The competition was eventually won not by the teacher or an OB but by a current member of the school team. My second competition was also as an individual and as the only foreigner taking part a big deal was made of me before I had the embarrassment of going out in the first round. I can not even remember who exactly the competition was for, but if my memory is correct it was for the public high schools within Sakai city. I was asked to say a few words and given a medal just for taking part. The embarrassment was complete!

One of the team competitions I took part in was at the high school gasshuku which will be mentioned later, the other one was far more important and was the prefectural kendo teachers competition. The team that came out top in the prefecture would go on to compete against similar teams from other prefectures. This was a five man team event and I was competing at position one, Matsunami sensei and Hamaguchi sensei were also in my team so that gave me an idea of the kind of level to expect. I put up a good effort, I lasted almost the full five minutes, I lost. Matsunami sensei was up next and he demonstrated the shiai "turn it on when it counts" ability as he fought and came away with a two-nil victory. As a team we lost but everyone seemed awed by Matsunami sensei's performance. Despite losing I came away from my bout on a real high as for the first time I felt like I had 'engaged' my opponent both mentally and physically. That feeling did not subside immediately but lingered as I watched the rest of the team compete. So I had gained something positive from this experience even if I had not won. That knowledge in itself was beneficial.

Recruitment

New students would start at the school in April but prior to this they would be shown around the school with their parents to get a feel for the place. This was an ideal opportunity, which was exploited to the full, for clubs to recruit new members before they even started at the school. Some of the prospective students knew which activity they wanted to take up or continue with from junior high school whilst others needed a little encouragement or rather some firm persuasion. The clubs were in competition with each other for members, so on the day when parents and students came to look around positioning was all-important.

The kendo club had a well-rehearsed routine, which involved positioning themselves just inside the main school entrance and then pouncing on everyone who came in. They had obviously done some background research as they knew quite a bit about the students they wanted to target for the club. I was asked to attend to add an 'international' and 'exotic' touch to their sales pitch. Their most devious ploy was to have a camera set up and then drag a new student and his/her family in front of it to have their picture taken with other club members (and myself occasionally). They would then be rushed over to sign a join up list and be promised the photo when they began at the school, this was all to make them feel somewhat connected to the kendo club and obligated to really join it. This was all very amusing for me especially as I knew that they never put a film in the camera!

Sports Day

This was the once a year obligatory sports event which involved all the usual track and field activities as well as what I can only describe as a fancy dress 400m relay. Some members of the kendo club decided to run the relay in pairs, with armour on, doing kendo cuts. The rear runner in the pair would wear his armour as normal and also carry a shinai. The front runner in the pair would be wearing a set of armour on his back so that it looked like he was facing his partner behind him. The pair would then both run forwards with the rear runner continuously cutting men on the front runner as they went around the track. It was very funny to watch even if at the time I could not help wondering whether it was somehow disrespectful to kendo or to the armour. Needless to say, those kendo club students did not win the event but they probably had the most fun competing in it, Matsunami sensei for his part denied any knowledge of what they had had planned.

Club loyalty in the classroom and my position

When the students were not altogether doing their club activities they were of course in their respective classes studying for exams. As I was a teacher at the school I taught every class, together with a Japanese teacher, once a week and so I got to see all the students from the kendo club in the classroom. This was strange because in the kendo club I was sort of in the middle between the students and Matsunami sensei in that I was not a teacher of kendo but I was a teacher at the school. I was closer to the students in kendo ability and in practices I sweated, ached and joked with them but in the classroom it was important for me to be able to teach them. I sometimes found that some of the kendo members seemed to expect some sort of leniency from me in class as if they should be able to get away with more. This was difficult because some of them were among the worst behaved students which frustrated me as I wanted them to do well and hoped they might be able to help me in encouraging other class members to take the study of English seriously. It did not help that most of these students would not go on to University and therefore did not require any particular proficiency in English. There were a few exceptions, but for the most part they were more interested in reading comics, sleeping, chatting or asking me the strangest of personal questions. All I could do was to attempt to treat everyone the same and teach them all the same using unusual material and in a way that would appeal to their interests. I did however experience some change in their attitudes in the kendo club, as if they sometimes thought I was more on the "other" side than on their side. I did talk to Matsunami sensei about this but his recommendations to just ignore the students' actions were hard to follow as I spent many hours trying to train and learn directly from them in the dojo.

Out of school activities

I certainly was not going to cook for what I knew to be a group of vultures with bottomless stomachs, but I did want to have the whole club and teachers over to my place for an evening. I had very little furniture as it was so all I had to do to get the maximum floor space was role up my futon and stick it in the cupboard. I brought everyone home with me from school including the teachers and their wives and children and I supplied snacks and drinks whilst we waited for pizzas to be delivered. Pizzas in Japan probably have the largest but strangest selection of toppings imaginable. They range from corn on everything, to mayonnaise & potato or even curry. The idea was to get everyone together in an informal setting and just 'hang out'. It seemed to work and the students kept going through my things and asking whether I lived like this back in England, whatever Òlike thisÓ meant. The teachers left early which left the way open for the students to ask if I had any beer for them or could they go and get their own. To both my answer was no but we did end up watching a video and I did give them a taste of some Scotch Whiskey I had been saving as a gift for someone should the need arise.

On another occasion the whole club had a bowling competition, which I also took, part in, followed by a big meal out. I also know that in the summer the club, and old students when free, all go down by local train to a remote location in the hills in the south of Wakayama prefecture and enjoy the space, rivers and shared domestic chores that go with being out of the city and in the countryside. The club does concentrate on kendo and competitions the same way that the school's other clubs concentrate on their respective activities, but this particular club did seem to have a good range of other pursuits at various times in the year which seemed to act as incentives/rewards for its members.

Sources of input

The club already had a kendo teacher and there was obviously a very strict but fair and amicable relationship in place there. My main priority was to learn as much as possible from the club whilst I was there, with the language barrier and my limited kendo experience I was not going to be in a position to do any teaching in the club (the only exception was the kendo kata).

Practice sessions were almost always led by the ÒcaptainÓ of the club for that year and he followed drills from a selection of well-rehearsed routines. When Matsunami sensei was present then there might be some keiko after the drills and then during the final rei he might have a few words to say on the practice format for the club as a whole and the timetable leading up to school exams or upcoming competitions. He had an amazing ability to pick up on people's points, both improvements and bad habits, without really looking like he had been watching closely. Those he had practised with would get advice from him but there was never any stopping during a practice to point out common faults to the group as a whole. For the most part because of the repetition everybody just got on with the practice knowing that it was going to be long and hard.

This kind of practice would be hard to do anywhere that kendo is not begun at a young age and where the relationship between teacher and student is anything but unquestionable. There it was very much a case of 'be told and do', and 'do again'. For all of us taking up kendo in the UK it is a hobby, and if we are lucky we start it from our early twenties. Of course we have to listen and do but we also have the option to question and ask why and how etc. In fact it is important for us to do so because we have not had the benefit of years of basic repetition, we need to train efficiently when we have the opportunity and dissect movements and techniques and perhaps look into the mechanics of certain waza. This has its advantages and disadvantages in that repetition is very important in the internalisation of an activity like kendo, however the way we often learn it in the UK enables us to have a mature and thoughtful perspective on the art for the length of practice time we have. Often this translates into knowing what we are ideally trying to do but not being able to do it versus being able to do it without thought.

I discovered that I was able to contribute some input into the club and that input for me is reflected in part in the above. In the physical side of practice I was able to advise on aspects of the warm up and introduce some variation stretches and advise against certain practices, such as bouncing. On the non-physical side Matsunami sensei asked me to do something for about half an hour at the end of one of the clubs classroom meetings to discuss the clubs recent developments. Everyone was sitting formally facing the teacher's desk but as soon as I was asked to take over I got everyone to move their desks into a circle so that there was no hierarchy (an idea I remembered from a TV programme in which a school club had deliberately written their names in a circle so that no one seemed more senior than anyone else). I then handed out a piece of paper and pencil to everyone and told them to write down three good points and three bad points about their own kendo (this was something I had had to do once at my club in London). Starting with myself I then got everyone to state in turn the points they had written down and then we would see if there were any common points and discuss problems. When it came to Matsunami sensei's turn I got the impression that the students were not expecting him to share or have any particular faults, but he willingly took part and this seemed to be the real lesson for the students from my exercise.

I regularly kept a note of points I needed to work on and things I was having trouble with, this can be seen in the appendix. When I look at these points now, about five years after initially writing them, I am reminded that many of them still need to be worked on or are points that I have forgotten to concentrate on recently.

Kendo characters

The kendo club was made up of students from each of the three years at the school. Usually in the third term of their final year the third year members would be concentrating more on academic studies and less on kendo, this gave the second year students a taste of becoming the school team and also an introduction to the privileges and responsibilities of becoming third year students. The first year students would be putting all their efforts in to the hard practices in preparation for their turn in the school team. Within the club there was very obviously a senpai/kohai structure, which, because this was a school, most of the time spanned across kendo ability and went by year grade. It is difficult to explain the structure of the club because at times it was very apparent and set whereas at other times its emphasis seemed to shift and be based on different criteria or at other times it did not seem to be there at all. The atmosphere was always cheerful and yet fairly serious at the same time, creating what I can only describe as an environment in which one did not mind working hard, this is difficult to describe but was easy to feel at the time.

There was a real mix of characters amongst the students and as I got to know each of them I also got to know their kendo. A good example was when Matsunami sensei had to choose a new club captain to replace Aoki when he joined the third year students. He had a choice of two students (Koreda and Yoshida), both had really good and effective kendo and both would have been equally able to perform the duties of captain. When he asked me who I would choose between the two I went for Koreda because he seemed the more 'honest' of the two. Matsunami sensei eventually chose Yoshida precisely because he was the more 'cheeky' and 'selfish' of the two and therefore would probably have no qualms about carrying out unpleasant exercises. The idea was that the captain had to hold some level of arrogance even over his own club members so that he could command the respect needed to lead the club in the training sessions.

It soon became apparent that for the most part one's own characteristics show in one's own kendo, and the more you know and practice with someone the more you come to see them in their kendo. Honesty, slyness, shyness, aggression, arrogance, patience etc. the list is endless but they are all there. The school club was full of characters who fitted all character categories and included one who had a reputation for being fairly eccentric and a little crazy, no one seemed to understand anything that he said and neither could they get him to follow the training routines! By working on certain aspects of our kendo we are probably working on ourselves too. Now when I remember certain students or see their pictures I tend to automatically remember their kendo style, even back in the UK now I am reminded of them when I see people practice a certain way. For me the shared hours of training with the students became a sort of benchmark for recognising certain styles of kendo.

The club yearbook

Every year the junior members of the club, together with Matsunami sensei, put together a yearbook. Each graduating student (and the odd graduating foreign teacher) would receive a copy as a souvenir of their time in the club and then annually as a news update on what the club had been up to and how it was doing. Of course everyone's favourite issue was the one for the year in which they graduated as it contained information, shiai results and messages from the other club members and the teacher.

I was asked to contribute to the year that left whilst I was at the school. I had to write a few lines, in Japanese and English, which were supposed to be both funny and sincere about each of the senior club members. I ended up drawing a cartoon style picture of a kendoka as well as remarks about the students characters and their kendo traits and abilities.

When I received my own copy I found that it contained a part titled 'Simon sensei section' which had the results of a questionnaire the students had put to me and also a page where the students could say whatever they liked about me. I had completely forgotten about the questionnaire which had my answers to questions about the type of food, films, music and girls I liked, life's essentials, and also a profile on my height, weight, blood type and star sign. On the page where they could write freely about me they were fairly restrained and made comments about my kendo having improved during my time at the school and that I had eventually fitted into the club's training routine. Some of them hinted at a wish to travel abroad, perhaps even to England to visit me, and a couple of them were, much to my surprise, to make good on this threat a few years later.

I have been receiving this yearbook ever since I left the school and although I do not know any of the students in the club anymore, I do enjoy flipping through it and seeing the strange drawings and attempts at photographs with cheeky captions created by the students. It is a good record of the club's activities both in and out of the dojo and creates a continued sense of belonging for the graduates.

Leaving the Kendo Club

As with high schools in Japan you do not just leave, you graduate. Well when the time came for me to leave the high school as a teacher I was told that I had to have a 'graduation practice' with the kendo club. I had no idea what this was to involve but thought it might be a regular practice after which I was expected to make some kind of a speech to the club members. If only it had been that simple, the reality was that an ordinary club practice, that I used to find so tiring, would have seemed relatively easy in comparison to what I had to do.

The whole practice was centred around me (and making me suffer) with everyone in the club acting as motodachi and I, for the most part the sole uchidachi. My first task was to do kirikaeshi on everyone, this was painful, it was immediately followed with me having to do men followed by taiatari about 3-4 times with each motodachi. This really hurt as each taiatari was deliberately hard and as I became tired I began to feel as if I was running into and trying to bounce off a brick wall each time I made contact with a student. They seemed to be enjoying it and surrounded me in a circle, shouting what I hoped was encouragement ("ganbare", "faito"), and 'gently' prodding me from behind if I slowed down to try and get my breath back. The last part of the ordeal was a sort of jigeiko/kakarigeiko with all the students in turn, starting with the junior and working my way up to the senior ones. This was great for them because they just kept coming one after another with all their speed and youthful enthusiasm to demolish, with permission, me, the English teacher. It began to feel as if I was doing the receiving and them the giving, which I guess was actually the case, although if I seemed to be doing too little they would slow down so that I had to attack to keep the action flowing. I remember at one point cutting and passing a student and ending up against the lockers as the student attacked again and again. Finally I had had enough of being bounced backwards and forwards between the student and the lockers and so I put a huge amount of energy into cutting my way out from this position and back into the centre of the dojo, which just seemed to encourage the students to 'bully' me some more.

As I knew the students, I could work out roughly how many more I had to go until I 'graduated', but once I was past the club captain, and about to finish, I suddenly saw the outline of Matsunami sensei waiting for meÉ. I tried my best to put in some energy and combine what I thought was good kendo with everything I might have learnt during the year, but really by now it was a matter of finishing and nothing else. To my surprise Matsunami sensei suddenly dropped his shinai and charged me, the students really started yelling at me now, it seemed that I now had a 'rumble' without swords ahead of me. As we grappled with each other I felt other students coming in to untie bits of my armour, so I 'voluntarily' lost my kote so that I could get a better grip on Matsunami sensei who I actually managed to throw with a judo style technique. Then suddenly it was all over, somewhere along the way we had both lost our men, and as I gathered the scattered armour up from around the dojo I was greeted by the students grinning faces and calls of Òwell downÓ.

I think the next bit, the speech I had to give was the hardest part of the afternoon, for a number of reasons. When seiretsu was called I had a chance to take stock of my condition, which was a hobbling, exhausted, bruised and blooded mess. I had to sit in seiza, and listen to various speeches from the club captain and teacher (who I hoped was saying how good it was for them to have had me in the club) before it was my turn to speak. Before the practice I had tried to prepare a few things to say and scribbled them down on a bit of paper and put it in my tare but when the time for me to speak arrived I did not feel that I should pull out a bit of paper and so I attempted a few words off the top of my head. From where I sat under the club banner, in front of everyone, I spoke fairly honestly about each of the year groups, as a group and as individuals. I tried to explain what I had learnt from them, again as a group and as individuals, and how I hoped they had been able to learn something, anything from me from my presence at the school.

There was the usual set of rei to finish with and as I heard the words "honjitsu no keiko wo owarimasu" it dawned on me that that was it, I would not be attending practice at the school again, but that the practices themselves would go on as before. I was feeling too shattered to really care, but the students did present me with a photo of all of us taken the previous November which they all signed (in a circular style) and also my name had been added on a wooden slat to the list of club graduates which is on the wall of the dojo.

I left the dojo with the students' final calls of "shitsureishimasu" echoing behind me, I headed upstairs for a painful but blissfully cold shower. It was about a week or so before the bruises disappeared and the aching finally stopped, it all reinforced what I still hold to be true, that Ichiko's kendo practices are the hardest I have ever come across.

I was not sure if I had had any impact on the students but after I returned to England I received a letter from one of the student's mothers in which she thanked me for having joined the kendo club as it had really encouraged her son, not just to learn English but also in giving him some sort of an 'international experience'. On another occasion, one of the club members turned up completely unannounced at my work place in London. She still could not speak a word of English but having known me and having heard about England from me she had been encouraged to travel abroad.

A High School gasshuku

In August when term was over, and my duties and contract at the school had all come to an end, I began making preparations to leave Japan and return to England. I was however invited to attend one final kendo activity and that was the high school summer camp. This camp involved the kendo students from about six different high schools all travelling in bus loads, to a mutual venue in the north of the neighbouring prefecture (Hyogo-ken) and then doing nothing but train four times a day for a week. I can only assume that apart from keeping the students out of trouble in the holidays and improving their kendo that this gasshuku was good for getting the students to bond together, especially as they all had to suffer together and possibly help each other to get through the ordeal.

The journey was to start from a departure point in Osaka where students and teachers congregated for the journey ahead. I was fairly excited and curious about the coming week and what it would involve. I had the good fortune of being joined by my brother who came straight from the Kitamoto kendo camp near Tokyo, which I had heard was a fairly gruelling event both with the kendo content and the humidity content of the Japanese summer. It was a good few hours by bus to the location and once there we were split up into groups for the accommodation. My brother and I were assigned to a tatami matted room with the kendo teachers from the various attending schools. We each laid claim to a bit of floor space for our bedding and our armour and as the week went on this room became a real refuge from the training and student madness that was all around.

There was an 'opening address' for the camp at which everyone was split up into groups depending upon their level. There was an A,B and C group and Matsunami sensei told my brother and I to join whichever one we wanted from day to day depending upon how we were feeling, he did however hint that group A should be the preferred choice.

Daily training began with a morning jog and outdoor stretches for everyone, this was not particularly strenuous but more of a wake up call before breakfast, each group would then practise for three sessions a day in their allocated halls. In between practices we would head straight back to our room and crash out for half an hour, thankfully all the teachers did this, too, so I did not have to feel as if I was being lazy. My brother and I tried all three kendo groups and discovered that C was a little too easy (but good if we were feeling tired), B was probably about our level and A was always a real push both physically and in terms of the of the drills followed. Even though Matsunami sensei told us that we did not have to attend any session at all if we did not feel like it I did my best to attend the group A sessions but sometimes went to group B where I felt more comfortable with the content and my ability to keep up with it.

On one day Matsunami sensei must have spotted that my brother and I were tiring of the routine so after lunch he took us off to an onsen centre nearby. Here we just soaked up the variety of waters in giant outdoor wooden baths. It was absolute bliss, and very much appreciated. The centre also had high waterfall style water cascades, which you could stand under, there was also a large wooden structure which could be entered into down steps from four sides and which had a tub in the centre with scented water in it. It made a great change to the rigours of the training camp and knowing that we had to go back to it we made the most of the afternoon there.

I was often questioned by the other school's teachers and Matsunami sensei was told that he should have brought me to practice with their students during the year, to which he very diplomatically and cleverly managed to come up with a good answer whilst not offending anyone in the process. There just was not time to show me around every school in the area.

The final day of the camp was competition day, the day that all the students had been looking forward to and the day before we all left, which had become the day I was looking forward to. It was expected that Ichiko's team would win as they were supposedly the strongest school there, my brother and I were allowed to take part too and we joined three other lone ronin (literally samurai who do not belong to any domain) to make up a team of five with no particular allegiance. We fought well, we fought bravely but we did not fight all the way to the end. Ichiko did win and I got the feeling that there would have been trouble if they had not done so. It was over, I was all out of practices in Japan, I could now relax for a few days before returning to England.

Matsunami sensei

I have continually mentioned Matsunami sensei throughout this text and the part he played in the school kendo club. However when I read over what I have written I see that his presence is always there but that not a lot has been said about my interaction with him. I will try to speak about this now, especially in light of the fact that he was the major influence on my kendo development and training opportunities whilst I was in Japan.

Matsunami sensei and I were not really able to communicate when we first met. I think that at first he was fairly suspicious of me and my intentions in the kendo club. Looking back on it he may well have been concerned that I might get in the way, slow the club down or act as a distraction. I probably did all three to some extent over the year! As mentioned, it was up to me to prove I had the gumption to train, and despite being at the school to teach English I felt that it was up to me to make the move to improve the communication rate and do so, at first anyway, in Japanese.

Matsunami sensei was a physical education teacher at the school, most of his time was therefore spent in the Physical Education office or teaching in the sports hall or outside. The sports staff were the most relaxed dressed of all the teachers with most of them spending their days in Mizuno or Kappa brand tracksuits, whether for teaching or for staff meetings. I would often wander over to their staff room and, just like the students, swap my shoes for rubber sandals, knock on the door and call out ÒshitsureishimasuÓ before entering. Inside I would find the occupants at their desks tapping away at their computers or watching some sports video, with coffee cups and ashtrays located within easy reach. The sports teachers all each had their specialist areas such as kendo, judo, volleyball, basketball etc. However it was interesting to see that the school baseball and soccer coaches actually taught subjects unrelated to physical education. I was always able to enter the office and make myself at home, however my main reason for going there was to see Matsunami sensei about some kendo related matter.

At some stage during the first half of my year at the school, Matsunami sensei seemed to decide that it might be worth studying some English to compliment our communication sessions that were relying on my improving but very limited Japanese. With us both attempting to use the others language where ever possible in conversations and having a common activity, kendo, as a focus point we gradually progressed along the path of getting to know each other a little.

The first time that I went to have dinner at Matsunami sensei's home and meet his wife and two children (he now has a third) I took along some small gifts, as is customary. I also looked up the correct Japanese phrase to accompany the action of giving them to my hosts. As we drove from the school to his apartment I just kept repeating the phrase in my head so as not to forget it. I was actually fairly nervous, especially as I could imagine our existing vocabulary being exhausted fairly early on in the evening. Once I had taken my shoes off and been introduced to everyone I handed over the gifts and uttered the phrase Òtsumaranai mono desu gaÉÓ which translates as something like Òthis is only small but please accept itÓ. Matsunami sensei probably sensed my nervousness and used his own brand of humour and said something along the lines of Òyes it is, isn't itÓ? I thought I must have made some terrible mistake in custom or language, but actually I was being made fun of. I seem to remember that we ate tempura and drank oolong tea and I tried to find out what Matsunami sensei's wife did and what the kids knew about England. At some stage during the evening I used the toilet and decided to fold the end of the toilet roll into a point, as one always sees in Japan, and thought that the family might be impressed with my observation of the subtleties in Japanese toilet aesthetics. Matsunami sensei, upon walking out of the toilet, asked me if it was I who had folded the toilet tissue, I of course proudly said yes. He then asked me not to do so and explained that in his home it was set as the sign that he was having an affair and that his wife might get upset if she saw it! Whether he was making fun of me again or was being serious I will probably never know.

That was the first of quite a few visits I have paid to the Matsunami household, I have stayed on a few occasions and was even around when they moved home to a larger house with an upstairs as well. Matsunami sensei once told me that he eventually hoped to get a dog, for his children, once in the larger house. The ideal was that they would love and care for the animal but that it would eventually die. The children would learn about death and loss this way, especially the concept that they were happy before the dog came into their lives and so they should remember this for when it left their lives. Even now I ask him about this plan but still he has not managed to set it in motion.

The students at the school have this image of Matsunami sensei as a strict and fearful teacher. His appearance, slender but solidly built, stern faced with very short cropped hair, probably added to this image. For me it was a little different, I found his outlook and character to be incredibly broad minded with a dry wit that is uncommon amongst someone who has never left Japan. I have a hard to explain respect for him and his kendo and to be sure my year in Japan with the personal and kendo development that it offered me would not have been nearly so rich and rewarding as it was without his input. What he thought about my kendo and me is another question altogether. After practices I really had to push him to tell me things about my practice, points to work on, etc. He was very good at applying the phrase Òmada, madaÓ during a practice or when you imagined yourself to be getting somewhere. Basically it means ÒyetÓ and in this context lets you know Ònot yetÓ that is that you still have a way to goÉ In 1997, after the 10th World Championships, I revisited the school and had a chance to practice with Matsunami sensei after the students had had a go at me. After the session, before I even had a chance to ask Matsunami sensei for advice he told me that my kote-men cut had really improved and that it seemed like I was now able to attack without moving my feet around first. Rather than read a lot into this about the present state of my kendo I was able to gather what a few of my shortcomings had been.

The sword, dojo and life

The relationships in the dojo are on the surface fairly hierarchical with the sensei, senpai and kohai. The seating position in any dojo will generally reflect this as the teacher sits in front of and faces the students who in turn sit in grade order generally with the higher grades away from the door. The teacher instructs the whole class, the students assimilate what they can depending upon their technical level and practice it earnestly. The senior grades look directly to the teacher as an example, the students look to those senior to themselves as an example of the next level but everyone in the dojo will learn from each other and has to respect each other whatever the grade, ability or background. You can not practice alone, you can not practice without a partner, without someone to receive our cuts and to cut us we could not progress.

We may like to think that we are training for battle, developing a 'samurai spirit', and becoming handy with a sword but in reality we are very unlikely to face a life or death situation involving our mastery of the shinai. If we were dealing with real swords all of us, apart from the extraordinarily talented and very lucky, would be dead. The fact is that we wear armour and use bamboo swords to strike the protected areas of our opponents. Imagine that each time you strike your opponent you are showing them some gap in their physical and mental composure, on the other hand, whenever you are struck you are being shown something about yourself. Both are worth remembering, for example on striking an opponent: why was I able to strike then, what did it feel like, was it a 'complete' attack, can I keep that feeling and reproduce it or even improve on it? On being struck: why was I struck at that particular moment, was it a mental or physical fault on my part, was I lead by my partner, was I open or did he create the opening? This is when we really learn.

People often ask how useful is kendo on the street, in a fight or at least out of the dojo, well, the straight answer is that it is not in any obvious way. Of course you develop fitness, reflexes and awareness but none of the punches, kicks, locks and throws associated with the more well known martial arts (however if you were in a confrontation of some sort and had a 'stick' then it might prove useful). Its real benefits come in the form of teaching us about ourselves, how we react in and to certain situations and how we deal with and act in circumstances out of our control. Do we freeze, remain calm, panic, take charge? The kendoka may not always realise it but he is constantly interacting with his opponent on a mental as well as a physical level, it is usually when this mental connection is broken that one of the fighters will strike and one will be struck.

It is worth mentioning here the Japanese idea of "ganbare" (ganbaru) which very roughly translates into "go for it", "keep going", "don't give up" and is widely used in all sorts of occasions ranging from sporting activities to exams, work and basically anything that requires effort. Well, the term has a very useful application in the pursuit of kendo. You do not have to be the best or win all the time to ganbaru but you do have to try hard, put in all your effort and give your all, then, no matter what the end result, you will have shown what is referred to as the "ganbaru spirit." It is this spirit that is looked for and admired and it is with this mind that one should approach whatever activity is being pursued. Before an ordeal someone may say to you "ganbatte kudasai" ("do your best please") and you may reply "hai, ganbarimasu" ("yes, I will"), after the event regardless of the outcome and as long as you have given your all you are likely to hear people saying to you "yokku ganbatta" ("well done"). This is by no means confined to the practice of kendo but this spirit can be developed and understood very clearly through kendo practice and then applied to other areas of one's life.

During my year in Japan I have heard the dojo being referred to as a small and tiny life and therefore what we learn in it is applicable in our daily lives. In the school club Matsunami sensei told me that he felt responsible for his students actions in the dojo, classroom and out of school. In fact he once explained to me that any bad that the students did was his responsibility whereas any good they did was entirely their own doing and achievement.

As I was a teacher at the school any time I spent in the dojo was of my own choosing and of course when I was not teaching or choosing to practice kendo my time was entirely my own. For the students it was not so free, once they joined a club it became like another class for them, they could not just turn up or not as the mood took them. Being at school however, their time was arranged firstly around school classes and examinations, then around their club activities, training sessions and competitions and whatever time was left over was theirs but seemed to be dedicated to arubaito or sleep.

Several times I have heard high level teachers of kendo complaining that the numbers practising in Japan are declining and that certain 'true/traditional' aspects of the art are also disappearing or at least being overlooked in favour of the competition/sport side of the art. I have also heard people putting this decline down to the fact that kendo is not necessarily fun to begin with. It requires patience, discipline and hard work to reach a level where you can really begin to interact with your practice partner and not just feel like you are blindly 'slashing' away at each other. The rise in popularity of sports such as baseball and more recently soccer were given to me as good examples of activities where the students really participate and have fun from the beginning without having to go through basic exercises for months before getting to put on armour and feel what it is like to be hit as well as hit someone else. For all the painful and exhaustive training sessions the students must be getting something out of kendo, and I really regret that I did not ask them what they saw as the real benefits and attractions of kendo or their reasons for playing it. I can only look at my own motives and imagine that some of them might be shared by the students.

Kendo is fun, it is both mentally and physically tiring, it is difficult, frustrating, sometimes painful (more often mentally than physically), but it is fun. The fact that you are able to strike someone with a bamboo sword whilst yelling as loud as possible (the louder the better) must be both stress releasing and therapeutic. I like to say that kendo is interesting, a real challenge, something that I can study actively for life and still not come close to perfecting. When kendo is working for me I walk that little bit taller down the street, I am surer of my actions and I feel aware of what I can and can not do. When you practice you will at some stage or another go through a huge range of emotions, many negative but also many positive, it is up to us to deal with these emotions in someway and put them to our benefit or at least minimise any detrimental effect they may have on the task we are trying to perform.

_________

Glossary of terms

A arubaito - part-time work

B bogu - kendo armour

bokuto - wooden sword in shape of the katana

bosozoku - lit. violent running group, used to describe youthful motorbike gangs

bu - club

C - chudan (see list of kamae below)

D - daigakusei - University student

dan - level of proficiency (see list below)

do - chest protector, valid target area

dojo - training venue

E

F - faito - "fight" (term of encouragement)

futon - Japanese mattress

G - gaku do - the opposite do on the chest protector

ganbarre - "keep going" (term of encouragement)

ganbaru - keep going, do not give up,

ganbatte kudasai - please do your best

gasshuku - training camp

gedan - (see list of kamae below)

H - hai - yes

hakama - kendo skirt like training trousers

hasso - (see list of kamae below)

hidari - left

hidari kote - left kote

hidari men - left men

hiki waza - cuts going backwards

I Ichiko - shortened name for Sakai city's industrial high school

Ichiko no keiko ni naremashita ka - have you become used to the school

practice?

J jigeiko - free practice

jodan (see list of kamae below)

junbi taiso - warm up exercise

K kamae - stance (see list of kamae below)

kangeiko - winter training

kanjosen - name of a train line in Osaka (loop line)

katana - Japanese sword

kawatta renshi - eccentric training

kendo Japanese fencing - the way of the sword

kote - protective mittens, a valid target area

kon'nichiwa - hello

kihon - basics

kirikaeshi - a kendo exercise involving repetitive cuts to the men

kohai - juniors

kore wa nan desu ka - what is this?

kore de honjitsu no keiko o owarimasu - that is it for today's practice

keikogi - kendo training jacket

kendoka - one who practices kendo

keiko - practice

kote-men - a two cut kendo technique

kakarigeiko - an exercise with continuous attacks

kiai - shout

kissaten - coffee/tea shop

kendo no kata - the ten kendo set forms using a wooden sword

ki-ken-tai-ichi - spirit, sword and body as one

koko - senior high school

L

M men - head protector, a valid target area

mokuso - meditation

men tsuke - put your men on

men tore - take your men off

mugi cha - Japanese barley tea

muri shinaide - do not do the impossible

motodachi - receiving side in an exercise (implies senior)

men himo - the men strings

migi - right

mada - yet

N naremashita ka - have you become used to it?

nodo - throat (guard)

otagai - each other

oji waza - defensive techniques

Osaka furitsu daigaku - Osaka prefecture university

Osaka taiku daigaku kangeiko Osaka - sports university winter practice

omamori - good luck charm

onsen - Japanese hot spring

oolong tea - a type of Chinese/Japanese tea, drank hot or cold

P

Q

R rei - bow

ronin - masterless samurai

S shinai - bamboo sword

sumimasen - excuse me / sorry

sensei - teacher

sho - flying

suburi - repetitive kendo cutting action

shinai motte - pick up your shinai

suriashi - sliding footwork

seiretsu - line up

seiza - a kneeling sitting position

seiza shite - sit in seiza

shomen - the head place in the dojo

shiai - competition

shiai waza - compettion techniques

senpai - senior

sore wa nan desu ka - what is that?

shikake waza - offensive techniques

samurai - Japanese warrior

shidachi - normally the student side, the striker

sanbon - three points

shidokan - name of a training place

shinai bukuro - shinai case

shiaijo competition court

shinpan - referee

shitsureishimasu - excuse me

Sakai nishi koko Sakai - west high school T tare - the waist protector

teishoku - set menu

tsuki - a stab to the throat, a valid strike

taiatari

tatami - Japanese grass floor matting

U - uchidachi normally the teacher side, the receiving side in kata practice. This side should control the speed and timing of the exercise

uchikomi geiko - striking practice with the targets shown to shidachi

V

W waza - techniques

wakarahen - I do not understand

X

Y yame - stop

yoku ganbatta - well done

yoko men - side men (just off centre to the left or right)

Z zannen what a pity/shame, that's regretable

zanshin - lit. remaining heart/mind 'the will to continue'

NUMBERS

ichi 1, ni 2, san 3, shi 4, go 5, roku 6, shichi 7, hachi 8, ku 9, ju 10

DAN (level of proficiency/grade)

shodan 1st, nidan 2nd, sandan 3rd, yondan 4th, godan 5th, rokudan 6th,

nanadan 7th, hachidan 8th, kudan 9th

BOGU (armour)

men head/face protector

kote hand/wrist protector

do chest/abdomen protector

tare waist protector KAMAE (stance)

chudan The most common stance with the sword in front of your body and the tip of the sword pointing at your opponent's throat.

The other kamae are taken from this stance.

jodan The sword is raised to a position above the head with the opponent being visible from under your own arms.

gedan The tip of the sword is lowered from the chudan position to just above your opponent's knee.

hasso the sword's tsuba (hilt) is brought level with and about a fist's distance to the right of your mouth. The tip of the sword should be diagonally backwards and up.

waki The sword is pointing down and backwards, on the right side of your body, to hide its length. The tsuba (hilt) is held in a strong grip by your waist.

Ichiko's A, B, C teishoku

1) on the spot yoko men suburi on motodachi (21 cuts)

2) men cuts going past motodachi (5 cuts)

3) on the spot alternate yoko men/do suburi (21 cuts)

4) kote-men cuts going past motodachi (7 cuts)

5) moving yoko men suburi on motodachi (21 cuts)

6) kote-men cuts going past motodachi (5 cuts)

B: 1) men, 3 yoko men, men

2) kote-men, 3 yoko men, kote-men

3) tsuki, men men, do do, kote-men

C: 1) men taiatari hiki men, men

2) men taiatari hiki kote, men

3) men taiatari hiki do, men

4) kote taiatari hiki men, kote

5) kote taiatari hiki kote, kote

6) kote taiatari hiki do, kote

7) kote-men taiatari hiki men, kote-men

8) kote-men taiatari hiki kote, kote-men

9) kote-men taiatari hiki do, kote-men

10) kote-men taiatari hiki men/kote or do, nuki do

Eccentric Thursday morning exercises

1. Everyone would line up arms length apart and one at a time dodge in and out of those in front of them until they reached and joined the front of the line. This continued until a complete circuit of the room had been done.
2. A long rope would be put out at knee height and everyone would jump back and forth over it from one end to the other. The first time you would use only the balls of the feet, the second time you would store up power and jump, as if to attack.
3. Lying face down with your hands over a ledge you wind up a stick attached by rope to two or three bottles full of sand.
4. With the same apparatus as above you hold the stick like a shinai and standing turn the left hand to raise the bottles and the right hand to lower them.
5. Short dashes, on command, in pairs across the room.
6. Jumping cutting suburi across the room with heavy bokutou.
7. Stand in chudan with a shinai and with legs bent progress across the room without the body bobbing up or down.
8. Hold the shinai in the left hand only and turn it inwards continually.