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| Taniguchi-Sensei |
A couple of summers ago, Taniguchi-Sensei and I were “on tour” in British Columbia, Canada for a couple of weeks. We were hosted by Harry Sidhu and Dr. Manjit Gosal of the Abbotsford Seikukan Karate club. And they took wonderful care of us. We had a lot of fun training everyday together and meeting a lot of other teachers throughout the region.
One thing that struck me right away as being very interesting was that whenever I introduced Taniguchi-Sensei to someone new, whether it be at a dojo or coffee shop, the Western karate teacher would, within five sentences, begin telling Sensei of his karate lineage. It would begin with a complete run-down as to where and under whom they had taken their shodan, where and under what circumstances they took ni-dan, and upwards and onwards:
“Hello Sensei. I took my shodan with Yaguchi-Sensei back in 1981. It was a sunny June afternoon. Aquarius was rising and the moon was waxing. I later had to re-locate for personal reasons and trained for 14 and a half months with Nishiyama-Sensei in 1985. I also learned how to play the banjo at that time. Later I took my ni-dan and san-dan under Abe-Sensei who I had followed to Lithuania. I won tournaments in 1983, 1986, 1992, and last Tuesday in the Safeway parking lot.”
Taniguchi-Sensei would always nod and look appropriately impressed, especially since the declarant person seemed to do so in such earnest. But I could also see in Sensei's face that he was also wondering, “Why are you telling me all this?” and maybe even, “Are you really a good banjo player?”
I'm just kidding about that banjo stuff. I should also note here that our marvelous hosts, Sidhu and Gosal did no such thing. Those two guys were, and are, totally cool dudes. Whether or not they can play the banjo, however, has not yet been determined.
Anyway, usually sometime later when it was just the two of us chatting, Sensei would ask, “Why are these karate teachers telling me all about their training histories? Do they lack some confidence?” My response was that I think that the instructors we were discussing had plenty of confidence, but that because of various political shifts and upheavals, people are a little worried about the appearance of their “legitimacy” or their right to wear black belts in the dojo, or to claim the ranks that have been bestowed on them.
But even though I completely empathize with the situations that many Western karate instructors go through, especially when caught in political battles having nothing to do with them, a very strong visual image came to mind. It was a dream out of medieval Japan and the pages of research of many moons past came suddenly to my mind's eye:
“I am Tomomori, son of Kagemori. Hear now my voice and my challenge! I am of the House of Taira. If any of you are brave enough, come now to taste my steel. But before you come to face me, make sure to call out the name of Amidha the Benevolent before you present yourself! I will most certainly dispatch you to the next world!”
Men on horseback centuries ago, their words figments of fiction brushed onto history. Images of our fevered imaginations. The mighty samurai declaring his legitimacy to face others with the sword. Men “worth a thousand”. Or so we read.
Luckily, we don't live in those days of horrible bloodshed, disease, slavery, and civil war. It seems odd that we feel the need to continue with a “tradition” that has no real place in a Western context. We are not samurai. We are not the people of medieval Japan. We live in the here-and-now of the 21st century and just as we would not survive well in the Japanese histories we imagine, they would not fare well in our world either.
Even so, in the contexts of doing karate, we want to know about the other guy. Who did he train with? What are his credentials? Do you have contact with a “real Japanese master”? Who does he think he is anyway? Did this yahoo even ever meet a great Japanese karate man?
All seemingly legitimate questions. Or, are they?
Let me tell you about my karate teacher. Yes, he is Japanese, and yes, he has been referred to as “shihan” on more than one occasion. His name is Takao Taniguchi and he is a 6th dan in the JKA. He is also a baker of yakimanju in Terai-machi, Ishikawa-ken, Japan. The yakimanju are delicious, low in calories, and good for you.
Born in 1949, Taniguchi-Sensei was raised in poverty. His father made yakimanju, travelling from location to location for festivals and town fairs, and his mother raised him and his two sisters. Takao Taniguchi had many challenges as a youngster growing up in post WWII Japan. The economy was in the toilet, and it took everything the family had to get by and make sure that they could eat, make sure everyone had clothes on their backs, and get some education.
The societal contexts of Japan, despite the necessities of working communally and cooperatively, developed quickly into a striated society. Taniguchi-Sensei goes so far as to say that the Japanese world of his younger years resembled the “caste” system of India and Japan too had its own “untouchables”. He is not the only person I have heard make this parallel. It is an apt description of a cruel method of pre-determinism based on our economic station in society, which in turn determines your “quality”. As the son of a baker who sold yakimanju from a tent during festivals, the Taniguchis were not perceived as having much to offer. This station in life, coupled with the fact that Taniguchi-Sensei stands at about 5'3 did not put him “head and shoulders” above anyone else. Everything from that position must have looked like an uphill struggle.
To his own credit, Taniguchi-Sensei found something that equalized the playing field, it was (and is) karate. Over the years karate has been a great source of comfort, balance, and hope for Taniguchi-Sensei. He is living proof that karate can make you something more than you would have been otherwise. And although he is still only 5'3 in height, he is head and shoulders above most men I know. If our bodies were extensions of our characters, the man would be the size of Godzilla.
Although Sensei has worked hard, and continues to train hard, in his karate I cannot say that his qualities are things I can call my own. Surely the man has influenced me, and of course he has helped me understand a lot about karate, but at the end of the day I have to stand on my own two feet and call myself into account. Taniguchi-Sensei is my teacher, and will always be so, but that has little bearing on my own relations with others, what my perceived “legitimacy” is, or the quality of my own karate.
That stuff is all mine and no one can step up for me. Yes, my teacher is a great man. He is a great karate man too. But he is also a man. Just a man. Just like me.
Maybe I can say this all from a position of luxury. I never really have to worry about the perceptions of what other people have of my rank, my position, or my “legitimacy” in karate. I train in the JKA in Japan, and my teacher is a real flesh and blood Japanese man. Laughably, in some circles in the West I might be able to start my own karate style! I might call it “Mark-Do”, or “The Way of Mark”!! It seems that training in karate in Japan is a magic talisman of legitimacy. A troubling notion, but that is a topic for another day.
What is it that makes you legitimate? It is you. It is your ability and your determination. That is the bottom line and the decisive factor. Teachers can help, but it boils down to your own strength and determination at the end of the day. Whether or not someone has trained with Okazaki, Nishiyama, Abe, Kanazawa, Yaguchi, Osaka, Kagawa, Yahara, Asai, or anyone else really doesn't mean much in and of itself. Teachers are resources. They are not qualities, nor do they possess magical powers of bestowing ability on people who happen to be in their presence.
So the next time someone asks you, “Who is your teacher?” Get yourself into a Walt Whitman state of mind and just say this:
“I am me. I am myself. I have studied and learned, tried and failed. Behind every success is a broken trail of failures. I am a karate student.
I am the sum of my experiences fused into flesh and bone. Life is my teacher and my experiences have been my lessons. And although my karate teachers may be artists and karate the chisels in their hands, in the end there is only me, standing here. I am the final stone, either polished or raw, unashamed, un-proud, and yet not un-done.”
Mark Groenewold
Kanazawa, Japan
December, 2003
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