Nepal Report

Written by
John Grotrian
July 15, 2007

On February 26th, 2007 Homma Kancho arrived in Katmandu where Scott Olson Sensei, the Nepal Aikido Club and I met him at the airport. The enthusiastic group had prepared a warm welcome complete with a banner and flower garlands called malas.

A few hours earlier, Scott Sensei and I had been met by members of the N.A.C. shortly after having landed.

During Homma Kancho’s week long seminar many activities and meetings were arranged, ranging from visiting rural temples and monasteries to press conferences and television interviews

The seminar’s morning classes were held in Patan, formerly the kingdom of Lalitpur, across the river from Katmandu.

Taught by Homma Kancho, the seminar was attended by members of the N.A.C. as well as several karate students.  Front rolls and break-falls were practiced with caution due to firm mats and luckily no injuries occurred.  The weather in early march was cool and very pleasant for practice.

On March 5 Homma Kancho continued on his tour of Asia, leaving Scott Sensei in charge to complete the intensive training seminar.

It was at this point that we began to hold practice at Tripushwar Olympic stadium near to the dojo which hosted Homma Kancho’s seminar in 2006.

Scott Sensei conducted morning classes at the new location, a friendly Judo Dojo, with tatami mats which facilitated a greater learning curve in ukemi.  An average of twelve to fifteen students attended class held from 8:30 am to 10:30am.

Rapid progress was taking place in learning, perhaps due in part to Homma Kancho’s and Scott Sensei’s emphasis on presenting fundamental principles and concepts using basic techniques as the launch pad for the methods of Aikido.

Scott Sensei’s departure March 12, marked the end of the 2007 Nepal Aikido Seminar and the beginning of general classes.  Class continued to be held at the Central Judo Hall of Tripushwar stadium, although with fewer students in attendance than the previous two weeks.  However, the N.A.C. core members continued forward with great zeal.

Between eight to ten students attended every morning, and we began to see an increase in students with no previous experience in the martial arts.  These devoted students developed skills quickly and their rapid progress was clearly evident.

Most days began with a knock on the door from the Bhais*  (*little brothers).  They would bounce into the room chanting “breakfast John Dhai, come upstairs!”, make one or two laps and bounce out of the room again.

Warm Buffalo’s milk or hot Chia on the porch with a view of the neighborhood springing into the day and the great foothills back dropping the Katmandu valley with it’s 6.5 million inhabitants.

The city had a fresh, cool air every morning from the previous evening’s rain shower.  Almost everyday in April the afternoon heat would give way to thick clouds followed by thunder and lightning demonstrations, accompanied by plump rain drops for the remainder of the night.  The weather was timely and would wait for most people to get home before the evening showers, but often there were a handful of Aikidoka welcomed by the rain as they left evening weapons class.

The nightly ablutions would be almost dry by morning and a mist would lift from the valley floor to drift off between the giant hills.

All the while the Bhainis* (*little sisters) and Bhais would be preparing for the school day, braiding hair and ironing uniforms with mother helping to make sure that everybody was ready.

Amma, (my adoptive mother/ Nepali teacher) would chat with me and smile patiently, often laughing at our apparent communication barriers.  “How many people in practice today?”.  Our sign for practice was a small yokomenuchi.  The sign for “how many” was to count the fingers on each hand and then turn them upward in question.

I would answer “Eleven or twelve people Amma.”  By this time I had been taught to count to twenty as well as the days of the week.  Being able to count in Nepali proved to be very useful during Jo and Ken kata practice.

Over a light breakfast around the dinning room table my homestay host and N.A.C. treasurer, Raj Kumar Gurung, or Raju Dhai* (*elder brother) would discus that morning’s class, dojo news, organizing and planning the days events.

At eight o’clock we would wave goodbye and walk together through the already bustling neighborhood saying hello to people as we made our way to the nearby taxi stand.   Finding our very dependable friend in his taxi, Raju Dhai and I would jump in, off we would go, relying on side streets and short cuts.

For the next fifteen minutes, on the drive to practice, all kinds of wonders could be seen from the vehicle’s window.  Perhaps a massive chariot being refurbished for the upcoming festival, demonstrators holding peaceful protests, an elegantly dressed elephant walking down the street for a wedding celebration, or perhaps a bull similar to that on the Nippon-Kan logo making his way through traffic).

If one were to look back to catch a second glimpse, the next wonder would be passing by faster than one can aim a camera.

Arriving at the Dojo with a few minutes to spare we would order a round of milk chia or black pepper tea.  Various members from different disciplines of the martial arts community would greet each other with handshakes and share the daily news.

A few minutes before 9 o’clock students from the previous judo class would begin leaving the dojo with a bow, one by one.

The students who had gathered outside for the upcoming Aikido class would wait and with the same reverence, bow and enter the dojo, one by one.

Everyone would quickly change and bow onto the mat.  After a little confusion and some direction from a senpai, new students would space themselves evenly in seiza, backs straight and as still as statues.

“Rei, Onageishimas!”

“Ich, ni, san, shi, go!”

“Ae-toh, Ae-sah”

“Front rolls please, onageishimas!”

Watching the expressions of people in class, it seemed that myo-ukemi was one of the most challenging aspects of our daily practice.  Every morning you could see students coming up against their barriers, pushing the comfort zone, looking at the problem, experimenting with solutions.  “How do I do front rolls without so much pain and bruising?”

Moving through stages of being self conscious, unsure or hesitant yet always determined, day after day facing personal boundaries.

Morning class was divided into warm up exercises then exercises in ukemi followed by techniques.

We would look at a functional principle within a technique, using various attacks, trying both omote and ura.  The theme or motivating theory would lead naturally to other similar techniques and in this manner there seemed to be a sense of exploration, a sense of discovery.

After training for the majority of class in this way, practice would shift to Kokyu Dosa or, some days, endurance conditioning depending on the class dynamics and the energy level.

Another favorite way to wrap up morning practice was with a page from “Children and the Martial Arts: an aikido point of view”.   Fun to watch and even more fun to play, “Sheiko Tag” with a group of usually some what stern adults all giggling and shouting like school children, rolling around the mat for the last five minutes of class.

Looking around the faces, some students commuted for more than an hour, one way, every morning while also managing school or work responsibilities.

One young man rode his motorcycle from a neighboring city four times a day to attend morning and evening class while still maintaining his duties throughout the day.

Another young man taught a children’s judo class early in the morning on the other side of the city.  He would then arrive for Aikido class before going straight to his office job.

Some people would practice two hours of judo and then go straight into two more hours of Aikido, every morning, followed by two more hours of weapons class in the evening.

It appeared that everybody with their own individual situation shared a commonality. A quality of intense enthusiasm for the practice of Aikido.

Only recently introduced on a broad scale in Nepal, Aikido is not as widely known as other martial arts.

The energy of the many dedicated students is bringing the art to flower right there in the foot hills of the Himalayas).

“Rei. Domo arigato gozamashita.”

Class ends with many bows and “thank yous’” in formal yet jovial manner.

Some days, the class would gather after practice at a nearby tea shop for an al-fresco cup of chia or mango juice.  This allowed for the opportunity for interaction outside of the dojo, creating a feeling that as a group of people we did more than practice martial arts together.  Another kind of communication took place over theses tea time conversations, strengthening the budding Aikido community because in fact we had all become friends.

“Jaum?”, “Jaum!” (“we move?”, “we move!”)

Back to the N.A.C. headquarters for a quick lunch.  It was there that a lot of behind the scenes preparations took place.  Meetings, phone calls, networking, interviews and a lot of the leg work that was involved in launching the newest martial art in Nepal happened from that office.

Finishing the 3 o’clock chia, having gathered up our keiko gis’ draped around the office to dry from that mornings work out, we would jump on the motorcycles, using side streets and alley ways to beat the afternoon traffic, arriving at the Olympic stadium in no time at all.

A dozen or so students gathered around the dojo entrance and again bowing deeply, entered their place of training.

Evening weapons class, 5pm- 7pm, seemed to attract a greater diversity in participants.  Older and younger people, experienced and inexperienced martial artists alike, all showed great interest in the Bokken and Jo.  On a number of occasions, there seemed to be a recurring misunderstanding.  In our opening   kamai, some new students would be found holding their bokken upside down, that is to say curved up.

This was a curious at first, until we realized that perhaps there was some culture shock taking place between the Nepalese khukuri and the Japanese katana.

The khukuri is a traditional tool of Nepal which is shaped like a quarter moon with its cutting edge on the concave side.  Anyone who has used a khukuri knows very well that if you hold it curved down (hence blade up) there is an accident just waiting to happen.

Amused with the discovery of the confusion, members of the Nepal Aikido Club considered modifying the bokken by sanding off the shinogi lines but in the end decided to go with the more traditional (although slightly foreign) method of handling.

Weapons class was divided between; the suburi and shinogi movements, Kenjutsu to Taijutsu relationships as well as kata training alone or with partners.

From time to time the electricity would go out, leaving us with no light with which to practice by.  However this was regarded as only a very minor set-back and did not dampen the warrior spirit at all.  As the last of the sun’s rays left the mat space, we would jokingly exclaim “ninja class!”.

What was amazing was that in a space small enough to warrant caution even under lighted conditions, a class of twelve to fifteen people could perform proficiently without any collision of jo or bokken.  This was reflective of the atmosphere of attentiveness and diligence that made for such positive training.

During one evening class, while practicing katas with partners, a young man approached and said “This isn’t working, my partner is moving to slow.”  It was apparent that the partners movements did not coincide.  The fellow being accused of moving to slowly came forward to announce “it’s not my fault, he’s moving to fast.”  At this point we reflected on a quote of Scott Sensei’s that he had shared during the intensive seminar in March.

“Sometimes it is your partners fault.  Sometimes it is your partner’s, partner’s fault.”
This was cause for a good laugh and agreement that a middle ground was called for.  Perhaps it was not a matter of fault or where blame should be placed, but rather a miscommunication preventing effective co-operation. After some trial and error, counting through the kata together seemed to help keep Jo and Ken on the same page. 

Both on and off the mat there was a great emphasis placed upon etiquette, politeness and discipline.  This was in large the yard stick by which an individual or dojo was measured and it permeated daily interactions.  Even in nightmare traffic jams there was a sense of courtesy and good natured patience which seems so rarely afforded in western cities.  In general people were not afraid of strangers, making eye contact or joking with each other in a casual back and forth manner. Even at night women, children and the elders could be seen outdoors walking or chatting, enjoying the cool air.

In business interactions (outside of the tourist havens) it seemed more important to maintain a good reputation of honesty and generosity than short term opportunistic gain, much like the old Spanish ideal of “quedar bien” (to stay well).  For example a vegetable stand owner was accountable to their customers, creating a loyalty, a dependability.  If it was perceived that someone was dealing a less than honorable manner certainly they would hear about it without reservation.

“Your taxi’s meter is to high!  This trip does not usually cost so much.”

“Yes, it’s true, my meter is high, but with the cost of fuel and inflation these days…”
“If that is the case then say so, but it isn’t correct to rig the meter, you have to be able to look yourself in the mirror!  Here is a few extra rupees.”

This kind of consideration for others seemed to be the rule, instead of the exception.
On May 24th marked the end of the three month training period but in fact it was only the beginning.  Upon my departure Mr. Raj Kumar Gurung and Mr. Rajesh Bista )set out to continue holding general classes, both morning and evening at various dojo throughout Kathmandu.  The foundation that the dedicated Aikidoka of Nepal have built continues to grow and strengthen without fail.

This opportunity was only made possible by a great number of people both in America and Nepal whose tremendous efforts, perseverance and patience saw that this mission was a success.  There are many individuals and families to whom I am greatly indebted for their generosity and kindness.  Firstly I wish thank Mr. and Mrs. Gurung who invited me into their home.  Although a stranger, I felt welcomed as family.  I would also like to thank Mrs. Sherpa for all of her families help and such delicious dinners.  Also, a very special thanks to all of the Nepal Aikido club board members and students who I affectionately consider my Dhais* (*brothers).  I am especially grateful to Mr. Sitkar Rajbhandari for his great support, kindness and leadership.

To Nippon-Kan’s founder, Homma Kancho I am forever grateful.  There are no words sufficient to express my gratitude for the guidance, patience and example he has given to myself as well as all of his students.  We are  therefore obligated to make our actions a living testimony to his teachings.

This experience was a wonderful adventure and nothing short of a dream come true.
Deri, Deri Danibad  (Domo arigato gozaimashita) (Thank you)