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Early Memories of Aikido With the start of this new decade I have become acutely aware of how fast time is passing. This February will mark my 40th year of aikido. On this occasion I would like to share some early memories of practice. I began aikido at the age of 12. My mom worked hard. She scrimped and saved so that she could provide me with aikido lessons, and even two trips to Japan. She did this with money earned from cleaning houses. My dad stopped by once or twice a month, paid the rent and utilities and gave us a few dollars for groceries. With no father figure at home and a mom who gave in to me too much, I was out of control. I lacked discipline and direction. I was making all of my own decisions such as, when and if I would go to school, what I would eat, when I would go to sleep and when I would come and go. No chores. No structure. No responsibility. All of this made for quite an attitude. I spent a lot of time on the streets of lower Manhattan in the 60’s and 70’s. In ways New York was a spectacular place to grow up and certainly a cultural hub. The streets of the big city also had its dangers, many of which I narrowly escaped, yet I did not emerge unscathed. I hated school. I was always so far behind the others, too distracted to learn much. I skipped school as much as I could. I was looking for something to do when I came across the New York Aikikai. I walked in, saw aikido and loved it. Yamada Sensei and the dojo members where very supportive and played a large role in shaping me. I found a community where I was accepted and a calling I had to answer. I started reading. My grades improved and my mother always knew where I was, at the dojo. Given all the things I could have gotten into on the streets of New York, it was a blessing that I found aikido. School was a tough place with lots of racial tension between black, Puerto Rican and white students. Getting beat up at school was a frequent occurrence for me. I had a way of drawing negative energy to myself. One good thing was that the school was only 2 blocks from the dojo. I loved aikido so much that I wanted to stay at the dojo, day and night. During the day, I’d cut math and run to the dojo for the afternoon class! I’d sneak back to school in the afternoon and I would return to the dojo again for evening classes. There was no children’s program, so I practiced in with the adults. However, there was one class on the schedule that I never made it to. It was the 6:30 am class. The teacher was Bruce Buffins. I’d seen him occasionally in the evening class. He was a large, tall, in shape, Afro-American man with a commanding presence. He practiced hard! And if you wound up practicing with him, you’d be practicing hard too.
The atmosphere at the morning class was serious with moments of lightheartedness. The group, usually about 10 men, was mostly Afro-American and religious. I knew that many of them practiced some form of Islam. To this day I don’t know for sure whether it was The Nation of Islam or a more orthodox form. Some wore the crescent moon and star on their gis or clothing. Discipline, martial skill, fitness and cleanliness were clearly the theme of every class. Practice started with a nod, not the traditional bow, towards O-sensei’s picture. This, I learned was due to religious belief. When I showed up at my first morning class, I saw Bruce in the dressing room as we exchanged “Good Morning.” Soon the regulars came in greeting each other with ”As-Salamu `Alaykum,” and “Wa ‘alayka al-salaam” came the reply. I had no idea what they were talking about. Later I learned that it meant, “May peace be with you.” The reception that I got was anywhere from cordial to cool. I was a hippie boy with blond curly hair with a sarcastic and at times cruel sense of humor. I see close to 100 children each week at Tenzan Aikido. I have yet to meet one who was as challenging as I was. My wise cracks that would bring laughter to those in the evening class fell like a lead balloon in the morning class. I have to admit to making far fewer off-the-cuff remarks to the morning crew. The practice was hard. I got slung from one end of the mat to the other. I also got some of the hardest nikkyos in my life from “Big Bruce”. He would chuckle and say,” Nothing but peace, love and harmony.” I don’t know about that but I didn’t feel that he was trying to harm me. He was taking me to my limits. I knew that he could have ripped me in half if he wanted to. But I made it through each class without injury. I didn’t know anything about his religious beliefs, political or social persuasion but I could tell that he saw something in me that he wanted to nurture. Bruce Buffins’s name changed to Luqman Hakeem. Everybody at the morning class got a taste of his nikkyos, thunderous koshinages and devastating iriminages. He came around and practiced with everyone on the mat and gave all of us a chance to throw him as well. On the coldest days of winter, Luqman was famous for opening the windows, making it freezing cold. The remarkable thing was that in spite of the cold, by the end of class my gi was sopping wet. Some would try to bail out early on the fall, only to hear Luqman say “Take your fall, brother, take your fall.” I was never addressed as “brother” but I felt an unspoken kinship that crossed social and religious boundaries. Some of these men were extremely strong. I remember one such man, Ishmael, who could pick me up with one hand on my collar, as if picking up a cat by the scruff of its neck, and with a flick of his wrist, send me flying across the mat. I secretly hoped that some of these qualities would rub off on me just by being in regular physical contact with these guys. I had been practicing a variation of kotegaeshi done from a punch. I would take a very abrupt turn, which shortened the move, but launched the attacker head over heals. While Luqman was making his rounds one morning, I tried this move on him. And sure enough, he went flying! I thought to myself “Oh, oh, I’m in trouble now.” To my surprise he was grinning from ear to ear. There was no warm, fuzzy conversation but his expression conveyed to me that he recognized that I was growing up, coming into my own, as a man. We just kept practicing. There were a few guys there who had done some time in prison. I can remember them telling jail stories in the dressing room. I probably should not have been exposed to some of what I heard. However, after overhearing their comments, I knew that I never wanted to do anything that would land me in jail. One fellow in particular I know was using the dojo as a sort of halfway house. He was also a recipient of my kotegaeshi. He went flying too but was not as gracious as Luqman when he got back up. He was a big strong guy. He told me in no uncertain terms never to do that to him again and if I did, we would be settling it out on the street. I heard that he had a violent past and when I met his eyes he was dead serious. I just nodded and we kept practicing. That morning, there would be no smart remarks coming from me. These early memories of Hakeem Sensei’s morning class and of the New York Aikikai as a whole are a testament to the inclusive nature of aikido and to O-sensei’s vision. The dojo had its problems, which alienated some. Overall, I must give credit to Yamada Sensei for creating an environment that almost anybody could be a part of. The morning class was just one small facet of the dojo. There were many senior students, myself included, who became teachers in their own right and had vastly different approaches to aikido. Koichi Tohei once said that aikido is like a river that accepts both clean and unclean water. That was certainly the case at the New York Aikikai. It was so important for me to have the experience of being seen, challenged and respected as a young teenager by Haqeem Sensei. I would not describe the N.Y. Aikikai as a strict place, but it gave me all the structure I was ready for at the time. Haqeem Sensei and other men at the dojo were strong role models for me in assuming my power and to understand the give and take of life. I saw, regardless of our upbringing, religious affiliation, socio-economic status or race, that in essence we are all connected. As-Salamu `Alaykum
Aikido Tip of the MonthRandori
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A year or so passed since beginning aikido. I wasn’t getting beat up in school anymore. Actually, I never got into any more fights. School was still a dangerous place but somehow I learned to fly under the radar. And I started to take the morning class at the dojo.