It all started with an innocent crush.
“I’m going to a Kung Fu class tonight,” she said casually, swishing her blonde hair as she stepped out of the Mangawhau Primary School tennis courts. Her name was Olivia, and she was the sporty girl in the class. Hiding my shyness by puffing up little chest, I grinned and said, “me too! I’m going to kung fu as well” It was a big fat lie - I hadn’t heard about no Kung fu!
I ran home on my heels, trying to recall getting the letter for a Kung fu lesson in class that day. It must have ended up like all of the other news handouts from school - scrunched at the bottom of my bag like my lunch rubbish. Sure enough, it was there. I fished it out, and straightened it with my hand.
KUNG FU | COACH GUO
6PM
MANGAWHAU SCHOOL HALL
I couldn’t not go. I told Olivia that I would be there.
So I went.
I lived within a stones throw of the school, so I didn’t have to walk very far to get there. Regardless, my nerves carried me the whole way, wriggling through my bloodstream like eels. When I reached the hall, I crept up to the side door first and poked my head in. There were lots of kids my age gathering in the hall, and more entering with their parents, some wearing a red shirt and stretching against a chair, others chattering and being silly. At once, all of them assembled in two straight lines in the middle. Olivia was there, standing a head taller than the others and looking feather-like. My dad nudged me to go in, reminding me that I was still hiding outside, a quivering bystander. I shoved the door open and stumbled into the hall.
There was no mistaking Coach Guo. He stood before the kids like a capital letter, more solid than an oak tree, scanning the hall with eyes that could melt ice. His gaze turned to me. It was firm and calculated, as if he could see right through me. He motioned for me to join the row of kids, so I hurried and took my place next to a young Chinese boy. The class began before I could blink twice.
We started with warmups, following Coach’s commands that reached every corner of the hall. "YI. ER. SAN." Rotating the neck, twisting the waist, stretching out the arms, rolling the feet - it was easy enough to mimic the movements that Coach was making, but I still made quick glances to the boy next to me to make sure I was doing it right. And then we were straight into some action - punching! I never thought I would be standing in the hall of my school, learning how to punch. But there I was, braced with my feet a shoulder-width apart like Coach instructed, punching to the stern rhythm of his voice. ‘YI! ER! SAN!’ My clenched fist darted through the air, swift and powerful - it made me feel stronger than I had ever felt. I stole a quick glance over to Olivia, who was lightly nudging the air with her loose fist. For once, I think I was better than her at something.
But the punches were the easy part. ‘HORSE STANCE!’ Coach bellowed, and the students who knew what they were doing separated their legs out, and lowered until their knees showed right angles. Myself and the other newcomers followed. Coach counted again in Mandarin, but much slower this time. ‘YI… ER… SAN… SI… WU… LIU…’ My legs started to tremble. ‘QI….. BA…… JUI…… SHI….. YI……’ His gaze was unforgiving - there was no way we could break our stance until he finished counting. The others were struggling as much as I, if not more. Some crumbled, falling to the ground. I stayed, determined, until the end. I didn’t realise Kung Fu would be this challenging! If this is just the warm up….
After a few more stances, the kids dispersed to the outskirts of the hall and began stretching their legs on chairs. Some clustered together so they could chatter; one boy with black hair falling to his shoulders appeared to deliberately stretch by himself, so I joined him. His name was Jun, and I could tell he was focussed and determined in Kung Fu just by how he stretched, reaching his forehead almost to his foot. I plonked my leg onto a chair and attempted to do the same, but my hamstrings screamed and my torso barely budged.
I quickly realised that stretching was crucial for Kung fu - we spent the next half hour kicking and punching up and down the length of the hall. Jun was at the front, swift and nimble, displaying good technique. Coach often paused the class and asked Jun to give a demonstration of the movements for the newcomers. And then we would try, blundering our way down the hall. These movements required balance, precision, strength, endurance, and acrobatics. It was incredibly tiring - the water break was a life saver. “What are these exercises called?” I asked Jun as we lined up for the water fountain outside. “The basics,” he said with a grin. I thought it was a joke - it wasn't.
During the second half of ‘The basics’, I noticed a young Chinese man arrive, putting his bag down on one of the chairs and leaping up the stage in a vault as smooth as a panther. His small but built physique exuded an air of supreme confidence, and he started stretching as if nobody else was in the hall. When Coach wasn’t looking, I quickly asked Jun about the confident fellow on the stage. “That’s Siu Yuat,” he told me. It looked as if he wanted to tell me more, but was cut short but Coach’s whistle. “AGAIN!"
As the hour was almost up, Coach got us to line up again and shake our bodies to warm down. I was exhausted. Kung Fu was a tiring affair! But afterwards, I felt more alive than I had ever felt - my heart sending waves of exhilaration with every beat. Despite the fact that my energy had been drained, it seemed to be completely replaced by a beautiful sense of accomplishment. The class dispersed as if the hall itself let out a great big sigh. I bounded over the Olivia who was sinking into the corner, shattered. “What did you think?” I asked her eagerly. “Tiring,” she managed.
As the others left with their parents, I waited on one of the chairs as my dad spoke with Coach Guo. I wasn’t sure what Dad was saying; coach was smiling and laughing. But my attention was stolen by the other guys who started to fill the hall, taking the place of the younger students. They wore silk pants, and carried weapons. One guy carried a wooden stick a head taller than himself, with a silver dagger on the end. A spear! Then a girl entered, looking not much older than me, carrying a curved sheath with the image of a golden dragon swirling upon it. A sword?! Then I noticed another guy on the stage opening his palm - a chain dropping from his hand as if by magic. He started twirling it around his body with incredible speed, whipping the air. A chain!? These older students had determination in their eyes, and power in their step. They all wore the same sleek shoes that had ‘FEIYUE’ printed on them. I couldn’t hide the amusement from my face.
As I dawdled home, massaging my legs, I thought eagerly about Coach Guo and the senior students with their weapons. I wondered if perhaps one day I could train alongside them, and learn how to wield weapons! Kung fu… What have I stumbled into? And just here at the school I go to?? The minute I got home, I made a beeline for the computer, following my new found fascination for Wu Shu Kung Fu into the wide web. I found this:
Real life ninjas! Modern warriors! I only had one thought. HOLY ****!
—————————-
Olivia never came back. But I stayed. And I trained under Coach Guo every Monday and Friday with all the other young whippersnappers. Kung Fu training became ritual. It became a part of who I was - a way I could express the impassioned and lunatic sides of my personality, and explore the capabilities of my own body. Right from the beginning, I was inspired and motivated to get really good at Wu Shu, because the role models were right in front of us the whole time.
They were the senior students; the ones who would arrive wearing silk pants and carrying weapons as we were warming down. I would sometimes stay after the class, and watch as they started practicing on their own accord. They demonstrated such a control over their bodies, sweeping their arms and legs with such grace, only to explode with the power and speed of a jaguar. How did they get that good?? I wondered if I could one day match their abilities, if I trained hard enough. Then I realised: we had the same teacher! If they are this masterful, then who is Coach Guo?!
Wu Shu is not for self-defence or combat - it is actually a performance Art. We would spend half of the training sessions learning and practicing ‘forms’. They are entire acts comprised of the basic movements; story-telling with the body. Coach instructed us to practice them back to back, which was a gruelling, physically demanding effort, but it enabled us to improve quickly. Earlier on, I wondered why we practiced the forms so much, and with such a degree of intensity. But before I knew it, we were only weeks away from the Chinese Lantern Festival, where we would be giving a demonstration of the basics and the forms. Performing .. ? In front of a crowd of people?! When I first started training, I had no idea I was being lead down a path of live performance.
The Chinese Lantern Festival was like a window into traditional Chinese culture, wide open and enticing, its allure wafting from Albert Park and through the streets of Auckland city. Lanterns were bobbing in the trees, as numerous as the stars above us. Delicate structures of warriors, dragons, flowers and maidens were strewn across the park, emanating warm and rainbow light. Following the scents of rich Chinese cuisine, the crowds were pulled in and mesmerised. And the Martial Arts quarter was right in the centre of it all. It was there, in Auckland's brief portal into China, that I gave my first performance ever, dressed in the traditional Kung Fu silk. I had a blast - turns out I loved to perform!
And if performing for people wasn’t enough to stir my nerves and fears wild, there were competitions too. All of Coach’s disciples were brought together to showcase their best rendition of the forms in front of Coach and his panel of judges. Seeing them deliberate amongst each other after the kids quickly removed themselves from the performance mat was enough to make me tremble. Despite how nervous I was though, I marched onto blue mat, hardened my face, and gave my best performance. It was the first time I had ever competed against others. I came away with a gold medal.
I became good friends with the other novices who were serious about Kung Fu, and with diligent training and perseverance, we all progressed and improved in our Wu Shu training. After some time, we were given weapons - staff and broadsword - and were taught forms that demonstrated a flurry of impressive techniques. Wu Shu training was showing me that hard work and determination payed off greatly. Eventually, we were invited to practice in the late class with the elder students. It was a great honour, but also a whole lot more challenging, especially with Siu Yuat half running the class!
During one training, a man came in wielding an odd weapon for a Kung Fu class - it was a great big camera, resting upon his shoulder like a little monkey. He was filming a small documentary of Siu Yuat, Tom and Berrin. We continued training as if none of it was taking place. That video was published a few weeks later, and it served to solidify my respect for Siu Yuat and the others who exercised such discipline in their practice, and took to every training as if it was their last.
After watching that video, I felt extremely grateful to be apart of such a unique little community. And it was just a small pocket of a much wider organisation - Chin Woo. I wasn’t mature enough to realise it at the time, but it was a community that was firmly grounded on principles and values such as discipline, deliberate practice, determination and inner strength. Martial Arts served to cultivate my heart and character more than anything else. It pushed me way out of my comfort zone, further than the limits of my mind, and out onto the centre stage. It transformed me into a performer and a competitor from an early age.
Little did I know or ever anticipate, my name was being called for something far beyond my imagination. Halfway across the world, preparations for a terrifically grand event were underway. Deep within the vast city expanses of Tianjin and Shanghai, Kung Fu officials gathered and conferred amongst each other, planning the 100th year anniversary of the Chin Woo organisation and its subsequent Wu Shu competition. Somewhere in the halls of destiny, inscribed in ink un-erasable, my name was placed amongst the many other competitors from around the world who would journey to China and don their silk when the day came knocking.
It was only a matter of time.
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