Martial Mania
Nippon Hamu
By George Donahue
Many Western actors who would never think of sullying themselves
by doing commercial endorsements in their home countries are more than
happy to shill for products in Japan and the rest of Asia. One who comes
immediately to mind is an American famous for his macho action roles,
in which he says very little and hardly ever cracks a smile. He’s
done nothing in the US, ever, to weaken his stone-face auteur image. He’s
a “serious” actor and director. In Japan, however, for several
years, he was, probably inadvertently, the jovial spokesman for Nippon
Hamu (pushing hamu and beikon) and is probably better
loved there for his commercials (in which he speaks a little heavily coached
Japanese) than for his tedious, predictable movies. Nippon Hamu is—after
SPAM, of course—the premier producer and marketer of processed pork
products in Asia. They’ve been successful enough to sponsor a professional
baseball team, the Ham Fighters, and to hire foreign megastars at mega-salaries
as product spokesmen. (Maybe the Hormel company could follow suit and
sponsor the Spam Fighters.)
Many Westerners who are practically unknown in the West for their talents
are famous, or at least well-appreciated, in other parts of the world.
For example, John Renbourn, the British finger style guitarist, is practically
a god among Japanese guitar aficionados. He’s practically unknown
in the UK and the US, definitely second tier recognition-wise, in spite
of his considerable talent and solid performances. On the other hand,
many Westerners who for good reason are totally unknown at home, or who
are known but considered devoid of talent or over the hill, are revered
abroad. Sometimes the reverence might possibly be justified; sometimes
it’s just inexplicable.
I’ve lived in the northeastern United States for the past twenty-five
years or so. Before that I had lived in the Deepest South. Down there,
I had never thought that I had any sort of Southern accent, if anything,
I must have thought I had a Midwestern or cosmopolitan accent. Once I
moved up to New York, though, I was ribbed mercilessly by my new friends
for my Southern twang. The accent faded away pretty quickly, unconsciously,
and I’m always amazed when I go back home to hear my siblings speak
so slowly with their accents. What happened to me was that I first adapted
and then my perspective shifted. I now speak, think, and behave more like
a New Yorker / New Englander than a Southerner. Before the South, I lived
in the Midwest and overseas, so I’ve experienced several paradigm
shifts.
So what’s this got to do with fighting arts? Am I off on a tangent
again? Maybe.
My late teacher, Kishaba Chokei, said to me once, after a few beers and
some traditional Okinawan KFC, that his best students were all from the
US. (This no doubt excluded me, because I was not born in the US. He was
kind enough not to point this out.) My sole remaining teacher, Shinzato
Katsuhiko, has said many times that his hopes for the legacy of Okinawan
martial arts are almost entirely with foreign students, and indeed many
of his most dedicated students are from Indonesia, Europe, and the US.
Until quite recently, these two teachers were both virtually unknown at
home. Overseas, they are viewed with respect and awe by many serious students.
In their case, "A prophet is not without honour, but in his own country,
and among his own kin, and in his own house" (Mark 6:4, KJV) is apt;
more so for Kishaba-sensei, who died uncelebrated and virtually unknown,
than for Shinzato-sensei, who has at last come to be appreciated in Japan.
In other cases, though, martial instructors have no reputation or credibility
in their homelands because they actually aren’t that good—or
the traditions they espouse aren’t genuine or effective. It is when
instructors of the latter category gain an audience abroad that the trouble
begins.
All of us who live in countries without deep and enduring martial traditions
are lucky that there are genuine prophets who are overlooked—without
honor—at home. Because of our different perspectives, their home
countries’ loss is our gain. We can dispassionately evaluate what
they have to teach and we can see that it is good and honorable, if not
celebrated at home. They, in turn, are happy to be well received, for
a change, and to have the chance to teach students who get the points
they’re trying to make. The students, because of their different
perspectives and lack of native assumptions, ask questions (politely)
that challenge the teacher to develop deeper understanding and mastery.
What arises from sad neglect often evolves into a lasting and strong win-win
relationship. Even though I wish that my teachers had better recognition
at home, I personally have benefitted greatly from situations like this.
On the other hand, there are far too many mediocre “teachers”—without
any deep understanding or talent—and even outright charlatans on
the prowl. Sometimes they thrive by operating outside their home countries,
by working the seminar circuit or by promoting students to high ranks
in organizations for which they serve as convenient figureheads or bankers.
Sometimes they thrive by operating tourist dojos in their home country,
in which an expensive stay and continued financial support guarantees
quick promotion to higher, usually totally undeserved, ranks. For those
who make mercenary arrangements with this second sort of teacher I have
no sympathy—a fool and his money are soon parted, and you get what
you pay for. Commercial transactions of this sort in the martial ways
are generally devoid of any real value except maybe for those people who
care more about a paper validation than real knowledge.
Because all of us have different experiences and different perspectives,
it’s sometimes hard to tell whether a teacher from a different milieu
has the right stuff, is merely okay but not great, is inept, is a fraud,
or is some combination of these. Sometimes a teacher is flawed but worthwhile
anyway. Aside from relying on the recommendation of someone whose judgment
you trust, there is no universally applicable good checklist to separate
the wheat from the chaff. In fact, one person’s chaff might be another’s
wheat. A teacher who is invaluable to me might be of no value to you.
Nevertheless, there are ways to appraise what we see and hear. All depend
upon good observation, proper deportment of both student and teacher,
and good will of all those involved toward all those involved. If those
factors are taken care of, the rest will take care (perhaps with some
luck) of itself.
By the way, I’ve tasted Nippon hamu a time or two and,
although it’s pretty good, it’s not extraordinary. Certainly
not in the league of an American Smithfield or Italian prosciutto. In
Ingrish, we might call it burando hamu.
Copyright © 2008 by George Donahue
& FightingArts.com
About The Author:
George Donahue has been on the board of FightingArts.com
since its inception. He is a freelance writer and editor, providing literary
and consulting services to writers, literary agents, and publishers, as
well to advertising agencies. He has worked in publishing for more than
three decades, beginning as a journal and legal editor. Among his positions
have been editorial stints at Random House; Tuttle Publishing, where he
was the executive editor, martial arts editor, and Asian Studies editor;
and Lyons Press, where he was the senior acquisitions editor and where
he established a martial arts publishing program. He is a 6th dan student
of karate and kobujutsu—as well as Yamane Ryu Bojutsu—of Shinzato
Katsuhiko in Okinawa Karatedo Shorin Ryu Kishaba Juku. He was also a student
of Kishaba Chokei and Nakamura Seigi until their deaths. He teaches Kishaba
Juku in New York and Connecticut, as well as traveling to provide seminars
and special training in karate, weapons, and self-defense. His early training
was in judo and jujutsu, primarily with Ando Shunnosuke in Tokyo. He also
studied kyujutsu (archery), sojutsu (spear), and kenjutsu (swordsmanship)
in Japan as a youth. Following his move to the US, he continued to practice
judo and jujutsu, as well as marksmanship with bow and gun, and began
the study of Matsubayashi Ryu karate in his late teens. Subsequently,
he has studied aikido and taiji and cross trained in ying jow pai kung
fu. |
