Self-Portrait: Kukkiwon Gangster

There's a story behind this photo, but I have an appointed I need to rush to it so I cannot tell it now. It has something to do with these people and this event. The title of the photo "Kukkiwon Gangster" makes a reference to this excellent book.

'n Vreemde aand by Taekwon-Do

Gisteraand het ek 'n vreemde aand by Taekwon-Do gehad. Gedurende die klas het ek probeer om met die kwangjangnim (hoofinstrukteer) te gesels oor bloed pH vlakke en die effek van kaas en alkahol op jou liggaam se pH. My gebrekkige Koreaans en sy gebrekkige Engels het nie ver gekom nie. Maar dit was nie die vreemde ding nie. Direk na die klas moes ek vinnig my Taekwon-do dobok uittrek en my Hapkido dobok aanttrek vir fotos. Een van die klas se studente is besig om 'n artikel te skryf oor verskillende krygskunste vir 'n tydskrif en het iemand nodig gehad om Hapkido dinge te illustreer. Ek moes 'n klomp keer die vooroor rol doen sodat hy verskillende fases van dieselfde tegniek bo-oor mekaar kan blootstel om sodoende 'n interesante dinamiese eindfoto te bekom. Dit was ook nie die vreemde ding van die aand nie. Na Taekwon-Do en ook na die grondwerkklas het ons volwassenes na 'n kroeg toe gegaan. Ek het soos gewoonlik niks gedrink nie, terwyl die ander soju (Koreaanse aartappelwyn) en makgeolli (melk-ryswys) geniet het. Ook niks vreemd hier nie. Die enigste vrou in die groep het so dronk geraak dat sy nie regop kon bly nie en ons moes haar vergesel na haar huis toe. Op 'n stadium het sy besluit dat ons nou ver genoeg saam met haar geloop het, en is ons aangesê om terug te draai, sy sal self verder gaan. Ons het toe maak so gemaak. Halfpad oppad na die moltrein toe, bel sy en vra dat ons haar asseblief moet kom help, sy kan nie haar woonstel kry nie. Okay, so hierdie deel was bietjie vreemd, maar steeds nie die vreemdste deel nie. Die vreemdste deel het gebeur in die moltrein oppad huis toe. My afrigter neem my nuwe slimfoon by my hoor en soek na iets op YouTube. Uiteindelik kry hy dit en speel dit vir my. Dis een van sy gunsteling liedjies.



'n Baie vreemde ervaring.

My Korea -or- Why Am I in Korea?

 [Image Source]

I'm sometimes posed with the question, Why did I come to Korea? This question is not to be confused with why am I working abroad, but very specifically what made me choose this particularly country; why didn't I go to, say, Japan or Taiwan? Why Korea?

The answer is actually quite simple. Around 16 or so years ago I took up the martial art Taekwon-Do. My brother and I were actually searching for a kung-fu school—we were very much into kung-fu movies growing up. Quite accidentally we saw a flyer advertising Taekwon-Do and promoting it“as seen in Best of the Best.” We had seen the film and was impressed by the techniques we saw. Although it wasn't kung-fu, it was significantly different enough from Karate. We knew we were not interested in Karate. My brother and I attended a class and the rest, as far as me becoming a serious martial artist, is history.

In the version of Taekwon-Do that I do there are things called “teul,” translated into English as patterns. They are movements arranged into a sequences of attacks and defences against imaginary opponents. The purpose of teul is to teach you combinations of movements, certain ways of manoeuvring, fighting strategies, and so on. Each teul has a name with a special meaning somehow related to Korean culture and history. Some are named after historic figures like Korean kings, philosophers, scholars, freedom fighters; others are name after philosophical or ideological ideas that are part of Korean culture. It was inevitable, as I learned the teul and the people and things they represent, not to become enchanted by Korea.

Then one day my sister-in-law told me about the possibility of going to Korea. There were different options. One could go through a church organization as a teacher-missionary. Or you could go through an educational institute as a teacher—usually an English teacher. As soon as I had finished my master's degree I was on the plane to Korea.

[Image Source] It was nothing as I had imagined it. My imaginings were based on the Korean folk heroes I learned about in Taekwon-Do, media-based conceptions about the Far East, and readings of Oriental philosophy. After a year and a half in Korea, and with a black belt in another Korean martial art (Hapkido), I returned back to South Africa. Even while I sat on the aeroplane I knew that I was not yet finished with Korea. About a year later I returned to Korea once more.

In all, I have been in Korea for about four years now. The honeymoon phase is long over and I've been thoroughly disillusioned. I have an enigmatic love-hate relationship with this country. And while I think that my time here is slowly drawing to a close, I also know that as of yet, I am still not finished with it. Eventually, when I do depart, I know that I will always have strong ties with Korea. My Korea.

Kat Parsons

Photo by Dan Busta

I'm back from my trip to Thailand. It went by much to fast. In the days to follow I will relate some of my experiences there. But before I can do so, I have to share a nice experience that preluded it. I departed to Thailand the morning of the Sunday before last. The Saturday evening before my departure I went to the Hyatt Hotel in Seoul to say farewell to Kat Parsons and also hear her perform.



Kat and I corresponded by email a couple of months before this Saturday night. She was in Seoul and wanted to take up Taekwon-Do so I gave her the details for our dojang. She attended the morning classes. Since I work in the mornings, I never actually met her in person before that evening and now I'm quite disappointed that I didn't.

That Saturday night I went with our Taekwon-Do instructor and other students from our gym that used to train with Kat to the Hyatt where Kat worked as a musician -- singing and playing the piano. This was her last Saturday night performance before her return to the United States the following week (while I was in Thailand), and so ending her work-and-tour time in Asia.

I'm disappointed that this was our only time to meet as I felt an immediate connection with her. It might just be my wrongful interpretation of her "stage personality". With "connection" I'm not necessarily suggesting a romantic connection; rather a friendship connection that under other circumstances might have evolved in something more, or not. Who is to say what could or could not have happened? Whichever way it could have gone, it would still have been an enriching experience. Kat just has one of those "enriching" personalities. Our instructor told me that whenever Kat attended the classes the whole atmosphere became lighter and more energetic.

I realise, of course, that the fact that she is a singer attracts me to her. In my list of Most Kissable People I revealed my definite attraction to singers. It might have something to do with my earliest romantic experience. The first girl I kissed was a girl named Jackie. We were in Grade 1 or Grade 2. Jackie had a most wonderful singing voice and I think I was in love with her from the first moment I heard her sing. We both lived far from school and took the same bus home. Once we climbed underneath a bus seat and gave each other a kiss. Although the kiss was nothing more than a peck -- what does seven-years-olds know about kissing? -- it was a sweet experience. I often asked Jackie to sing to me. Maybe Kat with her beautiful dark flowing her, bright character and lovely voice reminded me of Jackie. Did I mention that she has a sexy mouth ... uhm ... voice?

Kat sang me one of my favourite songs -- Wonderwall by Oasis. I listed it once under ten of my favourite love songs.

Kat Parson's album "No Will Power" can be downloaded at iTunes. 

Pasop wat jy sê

Gisteraand gesels ek en my Taekwon-Do afrigter en die gesprek maak toe skielik ’n interesante draai. My afrigter waarsku my dat dit alweer verkiesingstyd is in Korea en met die huidige administrasie in plek moet ’n mens versigtig wees wat jy sê. Of meer spesifiek, moet “ek” versigtig wees. Die rede is omdat ek ’n hoë rang in ITF Taekwon-Do het. ITF Taekwon-Do word ook in Noord-Korea gedoen en die huidige regering het ’n aggresiewe houding teenoor Noord-Korea. Heksejagtery gebeur glo tydens hierdie tye wat aanloop na die stembus. Ek dink dit is heel belaglik omdat ek niks met Noord-Korea te maak het nie en is pertinent gekant teen die Noord-Koreaanse diktatorale regering.

Vanoggend toe lees ek ’n skrywe op die bekende Roboseyo-blog. (Roboseyo is een van die vooraanstaande blogs deur ’n uitlander in Korea.) Die skrywe handel oor vryheid van spraak in Korea. Soms vergeet ek dat Korea nog ernstige vryheid van spraak probleme het.

My afrigter is natuurlik reg in sy aanmatiging dat ek versigtig moet wees. Ek het ’n hoë aanlyn profiel as ’n skrywer van krygskunsverwante onderwerpe, en in besonder oor ITF Taekwon-Do. Verder is dit welbekend dat ek in Suid-Korea woonagtig is. Wie weet watse inligtiging daar omtrent my deur diverse groepe bymekaar gemaak word? Om hierdie rede vermy ek gewoonlik politieke en erg opinie gelaaide skrywes. Veral op hierdie blog. My onlangse skrywe was ’n uitsondering en was dalk ’n slegte skuif gewees.

Vir wat dit (in Afrikaans) werd is, ek is nie ’n spioen vir ’n kommunistiese agentskap nie. Maar indien ek was sou ek dit ook seker ontken het, sou ek nie? ’n Onskuldige verdenkinge kan net nie wen nie . . . 

To Accept a (Sincere) Gift

Last night something strange—uncomfortable—happened. My instructor paid me.

When I joined the ITF Taekwon-Do school in Seoul in 2008 I introduced myself to my instructor, sharing with him my Taekwon-Do history. When he heard that I have my own Taekwon-Do dojang in South Africa, and furthermore, that I am on the board of directors for the national governing body of Taekwon-Do in South Africa, he adamantly refused that I pay class fees. I tried to pay, but he would not accept my money.

So I decided to be an active member of the gym, “paying” through my service. I would occasionally teach a class and act as an assistant instructor. In the meantime I’ve become a regular instructor teaching a designated class once a week (focusing on self-defence). Sometimes I’m also approached to help with a little translation work and editing of material in English. I have also been appointed International Liaison Officer (the Korean title is: "International Cultural Exchange Officer") for ITF-Korea; basically, I help with correspondences that require a high degree of fluency in English on behalf of ITF-Korea. All of this I’ve done gladly; considering it my way of compensating for the luxury of getting quality instruction and training at the gym. These exertions have always been a small price to pay. Some might argue that I ought to at least get paid for the regular class I teach. After all, there are other outside instructors at the gym who teach grappling classes and whom are paid for their services by the gym, why shouldn’t I get paid? Well, while these outside instructors teach at the gym, they do not also train at the gym like me. Since I train there, I ought also to pay the approximate $100 per month, but I don’t. I train for free. Teaching, I’ve always believed, is my way of paying. In any case, I’m very passionate about teaching martial arts and would probably have begged him to teach a class in any case. Actually, if my normal workload was not so heavy, I would probably have insisted on teaching two weekly classes, instead of just one. (I've been teaching martial arts for over a decade. It has become such a part of my identity, that not to teach would just feel bizarre.) Besides, acting as an assistant instructor is the normal duty of any active black belt. In most martial arts it is expected of all senior ranks to willingly share their knowledge with lower ranks when training together.

Last night on our way home my instructor handed me an envelope. I peeked inside and saw that it contained money. I was shocked and refused to take it, explaining to him that since I do not pay class fees it is not necessary for me to be paid anything. He insisted and refused to take it back. Eventually I reluctantly conceded.

Sometimes, even if it makes you uncomfortable, one needs to accept gifts that are given sincerely. Not so much for your own sake, but for the sake of the other person who wishes to express their gratitude. By refusing the gift you are actually robbing them of the genuine joy of giving. The money still makes me feel unfomfortable and I haven't even checked how much is in the envelope. Yet I understand that my instructor wished to show his appreciation, and my heart is warmed by it.

'n Moeilike ding: skerm & kritiek ('n Koreaanse gevallestudie)

Verlede week het ek 'n moeilike ding gedoen. Ek het gedwonge gevoel om aan my instrukteur te noem dat ek nie heeltemal oortuig is dat een van sy assistente afrigters bekwaan is om 'n sekere klas afterig nie. "He gets hurt easily," het ek as motivering bygevoeg.

Ons krygskunsskool begin vanaand met 'n nuwe klas (elke Maandag-, Woensdag-, en Vrydagaand). Dit is 'n klas in staande skerm ("stand-up fighting"), gebasseer op skopboks, Muay Thai, Taekwon-Do, en boks. Die klasse gaan dis fokus op skerm ("sparring"). Die probleem is egter dat ek nie heeltemal seker is dat die bepaalde afrigter wat hierdie klasse gaan aanbied die hardheid het wat daarvoor nodig is nie. Met "hardheid" bedoel ek, dat hy hard getref kan word, dit van hom kan afskud en met 'n koelkop, sonder om sy humeur te verloor, kan aangaan om sy studente af te rig nie. Wanneer jy, as instrukteur, studente afrig gebeur dit dat die student soms met 'n goeie skoot deurkom en jou onverwags, en baie hard, tref. (Beginners het min selfbeheursing, so hulle kan nie altyd die krag van hulle tegnieke tem nie.)

Ek maak hierdie aantuiging teen die afrigter omdat ek al twee keer met hom geskerm het en hom seer gemaak het. Nie aspris nie; dit was bloot tegnieke wat in die hitte van 'n dinamiese skerm goed geland het. Een van die kere was meer spesifiek sy eie fout waartydens hy in my tegniek in gehardloop het. Elke keer, in my opinie, het sy reaksie getuig dat hy nie hard genoeg is nie. Om meer spesifiek te wees, hy kon omtrent nie met die klas verder aangaan nie. Nou wel, as jy 'n klas in skerm gaan afrig moet jy die kastyding kan verwerk en aangaan. Ek onthou eenkeer toe ek aan 'n toernooi deelgeneem het, het my opponent my in die keel geskop. Dit was skokkend en ek wou vir 'n wyle stop net om asem te skep. My eie afrigter was op daardie oomblik die skeidsregter. Hy het eenvoudig vir my gevra: "Is jy dood?" Toe ek "nee" sê, was sy reaksie, ". . . dan gaan aan," en het hy onmiddelik die geveg voortgesit. Hierdie ervaring was vir my 'n waardevolle les. 'n Les wat nodig is vir enige afrigter was skerm wil afrig.

Die rede hoekom dit vir my moeilik was om vir my instrukteur te sê dat ek nie seker is of die afrigter in staat is om daardie klas aan te bied nie, is tweedelig. Eerstens omdat dit in die Koreaanse kultuur 'n belediging kan wees teenoor die instrukteur. Dit is sy topstudent, wat hyself afgerig het, wie se kwalifikasie ek in twyfel trek. By implikasie betwyfel ek nie net die student nie, maar ook sy afrigter; naamlik, my instrukteur. Tweedens, betwyfel ek my afrigter se oordeel. In Korea is "saving face" baie belangrik en daarom sê 'n mens nie sommer vir iemand in hulle gesig dat hulle verkeerd is nie -- veral nie iemand wat jou senior is nie.

My instrukteur het dit gelukkig nie persoonlik opgeneem nie, en toe ek vir hom byvoeg dat die afrigter "gets hurt easily" het hy bloot begin lag, en gesê dat hy besig is om met hom te werk, en hom kweek vir daardie rol. Ek is bly dat ek en hy so 'n oop verhouding kan hê. Alhoewel hy tienjaar ouer is as ek en my instrukteur is, en ek al die nodige respekvorme teenoor hom handhaaf, stel hy my steeds aan mense voor as sy 친구 (gelyke vriend). In Korea kan iemand slegs jou 친구 wees indien die persoon van jou eie portuur is, menende jou eie ouderdom (let wel, nie ouderdomsgroep nie, maar in dieselfde jaar as jy gebore) en gewoonlik ook sosiale vlak.

Die skermklasse begin vanaand. Ek gaan slegs na hierdie krygskunsskool op Dinsdag- en Donderdagaande, so ek sal dit nie kan bywoon nie.