Chapter 3. Hachi ... Shichi - we are going backwards!

Bitten by the bug, I was now officially a karate afficionado … an addict. After just one class!

I had talked my friend into joining with me. So now it was Floyd and I taking the drive to Mission; twice weekly. Once driven by my parents, the other by his. One class taught by Graham or Isy, the other by Greg.

We had only been in the club a few weeks, and the grading day arrived. If I recall properly it was always around the time of the birth or death of a man called Funakoshi!  Always around April and November. I had started in the March. Quite how or why Floyd and I were placed on that floor and allowed to grade I do not know, but we were.  It was proven to be a great motivational experience, and although looking back it was inevitable we would pass in order to keep our interest, we did not know it at that time. We were, to say the least, terrified!

Two young boys amongst a group of older people, mainly adult men, having to take some sort of skill test. Would we have to fight these men? Would we get hurt?

There was Isy, Graham Tom, Doug, and a man called Ed. I saw Greg walk in with two older men. One was a large looking man (I think is name was Bob), the other a small Japanese man who was, I learned, the 'sensei'. He was Hiroo Yamashiro from the Powell Street Karate Academy. This was the man who would make the decision as to whether or not I stayed a white belt, or unbelievably improbable as it seemed get awarded a yellow belt.

We all did our grading. We punched and did some simple blocks and kicks. I can still remember just about getting through Heian Shodan without falling over or turning the wrong way. Luckily we did not have to fight the men, just do some simple stepping exercises blocking and punching at each other.

I still vividly remember being given the grade of 8th Kyu - I was now the proud owner of a yellow belt! Floyd also passed, as did everyone else.

What made me most proud that night was watching Isy and Graham being promoted to brown belt! My teachers were almost black belts now!

We were treated to a demonstration by Yamashiro sensei and Bob. Co-incidentally there was an awful lot of throwing going on! This slightly confused me as much of what was happening looked like Judo. But Yamashiro sensei was so fast when he moved, I probably missed half of the punches or kicks he threw, and just saw Bob rolling around the floor. Their kiais made me laugh (a little) as they were so 'showy' but that demonstration just served to make me even more hooked. I had been reeled in like a fish on the end of a rod!

I remember going to Isy's house after the grading and sitting on the floor listening, with awe, to Yamashiro sensei speaking. He spoke to me, and told me that 'karadi' as I called it was actually 'kara tay'. He told me what the word meant, and made me promise to keep training and try hard. He regaled me with stories of training in Japan, and I guess I must have looked like the audience in front of a magician.

The training from Graham, Isy and Greg continued. Other brown belt men started to come from Vancouver too. One was a large Scotsman named Howard, and the other a small Chinese man named Mitchell. Now these guys were good! Seriously good. The Vancouver brown belts were incredible, at least to my mind! Not to say that Isy and Graham were not good, but these  guyshad something different. I was too young to realise that the difference was experience and constant training, but I looked forward to their visits over the next year!

My yellow became orange six months later. My confidence grew, and bizarrely the bullying rapidly stopped.

Another six months or so passed and Greg made an announcement about a special visitor coming to the dojo. I did not really understand too much of it. But I could feel a palpable tension in the air. Something was happening and it was big.

The next week when Greg came I was watching for his dark blue VW Beetle. Actually I couldn't miss it, the sound of the engine was unmistakable. I liked that car, especially the cool karate logo in Japanese writing that he had on the rear window!

The beetle roared into the car park (I know an exaggeration – but I was perhaps13 years old) and out of the car exited a slim and very stern looking Japanese man. He was not jovial or round like Yamashiro sensei. He did not smile. I was surprised to see him smoking a cigarette. He was young, fit, and looked very scary! Who the heck was he? Why was he here? Was there another examination?

We were introduced to Hidetada Narumi. I recall that his hair was quite wavy, and he had a caterpillar under his nose! He came into the dojo in his do-gi, and the rest of my karate life was about to change. This man was totally different. He was not fast like Yamashiro sensei. He was lightening fast! And when he counted he shouted. And to top it all off, when we did not move to his liking he whacked the floor with a funny looking bamboo sword. What the hell was this?

At the end of the session I learned that our dojo was now part of the new Vancouver dojo on West Hastings near Abbott Street; near the Woodward's building. The Powell street dojo was no longer spoken of, it just seemed to fade out of our conversations. I would hear of that dojo again, but for the meantime there was only one karate instructor spoken about - Narumi. His name was ‘sensei’. His assistant was called ‘bumper stick!’

My third step towards a new life was about to be taken ... entering the blue painted room up a flight of stairs across from the Woodward's building that was Narumi sensei's dojo ... the Shiseikai … but first there was a major obstacle yet to overcome!