SEIDO KARATE
The Jamaican Experience
by Roger Thyer-Jones, Kyoshi, Seido UK Branch Chief
Jamaican Students circa 1974
Students often ask me about how I came to start in Seido Karate. The
following explanation may therefore be of interest not only to Seido students
but others who have followed similar paths. I apologise if my memory does not
faithfully recall every detail but I have done my best to relive those sparkling
times and found that some memories were as fresh today as they were in 1980. My
thanks to Kyoshi Tony Robinson, Seido Branch Chief Jamaica for reviewing the
text and reminding me of detail.
Never underestimate the impact that today's decisions have on your life
tomorrow. In 1981 life with my wife Michelle and three children Gareth, Alex and
Andrew was pleasant and comfortable. I was a civil servant and was also
responsible for running karate clubs in Kent with the Za Zen Karate Organisation
under Shihan Jon Alexander.
Aged 32, I found myself to be drifting languidly through life with an
underlying feeling that the challenges I faced were inadequate for my restless
spirit. In karate terms I felt that I had simply come to a halt in my
development. My technical skills were not advancing much and my mental approach
lacked focus and motivation. In short, after some 12 years training, including 4
years of Judo, I felt that I really knew little or nothing of real worth and
that karate was not the vehicle for development that I thought it to be. I was
unsure how to fill the gap.
Previously I had applied to work abroad. My wife too, felt the need to spread
her wings and break the conventional mode of our lives as she had sacrificed her
own career to raising our family. Out of the blue, I was offered a post abroad
for three years. We vividly recalled the sense of Sho Shin, new beginnings.
After hectic arrangements we were almost ready to leave but what to do about
my commitment to Za Zen. We had good instructors who could fill the gap and my
old friend Mike Knight offered to take over the running of the clubs in Kent. I
then made a personal decision. Once established in Jamaica with work and family,
I would find another Karate style and start again as a beginner: reappraise my
training.
What a country ! Leaving Kingston airport at night the roads were lined with
traders as we drove out of the airport leaving the ancient pirates haven of Port
Royale. small shacks selling spicy fish, exotic fruits and nuts, the BOOM of a
driving bass filling the night, smells of charcoal, burning tyres and the heavy
scent of blossom assailed the senses. Youngsters clamoured around the car when
it stopped at the lights thrusting small hands into it for small change - it was
hot and humid.
Settling in wasn't easy. I grappled with the demands of a new job and
Michelle sorted out our home life. We leaned heavily on each other experiencing
a different culture. Addictive music played yard style, supermarket shortages;
aggressive begging by young well built males stopping you on the street;
beautiful Jamaican women elegantly dressed like models leaving for work with
their proud and haughty stature; dreadlock rastas cool and aloof in their multi
coloured hats; cars and buses hurtling around corners cutting through
pedestrians like hot knives; you could often see youths on roller skates hanging
on to the min buses with one hand as they careered around corners ; cloudless
skies and hot balmy evenings; the smell of rain before it arrived and boiled
down from the mountains tumbling furiously through the gullies to flood the
streets in which boys splashed and played; tumbles and jumbles of memories.
Soon our lives had some rhythm and order to them and I decided that I would
visit some local karate clubs. On reflection, I started with the wrong attitude
as I didn't expect standards to be good. My first visit was to a school run by
Shotokan 3rd Dan who clearly knew his stuff. Students trained hard and the
standards were as good as anything I had seen in the UK. The Taekwondo school
was run by a Korean known as Mu Yee. He was just starting to establish his club
and had been a top referee and exponent in the Asian games.
I remember that he later married an American who had a first degree black
belt. She told me that he didn't think that her breaking skills were up to
standard and once locked her out of their house until she had broken the pile of
tiles and bricks left outside for her. She did break them but revenge was sweet
- she locked him out in a different way until he apologised - women always win
in the end! I trained with him for a while and learned a lot from it.
All the instructors I met were most helpful and friendly and I had many
offers to start training with them. A Jamaican friend told me that there was a
Seido karate club close to where I worked and I should take a look at it. I had
never heard of Seido and prejudged it as probably some half baked style but went
along to look one Monday evening.
What I saw knocked me sideways. The sheer energy and commitment was
breathtaking. I held a 4th degree grade but the green belts looked more skilled
than I did, and certainly fought harder. I looked at complex movements that I
never had encountered before. I really had the strongest feeling that this was a
place in which I could learn and grow. The respect within the dojo for students
and seniors underwrote the approach.
Inevitably I wondered If I would be in for a hard time as I was the only
white person training in the dojo. Would old perceived wrongs be taken out on
me. How much would I be tested to see if I would stay. Much went through my mind
as Sensei Errol Lyn asked me about my background and intentions before inviting
me to train with the dojo. Be there on Monday evening.
Monday came and I felt both excited and anxious I had no illusions about the
road ahead and although the Seido structure seemed different I felt that at
least I had some knowledge to see me through. It wasn't hard to feel like a
beginner !
The first step, however, showed me that my decision to train was a sound one.
I was put with a green belt and shown Seido basics which didn't seem too bad. I
struggled, however, to keep up with the pushups done on first or second knuckles
. A soft kumite session left me feeling the pace and feeling like a target.
Students were friendly to me in the locker room but I couldn't understand the
fast patois as they shouted to each other. This was my first taste of what it
felt like to be an outsider and it focused my mind on how others dealt with this
every day of their lives.
So, training with Seido became a regular part of my life. I recall so many
strong images even now: the intense heat of the summer, hot and humid as sweat
ran down your forehead onto your nose forming pools at your feet leaving
stinging eyes; the thud thud thud of fist striking the makiwara on the metal
posts which burned with heat; the closeness of the bodies in kumite fighting
hard and hurting; men of strength and sinew powerful and determined; the back
and hand slapping after an intense session when I could barely raise a smile or
even walk out of the dojo; warming ups in the gardens heavy with the scent,
flowers bright red and green; Senpai James Crooks who soaked up information from
me like sponge asking for instruction on bo and jo; the influence of Sensei
Errol Lyn who never raised his voice but guided and suggested in such a balanced
way that 100% effort was unthinkable; magical training camps in the Blue
Mountains outside Kingston with dormitories smelling of wood smoke in a valley
where the heavy and heady coffee beans wafted; plunges into the icy pool beneath
the waterfall, so cold that your body instantly froze squeezing your insides;
the quiet meditations by the stream listening to a chorus of birds chattering;
Senpai Oscar bearing down on my with a shinai, intense and focused; the laughter
in the evening as we performed skits and entertained each other.
I recall that the journey home from one of these camps was an interesting
experience. We were driving around mountain paths when our convoy was stopped at
a tortuous bend by aggressive and threatening men.
I was told to stay in the car as club members got out including " Dirty
Harry" a tall, lean and rangy student with legs like steel coils. Tension
hung in the air as insults were traded and threats were made but the men backed
down and let the convoy pass. No mercy for travellers on that route if you were
unprepared but the students just laughed it off- I can still see the gleam on
those machetes dangling in long arms as they watched us drive away...
So bit by bit, after 12 months regular training I felt that I was becoming
part of the dojo. I had adapted to the heavy contact style of fighting which was
so different from the style I was used to - reasonably controlled points
fighting. Kumite sessions involved face and body contact and it wasn't unusual
for students to end up in hospital; grappling was permitted if you went down.
Sometimes I would go home after a kumite session and Michelle would say that I
looked like I had been run over- she wondered if I was being a target but I
assured her that everyone looked like me in the locker room !
Enquiring further into the history of Seido Karate I learned that our Chief
Instructor was none other than Shihan Tadashi Nakamura, Mas Oyama’s top
student and famed for having won a Thai boxing championship for Japan as well as
completing the 100 man kumite. A formidable master.
It all started to make sense to me as I appreciated the roots of Seido
through the Kyokushin tradition and I learned that Shihan Nakamura had formed
Seido in 1976 following a break with Kyokushin (The Human Face of Karate
described as an excellent martial arts book is well worth a read and gives
Kaicho Nakamura’s history and philosophy).
It was about 2 years later that Sensei Lyn hosted the West Indies Open
Invitation Karate Tournament to beheld in the New Kingston Hotel. In view of my
previous experience he asked me to act as Chief Referee, a job I have to say I
was not looking forward to, but accepted.
Many styles competed on the day and the standards were high. The fighting was
fast and furious with Kung Fu exponents leaping in the air with red sashes
twirling to show off their kicks whilst the more down to earth Shotokan and Wado
styles relied on those old friends, sweep, front kick and reverse punch to get
them through.
After a gruelling day we came to the finals in the evening and I recall my
impressions of that highly charged and volatile time.
You need to understand that crowds in Jamaica are scary. Everyone has a
strong opinion which is shouted, God help you if you penalise a crowd favourite.
People run down to the ring and bang it if they want to make a point, or stand
on chairs. The whole scene is noisy, colourful and electric. It can feel
dangerous.
Against this background I started the women's final - I don't recall the
styles they represented but one woman was heavyweight running at about 220lbs
and the other lighter at about 170. Both meant business.
The opening round saw both ladies feinting to draw the opponent and look for
openings, so far so good.
Then Miss Heavy lashed out with a front kick that caught miss Light in the
stomach but she immediately followed with a reverse punch to the head - Ippon !
Miss Light moved around the ring still feinting and waited for Miss heavy to try
the same thing which she did but this time but Miss Light beat her to the draw
with a roundhouse kick that was solid to the face but well controlled. Ippon.
Miss Heavy thought that she had been hit too hard and complained to me but
the crowd booed her down and I told her to fight.
You could almost see the red mist coming down as she used her weight to sweep
the front foot of Miss Light and she could have scored well but chose to,
Jamaican speak "shot her a box " catching her on the jaw.
Warning and half a point deducted but the crowd were well
warmed up by now and I could hardly hear myself speak.
I called them together and lectured both of them about control - fierce gazes
and muttering was all the response I got.
Restart and both circled with a couple of clashes but no point - suddenly
Miss heavy dashed in and threw a mae geri which hit too low, not deliberately in
my opinion, just misjudgement and I warned her to keep her kicks up- oh oh:
Miss Light had had enough and lost control. Heated by the blow she threw a
back fist reverse punch combination that smacked Miss Heavy straight in the
mouth, split her lip and the blood was flowing.
I immediately disqualified Miss Light and the crowd went crazy - they liked
the underdog and liked Miss Light even more. Quite a bit of booing went on and I
felt exhausted but still had the men’s open final to do.
I spoke to Sensei and asked if he was happy for me to carry on in view of the
crowd's reaction, He suggested that I get the microphone and explain the
decision to them which I did-things settled down a bit.
But before the open weight final I had the men’s heavyweight to do. This
was a really interesting contest with the Seido finalist who had only one arm,
and a Shotokan exponent.
After the bout began it was apparent to me that the Shotokan man was not
giving his best and was patronising the Seido man. It was almost as if he felt
that he felt sorry for his opponent. I stopped the fight and spoke to him. I
pointed out that, however, well meaning, it was an insult not to try a 100% and
the man who battled to get to this final needed no favours. I said that I would
disqualify the Shotokan man for lack of fighting spirit and tell the crowd this.
After that, sparks flew with fast roundhouse kick and hook kick combinations
from the Seido man pitted against the deep stances and powerful reverse punches
of his opponent. A 30 second sudden death extension saw the Shotokan man win the
match with an excellent uraken/gyaku tsuke combination. Both men appreciated
each others commitment and I felt that I had been through 10 rounds myself by
then.
The men’s open weight final was eagerly awaited and was a David and Goliath
match. The Seido man was small and fast whilst his opponent was about 6'
2", heavy set and muscular.
It proved to be a fascinating contest. The big man unleashed top heavy front
kicks that seemed they would cut you in half seeking to follow up with a strong
reverse punch whilst the smaller man jinked and ducked around the ring, looking
for openings, circling both ways then suddenly jumping face high and letting go
reverse punches. The crowd loved it and were shouting, evenly split on the
contest.
After a roundhouse kick failed to connect the Seido man jumped and threw a
reverse back spin kick that was out of the movies- clean score. The crowd were
standing on the chairs as he took the lead.
Suddenly the lead was evened as the big man feinted a front kick and cleverly
used the same leg to sweep away his opponent's back lack immediately following
up with a reverse punch as he hit the canvass. Whilst the Seido man jumped up I
could see that the kick had bitten into his calf muscle and he was having to
protect his leg, his mobility was at risk.
He knew that he had to win and quickly so summoning his spirit he created an
opening and flew at the man using roundhouse kicks to the ribs and fierce face
punches. The noise was deafening and the fight seemed to me to be in slow
motion- I seemed to float detached from the scene before me but seeing every
move, almost before it happened. This had never happened to me previously and
was strange.
The opponent was forced into the corner but he was taking all the blows on
his shins and arms - no score and I separated the pair. The Seido man was tiring
fast having hoped to score and his opponent sensed his weakness, feinted with a
jab and immediately swept him catching him with a good reverse punch as he lost
balance. Time. Both threw their arms around each other and the crowd applauded
wildly for the contestants. I congratulated winner and loser and was never more
happy to get out of the ring.
Sensei Lyn kindly presented me with a trophy for my efforts and as I bent to
collect it, I asked him to ensure that he wouldn't ask me again ! He smiled.
I learned a lot from that tournament and have some idea of how top boxing
referees feel under intense public scrutiny. The memories are quite vivid.
So time rolled on. The political situation in Jamaica stabilised with the
Prime Minister, Mr Seaga gaining support from the US for his policies. Food and
drink was plentiful and the post election tenseness lightened. Tourist started
to appear and they are the life blood of Jamaica.
The white sands of Negril, the splendid vivid contrasts of a blue blue sea
and green land in Portland, home of Noel Coward’s magnificent villa with
astonishing views of the island; the cascading water falls of Dunns River and YS
falls that are hard to bear for beauty, Jamaica has it all.
Three years had passed quickly and we were shortly due to leave Jamaica and
return to the UK. I remember after training one evening with Senpai James Crooks
that he asked me what I was doing on Sunday in 4 weeks time. I told him that I
had arranged to take party to climb the Blue Mountain peak overnight on Friday,
getting back on Saturday. He advised me to cancel it. Why I asked ? He said that
I would need all my strength for Sunday morning as he had been told to invite me
to take my Shodan (1st degree black belt) in Seido.
I was speechless. I had trained with the club without thought of advancement,
content just to train.. I knew much of the syllabus but not to the level needed.
I expressed my thoughts. Senpai said that the committee knew this and were more
concerned with my spirit- gaps could be worked on and I still had 4 weeks to
measure up.
A problem struck me. I couldn't let the party down for the Blue Mountain
climb so I would have to do both - no way out.
So I prepared as best I could during those four weeks trying to cram the
extensive syllabus into my mind - students helped me at the dojo and things
started to come together.
On the Friday, our party met at 5.00pm and drove up to the base camp at the
foot of the mountains which are over 6,000 feet high. We left the cars and
walked to the old wooden staging hut where we had paid for some accommodation ,
bunk beds, until we left to walk at around 1.30 a.m. The hut was basic and you
could hear some largish rats scurrying about- sleep was difficult and we dozed
until it was time to leave.
We had torches but the night was black and as we walked down to the path that
starts the climb, I lost my bearings and missed the small opening. After about15
minutes I realised my mistake and turned back much to general barracking from
the group. Great start !
We also had out eldest son Gareth aged 9 with us and we began the 4/5 hour
walk to the summit. The party started to flag a bit towards the end and Michelle
kept on asking me how far we were away from the top to which my "almost
there" wore thin on her. Finally I coaxed her to the top at about 5.00 am.
It was cold on the summit and the little hut built on the top lay heavy with
ganja smoke of the overnighters as a slow fire burned in the hearth.
Suddenly the clouds parted and a magnificent blazing golden sun against a
blue blue background filled the dawn giving us a view of the island that was
unsurpassed. It was gone as fast as it came and that magical moment gave way to
thin rain.
Slowly we made our way down to the bottom almost losing the kids at one point
when they ran ahead and got lost - easy to do so up there.
Arriving home about midday I was tired and as I soaked in the bath I thought
that the very last thing I want to take on Sunday is a promotion !
AWAKE ! LOOK TO THIS DAY AS IT IS LIFE, THE VERY LIFE OF LIFE....With those
familiar butterflies fluttering in my stomach I arrived at the dojo on a cool
Sunday morning at about 6.30 am. Mr Chin, the caretaker, an elderly gentleman,
endlessly polite greeted me. Sensei Lyn, Senpais Tony Robinson and Oscar Lawson,
the two dojo hit men, greeted me in good humour. Sensei told me that I was to
take promotion with another student who couldn't speak. We eyed each other
nervously and went to change acknowledging the banter of the black belts as the
dojo slowly filled up.
I had no idea what the grading would entail and my mind flew trying to go
through the endless combinations until I cried, ENOUGH and banished thought.
Just take one step at a time, don't dwell on mistakes and remember, technique
before strength, spirit before technique I told myself.
We lined up and completed the formalities - I don't remember much about that
really and it is difficult to recall the barrage of demands, pushups, yakusoku
kumite, kihon kumite, self defences, push ups and more push up, kata, left
start, right, reverse it all blurred. I wasn't as sharp as I had hoped but
managed to hold my end up - my companion really knew his stuff and was taking a
bit more heat than me. We were allowed a drink break after a couple of hours
before the kumite.
"Put your stuff on " said Sensei and we donned the kumite
equipment. I shook hands with my partner, shared a drink with him and we kneeled
at the dojo entrance awaiting our invitation. The dojo at that time was open
sided and the sun was starting to heat the roof which was covered in corrugated
iron. I closed my eyes and cleared my mind.
I deliberately didn't look at the numbers or the fighters knowing that
however many, I could only fight one at a time. The shock of the first bout
broke any illusions of a measured warm up when my opponent uppercut me , swept
me and bounced me off the dojo floor onto the 2ft drop outside. I climbed back
in and thought that anything went and I had better be prepared.
I was rough and it got rougher. I think that it was about the 12th fight when
it happened. My companion was faring no better than me as even though he could
move fast he was relentlessly cornered and made to fight his ground. My next
opponent was last years club champion - tall and rangy with whip like kicks - I
knew him well and was relishing this fight. He threw quite a few slow kicks
gauging my tactics and then shot out a yoko geri towards my ribs on the right.
I saw it coming and thought that I had angled my body enough to deflect it
with my right arm but no. I misjudged the block and met the kick at right
angles. I felt the impact as the ulnar snapped about 4 inches above the wrist
and I automatically changed sides to protect myself.
I was fighting with one hand now but didn't feel much pain when Sensei Lyn
called for a halt. He examined my arm and asked me how I was: I knew the arm was
broken as I could feel the bones grinding. I asked him if I could strap the arm
up and continue. He wanted me to stop but I felt bloody minded and was
determined to carry on.
So we strapped the arm up and continued. Even now I can't believe how foolish
this was and I would never permit my own students to do the same thing as long
term injury could well ensue, apart from the dangers of internal bleeding, but
sometimes these things happen.
Sensei Lyn told all the students to fight me with one hand and to avoid the
arm - If I had thought that there would be a sympathy vote I was wrong. Students
just continued as before and punched hard with one arm or kicked to the stomach
or head. How I survived is still a mystery to me as I really don't remember
anything except the endless bouts.
Finally the kumite was over and I thought that the grading was as well but
no. Exhausted we both were told to complete Sanchin kata as student tested us
with our eyes closed- those thigh kicks were not the thing we really wanted but
we completed the kata breathing hard and raggedly. In all honesty my body felt
mostly numb and no bit felt worse than any other, including my arm.
"Last fight" Sensei Lyn said and I thought that he must be joking -
we could both barely stand up but the last fight was against each other.
We must have looked a comic sight was we circled each other surrounded by
black belts - my companion was the last person I wanted to fight but I thought
that if I attacked hard to his centre then it would be over. I remember feinting
with a left jab and as he walked forward just throwing myself to the right to
deliver a back kick to his stomach - I misjudged the kick and instead my leg
arced around in circle at head height and hit him straight in the face- blood
exploded from his mouth and he dropped to the ground with me feeling dreadful
for causing him injury. I was so tired that I dropped to one knee whilst others
helped him up and he got to his feet. We sort of collapsed against each other.
There are no photographs of the end of that promotion and I am glad of it.
What picture we would have presented is hard to imagine but all the black belts
congratulated us warmly and there was a great atmosphere in the dojo as Sensei
Lyn tied our new belts onto us - quite frankly they were the only things holding
us up !
Sensei wanted to take me to the hospital but I said that I would sort it out.
I simply wanted to get home before I did anything else. I remember driving
myself home in a daze and more or less falling through the door clutching my
black belt. I didn't tell Michelle about my broken arm but just said that it was
a bit damaged. I decided to leave it to the next day before I went to the
hospital, again a poor decision, but I just collapsed into the bath and then bed
having take some pain killers.
It was a rough night but in the morning I felt reasonably OK and went to
hospital where they set the arm. I was determined to be back in the dojo on
Monday night to train but when I got there, Sensei Lyn wouldn't let me and after
explaining to the class what happened, he advised me to rest.
It took three months for the arm to heal but I never stopped training and
even learned to play squash with my left hand - not a great game but satisfying.
So we were approaching the end of our stay in Jamaica and on my last night at
the club, Senpai James Crooks helped me perform a sword display to mark my
departure which was well received. The club generously gave me gifts which I
cherish now. I grew up there in so may ways and learned much about myself and
others. I am grateful to my Jamaican brothers and sisters for their time and
effort in helping my development. As I review this, it sounds hard and rough,
and indeed it was, but it was the same for everyone. There were no favours or
favourites in the dojo and your skill and spirit marked you out. I know that I
was protected on occasions from serious injury as some of the fighters in the
dojo were simply astounding but they looked after me in their own way.
We left Jamaica in 1984 and headed for New York which was the first
opportunity I had to meet Kaicho Nakamura, founder of the World Seido Karate
Organisation, who knew of me through Sensei Lyn. I have to say that I was
impressed with the dojo and facilities - beautifully cared for with a golden
burnished floor sweeping down to the Seido calligraphy that adorned the shinzen.
So many students and so many black belts.
After Kaicho had got to know me we discussed my future. I wanted to continue
training in Seido but there were no UK clubs. Kaicho suggested a compromise. He
was satisfied with my commitment and thought that my previous experience in
managing dojos would stand me in good stead to open the first Seido dojo in the
UK.
I was surprised as normally Shodan is insufficient a rank to merit the honour
but gratified that he thought that I could take on the responsibility. He said
that I would need to come over to Honbu every year to receive instruction and to
correct my faults.
I discussed the commitment with my wife Michelle and agreed to take on the
challenge.
On return to the UK we spent some time looking for a new place to live and
finally settled on Buckinghamshire, the Hughenden Valley near High Wycombe.
Shortly after settling our family I began to look for a suitable hall and
applied to the Hughenden Committee to open up a dojo in their premises. They
supported the request and I advertised.
First night, one student, now Senpai Stuart Wilson who is one of my senior
instructors and has been with me since 1984.
Perseverance was essential during those early days, not worrying about
numbers but concentrating on giving the best tuition you could. Now we have
three dojos in High Wycombe, three in Dover and one in London but I recall those
early days with much affection and never lost the belief that Seido, which
Kaicho often calls " The Human face of Karate" was a way that I could
fully commit to for the rest of my life. I have not been wrong.
Osu.
Kyoshi Roger | 
