In Search of Arnis

I must admit, I was not enthused with Arnis while growing up in the central Philippine island of Negros; an island which I lately discovered was home to two masters of Arnis lineages. On rare occasions I witnessed it got demonstrated, my impression was of a fun, generally silly but infective fighting technique. I assumed that arnisadors will feel naked in a fight without their bastons or knives. If I have to worry about the length of my stick, or the availability of one during a confrontation, then for me, it is not worth the bother.

In retrospect, there were many reasons that influenced my view. Back then, it was not the popular sport that it is today. It was secretive and is taught in few places. Travelling for two hours to attend an hour of training seems not worth the effort. There was also limited drive to endear it to the public. I discovered lately that the proponents of modern Arnis was from the island where I grow up and that of Pekiti Tirsia Kali originated from Panay, my maternal home.  Sadly, these traditions were lost on me back then.

I once saw it exhibited at school. The skinny and pimply teenager who executed the moves was lacking in general appeal. His unpopularity with girls further doomed the art to me. It created the formative view that; arnis is for emaciated boys who can’t get girls because they spent too much time playing with their sticks, the rattan kind that is.

I was, like many in my generation, enamoured and captivated by foreign fighting techniques; Kung-Fu, Karate, Aikido, Judo and grudgingly Taekwondo. How can one, not be beguiled by the charisma of Bruce Lee, the cheekiness of Jacky Chan nor the perfectly rotund buttocks of Jean Claude Van Damme while displaying a split? If it is good enough for them, then they are certainly good enough for me. Later, I found out that Bruce Lee adopted Arnis as the armed fighting component of Jeet Kune Do, an irony perhaps that he has to learn it from a Filipino.

But the grass, as they say, is always green at the other side. To me, Arnis was a denuded, unloved, pitiful hill compared to the tropical greenery that was foreign martial arts. Lately, the exotic nature of Muay Thai and Silat enthralled me to more foreign martial arts, further relegating Arnis to the back of my consciousness as something inferior.

That was, until a few months ago.

For sometime now, I have been reflecting on the fighting techniques I like my children, both girls, to be proficient in. Call it an insurance policy, in an unpredictable world. I like them to be charming when needed and potent when the situation requires. I certainly do not want them to suffer at the hands of any man or woman- hence the need to learn how to fight. I want them to be able to dominate their husbands, as husbands needed to be put in their places everynow and then, either by charm or force.

It is not just a flowery technique I am looking for. I wanted something practical and most importantly, effective in a combat situation. I wanted something unburdened by the need to look great, but by the simplicity of execution. And I want it to be both weapon and non weapon based.  I am of the weapons based persuasion. In an actual fight, somebody with a weapon, even if it is just a rolled magazine, has the upper hand. This paternal musings of children learning to depend themselves led me to reconsider my misguided view of Arnis. It will give them the chance to learn a practical art yet reconnect with their heritage, an added value.

But how does one do this when one live abroad and in my case outside of London, where gyms are a plenty catering to all sorts of martial arts. Ironically, brain drain and global migration came to my rescue. I discovered that a Filipino acquaintance is an Aikido instructor and is also a modern Arnis aficionado certified by the modern Arnis governing body in the Philippines.  Unfortunately, he is not teaching children and I am trying to convince him to do so by forming a charity to make this a reality sometime in the future.

I was then compelled to embrace Arnis, to determine if it truly has merits and good for my children, so I enrolled in the class. In the event my acquaintance, the master, can’t teach children, I have resolved to do it myself, after I know how to do it of course. What to me was a taster turned out to be a revelation. I was indeed misguided about Arnis and was looking to foreign fighting influence for something exciting that was just at my doorsteps.

With anticipation, I attended two sessions during both of which I had to borrow rattan sticks from my instructors and classmates. The master was a kind and funny man, who was patient enough to accept near hopeless cases as myself. The gym was a humble looking place, a disused plant nursery behind a halal shop. Two classes were held on Tuesday every week; an earlier Aikido class after which our merry bunch of father escaping house on a Tuesday evening, huff and puff to our hearts content while pretending to hit each other with a 26 inch tropical vine.

To my surprise, I discovered what most men in their 40s already knew, the painful effects of exercise on an ageing body. What was once a flexible vessel used to cycling 56 kilometres across London daily for 3 years, became a calcified stiff mass that can barely cope up and in much need of rest every 10 minutes. I realised that fatherhood and the regime of an 8-12 hours sedentary work in front of the computer is not a recipe for health. The latter will be the death of me.

I also discovered, to my surprise, Arnis was not what I thought it to be. Arnis is like the ugly duckling that turned out to be a graceful swan of a martial art. It is like the dark skinned village girl you ignored over a chinita. Years later she turned out to be a successful beautiful women living in Paris while the chinita of your youth became; fat, ugly and bitter. The moves were simple yet potent. There is a certain fluidity of motion and I was able to get in touch with the natural rhythm akin to my agrarian upbringing. Arnis is a martial of the masses, for common people, something that suits my temperament well.

With the realisation comes regret, of how I let this unassuming martial art elude me. I could have spent years learning about its intricate moves and intimate contours. I have wasted time by not taking on this art earlier. All is not lost however, by embracing it late in life, I realised that this truly is one of the fighting arts I like my children to master for 10 years.

with modern Arnis master Eric Amada