By: Kelly Chia, Staff Writer
On September 27, I mustered the courage to message SFU Kendo club president Michael Hong and ask to participate in a class. He readily invited me to practice the following Monday. I didn’t know what to expect, but when I walked into the East gym, I was ready to fulfil a childhood fantasy.
The SFU Kendo team practices in the East gym on Monday and Wednesday evenings at 7:30 p.m. Right now, masks and proof of vaccination are required to enter.
The instructor, David Chiu, who was referred to as sensei, called everyone into a circle to start warm ups. Former instructor Hirokazu Okusa, picking up on my nervousness, invited me into the circle along with everyone else. Chiu informed me that Okusa had retired, but still liked to come to practice as though nothing had changed. We all bowed to Okusa, as etiquette called for.
Modern Kendo originated in the Shotoku era. Kendo consists of three central components: sword handling, striking, and mental fortitude.
Okusa, 7th-dan, founded the club back in 2001. Hong and Chiu told me dan in Kendo refers to the rank and experience of the practitioner, starting from 1st-dan to 10th-dan, and only grades up to 8th-dan are awarded in a physical test.
As the advanced members, who were distinct in their navy hakama, gi, and bogu — their uniforms and armor — began to warm us up, I started to adjust to the flow of the class. With my shinai (a bamboo sword used for practice) in hand, Chiu taught me some basic etiquette. He stressed the importance of disciplined movements and respect between sparring partners.
When greeting your partner, three strides and eye contact are necessary. Chiu said these simple but controlled movements help to keep the sparring polite and limit hastiness. Then, you draw your sword and bow to initiate a fight. Lastly, at the end of the practice, you would thank your opponent in Japanese.
I found maintaining my focus a bit difficult at times. Holding myself up, and keeping my shinai pointed towards the centre of my body and away from the floor was no easy task. Gratefully, my partner helped me through this process.
After this, beginners were thrust into a series of footwork drills mirroring the movements of the advanced members. I learned to shuffle barefoot as I swung a sword, before moving on to target practice. Chiu taught us how to control and make our movements more precise, so our shinai didn’t waver on the target after it connected. My movements began to look sharper, and boy did my upper arms feel the effect.
I came away feeling impressed and excited about what I had learned. Being able to discipline my body and mind was extremely satisfying. Plus, it felt fantastic to strike with the shinai. When I approached the club members to ask why they joined, I found they were interested in the sport for similar reasons.
Some said they were inspired by anime. Others because their parents believed Kendo would help teach respect and manners.
Hong confessed it was “the feeling of fighting with a sword and reenacting the way of the samurai” that encouraged him to join.
Chiu told The Peak in an email interview he joined the SFU Kendo club to live out a childhood dream of fighting with a sword.
“Besides the obvious aspects of sword fighting, I discovered the inner purpose was personal development: etiquette, politeness, spirit, and emotional control,” he wrote.
“The sparring matches are about developing spirit and learning to deal with your emotions while trying to score points.” For a sport that has precision and discipline at its core, I found Kendo rewarding and fascinating. It was evident how much tradition was infused in the sport. I’m so thankful the club extended an invite for me to participate in a session.
The SFU Kendo club usually accepts new members at the beginning of the school term, but you can send an email to sfukendo@gmail.com if you have experience and are interested in joining.
