by the play of lightning. I unrolled my mattress by the hearth and eventually went to sleep.
* * *
I was awakened by a series of short, abrupt screams. For a few seconds I had no idea where I was. I rose from the mattress and slid open the latticed door. The sun was just hauling itself up from the other side of the world. The sky was still covered with clouds pared thin by the winds and there was a palpable sense of freshness in the air; even the waves hitting the shore sounded crisp and clean.
He was in a clearing beneath the trees, his hands gripping the sword I had noticed the night before. It rose up in an arc described by his hands and descended swiftly, soundlessly, followed by his sharp cry. He was clothed in white robes and a pair of black trousers that looked more like a skirt. He looked very alien and very impressive.
He took no notice of me although I knew he was aware of my scrutiny. The air seemed to vibrate as he slashed, stabbed, sliced, and whirled around the clearing. He had placed a circle of thick bamboo trunks around him and now, in one single motion, the sword cut and the sticks of bamboo fell one after the other. The blade was so sharp there was not even the sound of a crack as it sliced them.
The sky was bright when he finished. His clothes were wet and perspiration made his silver hair shine. He beckoned to me to approach.
“Hit me.”
I hesitated, looking at him uncertainly, wondering if I had heard correctly.
“Go on. Hit me,” he said again in a tone that gave me no choice but to obey.
I launched my fist into his face, using the punch that had stood me in good stead at school whenever I had been called a mongrel half-breed and which had provoked quite a few parental complaints.
I found myself lying on the dew-soaked grass a moment later, my breath knocked out of me. My back felt sore, even though the ground was soft. He pulled me to my feet, his hand firm and strong. There was a look of amusement on his face as he saw my anger. He held up a placatory hand and said, “Come. Let me show you how to do that.”
He asked me to hit him again— slowly. As my fist was about to connect with his face he deftly stepped aside and came closer to me. His arm rose up and met mine; with a spiraling motion he guided my hand away, gripped my throat from behind, spun my unbalanced body around and brought me to the ground. Then he let me do it to him, and after several attempts I managed to throw him off his feet. I was enthralled.
“What did you feel?” he asked.
“As though everything came together when I threw you,” I answered him as best I could. If I had wanted to sound pretentious I could have told him it felt as if the earth and I were spinning in harmony. But he seemed happy and satisfied with my reply.
He continued teaching me until it was almost noon. By then I was feeling quite hungry.
“Do you want to continue learning?” he asked.
I nodded. He told me to come again the following day. As we rowed back to the shore he said, “You must be made aware that the teacher, in accepting a pupil, takes on a heavy responsibility. The pupil, in return, must be prepared to commit himself fully. There can be no uncertainty, no second thoughts. Are you able to give me this?”
I stopped rowing as we approached the beach and considered his warning. The sun was hot, breaking onto the surface of the sea, casting shadows and bracelets of white light onto the seabed, making the tidal patterns of sand undulate like heat mirage. I felt that he was telling me more than what was being said, even though I could not catch a firm grasp of the complete picture. I was certain of one thing though. I wanted what he could offer me, and so I nodded.
* * *
I spent the rest of the day thinking about this strange person who had entered my life. The school term had finished for the summer
* * *
I was awakened by a series of short, abrupt screams. For a few seconds I had no idea where I was. I rose from the mattress and slid open the latticed door. The sun was just hauling itself up from the other side of the world. The sky was still covered with clouds pared thin by the winds and there was a palpable sense of freshness in the air; even the waves hitting the shore sounded crisp and clean.
He was in a clearing beneath the trees, his hands gripping the sword I had noticed the night before. It rose up in an arc described by his hands and descended swiftly, soundlessly, followed by his sharp cry. He was clothed in white robes and a pair of black trousers that looked more like a skirt. He looked very alien and very impressive.
He took no notice of me although I knew he was aware of my scrutiny. The air seemed to vibrate as he slashed, stabbed, sliced, and whirled around the clearing. He had placed a circle of thick bamboo trunks around him and now, in one single motion, the sword cut and the sticks of bamboo fell one after the other. The blade was so sharp there was not even the sound of a crack as it sliced them.
The sky was bright when he finished. His clothes were wet and perspiration made his silver hair shine. He beckoned to me to approach.
“Hit me.”
I hesitated, looking at him uncertainly, wondering if I had heard correctly.
“Go on. Hit me,” he said again in a tone that gave me no choice but to obey.
I launched my fist into his face, using the punch that had stood me in good stead at school whenever I had been called a mongrel half-breed and which had provoked quite a few parental complaints.
I found myself lying on the dew-soaked grass a moment later, my breath knocked out of me. My back felt sore, even though the ground was soft. He pulled me to my feet, his hand firm and strong. There was a look of amusement on his face as he saw my anger. He held up a placatory hand and said, “Come. Let me show you how to do that.”
He asked me to hit him again— slowly. As my fist was about to connect with his face he deftly stepped aside and came closer to me. His arm rose up and met mine; with a spiraling motion he guided my hand away, gripped my throat from behind, spun my unbalanced body around and brought me to the ground. Then he let me do it to him, and after several attempts I managed to throw him off his feet. I was enthralled.
“What did you feel?” he asked.
“As though everything came together when I threw you,” I answered him as best I could. If I had wanted to sound pretentious I could have told him it felt as if the earth and I were spinning in harmony. But he seemed happy and satisfied with my reply.
He continued teaching me until it was almost noon. By then I was feeling quite hungry.
“Do you want to continue learning?” he asked.
I nodded. He told me to come again the following day. As we rowed back to the shore he said, “You must be made aware that the teacher, in accepting a pupil, takes on a heavy responsibility. The pupil, in return, must be prepared to commit himself fully. There can be no uncertainty, no second thoughts. Are you able to give me this?”
I stopped rowing as we approached the beach and considered his warning. The sun was hot, breaking onto the surface of the sea, casting shadows and bracelets of white light onto the seabed, making the tidal patterns of sand undulate like heat mirage. I felt that he was telling me more than what was being said, even though I could not catch a firm grasp of the complete picture. I was certain of one thing though. I wanted what he could offer me, and so I nodded.
* * *
I spent the rest of the day thinking about this strange person who had entered my life. The school term had finished for the summer
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