Two Aikido Fables
by Susan Chen (and Keiller MacKay)

Who would have thought that a tasty Chinese dinner could be so effective in subduing one's uke?

After a dinner that included a hearty garlic spinach dish, I had a less than perfect sleep. The dinner kept threatening to make a second appearance. The next morning, I dutifully plodded off to aikido class. Everything was a struggle.

When one uke shomenuchi-ed me, we became entangled in a battle of wills. Unable to find his kozushi (unbalance) point, I became tense and held my breath. Feeling faint from a shortage of oxygen, I exhaled deeply. Suddenly, my uke reeled backwards as if he had been hit by a spray of machine gun fire, allowing me to complete my technique.

Moral: Eat garlic spinach before every aikido class (to enhance kokyu).

Later, I had a dream. I was the nage in a particularly brutal freestyle. My unlucky ukes were Justin, Bernard, and Hugh. I bowed, raised my head. All three were rushing toward me. This set the tone for the next two minutes: I was determined to be offensive.

Justin attacked first with a katatetori hold. I executed the old "slash and burn" technique. That involved:

1. raising his arm (which was holding my wrist);
2. slipping under his arm while slashing his foot open with my toenail;
3. positioning myself behind him for kaitennage;
4. lowering his head with a swift karate chop to the nape of the neck;
5. and completing the kaitennage, propelling him on with a forward roll, through the window of the dance studio, out onto Grosvenor Street.

I tenkan-ed to face Bernard. He betrayed no sign of fear. He charged toward me with a tsuki. I tai-sabaki-ed and led him into a kotegaeshi, followed by a shihonage, and finally an iriminage. Every time, as I helped him up, I stretched his scalp by stepping on his hair. (How do you think he lost all that hair?) Then, I grounded my center in preparation for the next move. Clumps of hair between my toes, I awaited Hugh. He let out a samurai war cry as he hurtled toward me, an imaginary sword over his head. My recent forays into the morning fitness class next door to aikido (an act tantamount to treason, I know it well) had taught me to perspire more freely. Headlong Hugh cantilevered toward me in full shomenuchi..."Haiiiiiiiiiii". I raised my sweat-drenched arm to ward off his shomen and continued walking. As his arm slipped off mine, I ikkyo-ura-ed him head first into Bernard who was just starting to regain some sensation in his scalp as he struggled to his feet.

Only seven seconds had elapsed and I was sans uke.

Suddenly, from ushiro, somebody wrapped his arms around my neck. I instinctively dropped and executed a koshinage. The uke felt heavy to me, as though he had just eaten ten cows. It was Ramin. Feeling my strength, I pulled up one of the mats and rolled him up in it. His head was sticking out on top, and he looked like a papoose. Then I packed him onto the cart. The elevator was broken that day, so I sent him, protesting, rolling down the stairs.

Moral: Never attack a person who is power-dreaming.

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