Dai Shi Men gong fu will never die

Here is a story i wrote about Dai Shi Men gong fu school for the South China Morning Post. I can't link the story because SCMP.com requires you pay. So here are the pdfs as pics.

Hakka in Sichuan

Hey.

I am doing research on the Hakka people in Sichuan. The Hakka are sometimes referred to as the "Jews of China." They reportedly originated in the Yellow River Valley and migrated south to Fujian and Guangdong to escape wars and famines. They settled in and around the Pearl River for many centuries, retaining their unique culture and language. They are also known as "Kejia" which means guests or guest family in Chinese. They have been on the move for 2000 years.

They migrated across the globe after the Taiping Rebellion -- a Hakka led rebellion against the Qing -- and many of the Chinatowns we have come to take for granted were founded by Hakka people.

For me, the interest lies in their migration to Sichuan during the Ming and Qing Dynasties after Sichuan was decimated by constant warfare. Settlers were encouraged (8 pieces of silver for the men, 6 for women and children) to move across the nation to Sichuan and build a life here, in the "Land of Abundance." They did, and have flourished to this very day.

What interests me the most is the connection between the Taiping Rebels that were decimated at the Battle of the Dadu River in 1865 by Qing Imperial forces and the gong fu river lake people of today. Legend has it that the rebels fled into the hills and settled near present-day Yaan. Those rebels were trained in martial arts and passed on what they had learned, eventually leading to the school in Hanyuan that I train at.

My home is getting torn down next week, as some of you may know, and the village that is being razed is also an ancient Hakka village dating back at least 200 years. My neighbors are all Hakka and some of them still speak their own langauge. Almost every family has a book of records that details their migrations across China over the past 500 years. So the story of "farmers getting pushed off their lands" has now developed into something much more interesting: another move for the harried Hakka.

its not just how farmers adapt to the city, but how Hakka farmers stay Hakka in the face of urbanization and modernity. Its not just how gong fu adapt to the commercialization of culture and the dissipation of the "noble warrior," but about the legacy of Han-Hakka rebels reaching from beyond the grave to leave their imprint on Modern China.

Please, feel free to comment.

it just keeps gettin thicker

ya'll don't even know.

I went to Hanyuan the other day and just got back in the Du. I was planning on staying a month there, but things didn't work out that way. On the way to Hanyuan I got a call from my man Philly in Beijing and he said:

"yo, that security job you wanted for the Olympics? well its on. Git yer ass to Shanghai with a suit on for an interview pronto."

I hung up and looked at Fraggle Beanmilk -- my companion and right hand fraggle -- and was about to say somethin, when the phone rang again:

"Herro! Is thees Ma Shan? We have big job fo U."

Now i get to write 15 stories about Chengdu over the next five weeks. Word is bond. So i will be on the road, protecting the torch with my Master Li Cuan (Philly gave him a job a month ago) and writing stories about the Du all the way up till the O-limp-iks. I was about to let Fraggle Beanmilk in on this, when the phone rang again. (i ain't playin):

"Herro! Is thees Ma Shan? We have big job for U."

Now they want me to write a BOOK on the Du -- tentatively titled: Laowais See Chengdu! Now I will probably change the title and all ...

And this all happened on the road to Hanyuan, where I am researching for a book on (secret shit can't let ya'll know).

So i finally get to Hanyuan, and here's what's goin on:

"Wang Tao's in the livin room, eatin cherry pie
Gramma Gongfu's in the kitchen pluckin chicken up to fry
Shiye's in the courtyard beatin up some budding hoz
I'm out front with Beanmilk feelin good down to my toes ...

Justa swingin ... Swingin ..."

(name that tune, and i'll buy you a scepter)

So you know. things is gettin deeper. My man Big Tenz thinks that a broad conflict is about to go down between China and the rest of the world, cuz China is playin hell with anyone who wants to come in/stay by being real pricks about the visa. Plus, of course all this recent nationalism and such ... and we can't neglect the various disasters and heavenly portents that spell doom for us all in 08.

Seems like i'll be in the thick of it. wish me evasive tactics.

When I get to a safe spot with herbs and coffee, I'll give you the low down on Hanyuan.

When compatriots meet

I went to the restaurant Talk the other night, on recommendation from resident Baller Dave B. I borrowed some clothes from hakim because mine were wrinkly, as I had just returned from the road and hadn't got to cleaning clothes yet. I looked spiffy in a cashmere jacket and a pimp French shirt.

I roll to the spot and chill on nice soft couch made for lounging, but set in a space of solid clean objects and mirrors. So i get a bit antsy and order an Espresso. It arrives in a nice cup that someone thought about, not for utility, but uniqueness and was just about to take a sip when Jacky Maillard appears out of nowhere, breathless and jerky. He looks me up and down and says:

"Wot is zis? U will 'ave an Esspresso? we are to 'ave dinner, no?"

Uhh, uhhh, uhhhh ... He waves it off. I'm new and all it takes is a listening ear and Jacky will tell you all there is to know about Les Vin Rebelle and "The Love" and "The Passion" and his kids, who call him Baba or Susu or Lao Ba ... He runs this high class French spot for another super baller named Jackie Chan. No not the gong fu guy. But think about a super baller who would name himself Jackie Chan. What do you think he looks like? Skinny? Bad Teeth? Shifty nostrils? Glasses? Is this what you were thinking? Or were you thinking boisterous pudgy guy who drinks a lot, has a huge full head of black hair and a gold molar?

Anyway. Jackie Slim is the boss and Jacky Two Coats is the manager. Not wearing two coats, but two coats of cologne. He actually does not have two coats of cologne, he is perfectly perfumed. This is the point. Thats what Two Coats means. Perfectly. His coif bounces. His nose was specifically designed for testing his clients fare. His smile is passionate.

Oh brother we got down on on it. I was interviewing him for a story and he was Loving it. He told me about his obsession with detail and demonstrated it first through the exact measurements of the spot to the imported espresso cups and crystal wine glasses. The super low price he got for the gold linen and silk tablecloths. His staff put the first fare, faux gras pate, down with the pate facing away from me. Jacky frowns and shakes his finger slightly. He tells them off arrogantly, but like a father.

After the goose liver, which melted in my mouth, we had asparagus soup with hunks of creamy love and bread with garlic butter. By this time we had already finished the first wine, a white from Cali. Jacky admires Californian wine for their unique wet texture and aggressive sweetness. Taken together, these characteristics help make whites from Cali excellent to open the taste buds in preparation for good eats.

We switched to a rebellious red just as the soup ended. The first sip and I laughed out loud and began leaning into Jacky's words, letting them glide down my face as i swished the wine in my mouth for much longer than necessary. I imagined the world in slow motion, just so I could have more time to swish before the potion went down my throat and diffused throughout my body. When i opened my eyes, I was a different person in a different place. Jacky looked at me with a growing smile and his eyes stretched and searched me out. Like a wizard whose spell is beginning to take effect, he rose up and spread his cloak over me.

"There are four grapes in this wine, all from the region around Bourdeaux, near the Chateau Le Fet. The Earth, here is of course, the same Earth and this wine benifice from the same Earth and also close to the River and of course the Air and Wind are similar so this property can make a very special wine, but they do not have the voice, they are yelling for us to see them, but we cannot. Because they lack, you know all of these things, and so they are Vin Rebelle and this is what I Love. Les Vin Rebelle are somewhat of an obsession for me.

The four grapes are cabernet sauvignon, cabernet franc, merlot and (pause) a miracle
grape. Yes (nodding at my unasked question) a miracle grape, it is (circle wave of hands) impossible to translate from the French. It is a miracle, maybe 4% in this wine. In other wines, maybe 5% if they are looking for this truly unique taste."

I smiled and dangled the glass in three fingahz, thinking how pimp a man can get, when my lamb shows up with three different purees, garlic tater, artichoke and eggplant. The lamb is breaded on the outside and barely done in the middle. Its presented in the pimp manner. I look up, our eyes meet in mutual understanding, and my smile grows. Jacky and I are of one mind. We are sensualists of a higher order. A meal such as this one takes us both to that special place where wisdom reigns and laughter is king.

*************************************************************************************

A gong fu master was poor and starving and had only one possession left, his great sword. His belly rumbles and he know he must sell it, so he takes it down and walks into the market to sell it. He thinks to himself, if i meet a man who knows what this is, I will give it to him for free. I will sell it for 10 gold pieces to the first clown who walks up, even if he wants to use it as a shovel.

He sits in the streets all day and many yokels walk up and stare at his sword, but not comprehending what it is and seeing no use for it, walk on.

Toward evening another Gong Fu master is being driven through the market in a carriage. The last rays of the setting sun flash off the blade of the great sword and he bellows for the carriage to stop. He leaps out of the carriage and walks up to the master sitting on the ground with the sword before him.

What is this? says he. Who would try and sell a sword such as this one, obviously priceless and magicked?

I would, says the starving master. He rises up on his feet and the two peer at each other from beneath bushy brows. But for you, it is free.

Free!? I think not, answers the master. I will give you 100,000 gold pieces for it.

They stand with bottom lips thrusting staring at each other, than they burst into loud laughter and embrace like brothers.

river lake people

i have been trying to put a few pictures of my trip into the mountains online but they always end up sideways. i will be consulting my computer geek homeboys soon. i was able to sleep at my home a good two nights before i packed my bags for another move, this time south to the mountains of Yunnan. i will meet my man Sammy B there and we will do the run from Kunming up through the Naxi and Bai areas of northern Yunnan to the Yi and Tibetan areas of southern Sichuan. I hope to roll through Muli Gorge and re-visit Lugu Lake. I have friends and unfinished business there. the trip should end in Hanyuan, where i will spend spring festival with my gong fu family. my master looks to have landed the job i set up for him in Beijing with a security firm. It will be a proud and relieving moment for me and my master when he does get the job. he will be making the kind of money he needs and this job will inevitably lead to other great opportunities.

in Jiu Zhai Gou i met a man whose wife is from my hometown in Germany (frankfurt) and she is the head of the ZDF tv station here. That station does long documentary spots and such for the people back home. I pitched the story of my gong fu family to them -- the 100 year old yi jing masters, the grandmaster and his struggles during the cultural revolution, my master and his modern day struggles in a society with little need for true gong fu men and his eventual redemption in the Olympics. I think they are going to do it. if so, my family in germany will trip. they will get to see it. cross your fingers for me ya'll. the text version of this story -- or a small part of it, will be running in guernica later this month. will holler when it does.

now i suppose i should let you know what a river lake person is. he has a bag slung across his shoulder. he has herbs in one pocket and charms in the other. he wanders with no thought of whether or not he will arrive, or indeed where he will arrive at. he can take care of himself anywhere, anytime. in his bag is a change of clothes and most likely a book or three. he has a woman or several, but they are far away and with others. he only knows what its like to love them when he passes through. it might be like this forever and he knows it. a true river lake person knows gong fu, in china. but my entire tribe is made up of hunters and gatherers, jewel dealers and vagabonds, pirates and hobos. i am a proud member of a river lake tribe that spans the globe, undying. women can also be river lake people, but in my experience, they would rather make us into earth and wood.

"flower man loves earth girl"