A German Youth
Grown up in Germany in the 1960s and 1970s
Mentioning Judo in connection with martial arts let someone imagine that there are a bunch of kids running around learning how to beat up each other but originally it's quite the contrary. Its more about self control than aggressiveness, its more about the mind than the body and more about the art than the martial. Or, to stay with a Japanese example, its more about a solemn tea ceremony than violent Sake drinking games.
A quiet student is a very easy target for bullies. Once in the early morning one bully asked me to stop and we started to argue. He became physical and after a short struggled he fixed me with a headlock while we were still standing. I fought with myself if I should use my skills for several seconds and decided that it would be better to do so just to have my peace in the future.
I grabbed his shoulder, stepped on my the right and with a turn of my waist I let him fall over my left stretched out leg. Because of this unexpected movement he let my neck loose. I jumped on him and, like in training, my right arm went around his neck to fix his upper body on the floor while my left arm controlled his right arm (this technique is called 'Kesa-gatame' in Japanese). Not only his friends became suddenly quiet but also all other students on their way to school stood still for a moment. The school bell rang, we got up, I took his hand and, because I felt this way, said "sorry!".
It might sound strange that a son of a violent alcoholic and even more violent mother excuses to a bully but this might be explained by my 'soft' character. It's not like that you think that life is bad or there are many bad things are thrown in my way so I "have to do something". I am more a person who does to judge the person but asking "why does a person do or become like this". For example, we all agree that a bully is bad person. But I would ask "why did he become a bully?" I could imagine his family is broken too, that he got bullied by himself, that he had to show off in front of his so-called friends etc. So, I felt a kind of empathy; that's why I apologized to him even I was the clear 'winner'.
Because of my parent's constant fights and my retreat into books I was very natural in German, one of the major subjects in primary school. Everyone touching the German language not only get some ideas about the complicated grammar but also about the spelling and particularly the rules when words are written in upper and lower cases. For me being tested by dictations or challenged by essays were tasks I've enjoyed tremendously.
As I've progressed in elementary school I was shocked to learn that the reading skills of my father were very limited. Once I've visited him in his trucking company while he was reading the BILD newspaper, the cheapest, simplest and most dishonest daily paper in whole Germany. When I've asked him a questions why he reads this paper he brutally honest answered me "because I can't read others!" My mother could only help me with my homework until the 3rd grade then I had to ask my elder sister, classmates or friends...
For a child it is very important to be taken seriously and to be supported, both I did not receive from my parents. But somehow I understood and accepted it, not blaming them. Even as a loner I've tried to do my best, others might see it as a failure.
My first bicycle was one way to get away from the cage of my own home. I not only rode to school but also took rides further than the neighborhood. I've got an idea how to enjoy the wind, the speed and the freedom to choose which way to ride; any way just to stay away from home. At that time I've started to get interest in mechanical things, like how bike shifters and gears work, how to make your bike comfortable etc. But I could not change an inner tire, this was the job of my father.
Once my father was not at home so my mother tried to fix my flat. In her rough way she took a pair of handy scissors to lift the tire from the rim, put in the new inner tube and fiddled the tire back onto the rim; all with the help of these scissors. But it did not work, as soon as I pumped the air into the tire immediately left with a 'pfffffffff'. So my mother gave me some money (!), I took of the front wheel and rode my sister's bike to a local bike shop. The elderly mechanic pulled out the inner tube, put on his spectacles, pumped up the tube and held it in a bucket of rainwater. After pumping and checking several time he counted 7 holes! With a worrying look he asked me: "What have you done?" I've answered honestly: "I did not take the scissors to exchange the tube!" With a smile he put in a new inner tube.
(to be continued)
A quiet student is a very easy target for bullies. Once in the early morning one bully asked me to stop and we started to argue. He became physical and after a short struggled he fixed me with a headlock while we were still standing. I fought with myself if I should use my skills for several seconds and decided that it would be better to do so just to have my peace in the future.
I grabbed his shoulder, stepped on my the right and with a turn of my waist I let him fall over my left stretched out leg. Because of this unexpected movement he let my neck loose. I jumped on him and, like in training, my right arm went around his neck to fix his upper body on the floor while my left arm controlled his right arm (this technique is called 'Kesa-gatame' in Japanese). Not only his friends became suddenly quiet but also all other students on their way to school stood still for a moment. The school bell rang, we got up, I took his hand and, because I felt this way, said "sorry!".
It might sound strange that a son of a violent alcoholic and even more violent mother excuses to a bully but this might be explained by my 'soft' character. It's not like that you think that life is bad or there are many bad things are thrown in my way so I "have to do something". I am more a person who does to judge the person but asking "why does a person do or become like this". For example, we all agree that a bully is bad person. But I would ask "why did he become a bully?" I could imagine his family is broken too, that he got bullied by himself, that he had to show off in front of his so-called friends etc. So, I felt a kind of empathy; that's why I apologized to him even I was the clear 'winner'.
Because of my parent's constant fights and my retreat into books I was very natural in German, one of the major subjects in primary school. Everyone touching the German language not only get some ideas about the complicated grammar but also about the spelling and particularly the rules when words are written in upper and lower cases. For me being tested by dictations or challenged by essays were tasks I've enjoyed tremendously.
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| school excursion |
For a child it is very important to be taken seriously and to be supported, both I did not receive from my parents. But somehow I understood and accepted it, not blaming them. Even as a loner I've tried to do my best, others might see it as a failure.
My first bicycle was one way to get away from the cage of my own home. I not only rode to school but also took rides further than the neighborhood. I've got an idea how to enjoy the wind, the speed and the freedom to choose which way to ride; any way just to stay away from home. At that time I've started to get interest in mechanical things, like how bike shifters and gears work, how to make your bike comfortable etc. But I could not change an inner tire, this was the job of my father.
Once my father was not at home so my mother tried to fix my flat. In her rough way she took a pair of handy scissors to lift the tire from the rim, put in the new inner tube and fiddled the tire back onto the rim; all with the help of these scissors. But it did not work, as soon as I pumped the air into the tire immediately left with a 'pfffffffff'. So my mother gave me some money (!), I took of the front wheel and rode my sister's bike to a local bike shop. The elderly mechanic pulled out the inner tube, put on his spectacles, pumped up the tube and held it in a bucket of rainwater. After pumping and checking several time he counted 7 holes! With a worrying look he asked me: "What have you done?" I've answered honestly: "I did not take the scissors to exchange the tube!" With a smile he put in a new inner tube.
(to be continued)
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