Wado-Kai Karate—The True “Way of Harmony”?
TENSION filled the air. The Dutch karate team championship was under way. At the referee’s “hajime!” (Japanese for “start!”), my opponent and I squared off for action.
He was burly—bigger and heavier than I was. But I sensed his lack of experience. I feinted a movement. He attacked furiously, punching and kicking. I lured him into another attack, and when he exposed his lower ribs, I delivered an explosive punch.
Spectators winced as he smashed to the mat and painfully gasped for air. His body shook violently, then suddenly froze. An eerie silence fell. A doctor rushed to the scene and sent him to the hospital. I really got scared. ‘Could it be . . . could it be that he is dead?’
After this incident in October 1971, I was determined to stop participation in such competitions. I stuck to that decision, although it was another seven years before I quit karate completely.
But how did I get interested in karate in the first place? Why would I give it up? And what happened to that injured fighter?
Love at First Sight
To pursue further schooling in electronic engineering, I left my native Suriname for the Netherlands in September 1965 and settled in the city of Hilversum. Shortly thereafter, a friend invited me to see the introduction of a new sport, wado-kai karate. To please him and to satisfy my curiosity, off I went.
I found myself spellbound as Mr. Kono and Mr. Fuji, two Japanese teachers, demonstrated the basic movements. It was different from what I expected—no brawling, street-fight scenes, but beautiful, balletlike movements. They were in perfect command of their lightning-fast bodies. For me it was love at first sight. Already I could feel the karate jacket around my shoulders.
Though 24 years old—too old by karate standards—I signed up for lessons. ‘Just to have something to do for the winter months,’ I promised myself. But that winter turned out to last over ten years.
“The Way of Harmony”
The word “karate” is Japanese for “empty hand.” Different styles originated in places like Korea, Okinawa and Japan. Wado-kai (Japanese for “way of harmony”) centers around two practice styles: ma (the proper distance from one’s opponent) and kiai (timing, or finding the best chance to attack). Also flexibility is stressed. As with all karate, wado-kai is influenced by Zen Buddhism, emphasizing the conditioning of the mind in harmony with the body.
During the two-minute karate tournament matches, one scores with kicks and punches directed at vital parts of the body. Although blows to the body are legal, rules forbid actually touching the opponent’s face with one’s fists. However, mistakes are sometimes made, which is illustrated by what happened when my wife, Hannie, tried her hand at karate. I explained how to aim a punch to the face but to freeze at the tip of the nose. Hannie zeroed in a punch—and a good one at that—but forgot to stop at the critical moment, slamming right into my face, splitting my lips and causing the only injury in my karate career. The next day my swollen face elicited a barrage of embarrassing inquiries!
“The Dutch Stringbean”
I began with three hours of training a week. There is no such thing as ten easy lessons, or instant karate. As one teacher said: “A master of [martial arts] develops slowly, like a ginger root. Mild in taste when young, it becomes hotter and spicier with the passage of time.”
“Could you assist in teaching karate?” asked my sensei (teacher) when I won most of the training matches.
“Teaching? Of course!” The result? More time in the dojo (training hall).
In the spring of 1968 my sensei said: “Try tournament karate-fighting.” I didn’t need much prodding. Unexpectedly I was made captain of our karate school team and was to make a notable debut during the May 1968 championship for teams from the Netherlands and Belgium.
Since I look fragile with my 66 kilograms (146 lb) on a 1.78-meter (5-ft 10-in.) frame, one sports magazine dubbed me the Dutch Stringbean. But what I lacked in weight and power I made up for with technique, speed and calculation.
I became the national champion of the Netherlands in 1971. The authoritative Black Belt magazine listed me twice (1971 and 1972) among the “Top 10 European Karatemen.” In April 1972 I graduated as a karate instructor.
Despite these successes, however, something occurred in the autumn of 1971 that made a dent in my idealistic view of the “way of harmony.”
Facing “the Big Cat”
At that time I was among the candidates vying for the European Karate Championships in the Pierre de Coubertin Hall in Paris. I was pitted against the perennial champion of France, Dominique Valera. Valera, packing 90 kilograms (200 lbs) on a 1.8-meter (6-ft) frame, was known as the Big Cat. He had a reputation for going all out to get his man with ankle sweeps, fast, powerful front kicks and a murderous roundhouse. Now it was my turn to face him. With a national TV audience looking on and a crowd of 7,000 cheering him, he looked poised to shatter my championship dreams and some ribs as well. Black Belt magazine described the fight:
“Dominique . . . figured to walk all over the Dutch stringbean . . . but the rapidly improving Dutchman grabbed Dominique’s early front kick and pumped in a punch to the astonished champ’s head for a clean half-point. . . . Again some shuffling by Valera, and again the big maegeri (front kick) shot out. Proving that the first time was no fluke, La Rose grabbed the leg and zinged in another picture punch to Valera’s head.”
Here I was scoring the only points against the champion during the whole tournament, causing the biggest news at the championship! It was a clear-cut victory. Or so I thought. Black Belt continued:
“The referee, realizing that it was a French audience and that another half-point would put an end to Valera, ignored the punch. As if guilty by association, the crowd remained quiet throughout the remainder of the match.”
The fight was over. I walked up to the line expecting to be proclaimed the winner, but the referee awarded my opponent! The surprised Valera hurried away. We filed a protest. After deliberating for half an hour, the president of the European Karate Union ignored the complaint and signaled the fights to continue. The tournament went on with Valera as champion at the end.
This brazen dishonesty in a sport that has the fist and the dove (symbols of power and harmony) as its emblem shattered an illusion. The fist was still there, but, to me, the dove had gone. Little did I realize that I was only two years away from finding a surpassing way of harmony that proved to be real in both word and deed.
Hearing Bible Truth
I always had a deep respect for God and I valued prayer. My wife and I had been raised as Roman Catholics. Ever since our marriage in December 1971, we have prayed together when faced with problems. I had a Bible but had many questions about it. So when two of Jehovah’s Witnesses visited me in Amsterdam one Friday morning in January 1973, I didn’t hesitate to invite them in and hear their answers. That initial contact was very pleasant. After that, every Friday, for seven months, they came and studied with us the book The Truth That Leads to Eternal Life.
By that time I had finished my schooling, and we decided to move back to Suriname. Before our departure the Witnesses invited us to their home and gave us a surprise farewell party and some Bible publications as a present. Their loving patience and faithfulness in conducting that Bible study with us left a warm, lasting impression on our minds and hearts. We would not forget the truth we had tasted, although it took another year and a half before the ‘watering of the seeds’ resumed.
Starting My Own Dojo
My new job for the Surinamese government required moving to a small settlement close to the airport, about 50 kilometers (30 mi) from the capital, Paramaribo. We did not know any Witnesses there and so did not continue our Bible studies.
I did get some visitors though. They were karate fans asking me to start teaching wado-kai. Although I had stopped sharing in competitions, I still loved karate as a sport and agreed to open my own dojo in the capital.
Before long I spent four days a week teaching karate. I would leave my regular job with the government right after work at two o’clock in the afternoon and would not get home until ten o’clock at night. I also arranged sightseeing trips for my students on Sundays and during their school vacations. ‘Just to keep them off the streets,’ I told myself. After karate lessons, I talked with them about their school and family problems.
Through all of that, I failed to realize that I was badly neglecting my own family. The more time I spent in teaching the “way of harmony” to others, the more it disrupted the harmony in my own family. Whenever my wife asked me to look after our children, I reacted irritably, being too busy with other people’s children. Hannie was hoping for a change.
“Are You Witnesses?”
That change came in May 1975. Hannie spotted two persons visiting all the houses in the village. She waited anxiously till they came to our house. “Are you Witnesses?” she asked, before they could say a word.
“Well, yes, we are.”
“Come in, please. Can you continue studying the Bible with us?”
The startled Witnesses were very willing. But again the Bible study was interrupted when I went to the United States for further training in electronics, and later my wife and children went to the Netherlands for some months. Only at the beginning of 1978 did we settle back to a regular life, and as soon as we were ready, the Witnesses were back again.
Facing the Decision
This time the study continued without letup. In time I realized that what I was learning from God’s Word did not agree with my love for karate. For one thing, Paul’s words that “bodily training is beneficial for a little” conflicted with all the time I was devoting to sports.—1 Timothy 4:8.
Further, as the Witnesses emphasized to me, karate has as its objective hurting an opponent, which can kill or seriously injure a person, even unintentionally. Although this was true, still it was hard for me to accept. How could I forgo all that I had pursued so zealously for 12 years?
I agreed with the Scriptural counsel not to trust in weapons for self-defense because they have often caused the death of innocent people. (Ecclesiastes 9:18) ‘But was practicing karate really comparable to possessing weapons?’ I reflected reluctantly, recalling what Isao Obata, co-founder of the Japan Karate Association, once remarked about karate: “The mind is the gun and the body the bullet.” ‘Could Jesus’ words, “Return your sword to its place, for all those who take the sword will perish by the sword,” refer to practicers of karate?’ I pondered uneasily. I knew I had to make up my mind.—Matthew 26:52.
One day at school I gathered all my pupils, mostly high school students. Instead of another bout of karate, the perplexed students heard their sensei speak about Jehovah God, explaining that martial arts are not in harmony with the Bible. They listened quietly as I told them that I had decided to close the school for good.
Since I was obligated to finish the semester and supervise examinations, I couldn’t quit right then and there. Of course, this posed a danger and could weaken my decision. But the 1978 “Victorious Faith” International Conventions came right on time to fortify me.
I had never attended an entire convention. Other years I had turned up just for an evening or so. But this time I took a leave from my job. When the convention started, my entire family was on hand.
We thoroughly enjoyed it. For me it was nothing less than a revelation. All the virtues I had tried to pursue during my life—respect for God, value of prayer, love for fellowman—I saw all around me. ‘This is the true wado-kai [way of harmony],’ I thought and was moved to thank Jehovah for this strengthening experience.
Several months later, on December 24, 1978, my wife and I were baptized and looked forward to a new episode in our lives.
Something Better
That decision has led to many blessings. The family tension has gone. We are united as never before and have the deep joy of seeing our three daughters growing up as worshipers of Jehovah.
Since my baptism I have not used karate again. But several years ago something happened that could have triggered it. One night I woke up and discovered a thief in the house. Instead of resorting to karate, I figured the best defense would be to scream. And scream I did! After many years of silence, an old-fashioned, bloodcurdling karate yell exploded from my mouth. It worked! The thief sped away, and at the same time I was happy I did not resort to karate but used a safer means of defense.
Oh, yes, I still want to tell you what happened to that injured fighter that was rushed to the hospital. He did not die. My punch had broken three of his ribs. I am sorry for that, but I am relieved that I did not load bloodguilt on my shoulders.
In thinking back, I have only one regret: I should have stopped karate sooner. It took me almost six years after my first Bible studies to take my final stand for Jehovah. I am very grateful to these faithful Witnesses who did not give up on me and patiently kept encouraging me to make the right decision. How glad I am that I found the surpassing way of harmony!—Contributed by Harold La Rose.
[Blurb on page 13]
My wife zeroed in a punch but forgot to stop at the critical moment, slamming right into my face, splitting my lips
[Blurb on page 14]
The fist was still there, but, to me, the dove had gone
[Blurb on page 14]
I walked up to the line expecting to be proclaimed the winner, but the referee awarded my opponent!
[Blurb on page 15]
In time I realized that what I was learning from God’s Word did not agree with my love for karate