“Half the charm of travelling is in starting.”
R.H Bruce Lockhart , Return to Malaya
The quote above from R.H Bruce Lockhart’s travel memoir Return to Malaya resonates. Yes, I like that saying. Though in the type of journeys I seem to be drawn to, which invariably often involve exploration of some ancient warrior tradition, the fun begins before the journey, with the preparation…
This can be the physical process of tempering the body, based on the environment to be entered. It involves research into the art being studied- as well as its surrounding culture and beliefs. Then, there’s the establishing of contacts and guides that will help get one get through the right doors and into the art.
For this trip, I have made endurance my focus. Time to drop muscle mass helpful in grappling and focus on stamina and mobility. Even today, in Tri Tier, we have different ways of training the body to adapt to different environments and objectives. It’s the year 1995 and I’m on a flight to Malaysia.
One of the arts I plan to study on this visit is Silat. A Malaysian friend has invited me to a rural village, to meet his guru.
Anyway, Silat is a Malaysian and Indonesian approach based on intricate hand movement and steps. A lightness and elusive manner also comes into play. The endurance is to help me adapt to the South East Asian heat and humidity.
My Malay friend, who has been showing me his village’s system, has told me that to train with his teacher, one must get through various 'tests', including dealing with a multiple attack scenario, spending a night in the jungle and other tests.
We've been sharing techniques. I present the small, lightly framed Malay with close in Ju Jitsu, BJJ and Taijutsu tactics. He’s been introducing me to some of the darting, unpredictable movements of his art.
There's also a mysterious side to this training, that carefully and sometimes reluctantly, he discusses.
In the jungle no one can hear you scream…
Silat is very much a generic term, perhaps in the way, the phrase Kung Fu is used to provide a broad label for Chinese martial arts. There are many forms of Silat or Penjak Silat, as it’s known in Indonesia.
Different regions have different styles. Within Malaysia, there are styles that are very traditional in approach; others are more eclectic.
Then different islands, such as Java and Sumatra have their own methods. Don F Draeger, a former US marine and Judo exponent, wrote a well-known book with Robert W Smith which mentioned many of the different Indonesian systems- Comprehensive Asian Fight Arts (1980).
Smith worked for the CIA and during his time in Taiwan, he also got to study with some of the more well- known and highly proficient Chinese teachers.
Whilst there is much variation in these different approaches, to me the more interesting systems have maintained their warrior roots and avoided going the way of the modern sportive schools. These older methods, like the Chinese arts, contain set forms and footwork patterns.
They also involve a variety of weapons, from swords to the famous and very symbolic Keris dagger. In the villages or remote surrounding areas, along with the inherent dangers presented by certain forms of wildlife, another risk was bandits, who could be armed and ruthless.
Silat, in most cases, is very much a blade art. From my own weapons training, one of the most lethal and deceptive of blades is the Malay weapon known as the kerambit- a small blade shaped like a tiger’s claw.
Silat’s dance like moves are deceptive and can give the impression that these systems are quite flowery. Actually, the very skilled masters are sometimes likened to the rose. Within the flower like movements, there are thorns.
This could also relate to the concealed blades that they can draw in sudden fashion. It’s also a caution to those who mistake gentleness for weakness.
Stalls, healers and fighters…
It's good to be back in Malaysia. The warmth, the hustle and bustle, the diverse food, fruit and the cultures, all greet you openly. It's also good to see relatives; though some faces seem much older.
Figures I’ve known since childhood, who only a couple of years ago, presented rich black hair and glowing skin, now look greyer and lined.
Like the graceful Silat forms that are often practised to traditional Malay music, time can change rhythm at will - sometimes moving slowly, like a resting tiger and sometimes speeding up, like a striking cobra. The wise masters learn not to get drawn into it's dance.
I’m happy to also see my uncle, who first got me interested in the martial arts. He's still in the police and one night, while my family sit outside by a night time stall eating fresh, steamed fish, while my uncle sips a Tiger beer, he listens to my plans to visit the Silat village.
He is listening attentively; though giving the impression he is not absorbing the info too intensely.
He is wary of some remote schools and the practises that take place there. (There is a story of Draeger being poisoned during his martial explorations in South East Asia). The police detective's eyes, never at rest, scan the stalls.
Uncle has also spotted a Triad boss, having dinner with some men, at the far side of this local’s eating place, in this small town, outside Kuala Lumpur. There's an undercurrent of tension cutting through the night time air, as both parties exchange polite cease fire glances.
Over the next week, my uncle takes me to meet some of the interesting characters that he knows and characters they usually are!
There's one elderly Chinese lady who seems to be a Taoist mystic of sorts. Auntie, as she is affectionately introduced, has a tranquil hill top place in a remote area, surrounded by wind chimes and floating cloud serenity.
Lots of Chinese style ornaments on display. I'm not quite sure how deep her Chinese internal training goes or how mystical she really believes she is. In truth, if she were living in rural England, I think her house would have garden gnomes. But perceptive yes and with a good sense of humour.
On another occasion my uncle, who has a niggling knee injury that is troubling him, takes me to meet this Chinese healer, a Chi Kung practitioner. I like the way my uncle fits in these different visits within his day’s police work!
The healer, a Chinese man in his sixties, is busy cooking in a popular restaurant's open air kitchen , where hissing woks add to the commotion.
He wears a white (once white) vest and grey cotton trousers, and is totally unperturbed by the spitting oil that dabs at his flesh and the blotted vest.
Actually in terms of his looks, with thick eye brows and serious face, he reminds me of Han – Lee’s nemesis in Enter the Dragon, who holds tournaments, on his island base!
In the same matter of fact way he cooks at the wok, he takes out some herbal ointment and steps into healing mode. It’s rice wine smell reminds me of dit da jow- the healing recipe that practitioners of Iron Palm techniques use, to keep their knuckles healthy, after vigorous hand conditioning.
It's also useful for bruises and other ailments but must be obtained from a reliable source, as Mr Han points out.
Briefly the Chinese healer centres himself, drawing awareness and heat to his hands. Then he works on uncle's knee- a knee that has clearly taken a battering during his competitive Judo days.
It seems to bring some relief and the healer talks to us for a bit about how he worked on the injury. Then he returns to his woks, before table 3 dies of dim sum deprivation.
While my uncle was having his knee treated, I noticed a younger Chinese man enter the room, with a face of coiled under belly ferocity and spring like muscularity, seen in those who forge their body, through old school Kung Fu exercises, as opposed to a more modern gym routine.
In the arts, you can tell a lot about a person, based on their gait and other smaller details, such as posture, features and their presence. There was an intensity and menacing air to the man. A fresh claw like cut along his cheek further contributed to a hard demeanour. Later in the car, I probe a bit:
“He looked formidable...”.
“That man is a street fighter. Very dangerous” Comes the conversation ending reply from uncle.
To the art of my ancestors…
Plans have had to change. I have been unable to make contact with my Malay friend. It appears he is no longer at the village. It feels very frustrating, but sometimes you have to adapt.
My uncle has an idea. He knows of a Tamil man who is a guru of Silamban- the Indian warrior art of the Tamil people.
Being of Tamil origin, Silamban is, in a sense, one of my ancestral arts, so part of me is intrigued. Not yet ready to get my hopes up, though. Like in the Malay arts, the Indian masters can also be guarded and selective of who they share their cherished knowledge with.
Two days later, the guru agrees to meet us at his school. Training takes place at night time, in a hall situated behind a quiet Hindu temple. Outside the temple, an old Indian man with a white beard and ancient eyes, watches curiously from his cross legged position of quiet.
The training hall is spacious. The floor is cooling concrete and in the night time air, crickets can be heard. Fortunately, the mosquitoes are lying low.
Soon the guru arrives. A line of marching children - his students follow behind him, in orderly fashion. Then older students appear. Some of the men appear to be in their thirties.
The guru is a stout 5ft 6 emanating discipline and a sense of calm. He is in his late fifties. With dark brown, lined skin, a face sporting the long moustache of a medieval knight and piercing brown eyes, he reflects a tradition believed to be several thousand years old.
He is accompanied by his senior student, a tall wiry man named Mani, who also sports a moustache. Mani will be our translator. He translates what I share about my training background.
The guru scans me, with studying eyes. He is gauging my character and whispers something to Mani.
“The guru is surprised…Your hands don’t convey that you have been training so long in the arts.” Says Mani, amidst a slight air of tension.
A jibe to test my reaction? Or because I mentioned the Japanese arts, perhaps he is expecting the callused knuckles of a Karateka.
“Tell the guru, that where I train, we train hard but we don’t smash our knuckles into boards or bricks; we don’t want arthritis!”
Mani translates to the neutral faced warrior. A pause. I'm in my early 20's, at this moment in time. My remark a bit flippant… But then, a smile and more words from the guru.
“The guru says you are most welcome to our school. Tonight just watch; he will show you the different weapons of Silamban. Then next class... he will teach you.”
The ancient battlefield…
The warriors of older eras had to have a very different type of mentality and a special type of resilience. Far removed from the modern ring fighter or even the way a lot of modern schools train with weapons, for the ancients it was a matter of life or death.
These warriors had to participate on long arduous marches, with scarce provisions. During the battle, they would be up against hundreds of charging opponents, horse mounted warriors and stomping elephants.
Fighting might go on for hours at a time... many lives would be lost, on both sides. The warriors had to find ways to build physical endurance, mental toughness and courage.
In the arts, deep mind body knowledge was used to prepare the individual for the challenges of the warrior path. It certainly reminds me, to this day, to keep training functional.
More importantly, we can utilise many of these concepts, not just for self- protection but to adapt to the demands of a fast paced modern world.
The guru showed me the diverse range of ancient weapons contained in this art. One especially menacing pair of edged weapons were known as the deer horns. There were various long blades, bamboo staffs and short sticks.
In ancient times, the long staff or whip like weapons might be wielded with the ends lit on fire. This would also give them a startle factor, when up against both infantry and mounted troops.
One of the more lethal and unusual weapons consisted of a series of flexible but long thin strips of sharpened metal, all attached to a handle. Moved at speed, the strips fan out making the flailing weapon viciously effective against more than one opponent.
I was glad the hall was spacious and eagerly, I noted mentally, the different stances the guru would access, impressed by his face of granite concentration. There was also a moment of distinct stillness, before each weapon was utilised.
A blur of flashing bamboo
Silamban is an art studied by both men and women. In Tamil culture, the concept of the warrior woman runs very deep and in this training hall, I could see some of the young women spinning the weapons and carrying out the empty hand work, with impressive speed. Within the hall there was a diligent energy- relaxed but focused.
One of the legends regarding the art’s roots is that a wise sage was shown the core principles of the art by a holy man- some say Lord Shiva himself. These principles involved knowledge of marman (pressure points), pranayama (breath and energy work), vital stances, healing and living in accord with nature.
This holistic nature balanced the intensity of the weapons work. Now it was time for the two senior students to demonstrate.
With a small saluting gesture, the two nimble figures leaped at each other, like cats. Both armed with double sticks. The room became a blur of bamboo, with the cracking sound of the clashing weapons, adding to the intensity.
Neither could afford to flinch or lose focus. It was as if two ancient temple guard statues had come to life. Their speed was impressive.
Over the years, I’d explored a bit of Filipino stick fighting, as well as Western Fencing and some of the Japanese weapon systems, and this display was something quite special.
There was an agility to the men and a controlled tenacity. When the guru asked them to stop, the disciplined figures returned to their position of temple guard stillness, but their perspiring faces showed they had exerted themselves.
When I thank Mani and the guru, they acknowledge with open smiles. For men so lethal with these primal weapons, there was a warmth about them that can only come, when one has sliced though many outer illusions.
Aran
About the author
Based in London, Aran Dharmeratnam is the founder of the Tri Tier training system. He specialises in personal safety and resilience. With experience in various areas of the security sector, Aran also works with global security companies involved in private investigations and strategic intelligence. He has been deployed on the ground, in numerous cases. Aran’s insights have featured in The Financial Times, The Spectator, Aviation Security International, and Security Management Today.
For consultations or training contact: office@tri-tier.com