Sugong

Nick Hurst

Description

Nick Hurst was working in London when he threw in his job in advertising to train for four years in Malaysia and China with a kung fu grandmaster, Sugong. This is a mix of Nick's experiences in South-East Asia and the story of Sugong's extraordinary life. Initiated into kung fu by an opium-addicted master, Sugong was expelled from school, kidnapped and nearly killed in a family feud. All by the age of sixteen. His story spanned fascinating periods of history of four Asian countries, while the origins of Shaolin kung fu are explored in context.

Sujets

• Martial arts

Informations

• Publié par: Sportsbooks
• Date de parution: 12 avril 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781907524356
• Langue: English

Extrait

Published in Great Britain by SportsBooks Limited 1 Evelyn Court Malvern Road Cheltenham GL50 2JR
© Nick Hurst 2012 First Published April 2012
This ebook edition first published in 2012
The right of Nick Hurst to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Cover Art Direction and Design by ODD London oddlondon.com
ISBN 9781907524219 eISBN 9781907524356
For Tai-Sugong, Sugong, and Sifu
C ONTENTS


A quick note on…
Introduction
Prologue – Bashing triads

1 Basically, I liked to fight
2 An unlikely monk
3 The master of my master
4 Uncles, aunts and the army
5 One hundred and eight triads
6 Fear and loathing in Kuala Lumpur
7 One thousand thunderbolts and a myriad of swords
8 Two wives on a double-crested mountain
9 A warrior monk
10 Right. Even when wrong
11 Passing on the art
12 The fiftieth generation
13 Aunts, aunts and opium
14 An angry monk
15 Less isn’t more
16 Blooding the art
17 Mee hoon mediation
18 Friends with the enemy
19 Iron vests, death touches and the art of stealth
20 An abbot, an officer and some gangsters
21 The red face of rage
22 Eating tea in a coffee shop
23 The pretty girls are in Penang
24 A shark in murky water
25 Two girls in a too-small town
26 Poison in a master’s ear
27 Rumours and lies
28 Kung fu and karaoke
29 Beyond the codes of conduct
30 Opposite sides of a different coin
31 The saddest reconciliation
32 A family affair
33 Under the branch of a peach blossom tree
34 Flesh, sand and stone
35 Shaolin™
36 Children, mistresses and wives
37 Melting pots and simmering cauldrons
38 The long arm of the Lord
39 A golden harvest
40 Three bitter years and the ten-year catastrophe
41 Friends, family and a fall
42 Too much sex
43 To mug an uncle
44 The hundred-catty arm
45 The grandson of a dictator
46 Caught in the world of willows
47 A thousand ways of the fist

Epilogue – Bashing road-ragers
Coda
List of characters
Acknowledgements
Bibliography
A QUICK NOTE ON…
Martial arts
Although about a martial artist, this is not a martial arts book. Some history and theory is covered to provide context, but this is intended as a start, not an end, to further exploration.
History
Because of the impact times and places had on Sugong, I have provided brief histories. Again, these are overviews, not in-depth analyses.
Chinese language
While aesthetically pleasing, the system of Chinese characters is incomprehensible without dedicated study. There are two main romanised versions. The official one is Pinyin and it is almost as baffling as the character system but without its charm. To understand it, one must disassociate the sounds usually attributed to the letters of the alphabet for a new form of pronunciation. Some of the main themes: x is pronounced sh, q is pronounced ch, z is pronounced like a sharp j. Pinyin deposed a more understandable system called Wade–Giles. When a name or place is firmly entrenched with a system’s spelling I have adhered to it. But throughout his life, Sugong interacted with speakers of many different Chinese dialects, all with their own different readings of Chinese characters, most without standard romanisation. Furthermore, many names and places have come courtesy of recollection, rather than written record. The combination of these factors means that some spellings may not be totally accurate to either Pinyin or Wade–Giles. I apologise for any confusion.
Chinese names
Contrary to western practice, Chinese surnames precede given names, which usually consist of two parts. For example, the actor Chow Yun Fat’s surname is Chow, his given names Yun Fat. Some ethnic Chinese have Western as well as Chinese names. The Western name most commonly precedes the traditional Chinese naming structure. So in the case of the actor Tony Leung Chiu Wai, his surname is Leung, and his given names Chiu Wai. Pinyin spellings often co-join both given names into one, for example Mao Zedong . Wade–Giles spellings sometime include hyphenation between the names, e.g. Chow Yun-Fat. I have written them in two parts.
Lastly
Memoirs can make valuable contributions to social histories, but individually they have their limitations. This book is based mainly on recollection, where time, memory and a preference for one’s own side of the story can provide obstacles to definitive historical fact.
There will doubtless be some inaccuracies, and I have changed some names, conversations and circumstances to protect the identity of characters. I hope I have kept errors to a minimum, and those that there are do not offend.
For some it’s a form of spiritual development. For others, a route to health and well-being. Sugong started kung fu because he liked to fight. And he wanted to win.
I NTRODUCTION
Y ou want to know about my parents? Go ask them and stop bothering me.’
With Sugong nearing eighty with parents who could reasonably be assumed dead, it wasn’t the most auspicious way to start.
After spending six months of a sabbatical training with him, Sugong’s adventure story of a life had awakened a desire to write that had long been snoozing and I had decided to take the plunge. It was not a decision easily reached; partly because of the leap into new terrain it required; partly because I knew Sugong’s combustible character. I had still not expected him to erupt at the first question, especially as I had thought it one of the less sensitive.
It was a pattern to which I would have to become accustomed. Interviews would start after training and end at whatever point Sugong exploded in rage. Having picked up the odd word or two, I had my suspicions that both my intelligence and the virtues of my female ancestors were at times called into question. But I was shielded from the worst by my translator, CG. Speaking only the barest of Hokkien myself, all questions and answers had to go through him and Sugong showed no reluctance in shooting this messenger, who was regularly peppered with oratory shot.
Questions he took particular offence to could result in all interviews being put on hold. Both question and the subject’s mood had to be carefully considered and a fine line trod. A query that on one day might result in a slightly scary look and a gentle rebuke – ‘the cheeky rascal’ – before an answer was forthcoming, would on others see a torrent of invective and the suspension of further talks. This could last anywhere from two weeks to six months.
At the end of the longest lull, I had to point out that for all my enjoyment of training it was the book that he had agreed to (and was apparently enthusiastic about) that was the reason for my being there. Without the information I needed to write it I would have to return to England and the world would remain sans Sugong book.
He grudgingly relented and this is the result.
P ROLOGUE
B ASHING TRIADS
Q uick, follow them,’ said Mr Tan. ‘They’re going to bash up some triads.’
‘They’re what?’ I asked, still under the impression that we were going for tea.
‘They’re going to bash up some triads. Go on,’ he urged. ‘I’ve got to park the car. I’ll be there in a minute.’
I should probably explain at this point that this wasn’t the Sunday-afternooned environment of Muswell Hill, North London, where I had grown up. I was in Penang, Malaysia. And the people about to ‘bash up some triads’ were my Shaolin kung fu grandmaster, Sugong, and his senior student, Subec.
I should also say that when I had left my job to go to Malaysia, the intention had been to train with my sugong. No one had mentioned fights with gangsters. However, he was my grandmaster and in the martial arts world that counts for a lot. He was also eighty years old, and while he was still far more capable than me in taking out a gang of triads, I felt duty bound to try to pitch in. So I followed.
There had been no indication that we were about to go for a fight. The day before the four of us had come up to Penang, an ex-colonial island state just off north-west Malaysia. Sugong and Subec wanted to catch up with old buddies, I wanted to see what I could find out for my book, and Mr Tan was just along for the ride.
We were about to start the journey back to Kuala Lumpur when Subec got a call on his mobile. A gunfire burst of Hokkien Chinese had ensued, none of which I understood, and our course had altered.
Penang is famous for good food, and the three of them were obsessed with eating as much of it as possible during our stay. Or at least they wanted to order and sample as much as they could. After a few mouthfuls they would push their plates toward me and order ‘ chia’ – eat. Despite my 12½ stone I was apparently still too skinny.
So when we pulled up at the back of a group of old buildings, their crumbling facades housing menacing dark doorways, I assumed we were just going into a coffee shop by the back way.
The only thing I had found a little strange was when Sugong jogged to catch up with Subec. I had never seen him break out of a slight swagger.
Now I was following the way they had just gone.
I would like to claim I was just a bit rusty at triad-bashing. But if truth be known I had never beaten up any gangsters, be they triads, mafiosi or yardies. I was slightly daunted at the prospect of starting now.
The doorway seemed to grow darker and more ominous as I approached. I started to