The Foreign Service Journal, June 2009

24 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / J U N E 2 0 0 9 bors who resented foreigners. Our relationship cooled when I began hearing stories that he was wanted by the police, possibly for robbery. He tested me for my blue belt and then left suddenly for Burkina Faso, never to be heard from again. Steven, the Ghanaian national Taekwondo champion, took me into the next part of my martial arts career. He was a steady, friendly fellow: much less muscle-rippling, much less compli- cated. Inevitably, as with every new instructor I’ve had, he focused initially on correcting all the “mistakes” of my previous teacher — the imperfect stances, the way- ward stylized fighting, etc. He taught me how to use a punching bag, which was fun until I broke my toe on a kick. Our sessions slowed not just because of my hobbled toe but because Steven’s knee was in pain from an earlier injury. Doctors told him he needed surgery and should take a break from Taekwondo. He couldn’t afford to have the surgery or to stop giving lessons. Like a macho mar- tial artist, he persevered under increasing pain. Then one day he announced he had to leave Ghana temporarily because his village had selected him to be their next chief. He had no desire to be a traditional chief, but saw no way out. If he resisted, he was con- vinced villagers would send goons to track him down and force him to succumb to his fate. His only option, he told me, was to hide out in France for a while, which would also give his knee a rest. Steven tested me for my red belt — and then disappeared. Taekwondo Cameroonian-Style By that time I was preparing to leave Ghana, so I took a break from blocking and kicking until my next post, Yaounde. Sebastien, president of the Yaounde Taekwondo chapter, was my next mentor — a heavy- set, friendly Cameroonian who enjoyed talking about French literature more than doing martial arts. Rarely changing out of his jeans and sweater, Se- bastien stretched me into contortions and drilled me on a dictionary’s worth of new Korean terms. He seemed steady and uncomplicated (if a bit lazy) until he started asking for money, first for small amounts and then for large chunks. He came in taxis and then asked me for the money to pay the cabs. He was unreachable for weeks be- cause of a lost cell phone, and then asked for money to buy a new one. I ended our sessions and once again took a break from martial arts, unsure if I had the drive to try again. My new job kept me busy, managing the political, eco- nomic, commercial and assistance work of a medium-size embassy. Taekwondo was taking time away from my 4-year-old, who frequently inter- rupted my home workout sessions with pleas of “Can you play with me?” And not only were the Korean terms difficult to learn, but my body was feeling less flex- ible with age. But eventually I decided to tackle the sport again with Sylvan, a member of the Cameroonian national team, who gave me a tryout that left me curled on the floor in a pool of sweat. Like his predecessors, Sylvan corrected all the “flaws” in my technique, expanded my Korean vo- cabulary, and got me back into the sport. After several months, upon my return from a long vacation, Sylvan an- nounced “it’s time,” and booked me for a black belt exam 10 days later. He worked with me two hours a day, reassuring me that I was ready at the same time as he threw new words and techniques at me. “I haven’t done attack-defense exercises for years,” I protested; he promised to review them all with me. When I said I’d only done board- breaking once, he assured me: “Don’t worry; it’s easy and you’re ready.” Sure enough, when it came time for the exam, a day after my 45th birthday, it all came back to me in a rush of adrenaline and sweat. As I caught my breath and stared in amazement at the four boards I had broken (it really was easy after all!), my two examiners asked why I did Taekwondo and what the sport meant for me. I first gave them a Foreign Service officer answer, marveling at the sport’s 2,000- year history. I admired the fact that it was a symbol of ethnic cooperation in ancient Korea and had survived underground as a source of national pride for decades when the sport was outlawed during the Japanese occu- pation. I was impressed that Taekwondo was a uniting factor for North and South Korea, that it borrowed from Japanese and Chinese martial arts, that it grew from rel- F O C U S Sher had left Nepal to seek a better life and had developed a network of Taekwondo “gigs” all over Mumbai.