Up and Down

For the past few days, I've just been kind of pissed off. Right when humanity was looking sunny, the Americans came along. It all begins with good news.

On Tuesday morning, I walked across camp to the intermediate mats at the same time I always do. The trainers were sitting and standing around the edges of the boxing ring, and I stepped up next to the base of it, depositing my bag and water bottle on the ground, and kicking off my sandals before I stepped onto the mats. I nodded up to the reclining Thais as I started stretching, and the head trainer shook his head at me and waved his hand. I paused, looking at him inquiringly, and he just pointed back through camp, saying simply, "Avanse."

I stared at him blankly, not knowing what he meant, and he nodded back the way I came, pointing again. "No mo tren here. Today you go avanse." Once I understood his meaning, I was pleasantly surprised, and immediately pressed my hands together under my chin in the Thai sign for thanks/respect. He nodded again, returned the gesture, and waved me off toward the advanced mats, returning to his companions. I picked up my things, and turned around to find that one of the nebulous, floating trainers who seem to have no fixed position had materialized behind me. He smiled simply at me, and led me away to the advanced area.

The class itself was conducted in very much the same pattern as the intermediate class, though obviously with significant differences in subject matter and intensity. I'll say a few words about the class in a later post, however, as I find it difficult enough to limit myself to reasonable verbosity on just one topic at a time.

In the few days since I was moved to the advanced class, I have been extremely frustrated by the reactions of my peers. I recognize that moving to this level of training is something of a change in social status; this is a demonstrable sign that I have attracted the attention of my trainers, and earned their respect, which is doubtless the most sought-after prize in the camp. What I did not recognize, however, was the intrusively competitive nature of many of my acquaintances here, and that their evident confusion, mixed with thinly veiled insults, would leave me thinking that I had seriously over-estimated the number of friends I've made.

Let us examine, as an exemplary case study, a young American man named Luke. Our arrivals at the beginning of September were within two days of each other, and up until this week, we've been on roughly the same training schedule. Overall, I know very little substantive information about Luke, but in the manner of fellow countrymen in foreign places, we have maintained something slightly above a friendly acquaintance through shared meals and random meetings around camp. Since Tuesday, however, things have been different.

Every time that I have seen Luke in the last four days has involved some mention of my placement in the advanced class, and a not-so-subtle comparison of my abilities to his. Of course, the first time I saw him after my promotion, he immediately congratulated me, but it was clearly forced, and he followed that nicety with a rather offensive (and inexplicable), "Huh, you know I never really saw you training much in intermediate. I guess advanced has been a pretty small class though, they probably want some new people."

What bothers me most about my promotion, however, is not actually the jealous incredulity of those with whom I had trained before. In the company of everyone, it seems, whether or not I had trained with them before, the fact of being in the beginner or intermediate Muay Thai classes has become something of which one is obligated to be ashamed. Chris and I took a new arrival named Dave out to lunch yesterday to show him around town, and after Chris spent the first few minutes of the venture heckling me about my class change, Dave filled our lunch with obnoxious proclamations along the lines of, "I mean, I seriously can't believe they put me in the beginner class. I'm all like, 'dude, I know my training's been off and on, but don't put me with this bunch of pussies.'"

(As an aside, I should say that, to his credit, Chris seems to have been almost completely unfazed by my advancement this week, and while occasionally joking with me about it, he has provided my only real outlet for this frustration)

I would like to ignore Luke's change of attitude, and I would like to remind Dave (and all of the so many others) that the beginner class, or "this bunch of pussies," refers to, at one time or another, every person in the camp. Frankly, the notion that anyone's talents are being wasted as they stagnate under the oppressive, Philistine yoke of the beginner or intermediate trainers is very offensive, as is the realization that all of these comments are coming as an attempt to make their speakers feel that they might still be better fighters than I am, though they are unjustly imprisoned while I am shown undeserved favoritism. If I didn't think that arguing with them would make the alienation problem worse, I would explain to them that they may well be better fighters than me, and that I frankly couldn't care less, as I'm here to study an art form, not prove my masculinity by bouncing my skull off the hardened fists of unimpressed Thai men.

I should also point out that it has been almost entirely Americans who have thus displayed this shallow and competitive nature toward their friends. Maybe it's just a random coincidence, but the others I know, particularly the non-Westerners, seem to be less bothered by my promotion. Perhaps not surprising.

This is all the more frustrating for me as it runs so contrary to my own experience in the States. I don't mean that I'm any stranger to the hyper-competitive nonsense that is a large part of modern martial arts, but rather that I have been selective enough (and fortunate enough) to train only in gyms at which community and dignity are highly valued. At this point I feel it appropriate to mention Conway Mixed Martial Arts, the site of my physical education and intermittent employment in Conway, AR, and a place where I learned a great deal about the dignity of martial artists.

Anyone who has trained at Conway MMA knows that you won't get far as a stranger. I have spent the past four or five years cultivating a strong friendship with the Newton family, who owns and operates the school, and I consider many of its students to be personal friends. What's more, I have always felt that whatever success I earned on my own was an honor for the gym, and I know that I was far from the only one to feel this way. Each time I've been promoted, in whatever style or class, I have always met with encouragement and genuine congratulation, not suspicious stares and backhanded comments. After the first Jiu-Jitsu tournament in which I competed, I and everyone else from Conway MMA handed our medals to Joel after the whole thing was over, and they stayed on the wall in the school, never to be worn by any of us as far as I'm aware.

I think that the Thais understand that. While my last post now appears to me in something of a naive, rosy light, I do still sense a certain camaraderie among many of the students, and its presence is absolutely undiminished in the trainers. I'm encouraged by the office of the camp, in which walls and tables are filled with trophies and championship belts that the winners left there. Every fight picture and video I've seen always shows the Thais displaying some symbol of their training ground, and the art of Muay Thai traditionally features a pre-fight ceremony in which both combatants conduct a dance and a walk around the ring while adorned with physical symbols of the prayers and well-wishes of their trainers and family. I'm sure that these men are aware that many of their students consider promotion something personal, almost like a popularity contest, but they obviously pay so little heed that I can only be assured that they find it as ridiculous as I do. Following this, I plan to continue to try to flesh out what this bond is, though it may be more subtle than perhaps I had originally thought, particularly among us foreigners.

Back to the personal business, I guess what I mean to say is that this one goes out to the guys (and girls, Missy) back home. I know that many of you would love to be where I am, and several of you expressed your envy to me directly, but I especially appreciate that before I left, everyone came down, had pizza, shook my hand, and sent me off with smiles and good wishes. I think that after I come back, and after my financial situation is sorted out, I will make it my business to come back here, and to take at least one of you with me each time. My experience at Conway MMA has always been one of strong community and genuine friendship, where the stripes on your belt, or the notches in your gloves, are never as important as the respect you show on the mats. If only I could show these floundering, insecure peacocks that where I come from, we stand up straight, we don't talk shit, we do our best, and when one of us does well, we shake his hand, we clap him on the back, and we all do what we can to help him do even better.

Love.