Sigung David Moylan, Owner, WKFA

Sigung’s Corner

This November, after exactly 34 years, to get more floor space, an old wooden wardrobe style cabinet was removed from the kwoon. This cabinet’s time at the Academy pre-dates even Sibok Lloyd and Eric’s time. In our last newsletters, we enclosed Memoir of an Armoire: Part I and Memoir of an Armoire: Part II. Here is Part Three of a Memoir of an Armoire:

During my years as a cabinet in the Kwoon, the instructors and students were present with such consistency. I witnessed a pattern of practice of this activity they called “Kung Fu”. While most days were very routine, there were special events.

Most attended at specific times and days, but once the snow melted, there would be a day that brought out what seemed like everyone at once. They called this day the “Shiai” and it was filled with activity and excitement. Everyone gathered around two of the four squares on the floor (oddly described as “rings”). The Shiai opened with a song (sometimes to lovely live music) and a group “bow” (the move I’ve seen so many times, if I could move, even I would remember to look left). Students would perform for the Sifus, who watched intently, and then, on cue, flashed up numbers. They’d also spar each other, stopping more than normal for the Sifus to flip red and white flags, also on cue. The performers would receive medals of different shades that brought big smiles to their faces.

When the sun started to shine less and the trees started shedding their leaves, another large gathering occurred. On the night before this especially curious event, certain Sifus and students decorated the entire building with a strange assortment of things like pumpkins, chainsaws, skeletons and lights. They’d play music and stay very late, then the next afternoon, many people, mostly kids, would arrive. Normally all wore black pants and a t-shirt, but on this day, there was such variety: long gowns, painted faces, strange hats, props and so on. This was one of the very rare times Sigung wasn’t wearing his black top with white frog buttons. The day was packed with fun and games. People even ate food in the Kwoon (also very rare). In the early years, kids would watch something on the grey box above me, but later on, they shined a much larger moving image onto the big walls. I think they called this big party “Halloween”.

From my corner in the Kwoon, I watched our space change considerably from when I first arrived. Sifus and students would sometimes come in to do things other than hit one another. They did a lot painting and beautiful artwork was hung everywhere. Trophies, posters and plaques came and went, but others kept their spot; notably four above the mirrors that the Sifus refer to quite regularly—I believe they call them “Focus Points”. The younger students raise their hands when asked about them. Not often, but sometimes they shout in unison—something about stances and focusing their eyes, mind and body.

Certain Sifus added wooden structures to the Kwoon; one is along the brick wall and the students use it for balance on slow kicks and stretching. Planks suspend large canvas bags that get struck with such passion and energy. A rack was put in to hold their weapons. I guess I couldn’t house everything this growing group of regulars needed.

One of these “wood working” Sifus would eventually come to have a major impact on my life and role in the Academy, but alas, a story for later.

Sigung David Moylan, Owner, WKFA

Sigung’s Corner

This November, after exactly 34 years, to get more floor space, an old wooden wardrobe style cabinet was removed from the kwoon. This cabinet’s time at the Academy pre-dates even Sibok Lloyd and Eric’s time. Last newsletter, we enclosed Memoir of an Armoire: Part I. Here is Part Two of a Memoir of an Armoire:

Shortly after settling into my purpose in this new building, I was housing more things for Sifu. Pads that people would hold and strike with each other and fat gloves they would wear to strike each other (mostly to the body, but sometimes to the head, which would often anger Sifu). Hooks were drilled into my side that held white vests the people would sometimes wear when they engaged in this controlled partner striking, they called sparring.

Hmmm, I just had a flashback and recall that a few months before the move, Sifu held one of those semi-regular performance days they called a “grading”, but this one was different. It was much longer and many more were in attendance, including a very large and imposing man that the students, like Sifu and Master Pan, held in great reverence. This man they called “Master Day” or sometimes “Si Tai Gung”. While others also performed on this day, the main focus was on one person in particular; someone they called “Sihing”. He had to do much more than the others, for longer, with a lot more intensity. Master Day even brought two large guys with long hair that I had never seen before. Sihing had to spar them. Near the end of this lengthy day, he used his hand to smash through layers of concrete! He was very strong.

At the end of the day, Sihing received a black piece of cloth. This was the first time Sifu ever presented one of these and the people now started referring to Sihing as Sifu. While this was the first time I saw this happen, there would be many more days like it. Many more people would be called “Sihing” and “Sije”, many more became “Sifu somebody”. But only the one there every day, that instructed everyone, would they just call “Sifu”. Many years later, those without the black cloth on their waist would start calling him “Sigung”.

Sigung would train and teach with such consistency. I watched him get stronger and wiser, more efficient in his movement and more effective in his instruction. The number of people coming in to learn from him grew. Many would stay for several years and then never be seen again. Some would return many years later and this made Sigung smile. Three that I remember from the days at the old building remained; two of these three, the others would start to call “Sibok”.

During my time in the place they called “kwoon”, I would see these Siboks several times every week, without fail. I think they were close friends of Sifu, as they met with him often to talk and train. The one they call Eric, was the only one I ever saw spar with Sifu. The one they called Lloyd would help Sigung give the students several sheets of paper each month they called Fu for You (he did this at the old building too). I watched these Siboks train hard, but also lead classes. I watched their own families train and grow up. They almost never missed helping Sifu with the gradings.

The third person I remember from the old building, unlike the Siboks, started as a young boy. Under Sifu’s guidance, I watched him change from a shy and weak lad into a confident and fit man that eventually would start to spend almost every day with me in the kwoon. I’ll save that story for another day.

Sigung David Moylan, Owner, WKFA

Sigung’s Corner

This November, after exactly 34 years, to get more floor space, an old wooden wardrobe style cabinet was removed from the kwoon. This cabinet’s time at the Academy pre-dates even Sibok Lloyd and Eric’s time. Part One of a “Memoir from an Armoire”:

After a long service housing coats and hats, a kind and strong man moved me into what I figure was his home. This guess is based on the time he spent there with me. I’d watch him practice every day. His coordinated movements were as intense as they were graceful. Most days, he would whirl around implements. Some were made of metal, some, like me, were made of wood, and some were made of both.

Every day, at even intervals, other people would come into the building, cover their right fist and greet him as “Sifu”. My mustachioed roommate would systematically guide them through the moves he practiced. Water would pool on their backs and brows; they seemed to love every minute of it!

Perhaps not every minute. At what seemed like quarterly intervals, chairs would be setup and then many people would gather. Most seated, but some standing, to watch a smaller number perform. Sifu wouldn’t instruct on these days. Instead, he would ask them to show him the moves he taught them. They seemed to exert more effort than usual. Strangely, at the end, they would almost kneel for a short length of time, moaning and grimacing all the while.

These special days were much longer than normal. At the end, Sifu would give most of them a sheet of paper and coloured band of cloth that they’d proudly affix around their waist, while those not performing clapped loudly and smiled.

Over the years, sometimes people wouldn’t receive this new cloth and I would notice the water then pool in their eyes. Often, I’d never see them again, but occasionally, I’d see them more than ever. They would return to one of these special long days and eventually get that paper and cloth. The cloth they tie so specifically. Years later, I’d even watch this shorter lady wearing a black cloth, re-tie these cloths and even argue with taller students about how to do it right!

After I made the move to this lively building, my main purpose seemed to be to hold up a fake plastic tree and a big grey box that plugged into the wall. Along with Sifu’s guidance, children would gather under me and watch as the grey box teach them about staying alert and staying safe.

After several years, a very flexible and intense man started working with Sifu during his daily alone sessions training. This new character with wispy black hair would, every once-in-awhile, instruct the others as well – sometimes inside, sometimes outside. Like Sifu, they seemed to have great respect for him, referring to him as “Master Pan”.

Five years after my first move, I was relocated to a much larger building. This new home resembled the former. The long hanging canvas bags everyone struck were there, but more of them. The same statue with red lights, that Sifu would carefully turn on at the start of every day was there too.

Despite the similarities, over the next 29 years, I would be witness to a lot of change. To be continued….

Also see Memoir of an Armoire: Part II and Memoir of an Armoire: Part III.