A little family tradition

Let’s face it, one of the major legacies that one leaves behind after one is gone is…our offspring and their descendants. If you can pass on anything to them besides your DNA, you have the chance of beginning or continuing what, over time, becomes a real family tradition.

One obstacle to continuing old family traditions in America is that the very process of immigration into the U.S. often meant that various traditions were lost or cut off in the huge move to this country. This is especially true when one considers the language barrier between our grandparents from the “old country” and the third, fourth, and later generations. The fact that our first generation (Issei) Japanese/Okinawan forebears came from a culture that didn’t talk much, coupled with our Nisei parents becoming “Americanized” within one generation, and the flow of information and tradition naturally trickles down to nothing. I can’t tell you how many hours I have questioned my dad about our family history over the years, and how many times he’s said, “I don’t really know, my parents didn’t say much and I never thought to ask.”

I’ve mentioned before that the one tradition my dad passed down to me was a physical one; his jade ring, which I wear (except when I exercise) every day. I intend to pass it down to my son or grandson one day. One common family tradition in Japanese families is giving middle Japanese names that have a common prefix or suffix. I have to admit that I started a little tradition myself, in that my son shares part of my middle name. We’re both “Kuni-something”. By coincidence, my son-in-law is has “Kuni-something” in his middle name, as does his dad and grandad. Therefore, he and my daughter, who’s due very soon, have decided to name our anticipated grandson, “Kuni-something”. So, you can see a mini-tradition forming right there.

While we know very little of the Nakamoto family history prior to my grandparents, some 20 years ago, I was fortunate enough to acquire the family lineage of my mom’s Shimabukuro family roots in Okinawa (my uncle procured it from distant relatives in Okinawa). When I handwrite in my grandson’s name onto the tree, there’ll be ten generations’ worth, going back to 1754 – roughly 250 years. In looking at the list and all of the names, a couple of patterns stand out. First of all, our branch of the Shimabukuro’s usually named at least one male in each generation with a name that began with “Shun”. Therefore, across the generations, I consistently see Shunki (my g-g-g-g-g-grandfather), Shunpo (my g-g-g-g-grandfather), Shunmei (my g-g-g-grandfather), Shunjun, Shunseki, Shunji, Shunmo, Shunyei, Shunshin, Shunko, Seishun, Shuntoku, Shunyu, Shunto, Shunsei, Shunseki (my great-grandfather), Shunshin (my grandfather)…then, in the 1900’s, the Okinawan pronounciation of the character for Shun turns into the Japanese equivalent of Haru…Haruki, Harukichi (my uncle), Haruhide, Harutaka, and on and on. Across the hundreds or thousands of Shimabukuro relatives, I’m sure that the Shun/Haru tradition continues till this day (My own name happens to also have Haru in it). The founder of Shotokan, Funakoshi Gichin belonged to a branch of Funakoshi’s whose sons had names began with “Gi-something” while my sensei, Shihan Kenneth Funakoshi, came from a branch where “Ge-something” was repeatedly given. So the tree gives me a definite feeling of connection to my ancestors from the distant past, as well as provide me some insight into an apparently important and long-lived family tradition . On the tree, I can even see the very first time that the Shimabuku name was created, during my great-great-grandfather’s generation. Before that, our family name was different and really short…Kan. The only irritating thing is, the tree specifically begins in 1754 with the 3rd generation (Shunki) so the early generations, which were known to the writer, are left out on purpose – likely because the Kan’s had dropped from some higher level of gentry by Shunki’s time.

The second trend that runs throughout the tree is the family rank – Chikudun Peichin – which shows under the males’ names from the earliest generation (Shunki) up through one last time, when the Shimabuku name is created (and the samurai were abolished). So my great-grandfather, Shunseki Shimabukuro is the first to be born without the title. Well, such is life….big deal, what’s in a rank anyways? And, as it turned out, Chikudun Peichin were only somewhere in the middle of the Okinawan gentry rankings. When I first read Chikudun Peichin in the tree, it sounded funny and meant nothing to me; it could have been Okinawan for Pioneer Chicken, for all I knew (I mean no disrespect to my ancestors!). However, only in the last few years have karate historians began to write about the Chikudun Peichin – the founders of Te, or what was to evolve into modern day Karate-Do. No wonder so many of the original Okinawan masters of Te from the 1800’s had the title of Chikudun Peichin or just plain Peichin attached to their names. This particular class of Okinawan gentry filled a small but important niche – they were the bodyguards, palace guards, sheriffs, magistrates, police and carriers of the martial arts tradition of Okinawa. Most of our karate history can only be traced back to the mid 1800’s, partially due to the secrecy of the art, which was only shared with one’s sons or with a select and deserving few. The mid-1800’s were when the Te experts were losing their livelihoods and forced to transform themselves into farmers, fishermen or merchants. I can remember staring at the old photo of great-grandfather Shunseki at my uncle’s home when I was a child. Gazing back at me, across the years, was a small, serious man in his traditional attire and mon. I wonder what changes he saw during his lifetime, what long-kept family traditions were finally lost, along with homes and stipends, in the scramble to survive in Japan’s and Okinawa’s drive to modernize? What forces and realities finally led to his son, Shunshin (whom I knew as GiGi), to leave his home to come to Hawaii a hundred years ago, seeking a better life for his family? It’s kind of sobering when you think about it.

The Chikudun Peichin are a long-gone and mostly forgotten part of history, but a portion of their legacy has been preserved. Their traditional martial arts have evolved and live on…whenever you or I are practicing karate-do, you gain a sense of what they felt and did. Karate-do is about knowledge and awareness, it is about one’s attitude towards life and towards others, it is embodied in movement. It truly is a living art, that has been passed down personally, from sensei to student through many, many hours of practice and guidance and through many generations of practitioners. As any student can attest, its values and lessons remain vibrantly alive and fresh. It is a family tradition in the truest sense, and when we practice it, we are all members of that same extended family.

I am one of the very fortunate senseis in not only having the best students I could have asked for, but also for having had my own children who indulged me by training in karate-do for many years. One day, perhaps in addition to part of a name, a family heirloom or a copy of the family tree, we’ll be able to add karate-do to the list of family traditions for the next generation and those that follow us, like little “Kuni-something”.

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