Free tai chi class at the Cheah Kongsi with a Master from China. 7.30 – 9.30 pm. tonight.

After almost 20 years in Malaysia we still can’t break the habit of getting to events on time.

We walked through the Kongsi gates and onto the MSG-soaked fluorescent lawn at precisely 7.29 pm.
“Perhaps this is the wrong place,” Veronica suggested. Noting that there was no one around.

It was then that I realised our mistake. Doh, we’re on time. Stupid. Penang people are always at least 30 minutes late for everything.

Several years ago we raced down to Bayan Lepus to attend a wedding starting at 7.00 pm sharp. It started at 10. Everyone else arrived between 9.50 and 10.00 pm. Depending on the nature of the event, there is an unwritten understanding among Penangites as to how late they need to be.

In the courtyard in front of the temple, a lone security guard confirmed that indeed, this was where the tai chi was to take place. He then got up and started mimicking some tai chi postures with hilariously exaggerated movements.

At around 8 pm the local folk started appearing out of the cracks in the cities’ walls.

At the risk of sounding a touch conceited, the ensuing histrionics were stunningly predictable.

The Chinese adopt their roles in these tai chi theatre pieces to the point where you’re convinced that it’s all some rehearsed parody.

I’ve been to hundreds of these tai chi classes over the years. Run by the Chinese, for the Chinese, in China and Malaysia. The same characters appear in every class like it was some Chinese Opera with the King, Queen, Warrior, Villain, Hero, Peasants etc.

First to appear is The Uncle. The thin man of 70 with wispy white hair, a white t-shirt tucked into silky blue track suit pants, gym shoes and possibly a limp that he’s carried for 50 years after writing off his first Boon Siew. He’s quiet, respectful and usually totally ignored. He seems to accept this isolation as though it’s forged through request.

The next to appear are The 3 Maidens. They are nice, they smile, they wear white t-shirts with yellow embossing and they are volunteers for a Buddhist charity like Tai Tzu or Save the Japanese from Themselves or whatever. They are sweet and they usually bring cakes for everyone else. Their tai chi is always very ‘Yin’, very soft and to the alpha males who are yet to appear on stage, they are at the bottom of the tai chi peaking order. In my opinion, they are closer to the top by a process of attrition.

Next to come are The Newbie Enthusiasts. The middle-aged, educated males who have invested an interest in tai chi as a possible antidote to mid-life crisis. Unlike the solo uncle, they are happy to talk to anyone and smart enough to express a degree of emotion completely foreign to most Chinese, humility. They do however possess the common Chinese trait of listening without hearing. The combination of their recent discovery of tai chi and their genetic pre-disposition to the art, totally over-rides any knowledge or skill a Westerner may have accrued during 3 decades of regular training. Tai chi development is an inch wide and a mile deep. They only know about the inch and yet they start telling me about the mile.

Now comes the first of The Alpha Males. He’s a silverback in dark silks with thick thighs and a thick head. When he struts across the lawn he imagines that all eyes are upon him and everyone is excited by his presence. To the contrary, the Chinese aren’t stupid, they all think he’s a dick-head too.

The group grows quickly until there are around 40 people. They gradually take up their positions on the large concrete quadrangle in front of the main temple. The Master arrives. He looks unremarkable with a noticeable expansion of the lower dantien. I suspect that Malaysian street food agrees with him.

The Master begins by wasting at least 5 minutes getting everyone to line up in rows. This happens in every Chinese tai chi class. They are obsessed with this regimentation and the students always behave like it’s the most difficult task of the night. The feng shui is finally acceptable and we begin with a salute. The big gorilla, who has positioned himself at the back, to no doubt keep an eye on everyone, suddenly yells out – ‘Show respect to the Master’. I glance over and see smoke starting to billow out of Veronica’s ears.

We do warm ups. It’s external posturing with no internal nurturing. They grind their knees with gusto. Veronica and I watch on. The knee is a hinge joint not a ball and socket joint. I blindly followed my early teachers doing these masochistic loosening exercises for years and finished up with ‘swimming knees’. The kuas are overlooked and the structure encouraged to collapse at the knees.

Then it’s time to stretch and bounce ( ouch ). They can all stretch low, irrespective of how awful their tai chi is. Years of defecating over holes in the ground has ensured that the pelvis is open and their feet are left flapping outward like a clown.

I’m starting to plan our exit strategy but decide to scan the cast of characters again to see how many more of the usual suspects are present.

Miss Torpedo is here. She’s always at this type of class. Tall and skinny, she stands up the front and has more angles than a Mathematics text book. She can reach up higher than everyone else and go lower than everyone else. She moves faster and harder. She has 6 elbows and her pony tail flashes when she punches the air with all her little might. The qi is caught somewhere between her ego and annealed shoulders. There is nothing about her that has even an inkling of what tai chi is about but in her mind she is a star.

If this was a Chess Board and I was a Knight, then I could take The Disco Man with my next move. He’s in front to the right and is an unmistakable presence. What he sees others do and how he interprets what he sees are two entirely different concepts. The Disco Man is able to abuse motion in ways that most other people couldn’t even begin to exaggerate. Legs and arms defy every physical law as he all but dismantles himself in the search for grace.

The Athlete is here too. Young, fit, handsome, strong, he can ‘really’ do tai chi. He’s the golden boy. He doesn’t need to say anything, just smile and accept all the admiring glances.

The Snake is always present. He’s late fifties, a little over-weight but he can move around close to the ground. That’s his thing, slithering through a form. I love to keep an eye on him for those little moments when he over does it and falls over, hoping no-one will notice.

Wu Shu Boy never fails to attend any class where a genuine Master is present. He does Kung Fu and now he’s mastering Tai Chi. He will always want to lead students in their training when the Master has gone back to China.

The Master, who seems content to let senior students do most of the work, finally comes forward to demonstrate the Form. He’s the real deal. A powerful unit with genuine fajing. His tailbone doesn’t tuck well, which is either a long held bad habit or the unbending shape of his back but either way, he appears to have compensated well for any structural fault there. He’s impressive albeit a touch lazy. I can tell that he rarely practices these days. As is so often the case with well regarded teachers, they tend to oversee rather than be directly involved. It’s been an ordinary night but the opportunity to watch a real Master perform made the outing worthwhile.

As a teaching project I really failed to see the point. Any new students to tai chi appear to have only learned to contort their bodies into unhelpful positions. It’s external nonsense. Chen Style is not something that can be taught satisfactorily to students who lack foundation.

We left and I’m sure that most present would agree that we played the role of token Westerners to perfection. Two white people who had no understanding at all about the Chinese art of Tai Chi.