In any culture there is always a system of martial arts. These are manifest in weapon and empty hand forms. And the movements are often as simple as a punch or a parry or sometimes as elaborate as a jumping turning crescent kick. Often, training and education in these arts are necessary to sustain a culture and are integral to national identity. Even tribal cultures have them, although perhaps unnamed and not as standardized as the more prominent martial arts.
In China, we have the many varied fighting styles that the rest of the world knows mostly by the Chinese word for skill, “kung-fu.” In mainland Japan, we have jiujitsu, judo, iaido, and other arts that constitute the way of the warrior. From Okinawa, we have karate. From India, we have kalaripayattu. From most of the western countries, we have wrestling, boxing, and fencing, although these have been much watered down from their original practice, in consideration of sportsmanship and the practitioner’s safety. Then, there’s the more modern field of shooting with firearms. These are but some of the disciplines that truly fall within the scope of the martial arts.
In the Philippines, we have Eskrima. The name itself is not indigenously Filipino but is a vernacularization of the Spanish word “esgrima”, which refers to the sport of fencing or the art of swordsmanship. The art is also known as arnis or kali, the former being from another Spanish word, “arnes.” The origin of the latter term, however, is a subject of some controversy and a reading of Dr. Ned Nepangue’s essay The Origins of Eskrima (available online) may be enlightening for some. Of recent coinage is the acronym FMA, or Filipino Martial Arts; which is less contentious and attempts to be all-inclusive.
Eskrima training and lineage has been well documented in the islands of Cebu and Negros. In some lineages, formal and group instruction have arisen out of need. In the neighboring province of Bohol, however, there is almost nothing to indicate the province’s long-standing heritage of renowned eskrimadors.
For the most part, many of the avowed Boholano masters of eskrima have passed on, and those who still practice the martial art do so in secret, much like their teachers did. Many live lives of humble anonymity. I know of one who is a lawyer. I know of one who was a town mayor. I know of one who is a tricyle driver. I know of one who is an ice cream and newspaper peddler. I know of one who is a teacher. I know of one who is an NGO worker. And I suspect many who may live hidden in the hinterlands of the island.
In spite of how widespread the practice seems to be, there doesn’t seem to be an equal interest in the present generation to learn traditional eskrima. It has become so that if you want to learn eskrima in Bohol you enroll in a martial arts club, where they give you formal instruction in styles that usually originate from other provinces. It almost seems that traditional eskrima has faded into obscurity.
The objective of this blog is mainly to prove that the Boholano practice of traditional eskrima is alive and well. For others, it may not be as established or as comprehensive as some styles, but it is effective. And as for the excellence of its techniques, we are of the opinion that that is a product of a ready mind and diligent practice.
The secondary objective is to establish a network of Boholano practitioners of traditional eskrima. Strictly, this blog is not a venue for those who expect to find instruction or tips, although I’m bound to give a few. Rather, this hopes to create a fellowship of those already practicing the art as their forefathers did before them. By this, we hope to spark in the young an interest in eskrima so that they will themselves seek out their own teachers in their community and pass the art of eskrima on to future generations.
Padayon, Bunal Bol-anon!
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