Sanctified

Still the darkness of dawn, before the first light outside and Sunday is just about to start. Galhardo and Zangrandi are the first to arrive. Galhardo started the day asking me what I was doing at Corporal at six yesterday, what astonishes me. He could see me. He could see me. Was I dreaming in the long run, or was it amnesia of my long way home? I struggled in order not to let the feeling show and told him I was after my wallet. They lay down on the mat and stayed there, quietly breathing. Eyes shut. I advised them not to sleep. Galhardo smiled a little smile and Zangrandi didn't make any move. I mean, didn't make any move until he started to snore. He woke up elbowed by Galhardo and I told Galhardo not to do it. Zangrandi groaned softly and resumed relaxation. Then he woke up again with the sound of the iron door opening. Morales. He looked strangely at me and lay down almost automatically beside the two others. I was sitting, looking at the silence in the practice hall. Ten minutes later, Figueira. Of course he also lay down immediately. Once relaxed, I had the four sit down.
We started talking. They asked what the sessions could help them with. Said they had been coming for days and still didn't understand what they could do for them.
"When I was called to work with you, the subject I and Mr. Costa talked about was union. He said there was no union among you, what doesn't happen within the older teams. Is it right?"
"Yes", whispered Zangrandi.
"We argue and fight sometimes, but it doesn't mean we have no union", protested Galhardo, casting a furious look on Zangrandi, "everybody argues and fights sometimes."
"Do you trust Figueira, Galhardo?"
"Of course", he said in a decided way. Galhardo looked at Morales. The former looked away at me, uneasy. As if preparing for a half-truth.
"What about you, Figueira, do you trust Galhardo?"
"Yes", he said with his eyes like wounds that never heal.
Well, I asked the other two the same question and there was unanimity when they said they trusted each other. I asked them to rise to their feet. So they did, exchanging looks, without understanding a thing. I drew a handkerchief from my purse and blindfolded Figueira. I told Galhardo to stand before him, one step far from his body in such a way one stood facing the other. They stood there in suspense, until I told Figueira to fall down forward. He did it before I finished explaining and his right foot stepped forward to stop him from falling. The others laughed at the strange procedure they regarded as a joke. I then told Figueira to fall without any fear, giving himself away to the fall.
"But I'll fall down to the floor and smash my nose and my teeth", said he, mystified.
"No, because Galhardo is going to prop you up before you completely fall down."
"Galhardo?" and Figueira laughed his spleen out, making Galhardo look fiercely at him too.
"Yes, him. And he's going to do it because you'll do the same for him when your time comes."
Figueira then concentrated. His body started coming forward slowly. The others caught their breath, especially Galhardo. But Figueira couldn't let his body go. His foot would always prop his body up before Galhardo had the chance to do it. The same happened to all of them. None of them managed to have enough confidence on the other to let him catch them from falling. I decide to finish the exercise and call it a day.
"And now what? Do you still think you trust each other?"
They stood there, dumbfounded, exchanging looks. Nobody said a word. I told them we were going to repeat the exercise until they gave themselves away to the others' prop without any fear.

Well, I stayed for the training today. I went with Galhardo and Figueira to a room at the back of Corporal, to see them train. Galhardo seems to be a very good teacher. But on the other side, there is a rudeness in the treatment he gives Figueira that would make a sergeant blush. He starts showing Figueira the points for choking. Immobilization dynamics. The techniques. They practice real hard, "come on chicken try to escape, let me see if you can escape now", Figueira tries to move, breathless, out of the mass of muscles of Galhardo, the two roll under a hellish tension, bloodshot eyes, while Galhardo laughs, satisfied. He lets Figueira go and they resume. He's already immobilized Figueira six different possible ways and at each immobilization, counts to eight, stops and explains the technique. Figueira listens, asks some questions Galhardo never answers without a cutting ironic tone in his voice and the two resume. Now Galhardo puts him on his knees, binds his head, arm and neck with an arm, lets Figueira's other arm free and useless, while stopping with his right leg any movement Figueira could make forward. I notice Galhardo can manage him very easily playing by the rules, what would never happen if the rulebook were torn; in other words, Galhardo would never overcome him in a street fight. His moves are beautiful though, graceful, methodic, highly technical. Fighting like Galhardo is too beautiful and noble for the Babylon you now see on the streets. Noel Rosa, (12-11-1910 - 5-4-1937), as early as in the 30's, said that martial arts had been sanctified and got more and more merit - with the courage of going to a fight armed only with your body and your techniques - after firearms started being used, since anyone can shoot anyone dead from a distance just making use of a single finger. Rather than decreasing the demand for martial arts the firearms only made them stronger, sole witness of resistance to mechanical killing machines. I go into the other room and Zangrandi doesn't seem to be in better situation, being trained by Morales. The two young "coaches" explain with the best of their patience, but, strange as it might seem, vexing and humiliating the two in a soft and calculated fashion, as sergeants sometimes do; a kind of eerie everyday Golgotha for the two trainees, like Mel Gibson's Passion. And the strong language and stuff. The strangeness of it stands out. They're working the kids' pride in a negative direction, as far as I can see.

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