A man who catches flies with chopsticks can do anything
Miyagi
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-Oss - invokes the shihan Javier Lozano (51) upon entering the room.
He takes off his shoes, steps on the tatami, invokes:
-Us.
The dojo is silent.
The dojo looks like a temple.
It's Wednesday morning, early.
At those hours there are no classes, there are no students, there is no activity.
–What does 'oss' mean? –I ask the shihan.
–It means 'respect' in Japanese. It is written 'ossu'. We must greet each other when arriving and leaving. We must do it when we get on the bus, when we enter the cafeteria or the grocery store. This is how we must train our creatures.
The shihan speaks and life lights up in the place, the Forum Kyokushin Dojo, which proudly surrenders to its neighbors, the people of Diagonal Mar, a stone's throw from Besòs.
–Where there is a poor neighborhood there are people rich in values. Those who come to my dojo are, they are rich in values. Pallets, taxi drivers and magistrates come. Everyone is humble in their treatment and mixes in the locker room and on the tatami. Many bring their children and thus the children see that, although some are more powerful professionally than others, here everyone can be on par with anyone.
–And do your daughters practice karate?
-I've got four. All four of them are karatekas: Jessica, Lorena, Paula, Laia... In the family I have Spanish champions and European champions, you know? Even Vicky, my wife, also practices it.
He names Vicky and the woman appears in the doorway. Vicky comes to greet the shihan. She is accompanied by a friendly six-year-old Border Collie who caresses my calves. His name is Aka (means 'red' in Japanese).
Trophies are everywhere.
They rest on the shelves, on the tables, on the armchairs.
They don't fit anymore.
"There's no more room," the shihan tells me.
We sat on a sofa, next to the dojo reception.
–Until now, the students left the glasses in the dojo, but you see: they don't fit. So I let them bring the last trophy and have their picture taken with it and then take it home. 'No one sees them at home,' the parents tell me. Yes, but they don't fit here.
(...)
Javier Lozano brought the dojo to the neighborhood in 2009. Bringing it cost him a kidney. He had to lose his apartment. Before immersing himself in the world of karate, Javier Lozano had been a welder. He worked at Alstom, in Santa Perpètua de Mogoda, an hour's drive from Barcelona. He left work at seven in the afternoon and ran to the Mercury gym, next to Besòs, to teach classes.
The owner wanted to transfer the Mercury and Javier Lozano said:
-I'll take it.
He took out a second mortgage, and his.
It was 2004 and Spain was doing well. The Mercury was gigantic, nothing to do with this collected dojo: 700 m2 of machines, a kickboxing room, another for jiujitsu, another for dance... 2,800 euros were paid in rent.
And then came the crisis.
Do you remember her, reader?
I don't know about you, but the shihan remembers her.
–The karate guys didn't fail. They were united to me, to the teacher, they were committed, because that is what this discipline consists of. But the people in the weight room, or those in the rest of the activities... they disappeared. So I had to undersell the apartment. With the 60,000 euros from the sale I reinvented myself and set up this dojo, I just wanted to have a dojo like this.
-Because?
–Japanese dojos are like that: more collected, more austere. Some don't even have showers. I've been to Tokyo and Mount Fuji, sleeping on a mat, away from cell phones and social media. Here I see how fourteen-year-old children distance themselves from reality by entering their virtual world. I'm not for those things, I want to instill values in them.
–And where do their values come from?
–Of everything my father taught me. He never had a university degree, but he educated me on the street. If our neighbor, Mrs. María, came carrying the bags, José would slap me and say: 'Help her, don't you see that she needs it?' You have to say 'oss' when entering, you have to ask the shihan for permission to leave. Only students who complete their studies compete here. I ask for the notes in December and June. The karateka must be someone cultivated, not a dropout from school.
