Bubba

My Friend

Jalal Aineb was a great friend and a great martial artist.

A feeling that still haunts me is that I didn’t go to his funeral or see him during the last month of his life. My father died at almost the same time, and I was overwhelmed by that loss. I simply wasn’t able to be with Jalal. I still wish I had been.

I think of Jalal often. He called me “Bubba” and always greeted me with that wonderful smile.

When I taught morning classes in San Francisco, Jalal would often show up. He even made it to my Danville classes on occasion. He had a habit of leaving his gi in the car. If Jimmy Sensei or I was teaching, he’d go back and get it. If someone else was teaching, he’d usually stay, watch, visit with everyone, and enjoy the community.

The reason I’m thinking about Jalal now is that it has been almost ten years since he died, and I still miss him.

Jalal was one of the finest martial artists I have ever trained with. His skill was matched by something equally rare: he understood the realities of violence. He was street-smart in a way that few martial artists ever become.

Yet when he came to my class, there was never a sense of comparison between us. Neither of us was wondering who could take whom. I knew Jalal could have handled me physically, but that was never our relationship. He never came to prove anything.

We simply trained.

Looking back, I realize how unusual that was. Our relationship didn’t require measuring. It didn’t require either of us to be more or less than the other. It simply allowed us to meet on the mat. So much of martial arts can become an unspoken ranking system. With Jalal, it never did.

Perhaps that is why I still think about him so often.

Jalal understood this. His movement never felt like he was proving something. It felt like he was listening. Whatever happened simply became the beginning of the next response.

Some people leave behind memories of what they could do.

Jalal left behind the memory of someone whose relationships didn’t require measuring.

Even ten years later, he is still teaching me.