KALI
Biceps, chamber, hip, point. Thrust, slash, cover. The rhythmic shouts come from a kali master instructor, and they’re echoed by hundreds of students who are mimicking his every move. It’s part of the training that’s taking place at the 2018 Martial Arts SuperShow in Las Vegas. In attendance are police officers, former SWAT team members, Special Forces operatives, U.S. Marines and ordinary martial artists representing disciplines that range from krav maga and taekwondo to Brazilian jiu-jitsu to kung fu san soo.
Men, women and children from all walks of life have assembled in the Bellagio ballroom to learn pekiti tirsia kali from one of the most visible exponents of the art, a man named Apolo Ladra. Let your mind wander, and the clack of their kali sticks can evoke images from different eras and locales. Maybe the sound is the byproduct of Filipino farmers working their scythes in the field. Maybe it’s the noise of riflemen firing, reloading and refiring across revolutionary battlefields. The strikes reverberate beyond the ballroom walls. They’re universal, all-encompassing, drawn from the pulse of an indigenous Filipino fighting art forged over hundreds of years. The resonance is material, and for the stick wielders, it’s spiritual.
Ladra’s role is to serve as a bridge that spans centuries and
