Bare-knuckle boxers fight to keep South African custom

By Ihsaan Haffejee

TSHIFUDI, South Africa 

On a dusty field on the edge of Tshifudi village, men and boys gather to take part in a violent tradition going back nearly 200 years.

The menfolk of the Venda tribes in the northern province of Limpopo have for decades fought each other in bare-knuckle boxing contests known as Musangwe.

Tshilidzi Ndevana, a school teacher in his late 50s, explained the tradition, which reportedly dates to 1829, to Anadolu Agency.

“It started with boys who used to bring their cattle to this place for grazing and water,” he said.

“The young cattle herders would get bored and would encourage their bulls to fight one another. The fighting of the bulls would then encourage the boys to start fighting and so the tradition of Musangwe began.”

Ndevana, a former champion of the sport who used the boxing name Poison, is now its president.

He described how the bouts, in which fighters wear no protection other than their ordinary clothing, instil respect and pride in the fighters, many of who are boys not yet in their teens.

The fights have no set time limit -- one bout in 1998 is said to have lasted five days as the two opponents faced each other for two hours a day -- and only end when one fighter concedes defeat.

No medical staff are on standby to help those injured in the flurry of blows that boxers trade, only village elders watching to guard against indiscretions such as biting or kicking.

Importantly, gambling on the outcome of the fights is banned and the winner takes nothing away other than a sense of pride in representing their village or family.

Raucous crowd

“A good fighter is a person who knows how to respect the rules and the one who also respects his family,” Ndevana said.

“This is a sport which teaches the youngsters how to respect each other and also teaches them how to protect and defend themselves.”

When Anadolu Agency visited the village, which lies around 45 kilometers (28 miles) south of the Zimbabwean border, close to Kruger National Park, a young Venda man was waiting to fight.

Peter Rendani, 32, left his village to study and practice law in Johannesburg but returns regularly to take part in Musangwe fights.

Entering the dusty patch of earth that serves as a boxing ring, Rendani extends a fist to show his readiness to fight.

A bigger man accepts the challenge and punches start flying. The fighting is raw and wild and there is little to resemble a traditional boxing match.

Amid frequent jabs, swings and upper cuts, Rendani is hit in the midriff and collapses to the ground. The fight is halted by Ndevana but after a few seconds, Rendani indicates his willingness to continue the match.

Showing a little more caution, he dodges his opponent’s wild punches with the skill of a dancer before unleashing a fierce left hook that connects with the bigger man’s jaw.

The sound of the impact echoes above the noise of the raucous crowd and the other man falls.

After he is helped to his feet, he concedes the bout and the fighters shake hands and hug.

Venda culture

This is the essence of Musangwe -- respect between opponents, many of who have known each other since childhood, despite the ferocity of the fight.

“I love coming here and fighting,” Rendani said. “It is part of my culture and it’s also a great stress reliever.

“Musangwe has taught me many things. And today I learnt another lesson -- you don’t have to be the bigger man to be the better fighter.”

Other fights carry on until the sun sets. The winners are carried around on their friends’ shoulders while the losers walk down to the nearby Lundevhe river to wash blood from their wounds.

“This custom will never die amongst the Venda people because it was something that was started by our ancestors and when we gather here it’s like we are giving thanks and honouring our ancestors by fighting,” Ndevana said.

The popularity of the Musangwe, which sees people from rival villages encourage their fighters with songs and cheering, remains important to Venda culture and boys as young as 12 are encouraged to participate to keep the tradition alive.

However, unlike some traditions in South Africa, particularly those popular with tourists, it attracts no official backing.

“There is no support from the government and this is our only problem,” Ndevana told Anadolu Agency.

“Other indigenous games are financed but we do not receive help from the government. We are asking the government to help us to look after the future of this sport because we cannot allow this game to die amongst us.

“It is our tradition and it should be kept alive for future generations.”