Horror of watching brutal fist fight between two men

There is nothing structured about street fights, it is bare knuckles, there are no rules, and so there is no referee, and unless a brave, (suicidal is more like it) person gathers enough courage to step in between the two fighting men going at each other like animals. PHOTO | FILE

What you need to know:

  • But the fight was still in him. He managed to get hold of the foot intent on turning him into  pulp, unsettling his attacker’s balance, sending him crashing on his back. He then leaped to his feet, face bloodied and beginning to swell in places, and launched himself on the fallen man, pounding his face and chest with crippling blows.
  • By then, I had covered both of my eyes with my hands, though I could still see what was happening through the space between my fingers, a case of not wanting to see but still wanting to see.
  • To begin with, there is nothing structured about street fights, it is bare knuckles, there are no rules, and so there is no referee, and unless a brave, (suicidal is more like it) person gathers enough courage to step in between the two fighting men going at each other like animals.

The first time I saw two men fight, I was horrified, I was shocked. It was brutal.

These two men went at each other with a focused, single-minded look on their faces that said they had no intention of stopping until either of them was down and unmoving. There was murder in those two faces, and it was the scariest thing I have ever seen.

Each time a blow landed on either of them, there was a loud thump, as if a sack of potatoes had fallen off a lorry. At some point, one of them bodily lifted the other and threw him against a wall. I was sure he was dead, but surprisingly, he got up and rushed at his opponent, head low, at a crouch, teeth bared like an animal.

He slammed into the other man’s mid-section with one of his shoulders, knocking the air out of him, sending him sprawling to the ground. He then proceeded to stomp on him on the face with such force, I was certain that if the felled man did not manage to get up, his face would be reduced to mincemeat.

BARE KNUCKLES

But the fight was still in him. He managed to get hold of the foot intent on turning him into  pulp, unsettling his attacker’s balance, sending him crashing on his back. He then leaped to his feet, face bloodied and beginning to swell in places, and launched himself on the fallen man, pounding his face and chest with crippling blows. By then, I had covered both of my eyes with my hands, though I could still see what was happening through the space between my fingers, a case of not wanting to see but still wanting to see.

I cannot tell you how relieved I was when some men who had been watching suddenly stepped forward and managed to haul off the crazed man from the one on the ground. Of course he resisted, trying to kick and punch those holding him. More men joined in, and within a minute of two, managed to subdue him. The two men finally went separate ways, each looking like they had been in a vicious fight with a number of alley cats.  

The story was that one of them had cheated the other out of money, and so he had gone to collect. By whatever means necessary.

I was a die-hard fan of WWF superstars of wrestling way back in primary school, and I can tell you for a fact that those fights are child’s play compared to that impromptu street fight I had the misfortune of witnessing.

To begin with, there is nothing structured about street fights, it is bare knuckles, there are no rules, and so there is no referee, and unless a brave, (suicidal is more like it) person gathers enough courage to step in between the two fighting men going at each other like animals, or a policeman happens to be in the vicinity, these fights almost always have a tragic end.

I have also come to realise that it does not matter whether a man is scrawny, big-bodied, or with pronounced muscles – all men fight the same way – they fight to maim, to unleash maximum damage.

I have also seen women fight, too, and it is comical. Mercifully, the worst most women do is sit on each other, scratch and try to uproot each other’s hair. It is no laughing matter, but when it comes to trading blows, women thankfully lack the viciousness that men have, and the blows and scratches we direct at each other are half-hearted, as if we would rather be doing something else, for instance having a manicure or pedicure.

I wish you all a peaceful Sunday.