LIFE BY LOUIS: Why I’m the perfect person to teach fighting tactics

This great nation of expensive milk, subsidised maize flour and creamy avocados was recently treated to a free boxing pageantry between two newly elected prefects in the City. 

The opponent in the orange corner who has been a Comrade for more than ten years is alleged to have called the big Headmaster of this country bad names.

This Comrade who has been a student leader for former fellow college mates who are now approaching early retirement was also accused of not showing respect to his elders including the main City Sheriff.

The local Sheriff was left with no choice but to grab him from the streets and host him for three days in one of the government sponsored gated communities in the City.

THE CHALLENGER

The challenger in the red corner who is also a celebrity musician did not take this slighting of the big Headmaster lightly.

He immediately demanded that the Comrade apologises and ceases disrespecting the big Headmaster.

He is rumoured to be a close friend of the Headmaster and is said to regularly pop into his big white house located near the Arboretum for breakfast. This challenger who once released a multi-platinum selling single hit where he called politicians fickle and capricious (vigeugeu) before he also became a politician decided to take matters into his own hands and teach the lifetime Comrade a lasting lesson.

The venue of the bout was inside the big debating hall where laws are passed in record time if the opposing side dares to blink for even a second.

VERY EASY TIME FOR SECURITY GUARDS

Security guards who were caught up in the melee had a very easy time intercepting the weak punches that were being exchanged between the two pugilists, and soon the two young prefects threw in their towels and retired to their respective corners.

This bout was broadcast widely but after watching the clip several times, all I could see were two young men flinging weakly arms at each other without making any significant impact.

My palms grew warm with anticipation when I remembered how we sorted such disputes back in my days at Karugo Group of Schools.

We had this boy in class six called Soigu who was the regional primary schools fights promoter for Central Province, Northern Rift and parts of Eastern Province. He had been in Class Six for as long as I could remember.

FILTER POINT

Class Six was the filter point for those who were academically strong enough to proceed to sit for their final exam while the rest like Soigu repeated this class until they were declared fit to proceed which could take as long as five years.

As a result, he and other boys in Class Six had fully matured, grown big muscles, beards and broken their voices. 

Although the scientist who discovered mobile phones was still a toddler doodling in putty, Soigu was able to coordinate all the bouts across the three provinces without the aid of any form of modern technology.

He had an accurate log of all the tough fighters in all the primary schools within his expansive area of jurisdiction, all the winning fighting skills, the fighting arena for each school and the identities of all the defending champions across various weight categories.

SECONDARY HOBBIES

Boys of those days were defined by their fighting prowess, and any other skills you had including solving tough mathematical problems and writing compositions were considered secondary hobbies.

A boy who could pack a good fight got bragging rights and a lion share of anything that required some physical persuasion, including the weaker boys lunch box or girlfriend.

Major title fights were held on closing days and thanks to Soigu, no boy could go past Class Six without having participated in a major bout.

On this particular day, I was scheduled to fight a boy who went by the ringside name of Ndush. In retrospect, Ndush was a trump card for the fights promoter. Although he was of small stature and was barely the height of a small cooking flour packet, Ndush packed the energy of a nuclear weapon.

The fight promoter used him to lure the big boys into fights with the promise that Ndush was a walkover, only for them to be shown dust by the tiny opponent.

On this day after the school had been dismissed for the holidays, all the boys from our school gathered in an open arena in the middle of a thick bush next to the school.

HEIGHT ADVANTAGE

My camp had taken me though intense coaching which included clever tricks to floor my opponent in the first round.

Because of my height advantage, I was advised to swing a mallet fist and hit his fontanelle whereby I was assured of a technical knockout.

I was told to keep off his hands reach and watch out for upper cuts coming from under my jaw because that was the highest that my opponent could reach.

After a few non-title fights where younger boys rolled each other in the dust and attempted to stick fingers into each other’s’ eyes and noses, Soigu ceremoniously arrived in the arena signaling the commencement of major title fights.

He meticulously took us through the rudimentary fighting rules and inspected our fists for any unwarranted weapons like long nails. He then coughed up some thick sputum and placed a big drop on the back of my small palm.

To start the fight, Ndush was supposed to rub off the drop of sputum to signify his unwavering willingness to fight.

This action was called rubbing the star and it was equivalent to a neighbouring country declaring that Migingo Island belonged to them. Once the star was rubbed, war was declared and there was no turning back.

With one of my tiny fists tightly clenched and cleverly hidden behind my back to act as a surprise weapon of mass destruction, I gave out my left hand for Ndush to rub the star, and the fight officially commenced.

I was exuding confidence and according to my camp, Ndush was coming to this fight as an underdog.

Looking back, this is how I would conservatively describe the fight with Ndush.

It was like encountering a powerful hippopotamus on steroids or fighting off a deranged giant octopus with a troubled past and a drug problem.

With his head safely tucked into his body like a tortoise and swinging his short powerful arms, he rained on me like a bad weather season. At some point he deflated my stomach of all air much to the chagrin of my coaching team who had to call off a break and inspire me with new fighting tricks.

All my attempts to connect with my opponent’s fontanelle for that decisive punch bore futile fruits. He seemed to crawl on the ground and all my attempts to reach him were as successful as trying to catch a tadpole in a patch of muddy water.

SPRIGHTLY DEMEANOR

He had this sprightly demeanour that I still had time to admire despite the dire situation. He was springing on his heels like a young antelope and he had this apparent omnipresence across the entire arena, making it impossible for me to reach him. I was getting into an intense fright mode and I highly regretted ever getting into this fight whose odds looked heavily skewed to his favour.

In one miscalculated move borne out of an erroneous tactical input from my corner, I swung a wild drop kick which Ndush promptly intercepted mid-air and flung me onto the hard ground.

All the remaining air escaped from my lungs upon impact. Ndush jumped on this opportunity and swiftly landed on my chest where he worked on my exposed face with well calculated jabs.

I started seeing small five cent coins flying across my eyes and a ringing sound coming from my ears.

I was convinced that this tiny fighting machine was going to permanently rearrange my facial features if nothing short of magic happened.  

In one last attempt to save this boy child from this inevitable shame of everlasting consequence, I slithered from under his vice like grip and ran for my dear life.

My camp shrunk away in shame as my opponents cheered wildly. 

Soigu promptly summoned the two of us by his side and after keenly inspecting my mashed up facial features he called off the fight, and sooner a major bout between two Class Seven boys got underway.

If anyone finds the two young prefects in the City who can’t put up a respectable fight, please tell them to come to me for important fighting lessons.

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