flowers for the fallen

Dusk was falling when from the German trenches in front of the French line rose that strange green cloud of death. The light north-easterly breeze wafted it toward them, and in a moment death had them by the throat. One cannot blame them that they broke and fled. In the gathering dark of that awful night they fought with the terror, running blindly in the gas-cloud, and dropping with breasts heaving in agony and the slow poison of suffocation mantling their dark faces. Hundreds of them fell and died; others lay helpless, froth upon their agonized lips and their racked bodies powerfully sick, with tearing nausea at short intervals. They too would die later – a slow and lingering death of agony unspeakable. The whole air was tainted with the acrid smell of chlorine that caught at the back of men's throats and filled their mouths with its metallic taste.

— Captain Alfred Oliver Pollard, The Memoirs of a VC (1932)

The poppy came to be used as a symbol of remembrance for the soldiers who have fallen in battle, inspired by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae’s iconic poem written during the First World War, “In Flanders Fields”. It was this Canadian doctor’s loss of a friend during the Second Battle of Ypres that caused him to look upon the fields of poppies growing over the battle-fields, that moved him to write about war and loss and death and sacrifice.

I’ve had a few years on this Earth, and some of them lately, I’ve been aware of Poppy Day, and the discussion and the politics surrounding the celebrations. Last year, I had a very long and frustrating discussion on the subject which should not have happened. I was, alas, only just becoming familiar with the signs of the internet troll. But it did cause me to think about things more deeply and consciously.

In this post, I want to make two things very clear.

Firstly, being a girl in armour, I am aware of the very common misconception that we try to re-enact or recreate “war” as it was in medieval times, in our sport. Let me fix that. We don’t.

In our sport, I don’t think I’ve come across anyone who actually believes that what we do even approximates actual warfare. Many of the athletes who compete in full contact medieval combat are either in possession of a history degree of some sort, or are interested in history, and have some kind of understanding of what went on during battles. Speaking for myself, I think that taking the attitude that we are recreating “war” when we fight would insult the hardships, pain and fear that soldiers have always suffered in actual combat.

We recognise that we are safe. We have rules to make us safe. We go willingly and with joy into the lists to fight each other because we want to; we choose to. This is because we practice tournament fighting as a sport. And it is certainly not even in the same realm of experience. This, I acknowledge, as I am certain, do my peers in the sport.

And with that sorted out, I’d like to move on to the other point.

This is a scene in Luxembourg’s National Museum of Military History, (Diekirch), recreated from first-hand sources, detailing the invasion of Luxembourg in 1940.

When one is standing there in the museum, surrounded by all of the artefacts from that time, and so many others, when men killed each other not because they hated, but because their leaders decided it should be so, it is possible to feel the overwhelming sense of futility of that time.

Those soldiers did not willingly and happily go out to kill and to die. I believe that once the soldiers got to that point, in the picture above, where they had been fighting for weeks or months, without the feeling of safety, without the comfort of family, the snow knee deep and deeper, the constant cold and need always present, I believe that those who started out intending to happily go out and kill were only there because they had no choice.

Once troops are committed, there is no giving up and going home until the leader says it should be so. Those men (and now women) who become soldiers accept that they will not choose their own fate. They surrender it to the judgement of their leaders. And they are the ones who must suffer and die. They know this, and they go anyway. I think that must take some kind of bravery I can’t find in myself. And trust. Trust that their leaders will use their lives wisely.

However you look at it, if you are pro- or anti-war, you must acknowledge that a soldier – any soldier – is a brave and trusting person, whose life is used as currency for the security of a nation. And he KNOWS that. Whatever the politics and the philosophical arguments behind it, they are just abstract notions that change and waft this way and that, with time and wind.

The reality, the man in the broken boots with too little ammunition for the task his unit was given, who hasn’t eaten much, and who misses his children, who believes hard that his sacrifice will make a good difference because it is too late to turn back, and so he must believe; that man, every one, is worth remembering. They have a bravery and selflessness that most of us will never know or appreciate.

The celebrated poet, Siegfried Sassoon, was named “craven” by his commanding officers, after he sent his open letter of defiance to the British government, during World War 1. In it, he claimed that he was not returning to duty, following his convalescence, because the war was being needlessly prolonged by those who could make an end to it. This very famous letter has been the subject of much debate, and in everything of this nature, there are always valid points to be made for every argument. It is a recurring theme that we see in wars.

When does a war reach the point where a peace can be made, or at least an end to the war itself, but yet it is continued? That is something that the pro- anti-war camps can argue about amongst themselves. I am not interested in the debate.

What I am interested in is the value that leaders place on their soldiers. I think that whatever way we choose to remember our fallen soldiers should be accompanied by a reminder to our leaders to examine the value they place on those soldiers whose lives are still their currency with which they can invest.

For, as much as leaders may talk about “our men and women on the frontlines”, as if they know them, as if they understand what they are experiencing, it is plain that they don’t. If they did, our leaders would cease to treat their soldiers like .22 ammo (cheap and cheerful), and instead treat them more like 50 cal rounds (trustworthy, effective, and expensive to replace).

I’ll leave you all with the poem that began this post.

In Flanders Fields

BY JOHN MCCRAE

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

    That mark our place; and in the sky

    The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

        In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

    The torch; be yours to hold it high.

    If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

        In Flanders fields.

publicity

Recently, one of our potential Rogues, Vincent, who wants to be (and could quite possibly be, in all respects excepting temperament) The Mountain, tagged in me an hilarious video on Facebook/YouTube. It featured some celebrity rapper (I couldn’t say whether he is a major or minor one because that is beyond my field of expertise), named “Big Narstie” (at this point, the spelling should be all the hint you need) fighting one of the UK’s own armoured athletes, known as Sophie “The Nutcracker” (no prizes for guessing how that nickname came about).

You can find the full video here. Vincent actually tagged me on it for the comments, which were, as comments usually go, varied and sometimes ignorant.

I thought it was a lighthearted look at what it takes to be a medieval fighter; a sort of juxtaposition comparing lifestyles (and possibly fitness levels) of the stars of today versus the heroes of a bygone era. And of course, Game of Thrones has done a lot to bring those heroes and their skills back into the mainstream limelight. So our historical sport, which is based in fact, has been romanticised and popularised by a work of fiction. Nothing new. And it’s a springboard by which we can expose our sport to those parts of society who are usually more focussed on other things that require little effort.

I’ve done a couple of these little videos as well, in order to improve awareness on platform that is accessible to the public, like this one, with Kevin Minter-Brown, when he was still “Kevlar Kev”at East Coast Radio. He now works as a DJ at Durban Youth Radio. A step up in my opinion.

Anyway, that video was a lot of fun because we didn’t tell any of the station’s staff what we were going to do. We started the “fight” outside the offices, and then took it through the station, into the studio, and knocked over a couple of things on the way. A couple of women screamed. Some people locked themselves in their offices. It was cool and ridiculous at the same time.

About a week later, I did an interview with Kamcilla Pillay, who was with the Daily News, and who is now with the Mercury. That was also good because Josh and I got to do some fighting at Settlers Park in Kloof, and we were able to tell our story. Kamcilla, as the journalist, actually got it all down correctly in the article, which, as those of you who have been covered by the press may testify, is a rare bonus.

Back to the Big Narstie video, though, it made me consider the pros and cons of doing “fun” videos for exposure to the general public. It’s not really an accurate portrayal of how we compete, but it gets people interested. And I think the onus is on us, the fighters, to make the best of the time (FREE time or space or bandwidth) that the various journos and bloggers give us as a platform. Every bit of publicity helps. We just need to ensure that the facts as we present them are accurate. There’s the line.

A couple of weeks ago, we did an interview with a blogger called Fenn, from Geek Warehouse, who attended a fun day that was hosted by DSSC at their training venue, Willow Creek. You can watch the whole thing here. It’s a pretty cool video, and Fenn was super excited about doing it. I could see he was learning new things at a rate of knots, which was great, because I am a lecturer and I get a huge kick out of seeing the learning process happening in people.

In my opinion, it was a fairly accurate representation of the fighters and the venue. There were a couple of factual misrepresentations, which will be noted in the comments. But those are things that Fenn could never have fact-checked, and I think he did a pretty good job on the whole.

The Rogues were there, and another journo, Sandy. She writes for a local magazine, The Crest, and her photographer, Heidi took some really great photographs, from the little I saw. She even managed to make me look good, which is a trick, I’ll tell you! Bron and I met with Sandy later on, and she interviewed us, about our experiences at IMCF in Denmark this year. I’m looking forward to reading the article, which will be out at the end of the month.

But I digress.

Back to publicity: it’s important that we take every advantage and every opportunity, no matter how big or small, no matter how silly or serious, to promote awareness of our sport. This is particularly true in countries with no history of European armoured combat, such as South Africa. Yes, I have mentioned in previous blog posts that Africa did, in fact, have armoured knights. There is historical evidence of that, as offered in those posts. But knights did not live in South Africa during the medieval period, and so when it comes to a cultural heritage perspective, I get a lot of negativity from people who say things like, “that’s not in my culture”. This may be true, but in terms of historical accuracy, neither is boxing, soccer, cricket, rugby, mixed martial arts, kung fu, karate, or any of the equestrian disciplines. They were all brought over from other places.

The theme that ties all of the above together is that they are all sports. And I’ve never come across someone who refused to participate in a sport because it was not in their culture. So, in all of the interviews and publicity that I do for the Rogues and my sport, I am focussing specifically on the fact that medieval combat is an international sport, not an historical re-enactment or a preservation of cultural heritage, which is a very touchy subject in South Africa, and one which I would personally prefer to avoid.

(Sir Stephen, I know this is the way you view it, and I respect your opinion, knowledge and experience; this is not meant to be a correction of your statement).

I think the point of this post is this: use every chance to promote awareness. Big Narstie’s bout with the Nutcracker may be hilarious and silly, but it’s also a good way to show others what we’re about. It gets people from outside of our normal circles interested and asking questions (hopefully), and keen to attend tournaments when they become familiar with the sight of armoured fighters on a poster. Every musician needs fans, every actor needs an audience, and every sport must have its spectators. Let’s grow that aspect, and maybe, someday, we’ll even manage to get funding. Don’t laugh. The last two years on planet Earth have shown us that anything is possible!

behind the scenes

I wanted to do a follow-up post last month on those people who made everything happen because I feel that they often go unrecognised.

Did you know that the morning of my birthday party last month, my Mom arrived at my house (while I was at work) and did housework all day to help get the place guest-friendly?
I normally don't approve of other people doing my housework for me, but since it was a fairly special occasion, I just thanked my Mom and was very grateful.

Did you know that for every Combat Pit Series tournament, and we have one a month, we have at least six people who constantly show up just to help with getting things done?
Richard is our long-suffering friend and fellow brother-in-arms, who always arrives first, always scores the tournaments, and is quite happy to stay around and chat to everyone who has an interest in fighting and Lord of the Rings. He never asks for anything in return and for that, he deserves some gratitude.
Karen, Matt the Goat and his little brother Mikey are there every tournament, helping to time and count hits. They are a fighting family at heart and by ancestry, and they are a valuable and welcome part of our tribe, too.
Jamie and Cathy, who own Mad Monks, offered us the venue for nothing. They have given time after their official closing hour to see a tournament through to the end, and have gambled their meagre earnings on more staff at times, just to ensure they can provide a good service to people, if they show up to support. They have long working hours and never have I seen a grumpy face or heard a snotty reply, and for that they have my respect. It's not easy working in the hospitality industry.

If you have not organised a tournament, I don't think you'll be able to appreciate the kind of people I'm talking about. They make the tournament a happy, easy-going and fun place to be. They get shit done. You only notice them when you find they are not around, and then it's too late.

So here is hoping we never lose those valuable, wonderful people who help to keep our dreams alive.

*one day, I'll get photos to put here*

One more thing:
Combat Pit yesterday was awesome. We had four steel fighters, which wasn't a hell of a lot by international standards, but the fighting was good, we had fun and good sportsmanship, and there were no injuries. So I reckon that's a good day, all in all.

Julian won the tournament again, Dagan came in second and I came in third, with Calvin in his first armoured event, in fourth place.

We also met a lovely videographer who took footage of all of the fights. I will get it from him this week and put it up as soon as it is ready for public consumption.

In the meantime, here are a couple of photos of the winner and yours truly (wearing my beloved German surcoat from Melanie).


I can't wait for the Combat Pit polearm event next month!

fighting Ukrainians is hard work

Today is my birthday, and so this post is going to serve a double purpose.

Firstly, I want to remark on how much I really don't feel a year older, and that I can't really remember how old I am, and no, I don't want any onions with my liver spots.

I drank ALL of the beer last Saturday, and had an amazing time with a few of my closest and most understanding people. They are all prepared for the faulty girl in armour, and joined us for some braai and bonfire, anyway.

I would also like to thank my husband and protector, Josh, who found a miraculously tactful way to discourage the late-night boffer fighting which Jimmy-Steve and I decided would be fun. He announced he was sober and would be in the pit first, which effectively dampened all of the potential for flame-induced damage.

Here is a photo of me with one of my birthday gifts from Dagan and Shannonne. It is a litre of Danish Viking beer. As we say here, Faxe fuckses you up. Thanks to Tinka Tepish for the photo.

I think we only had one clan of non-fighters at the gathering, and they are really good supporters of the sport. 

It was a good evening because I already miss my fighting family from IMCF Denmark.

We made so many friendships and renewed ones already made from previous years. I got to see my favourite fighters in action, close up and in person, and to meet some of those fighters I hold in high esteem but have only spoken to online.

The event ran like clockwork, and we were grateful for the kindness and helpfulness shown to us by the Danes, and everyone else.

I have to acknowledge the absence of a few of the better-known fighters. They were not there for various reasons, some logistical and some political, and they were missed
Now, I know I'm not supposed to comment on politics of any kind because having an opinion is always dangerous, but I sincerely hope that by the time we get to Scotland next year, I'll be able to look forward to seeing them all there.

I did, however, meet and fight the Finnish 3v3 team in buhurt, which was epic. The Quebec team was also amazing, and it was fun to beat the British girls from Battle Heritage, our affiliate organisation.
Was that cheeky? Well, for a first buhurt experience, I think our team, Steph Roets, Bronwen Huysamer and I, did pretty well.

I also think that if I hadn't been injured in the second round of the first match against UK, I probably would have been able to give a better challenge, but you know what they say: coulda, shoulda, woulda...
The point is, we were there, we did the thing, we won one and we lost to the two best 3v3 teams at the tournament, in which there is no shame. I'm pleased.

Steph did really well, getting into the quarter finals in sword and shield, and I improved on my longsword performance this year, also going through to the quarter finals. There, I met a tiny Ukrainian woman who bested me in two rounds. I really wanted to fight a Ukrainian while I was at IMCF, so I got my wish. Now I know. I really need to train more. Because fighting Ukrainians is hard work.

That team entered fighters for every category in the tournament, so they were not a small bunch of fighters. However, what struck me the most was firstly the discipline and then the friendliness. I didn't really get to chat with any of the fighters except for one of the women (Kate), and one of the men (Igor - and then of course I had a bit of a fangirl moment, it was ridiculous), but their conduct was just what I would hope my team, when it is bigger and requires more order, would be.

We made some friends and received help, advice, food, mead, beer, and gifts from loads of fighters. The New Zealanders were awesome, in and out of the lists, and fighting Dayna in polearm was a pleasure. I think their new fighter, Sigrid, really impressed everyone with her medal in longsword.

(Actually, let me take a moment to mention that the sportsmanship at the IMCF tournament was really good.)

When we arrived in Billund, we were on the same flight as the Mexican team, and after about half an hour of nodding and grinning, we discovered that they all spoke English, and so (my social skills being what they are) my teammates, Bronwen and Eurika proceeded to make friends with them all. Very nice people, and exciting to watch in the buhurt.

Of course, I got to meet up with my Luxembourg family, Susanne and Laurent and Misch and their team, which was wonderful. They are genuinely nice people, and watching the team in the 5v5s was a treat.
I have to make a special mention of Misch, who brought the coat of plates I gave him in Luxembourg last year, and returned it so that I could fight safely. He wasn't using it, so I brought it back with me and now Jimmy-Steve will use it. Thanks, Misch. You are a gentleman of your word, and that beer will be on its way to you shortly.

Our teammate Eurika, who went over to marshal, also found her people. Within a few hours of us being at the tournament, she had found the herd of yellow people and been assimilated. I think she could not have been happier, and that makes me happy, too. She is a valuable part of our local sword community, and that has just been augmented by her new level up in marshalling.

And the guys. Ah, the guys. What can I say? I really am so proud of them both. Oliver fought polearm, and he gave it his very best. What more can you ask of a fighter with not even six months of polearm training? Nothing. He fought through his pool, he did not withdraw, he showed sportsmanship and gave a good account of himself. No, he did not get through to quarter finals, but not everyone can be winners all the time. He fought well, and next time, he will fight even better.

Henry fought sword and shield and he really did well. He also gave his very best, and made it through to quarter finals. Henry has been training hard and he was at the seminar we had with Marcin at the beginning of the year. He took note of the techniques, and was putting them into practice, and it paid off. For his first showing, I reckon he should be proud of himself.

And speaking of champs, it was particularly enjoyable to see Marcin fighting. That guy is so fast. I didn't get to see Denise or Melanie fighting, but I at least got to chat with them for a short time, and it was good to catch up.

I realised at one point, as I was sitting there near the lists, and people were smashing each other, and other people were cheering, and the commentator was talking about the teams, that we as fighters are living in a golden age. We can meet our heroes. Well at least, I can meet my heroes. When we have tournaments, we rub shoulders with these amazing athletes, and maybe in some countries, they are rock stars, but not in mine, and not in many others. They are accessible and (most are) humble, and they take a genuine pleasure in talking to other fighters like me about fighting. It's a privilege that we take for granted.

Years from now, when sword fighting has become much bigger, and people are making money off it, and the world recognises those top athletes in our sport as stars, we won't be able to just walk up to someone like Igor Parfentev or Marcin Waszkielis or Jose Amoeda and say, "So, can you give me some tips on..." because there will be bodyguards and press agents.

Well, at least, that's what I think it will be like in the future.

For now, I'm glad we made so many friends. The Italians, the Mexicans, the Kiwis, the Luxes, the Scots and the Irish and the Welsh and English, the Danish and Finnish and Japanese, we are friends with them all.
Even a couple of the Americans spoke to me, and that was cool.

The coolest thing was that the video is still up, and there was a lovely lady, who put by a little bit of the shopping money every week so that she could make the trip to Denmark for the event. Her husband didn't know until a couple of weeks beforehand. But that is what we do for our sport. Her name is Caroline Walsh, and she photographed it all.

Here is her page with all of the photos:
https://www.facebook.com/carolinewalsh010/media_set?set=a.10213706756369619.1073741874.1426514467&type=3
And the other album:
https://www.facebook.com/carolinewalsh010/media_set?set=a.3287546153948.168552.1426514467&type=3

 And if you missed the live feed, here is the link to the videos:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fpg5Ak2VDxE

And here is a lovely photo of me resting after fighting, just to round it off, thanks to Ivan Campero, the South African Austrian.

Thanks for being there. 

re qualified

We had our national qualifier a couple of weekends ago.

As we have done for the last two years, our format was IMCF ruleset, singles fights. This year, we added one more event: women’s 2v2 buhurt.

Since I seem to be the only crazy polearm fighter (“Would you like to suck my plums?”) there was only one polearm fight scheduled, and that was because Bronwen stood up and said she’d give me an opponent. I was pleased and quite proud of my friend and teammate for making that gesture, although we ended up not having the bout because of time constraints.

For the last two qualifiers, I have only had one female fighter to face each time. This year was different. The women turned out en masse. We had five female competitors, and where there has in the past been five or more male competitors, there were only three this year. For the first time, the women outnumbered the men. I’m not going to say I was proud because the notion that there is some kind of competition between men and women in any given sport is ridiculous, and to me, we are all still fighters. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t separate the men and women. Having said that, I was impressed that the numbers of armoured female fighters in our sport in South Africa had jumped so quickly, and gratified because two of those women who competed were my recruits.

Our men’s team captain, Hylton, was disappointed in the turnout, but I think it’s a sign of progress of a sort, within our organisation. I think it shows a change in the way that qualifiers is viewed. Before, we had a bunch of fighters, some of whom competed with borrowed kit, without authentic shoes, and on the understanding that they could not actually commit to going over to IMCF.

This year, we had less fighters, but they were all in their own, authentic kit, and they all are able to commit to going overseas. Those who were unable to make the commitment did not compete, and I think that is the way it aught to be.

We had two round robins of sword and shield, and I was particularly impressed with Steph’s fighting, since she has only in the last month rejoined steel combat, after protracted health issues. She is, in my opinion, an excellent swordsman and has the determination to see herself through a tournament, which is essential. She also makes a bloody good buhurt fighter.

On the whole, the standard of fighting amongst the men and the women has improved, and I was glad for a bit more time in the lists than the usual two fights, and a bit more of a challenge from my opponents.

Reading that last bit, I think it sounds a little pompous and condescending, and I didn’t say it in that spirit, but there was no other way I could find that was more humble. Yes, I won all of my fights, and who doesn’t enjoy the win? Instead of winning in two rounds each fight, though, some went to three, and my fight with Steph in sword and shield went to four rounds, which has not happened before.

Everyone swore they fought much worse than usual, and I could see that Bronwen wasn’t on form the way she can be, but that is part of dealing with the stress under competition pressure, and we must all learn to manage it in our own way. That comes with time and experience.

I can’t comment on anyone else’s individual performance, but for myself, I found that the warmup and stretching beforehand made a big difference. I also found that my first few fights were crap because I wasn’t “in the zone”, whereas my longsword fights after lunch were much better, and I felt like I had given myself a better chance.

Of course, neither the sword and shield nor the longsword are my chosen weapons, but I’ve trained in them because I believe that a competent swordsman should be proficient in the most common weapon forms (sword and shield, longsword, spear/quarterstaff, polearm and rapier, at least).

*Disclaimer*: That’s my belief based on my own opinions and what I think are the common basic weapon forms, so please don’t take it as any kind of expert or academic evidence. Just what I do. You don’t have to do it.

So I found that through the day, I didn’t get more tired and more useless. I found that I actually improved, and it was easier to move and fight in my armour, as the day progressed, which was wonderful. I had one small trouble with my greaves slipping down and digging into the tops of my instep. That was because I’ve been gymming and the shape of my calves has changed ever so slightly. So Josh had to open them up to give some more room, which then resulted in them slipping a bit. Once he had fixed it, though, I was good to go.

The longsword fights were savage. The guys hammered each other, and I really enjoyed my fights against Eurika, Vicky and Bronwen. At that point I was in my happy fighting place and ready to deal brutality to everyone.

When the clouds began to thicken up and crowd in, blue and grey and swollen, we decided to get on with the buhurt before the rain (and lightning) came. It was a 2v2, Durban versus Joburg. I had no idea what to expect, and I knew that the Joburg girls had been coached a bit. Bronwen and I had a quick strategy discussion, and then the marshall began the bout.

We each got a dancing partner pretty quickly. Bron got Steph. Those two are quite evenly matched, although Steph is taller. Bron is stubborn and just won’t go down easily. I tried to take Vicky down, and even though I am much taller than she, it just didn’t happen. Every move I tried in my admittedly limited repertoire failed. Then, Steph came in to help her, and someone stood on my shoe and having nowhere else to go but sideways and down, that’s what I did.

I’m not ashamed to say I felt pretty damned useless.

Bron went down after me in spectacular style. When that chick falls, you know it’s going to be worth watching. This time, her helm caught the edge of a very low cinderblock wall at the edge of the list, and everyone caught their breath. If she had not been wearing a helmet, that would have been fatal. But it wasn’t. Bron got up (“I’m okay!”), I put my shoe back on and got up, and we prepared for the second round.

The second round was much longer than the first. Bron and I had learned fast, and the four of us fought furiously for a bit and then stepped back into the four corners and took a bit of a breather. Not the kind of thing you normally see in the YouTube videos. After a few seconds, we got the fighting started again, and then I was disarmed. Unfortunately, one of our marshalls, who is not a buhurt fighter, called a halt, believing my disarm to be cause to suspend the round while I got another weapon. I didn’t hear the call at the time, though.

I put my hands up and prepared to walk to where I could find another weapon, and Bronwen, who is always safety conscious, stopped fighting and looked for the cause of the instruction to halt. Of course, at the same time, another person called, “keep fighting” and Bronwen got mashed into the corner of the list.

It was a series of unintentional cock-ups that resulted in Bronwen nearly losing her shit. She was so angry, and I guess it was justified because from her point of view, she had obeyed the halt command, which we do without question, for the sake of safety, and been unfairly taken down. The Joburg girls didn’t realise that Bron had stopped fighting, because everything happened so quickly, and when they saw how things had occurred, they were really apologetic. Nothing was done intentionally or out of bad sportsmanship. But the rain was coming, Bron was really pissed off – her sense of fairplay had been wronged, and I had somehow managed to twist my arm the wrong way and my elbow was whining at me from the background. So I took a knee and ended the bout.

I know some of you might say I should have fought on, pushed for a restart of the round, and I think we would have been able to, but sometimes, you have to think longterm. I didn’t want to damage my elbow properly and risk not being able to compete at full capacity in IMCF.

I also wanted to keep it tidy. They were clearly the better buhurt team on that day, and to prolong a result that was already clear didn’t seem sportsmanlike or fair to anyone else. One should always lead by example and give credit where it is deserving, I believe.

So that was that. Fighting was done, and then we headed home to feed the horses and dogs and cats, and then we went back to the AGM and all of the politics. But I won’t bore you with that.

On the whole, it was a good day, and I am really very pleased to see that my own goal for our sport, which I held in my mind since I returned from IMCF 2015, has been realised: South Africa will be sending a women’s buhurt team to IMCF this year.

Whatever happens next, I’m ready.

From left: Me, Bronwen Huysamer, Vicky Kleynhans and Stephanie Roets

Marcin comes to Africa

One of our local fighters, Neal Burgess, recently had an epiphany and brought Polish world champion fighter, Marcin Waszkielis down to our little corner of the world to show us some fighting and training techniques.

From my perspective, it was a valuable experience, since we don't get many foreigners out here to train with. And of course the fact that it was with one of the best fighters in the world meant there was no way we could pass up the opportunity. 

So, the Rogues trekked up to Joburg and spent a couple of days learning from the best.

We all felt awkward and underprepared for the experience, like a bunch of noobs. And that was good because we were open to learning everything Marcin showed us. 

The grunty part of it comes in afterwards, retraining fundamentals like stance and movement. But that will come with time and lots and lots of training. 

Marcin agreed to do a little interview with me afterwards, and so I put this together. It's by no means a comprehensive report, but just a small taster of Marcin's opinions on where we are at, in terms of our sport, and his first experience on the African continent. If you are friends with him on Facebook, you should be able to see photographic evidence of his adventures with us.

For the record, Marcin was an amazing guest, and we all thought he was a genuinely friendly, humble and easygoing guy. You are welcome back again any time, Marcin.

new year new style

Well, I thought that perhaps I'd try something new for a bit and see how it works out.

Oh, yes. Happy happy and all that. I suppose for a first post of the year, it's the accepted protocol.

Now, more interestingly, I asked for suggestions for my blog post, and the first person to answer was Sebastian, whom we met in Luxembourg at the Red Lion. He suggested that I do interviews with famous and awesome teams, and that I begin with his. So, Seb belongs to a club called Sanctis Draconis Petrocoria, which is in Périgord, South West of France, founded by Guillaume Dessommes in 2016. We also met Guillaume at Red Lion, and I must add here that the French fighters were all a credit to their country - gentlemen one and all.

Anyway, I put together a couple of questions and then decided to use this nifty little programme that my colleague, Julia, pointed me at.

Here is the final product: