maintaining community connections during the plague

I haven't posted here in a while. 

I think I needed the time, after that disastrous experience going to Scotland for IMCF in 2018, to just chill out and get a little perspective.

Lots of things went wrong on that trip, and I was incredibly disappointed by certain events and people, but it was also amazing because I got to reconnect with my fighting friends from all over the world, make new friends, and have some great fights. In hindsight, I think maybe I was being a bit of a drama queen about the whole thing. I don't take it well when things don't go according to plan. 

Last year was similarly a complete fuck-up, and I did not get on the plane for Serbia and Battle of the Nations, because my visa application had been overlooked. A simple mistake, and certainly not worth beheading the clerk who made it, but all the same, it took a while to renegotiate my brain's belief that I was in Smederevo Fortress, getting ready to fight. Weird how that works, really. But I was here for Josh when he had his accident, which was probably what the Gods intended. Silver linings.

And then, of course, there's this guy: 2020. The asshole around the corner wearing the clown mask. 

I did not expect this plague to affect the cohesion of my team, the Rogue Squadron, the way it did. 

Before the plague hit, I already felt like my credibility with my team was under review, and that external influences has driven us (once a closeknit group) into different corners. And I guess that is sort of the natural course of things, over time. 

It's just that the plague shut us down completely. In early March, we stopped what little training had been happening. We were under lockdown, and the government declared a moratorium on all sports training (and pretty much everything else except sitting inside watching TV).

This didn't just happen to us. It happened to everyone, and I think that we didn't realise what it might mean. Our sports communities are our cultural groups. When we don't get to meet and train regularly, those community bonds can break down quickly. When there is no prospect of a tournament until maybe next year, it becomes quite a desolate place to be in. 

It is possible that this plague will mean a "Great Reset" for medieval combat in South Africa, since we are all struggling simply to make ends meet now. We will have to see how that pans out, going forward. So far we have had one sparring session since March, but I cannot ask my team mate to attend every week, and put his family (who are vulnerable) at risk of the plague.

While we are still under lockdown, and training is still not legal, we can always organise some "under the radar" sessions, for those brave enough to attend. But I have found that my most constant source of support and encouragement are my fighting friends from overseas. Those who check up on me, and those on whom I check, just to make sure they are okay on their patch of the planet. From my place, I have participated in training with my Israeli friends, had conversations about restarting training with a US buddy, been invited to complete two different challenges, one related to fitness and one related to daily training discipline, and also witnessed the birth of a new training venue of a fighting friend in Italy.

It's these connections that bind our community together. In a time of isolation, and fear spread by the mainstream media, and the devastating effect of politicians on our whole way of life in almost every place in the world, our medieval combat connections are vital to maintaining our sanity and the growth of our sport. It has become about relationships

, and a test of sheer, bloody-minded endurance through those factors which might break us apart. 

I wanted to put it out there to every fighter, on every patch of the planet: I love and admire you all. Stay strong, stay committed, see you in the lists!

the fighting

This blog post comes to you with images compliments of Caroline Walsh, our very favourite IMCF photographer and all round lovely Irishwoman.

Every time I go to a tournament overseas, I am humbled by the company in which I find myself. Being in this sport of medieval combat, I have developed an appreciation for the state of existence that is being an athlete. It is not something that you can do once, or for a period of time. It is a way of living and working towards an almost ethereal goal. I understand this through experience. So at tournaments, when I meet those athletes who have inspired me to bet better, do more, push harder, aim higher, I am once again reminded that it is possible; the goal, however ethereal, can be reached, for a time at least.

The standard of fighting this year was better than before, and I was impressed that everyone from last year seemed to have upped the ante.

My fighting friends gave a good account of themselves, although some unexpectedly did not win, and others did even better than they expected to.

I'm not sure if that is a reflection of the calls made by the marshalls, or the relative levels of fitness and skill of the fighters. I know that Battle of the Nations was the weekend before, and the fighting was apparently quite intense, and this could also have had a bearing on the performance of some.

Whatever the circumstances leading to the results, there was fighting. It was good quality sport. And once again, having watched a lot of it, seen the upsets and noticed the appeals and results, what made me proud to be a part of the sport was that all the combatants still accepted the marshalls' decisions as final, and showed good sportsmanship, which is not easy to do if you believe the decision was unfair. There were a few instances of this, and I am not mentioning it as a criticism of the marshalling, but as a testament to the sportsmanship of those involved.

This year, my friend and fighting inspiration, Laurent, won the Fair Play award. He was surprised. No-one else was.

But I want to talk about our buhurt teams because that made me particularly happy.

Firstly, thanks, Florian.

Our women's team, with four members, performed well together. Each of us brought our unique superpower to the lists and used it to the best of our abilities. Or skill levels. Which is all you can ever ask of a team.

It was a happy coincidence, though, that our best was good enough to beat the French and the Australian teams, who have roughly the same level of experience as us. In our pool, however, we also had the two big fish: Quebec and Ukraine. They, being the experienced and well-disciplined teams that they are, made short work of us, and we were left on our backs in the lists wondering what the hell just happened.

I guess that is as it should be. For now.

Our very young and inexperienced team beat the people we could have beaten, and this is said with all respect to the French and Auzzie women, because it was still some damn fine fighting and good fun.

We lost to our betters. Quebec and Ukraine took gold and silver, respectively, with Finland taking bronze.

And so we use our experience of fighting them to inspire us to train harder, do better. "Git gud" as they say. That is the impermanence of being an athlete - there is always more work to be done, and further goals to improve towards.

Next year?  Who knows. We might even bring home some loot if we work hard enough. Nothing is impossible, and I believe that our team can do it.

Our mens 5s team debuted this year at IMCF. Josh arrived an hour before the matches started. It was nail-biting. But they went on with five fighters.

I don't want to say that our 5s team crushed the Scots and the Irish. That's because I have many friends on both of those teams and I know how hard they work at this sport. They are also good fighters with massive hearts. The thing is, though, we grow them big and very strong in our land. Maybe it's all the sunshine.
Whatever the case, there was fighting. Our guys won those matches and then faced the Polish 5s. This is a team of experienced and well-trained fighters, usually in the medals for a first or second. And for a few moments, our guys had the Polish a bit concerned. They had the win in two rounds, but both rounds ended in a one-on-one.

Sometimes it's not the victory that is satisfying. Sometimes, it can just be how hard you make your opponent work to gain the win.

Our guys made it to the eliminations, and were then denied further progress by the French, who I believe also took silver in that category.

For a debut tournament, I'd like to think that our guys turned some heads. Next year will be interesting. That is a certainty.

In terms of individual categories, only Hylton and I had actually competed internationally before. Both of us made it out of our pools in sword and shield but were denied further progress at eliminations, unfortunately. Still, a good effort given the standard of fighting, and nothing, I believe, to be embarrassed about.

In longsword, I progressed to the match for bronze, but lost it to Bene from Quebec. She is an experienced fighter and a well-trained, disciplined athlete, and I felt no shame in losing to her. I do feel more driven than ever to get better, train harder, fight faster. Maybe next year, I can do better.

Our new fighters also did as well as they could.

Although KC chose to put the team first and withdraw from the polearm category (there was some trouble with her helm coming off), she showed some real promise in the match that she did fight against Denmark. I am very excited to see how she does in future tournaments, if she decides to focus on polearm duels.

Anton was also in the polearm duels. He took a pounding from guys a lot bigger than he. But he is tough as nails, and gave a good opposition each time. I was told that he really did fight like his namesake, the badger.

Julian fought in the longsword in Josh's place, and I would not have chosen anyone else for the job. He is a tough, fit competitor and he also made it out of his pool, after which, he met the Lithuanian who took gold and was eliminated. Again, no shame in that defeat. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to see the fighting live.

I think that in terms of overall individual and team performance, we have definitely improved on last year in every respect. Now, all we have to do is fight more, train harder, be better. Git gud.

It's an ethereal promise of a goal that is never fully or permanently attainable. Like a commitment to integrity, you can't just do it once and then it's done. It is the work of a lifetime, to be an athlete. That win is there, if you dedicate yourself to it each morning. And the win is not necessarily in the medal or the marshall's decision; it is also in being better every time, achieving things you weren't sure you could.

And so when I meet fighters who I consider to be my mentors and inspiration, I may seem to be a bit of a fan girl, but really, I'm realising again that this person is a living embodiment of the dedication it takes to meet the requirements of the sport. That is important to me because they show me that it is possible. And to be a part of it all at this level is a humbling experience for which I am grateful.

keep your head down and keep training

Socially, I've always been awkward. As the years have progressed, I've picked up a couple of tricks to help me get through most social encounters. Smile. Listen. Be interested. Keep smiling. Make eye contact. That's the hardest one. It's so incredibly personal to look directly into someone's eyes. You could get lost in their thoughts and their past and never find your way out.

Scary!

When I am speaking to someone I admire, my eyes sometimes feel like they're going to cross because one part of me wants to make eye contact, create that bond, that friendship, and another part of me is hesitant to go there and discover that there is no bond or friendship, no connection or kindred spirit. Just another dick.

So I rarely actually speak to people at all unless I'm drunk or similarly intoxicated by adrenaline. I think many of my fighting friends that I meet at IMCF must now think of me as that creepy chick who smiles a lot and gushes about fighting. But I want to talk about things that are significant and meaningful. When I realise that what I have to say isn't significant or meaningful or indeed worthy, I just tend to smile or give compliments. So, yes. Me. Awkward as fuck. Who would have guessed it, me being a lecturer.

When it comes to getting along with people, every one of my SA team mates, with the obvious exception of Josh, will say that I am difficult. I have noticed it myself that if I have to deal with an authority figure, that figure had better stand up to some intense scrutiny or there will be no deal.
Unfortunately, everyone is human, so most days, there is very little in the way of dealing happening as far as I'm concerned. This has been a source of much consternation in the past, and always the politics will result.

Me using KCs helm for longsword. You can see KC (left) and Bron (right) just behind me. Thanks, Caroline Walsh for the photo - you are an artist.

I think that the more I attend tournaments, the more I understand the dynamics of myself. On the surface, there's the camaraderie and the smiles and the brotherhood that is our sport, and that is all genuine. But underneath, there is a questioning or a judgement on every call of a marshall, of every decision of a winner, of the progression or denial of every appeal, the pools, the times, the counters and whether there is a conflict.

The authority must successfully face some heavy scrutiny and come out of it mostly unscathed for the fighters to accept the results.

There will also always be an element of complete fair play and contentment; gratitude simply for the chance to fight, and that is what makes it better for everyone else, too.

In my case, the person who brings out that element in me is Josh. He is not about asserting authority over me, or being the person I want to be worthy of having a conversation with. He transcends all of that and is, just the other part of me. The part that is free to just enjoy the chance to fight.

The point that I think I'm working towards is this: no-one really knows what is going on inside or underneath (well, now I guess more people do in one respect), but you can bet it's not what you imagine it to be. So ignore all of the inevitable awkwardness, the politics and the shit-talkers, and all of the people who don't understand, and just focus on that part that is pure: the love of fighting.

Whatever happens, keep your head down and keep training and things will be fine.

This is what I tell my team, and now it has become clearer to me in a much larger context, but on a more personal level as well.

If I wanted to be flippant, I could end off with a remark about how this sport is cheaper than therapy, but it really isn't. It is, however, so much more satisfying.

the wheel

The UK visa application process is split between a middleman, TLSContact, and the UK Decision Making Branch in Pretoria.

There is no instance in which it is possible to speak to an actual human person who will answer enquiries, without first making it into the office, which will only happen if you have booked an appointment.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here because I should first explain why. Why this post at all? Everyone already knows that getting visas is a pain, right? Well, this is why: this particular visa process is a clear indication of the shape of things to come, and I will explain this further now.

Let's just first look at the process itself, and then we can discuss the implications thereof, once we have the basics down.

As I said, it is a two-part process. TLSContact are the sole gateway through which South Africans may apply for UK visas. If you want to pay four times more for the same thing, you could engage the services of a middle-middleman, who will take your money and do the same thing on your behalf. They exploit the fact that visa applications are unnecessarily frustrating, tricksy and dicey, and I am tempted to theorise that the middlemen and bureaucrats make it so, specifically to encourage the use of the middle-middlemen, so that they don't have to deal with the whiny, nasty, smelly masses. Or something.

Back to the process. You have to have an email address and a stable internet connection, or you are screwed before you begin. Also, although it may technically be possible to fill in the application on a cellphone, the reality would be ardous enough to destroy any but the most hardy and stalwart soul. So, basically, desktop is essential.

You must fill in (it seemed like) 50 pages of questionnaire with all kinds of details. One positive aspect of the whole thing - and perhaps the only one - is that they save your application. This is probably a really perfunctory nod to the fact that it is so long, takes forever to fill in, and requires information so unexpected that you need to go away and get it.

Once you have actually completed the form-filling-in marathon, they ask if - IF - you can attend an appointment at one of the venues listed below, and they basically imply that if you can't you are effectively screwed and may as well not continue. So, you choose your nearest commercial centre.

Then, they ask you to pick a date and time. And here's another rub: the first two appointments, at 07h30 and 08h00, are paid. To book one of those slots, you have to pay R1600. The visa application itself costs R1600, but we'll get to that shortly. For an early appointment, you need to cough up.

Now here's a side note: I have done visa applications before. My success rate is 3/3 for Schengen visas and 1/1 for a UK ancestry visa. That was a long time ago and I had already been back in my homeland for years when it expired.
The point is that I'm not a noob at this. I understand the conventions. So when they said to pick a date and time, I understood it to mean what every other application means: your appointment will be held for 24/48 hours and confirmed when proof of payment is received. Right?

So I picked the date and time which was well within the recommended time limit, and proceded to try to pay.

The options were: VISA or MASTERCARD

That is all. Credit card only. No EFT. No PayPal. No Amex. No Diners. No Bitcoin. No cheque cards. No debit cards.
Not one of the commonly-accepted (and expected) alternative payment options was available. Just credit card. Master or visa.

So, safe in the understanding that my appointment was booked and simply required payment, (since there was no other indication to the contrary), I looked for an email address or (dare I even think it!) a contact number for a (shame on me for even forming the words in my mind) customer service or help line.

Of course, there wasn't one. Through some sneaky trick of the interwebs, I managed to find out where their offices are in Durban. I say "sneaky trick" because it didn't appear on their website, and any information I manage to get off the net that is actually reliable, I consider a sneaky trick. So I went to visit them in person. Perhaps this was expected, since they clearly had no accessible phone lines.

I rode there during my lunch break, and got right up to the office door before I was stopped by a very polite security guard in a cammo uniform. To an ignorant member of the general public, he would have been mistaken for a soldier. Good play, TLSContact!

They wouldn't let me in because I had no appointment that day. Now, I've had years of experience dealing with people of all kinds. This experience has taught me one thing: in this context, no-one gives a shit, and getting loud and indignant will never, ever help. So, the more frustrated you get, the more you must make yourself smile. The more you feel like shrieking, the softer your voice must become. And the more you want to let the blood flow, you must display double the amount of compassion and kindness.
This is the only way.

So they let me wait in the corridor for half an hour until the right person happened to walk past me, and then the security guard pointed him out and asked him to help me. The exchange took maybe twenty seconds. Not even half a round at IMCF. It went something like this:

"Hi, please would you help me. I need to pay for my appointment, but I don't have a credit card. Can you give me banking details for an EFT, or maybe PayPal details, please?"

"Sorry, no. Only credit card payments. That's not us, it's the embassy."

"And there is no other way?"

Head shake.

"At all?"

Head shake.

"But I am a member of a national sports team. I need to go to a tournament there and I don't have a credit card. What must I do?"

"Find someone with a credit card."

Silence. Awkwardly. I could see he wanted to go, but South Africans in this position are normally too polite to just walk off.

"Okay. Thank you."

Why did I say thank you? Because it wasn't his fault, nor was it his problem, but he took the time to speak to me in a system that was clearly designed to eliminate all of the helping and favours and time-taking and other forms of basic kindnesses that have been lost in other parts of the world.

So, it took me a day and a half more to organise a credit card and transfer the money into it. When I arrived back at that old stalling point (pick a time and date), I went to my spot and discovered not only that it was unavailable, but that the only appointments available for the rest of that whole week were the early ones, where you bend over first, and cough.

I was doing three visa appointments, and to bypass the whole addition and multiplication stage of this story, it was far too costly to do it that way.

So I picked the earliest three, which worked out to 12 working days in stead of 15, believing (why oh why was I still so naive in my outlook?) that at the interview, I would explain the circumstances to the people, and the people would smile and nod sympathetically, (and a little condescendingly), and make it go through in time.

When I went for my appointment (there was no interview, nor very much human interaction at all), I tried to explain all of this, and was met with the same response from all of the people, who herded me through the processing stages along a route that resembled an abattoir chute in so many different ways.

"We just deal with the paperwork, they are the ones who actually make the decisions. To be honest, they wouldn't really care anyway."

I get that. Caring is an emotion that only happens when a person has some kind of vested interest in a subject or issue. You have to make people care, most of the time. In this case, I was hoping that the thing that would make them care would be the tardy return of passports preventing members of TeamSA from competing at an international event in their country. I mean, that would smack of bias, wouldn't it?
No-one gives the SA soccer, cricket or rugby teams their passports back too late, do they? But then again, those guys do everything together, and they probably have it all organised by some or other functionary within their respective organisations. Athletes, right?
Our team are more like a bunch of cats that return to the same stranger's house each night because she puts food out.

Oh, one more thing I forgot to mention. To be fair to both parts of the process. There was one more selection to make at the end of the form, once you had selected VISA or MASTERCARD. That was which service you wanted. The normal one was "free" (so just the cost of the application plus any additional charges you racked up along the way, like the conveniently-timed appointment). If you wanted a decision in ten days, you could pay R4 500 (or almost three times the cost of the visa itself). If you wanted a decision in 3-5 working days, you could pay R20 000 (or some similarly fantastical figure which does not appear in reality in our household).

So, yes. Technically, I could have gotten the visas early, but again, we don't have that kind of cash, so, no.

Here's the twist, though. It would probably have been cheaper to pay the extra wad of cash because while my passport came back in time, Josh's and Tala's didn't. This set off another chain of events which ultimately resulted in the changing of their tickets for an extortive amount, and then their being denied the ability to check in to that flight because Emirates got overly technical about the paperwork Josh needed to take Tala on the plane. It's not that he didn't have the required paperwork, they just wanted more, and they refused to hold the check-in for ten minutes so he could get it.

Being in Perth as I was, it took ages (half an hour) to get it done and emailed, since people there (with the exception of the lady at the Scottish Tourism place) seemed spectacularly disinclined to try to help at all. So, the documents were received ten minutes after check-in closed. They did not hold the gate. They gave no quarter at all, and also seemed to enjoy doing it.

To me, Emirates' decision to conduct their business the way they did after Josh had clearly demonstrated that he was not abducting the child was unfair, illogical and (I'm not prone to saying this, but) bordering on discriminatory.

But we're nearing the end of this drama, and here's the part that I actually wanted to write. Up till now, this post has just been a painful recounting of all the ways that things went wrong. But the process itself needed to be explained so that the analysis could be understood. So here goes.

There are several indicators in the process which shout to the world the shape of things to come. This shape can be defined by two general characteristics, and they form a picture of a future in which only the docile, unquestioning, conformist wheel-runners can enter the UK.

Let me break it down for you. I spoke of several indicators. Here they are:
- email address
- reliable (preferably desktop) internet setup
- credit card (let me emphasise this CREDIT card)
- money to buy time
- the ability to navigate the online application process without any human assistance or interaction, or the money to buy the services of someone who can

These conditions, by successive application, exponentially slim down the likelihood of travel, even simply to visit and experience, for most of the people living in my country. Mainly, though, it's the money thing. I mean, how many people living in any rural community have access to a credit card, let alone the cost of a visa application (for a ten-day visit!)?

I spoke of two basic characteristics of the future UK. They are:
-shared responsibility resulting in obfuscation of accountability, and;
-societal eugenics.

Let me explain a bit further. When a task is performed by one person, one branch, one company, or even one government department, there is a point where you can actually hold someone accountable for poor decision-making, and there might even be some kind of judiciary body or ombudsman who will be able to impose a penalty on the person who is being held to account. At the very least, you can phone and ask or complain. This was how it was done in the late 90s when societies began to become hyper aware of consumer rights and terms like "financial literacy" made their way into schools and women's magazines. But this did not suit certain groups. They discovered ways to sneak through the gaps or slink around the ethical barriers. An example of this in South Africa are the labour brokers, which became very popular as a result of the labour laws being tightened up and fair wages and treatment of staff becoming mandatory. Big corporate entities and others did not want to have to deal with the cumbersome ethics that came with employing staff, so they farmed that out to labour brokers, who took a chunk of every paycheck and also took the responsibility of fair wages and treatment of those companies' backs.

It seems that governments everywhere can slink just as well as corporations. Instead of dealing directly with people, they brought in a company. The company adds very little value, if any at all, to the actuall application process. However, they do bring that break in the chain of accountability, which is so desirable. They don't have a "help" desk, nor do they speak to people because that is the job of their middleman or agent, in this case, TLSContact. But TLSContact has no obligation to help or speak or answer because they don't make the decisions, they just collate the paperwork. And thus no-one can be held to account, because there is no account to give.

Cellphone service providers and their middlemen work in exactly the same way.

Very sneaky.

And of course this leads us onto our second characteristic, that of societal eugenics, which is creating a society with a specific set of desirable features.

The UK, the granmother of all nanny states, has no desire of a society that questions its purpose. The UK government, in service to those hidden "powers that be" consciously or no, has created the perfect beta testing ground for all kinds of social manipulation. It is a society of safe, disarmed, happy citizens, who work every day, drink every night, do a bit of a protest now and again when another country deserves a tut-tutting, and generally contributes to keeping those great, massive cogs of consumerism turning.

Don't get me wrong. I really, really love some of those people. They are wonderful, kind-hearted souls, and they are blissfully unaware that they live in a golden cage. But being from South Africa, I see the cage for what it is. All of the tiny, seemingly insignificant freedoms that UK citizens have progressively given up so that they may be "safe" and "free" alarms me to the very core of my being. (I wish I could be more specific, but if I did, this would turn into a book).

Yes, you get hooligans and deviants in the UK already. The societal eugenics programme is already dealing with those types, and they will eventually be forced to change and conform or go elsewhere. The UK visa process is designed to weed out most of those independent thinkers, those people who prefer to keep their freedoms, live by their own norms and embrace a lifestyle that does not revolve around propping up the agenda of the state, which is to farm people for taxes.

The funny-sad thing is that I don't think that even the farm workers (bureaucrats) get any benefits. Only the owner, and that, I might add, is not the Queen.

The UK visa process is par of that societal eugenics programme. It says to outsiders:
What? You don't live in service to the banks and thus the entire commercial framework on which our system is built? We don't want you. Debt-free, hey? Nope. We can't own you, we don't want you.If you want to travel here, get on that wheel and run. Make the cogs turn. Submit yourself to the system. Get an email address and a phone so we can track you and listen to you. Spend your money so you leave a trail we can follow. We do not want people who are independent of the system. We do not want cats or foxes. We want hamsters. Nice, sweet, docile, wheel-running, system-compliant, disposable, replaceable hamsters.

One of the Ukrainian fighters actually described the visa application process as "humiliating" and I have to agree.

In addition to all of the personal information, there is also a baffling series of questions about your political activity and other such nonsense. I can only imagine it's a bit of legal ass-coverage because, and I do mean really, what terrorist is going to check the "yes" box on a question like, "Have you ever been involved in terrorist activities?"?

And if he checks the "yes" box, will another box appear on the screen marked "details"?

It's just ridiculous. What if one of our older Struggle activists were filling it in? He or she might very well check the "yes" box, since the ANC was classified as a terrorist organisation during the apartheid era.
Then what?

Sorry, Thabo. You can't come in. You checked the "yes" box. Ha!
Wait, but we know you. You can come. But him - we don't know him. He must stay out.

I just feel, generally, like that whole process can be described in three words:

elitist as fuck

And although I have roughly five and a half months left on my UK visa, and I doubt I'll be granted another after this post goes live, I have no desire to go back there again.

When I think of my experiences outside of the medieval combat world and people (this includes staying with sword-fighting-related friends), there are a jumble of terms and phrases mixed in with the memories, like boiling frogs, 1984, chipping, gamification of society, tracking, censorship, propaganda, newspeak, thought police, safety regulations, enslavement, and I have a sense of dread.

Societal eugenics. I mean, what kind of society lays flowers at the deathsite of a career criminal, and forces an old man out of his home and village for defending himself? The UK government has, through careful positioning of messages establishing the desired societal norms and values, created a society that will ignore the basic right to personal safety in favour of sanctions against gun use. And the government no longer have to lift a finger or say a word. This society will now disarm itself, in more ways than the obvious.

Societal eugenics at work, boys and girls. That is how the fringemonkeys and free thinkers will be pushed out - by their neighbours, families and friends. Anyone who doesn't fit the mould is treated as an aberration and castigated. There is no tolerance for competing perspectives.

The shape of things to come? The wheel.

making it happen

otherwise known as "organising a tournament on a non-existent budget" 101

The SA Rogue Squadron hosted their very first national tournament last year November, and it was a smash! In more ways than one. The spectators who actually did brave the threatening weather were rewarded with some really good buhurts and profights.


But I'm not here to talk about the amazing tournament, who pitched up, who won, or who lost. I'm here to talk about everything that went on before that. You see, there is a lot of work that goes into the preparation of an event.

In fact, there is so much work to be done that when I thought about writing this post last year (when it should have been written!), I instantly felt my eyelids drooping, and went and did some dishes instead.

Yes, I have been very tardy with the posts, and I'm sorry about that. Things have been busy, and we have a number of potential developments in the pipeline at the moment, I'm happy to say. I just don't want to talk about them until I know for sure that they are going to happen for sure.

Anyway, back to the tournament organising mission: first, you need to make sure that you have people who can do everything except fight. A good team of marshalling and support staff is essential to any tournament. More so, even, than a venue, I reckon. Without the marshalls, there is no tournament.

For Head Marshall, you need to find someone with combat experience, and with marshalling experience (preferably), and who is knowledgeable in the ruleset you want to base your fights on. As if that isn't enough already, you should also look for someone who is fair-minded, lives with integrity, and who knows how to handle people. Now, when I say that, I don't mean they must be a diplomat. I mean "handle people" as in get them to do what they should be doing. Whether that is through talking or using a baseball bat from behind a bar, it's really not much difference, as long as that person can do it fairly and consistently. Then you need to put that person in charge of the marshalls and support staff. Your Head Marshall will need to train his or her team, and prepare them in their roles for the tournament.

Let's hold for a moment to look at one point here. That is delegation. If you want to run a successful tournament without becoming an exhausted, nervous wreck, then delegation will be necessary, and even then, you'll still be pretty damn frizzled by the end. Delegation doesn't mean getting random people to do your job for you. It means entrusting the most skilled person for that task with the responsibility of getting it done. So instead of training up a marshalling team, you entrust that duty to the Head Marshall, who is most qualified to do the job.

And once you have set that team up with a head and an agenda, you need to hand over authority on the day of the tournament to your Head Marshall. This is an important part of building the legitimacy of a tournament because you can't have a marshalling team that still has to check with you on whether they can red card someone, especially if you have also decided to take part. Fighters will question the validity of the calls the marshalls make, and their fairness and integrity. If you are constantly telling the marshalls what to do, it will not be a fair tournament.

Our marshalling team was really new. Our Head Marshall, although she had had experience at IMCF earlier in the year, still felt insecure in her position because she was constantly being called into question by a fighter who - in another context - has some small measure of authority over her, and so she did not have the confidence to make the difficult calls every time. It was torture for me to stay quiet and not get involved when I could see that the marshalls were getting pushed around. However, I felt that I had relinquished authority, and as the host and as a fighter, if I started to meddle, even if it was to back up the marshalling team, it would affect the fairness and credibility of the event. They were all fair and consistent in their calls, so that was not a concern for me, and I felt that it was a learning curve for them, to need to stand up to rude and unruly fighters, which they did, eventually.

You need to let go, once you have given someone authority, and trust that they will do their job, even if it isn't exactly how you might do it. That's an incredibly difficult skill to learn, and worth mastering.

Next, you need to find a venue with toilets, level ground, shade, a water source, and beer. Those things are the essentials for a successful event. You can bring in lists and seating, if you want them, along with a bunch of other comforts, but those five things are the checklist for your venue. Also, a free venue is great.

Picking a date is very important, and it should work alongside your choice of venue, because you need for your venue to be available over the dates you are looking at. If you are very far away from the action (ie, not in Europe), then you will need to consider the three biggest events (Dynamo, IMCF, Battle of the Nations) in our sport, before deciding when to have your event. Too close to one of those, and you are likely not to get very many participants at your event, especially if they have to travel to get to it. It takes roughly two days to travel one way to an event from anywhere in the Southern Hemisphere. Sometimes it takes longer. Bear that in mind when you are looking for attendance.

Also, consider the weather, and the likelihood of rain, if you intend to hold it outdoors. Of course, a little rain never held up a buhurt, but if you plan to charge entry, there may be a problem, unless the spectators in your country are hard as fuck and will come out in rain, shine or snow, to watch people beating the crap out of each other with weapons. I think the Poles, the Kiwis and the Auzzies may be like that. For everyone else, there's the almanac.

Looking at costs, I think it's important to mention that we in South Africa are entirely self-funded. We get no sponsorships from the private sector, and we get no crumbs from the government. Our sport is not even officially recognised as yet. But let's not go into the politics of it. In terms of money, there is none where we are. So if you have a similar condition, listen up.

If you are smart and can make a deal or two, your costs will really be your medals, your advertising and marketing materials, and meals and drink for your marshalling team, commentator and DJ.

In terms of the venue cost, we used a space for our lists at a local market. We charged entrance (which was funny because we had no doormen - we just periodically announced that people who didn't have a wristband for the event should come to the announcer's stand and get one as entrance was R50 per adult and R10 per teenager, AND THEY DID!), and split it with the venue owner. The venue also had stalls and made some money off the spectators, so it was mutually beneficial. This is the kind of deal you want to aim for, so that your initial financial outlay is reduced.

The sound system and wrist bands were donated by some dear friends of ours, who are enthusiastic supporters of our sport, and who have hosted the Combat Pit Tournament Series at Mad Monks for the last couple of years. And Matt the Goat manned the DJ box in between marshalling.

A note here on music: don't play flea market music. Creedence Clearwater Revival is way too laid back, even if it is at a market. We've found, though, that you don't really need a playlist, so much as just music. So, we put on the Percival discography and let it play. It was great. Even the very mainstream spectators didn't complain.

Our commentators were friends chosen for their oratory ability, who did the job for a meal.

Friends of ours who do murals and signage came past early in the morning and put some scaffolding together for the photographers to stand on to get a good view of the fights. We had invited members of the press, and hoped that they, along with the local photography club, would arrive. Sadly, the rain kept them away, but the "press platform" still served its purpose, and various spectators got some good footage and stills, and kindly put them onto the interwebs for us to see and use. You can see them on the Rogues' page.

It's worth it to mention that we didn't need the sound system, wrist bands or music or commentators, or "press platform", but they all help to make it an enjoyable, accessible event for the spectators and fighters, in different ways. The spectators expect a certain level of formality with sporting events, and unless someone is calling their attention to things over a microphone, they tend to view the whole event as somewhat less than legit. Everyone loves music as a background which sets the tone for the event. Action without a backing track isn't nearly as exciting, and in more practical terms, it helps to be able to announce the different categories to fighters, and let them all know when to get ready, without sending a runner to each team, or shrieking at the top of one's lungs. And photographers need some kind of vantage point from which to take photos and videos safely.

We bit the bullet and actually did spend money on medals, since it is kind of expected that there is some form of loot once the fighting is done. That's just tradition going back to way before Lindisfarne, even.


And I think that if you're going to do medals, make them good. Don't get the tinny ones that weigh nothing and feel like cheap shit. They don't have to be enormous, although as with other things in life, bigger is better in this case. But they should have a little bit of heft to them, and some kind of marking, like a sticker or a bubble, to show which event it was. The mistake we made with our medals was that although we got nice medals, the ribbons were crappy, thin, and tied together at the end, where they were frayed, instead of nicely finished off. So that was a little disappointing, but it was something to learn from, and not a tragedy in itself.

Once you have the logistical mechanics in play, (venue, date, marshall team), it's time to look at advertising and marketing your event. This is not just to spectators, but also to the fighters you want to attract to your event. We used a series of meme-like ads that were aimed either at norms (non-fighters) and fighters to raise awareness about our event. We used social media as our primary medium for advertisement. We also had some flyers out in the city, but we couldn't afford the street posters we wanted to put up. We also had an idea of handing out flyers at intersections whilst in armour, but it was vetoed because of the heat at the time.

There are a number of ways that you can promote your event, but whichever way you do it, remember that you have TWO markets - the spectators and the fighters, so you must tailor your message differently to appeal to each group, and use media that is appropriate to the message.

Once you start getting the shape of your event together, you need to send out registration forms to the fighters. The best way to do this is to make the reg forms downloadable from your website, and then to send them to other clubs and organisations in the area, who have fighters who are most likely to attend.

Make them simple, easy to use and fill in, and don't make them pdf format.

You will have of course decided what categories you want to offer at your tournament, so make sure that those categories are very clear to the fighter. Do not just put a category of 5v5 buhurt if you have a problem with mixed teams. These days, if you only want men in the teams and women in other teams, you will need to spell it out. If you are fine with mixed buhurt, then it must say "mixed buhurt" on your reg form. And similarly with 1v1 categories. Also, don't forget to specify the ruleset you will be using, on your reg form, so that it does not take anyone by surprise. You never know.

Before the tournament, it is a good idea to make available on your page any other documents that you will be referring to during the tournament, for example the ruleset you will be using, the rules for the event venue, if there are any, accommodation prices, food prices and menu, and any specific code of conduct or other information that fighters will need.

When deciding on a final deadline for registrations (and this was some good advice given to me by my friend Laurent), it is best to have a "soft" date (the official one) and a "hard" date (the very, very last date by which you need numbers, for logistical purposes). Expect to have to chase up registrations, as well.

When deciding your schedule, allow a buffer period of time between bouts, and for a changeover of categories. Determine the maximum time each fight may last and then add that amount of time again for each fight. Remember that with each extra fighter, your time requirements increase exponentially. Be realistic about how much time you have at the venue; account for weapon and armour checks, set-up, breakdown and lunch times, as well as the actual fighting, otherwise you will end up being over time.

The schedule for our tournament was planned with quite a large buffer between events, and everything ran quite comfortably, but there was no time spent waiting around, once everything was ready to start, and we started on time.

It is important to give your marshalling team and other non-combatant staff some kind of acknowledgement and reward. In our case, it was feeding and watering them, and thanking them publicly once everything was done. I think they were happy with that, although I know that the bigger tournaments also give gifts and other things. It depends on what your budget is, but I strongly suggest that you devote at least some of it to some kind of gesture of gratitude. Marshalls have to keep a very clear head and continual focus, as well as consistent judgement, throughout a tournament. Even if there is a pervading ethic of good sportsmanship amongst the fighters, (as in any sport), there will also always be that one dickhead who has to shout abuse and continually challenge the marshall's decisions. If you expect your marshalling team to come back again for another tournament, they should feel appreciated for dealing with the dickheads, if for no other reason.

One more thing. If by some strange twist of fate you actually have a budget, be careful how you apportion your spending. Don't blow it all on loot. Still try for the deals and trades which will result in your spending less. Keep some back, just in case. There is always some last minute, unforeseen fuck up that happens, and if you have a small contingency fund, you will be able to address it with more composure.

As I mentioned in the beginning, we had NO budget - we funded the whole event out of my pocket, and so when it came time, and instead of it being cloudy there was rain, we couldn't afford to hire a massive marquee or some other form of cover. Josh came up with the idea of throwing sawdust in the lists, and this worked really well for footing as well as keeping the buhurts less squishy. Bronwen, KC and Eurika also brought tents and gazebos to put around the lists for the fighters and their gear, and for the sound gear. We pulled it off through teamwork and good resource management and creative problem solving.

So I think the final lesson here is that no matter how great your plans are, the team that you choose to implement them and TRUST with the responsibility of getting the job done is the deciding factor. My team, the SA Rogue Squadron, plus mercs like Eurika, who was the Head Marshall for the buhurts, Stephen Kane, who was Head Marshall for the profights, and my other tribe members who played a part, are the ones who can take credit for a successful event.

I just thought about it, but they all made it happen. Thanks, guys!

Credits:

Head Marshalls
Eurika Dippenaar
Stephen Kane

Counting Marshalls
Matt the Goat
Mikey
Karen Reinertsen
Celeste

Scoring/Timing
Richard Rowland

Commentators
John Viljoen
Liesl

Venue and food
Natalie and Botha's Hill Craft Market (buhurt event)
Jamie and Cathy and Mad Monks (profight event)

Sound
Jamie Visagie

Wrist bands
Cathy Rees and Mad Monks

Press Platform
Troy and Dowsett Artworks

Photography
Belinda Angelozzi
Anton Moller
Michael Coffee

Heavy Lifting / Good Ideas / General Awesomeness
The SA Rogue Squadron (who are)
Josh Suttie
Bronwen Huysamer
Jimmy-Steve Cuthbert
KC Freer
Matt the Goat (again)

General Co-ordination
the girl in armour

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