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Yangon Weather Forecast, Burma

Life and death

ON chilly days U Bo Sein’s fingers get stiff and stick together, forcing him to pull them away from each other so that he can hold his mug of tea firmly. Looking down at his fingers, he is reminded of a boxing match he once fought when he was 30-years-old.

“The match lasted for one and a half hours. I dislocated my fingers in the ring while fighting Shwe Gon Daung but I wanted to defeat my rival again and continued boxing. I beat him,” says the former boxer, now 78-years-old.

Boxing has always been a part of his life, beginning early with matches fought at traditional pagoda festivals in his native village of Paw Taw Mu, Thathone District, Mon State.

“It is the custom in my village and almost every boy boxed,” he says.
U Bo Sein first got a taste for fisticuffs at the age of seven while studying at his local monastery. The boys would fight in boxing matches at festivals and funerals; winners would be awarded a copper coin.

“The chief monk in my village was always proud of me whenever I beat my rivals. As much as my mother disliked boxing, she couldn’t stop me in the end,” he adds.

At the age of 16, he followed in the footsteps of many villagers before him and started boxing in nearby towns. By the age of 30 he was a regular on the boxing circuit, which at the time awarded boxers velvet flags if they won, rather than the gold belts customary today.

While fighting in Kayin Aye, he suffered a dislocation of his right knee, which seriously impeded his career and forced him to rest for a year. He began boxing again before his knee had fully recovered.

“At that time, my sons were attending school and I was afraid of not being able to support my family. I wilfully ignored my suffering and obstinately continued to box,” he said.

Finally at the age of 45, he retired from the sport after slipping on a banana skin and dislocating his knee again.
U Bo Sein doesn’t just have memories of his fighting career but also retains the physical imprint of the tough sport on his body. He believes young boxers should look after themselves more if they wish to avoid aches and pains in later life.

“These days, some well-liked boxers win a series of matches and feel uneasy about turning down requests by organisers [to fight]. But humans are humans and even if we beat our rivals, we also sustain minor injuries,” he said.

His advice: rest for one month after every match to fully recuperate. This will improve the quality of fights, he believes, because boxers will not be nursing minor injuries.

“Leaving a one month gap between matches will make the next fight more interesting and exciting,” he says.
U Daung Ni, 59, had a successful boxing career and now works as a competition judge and trainer.

Forty years ago fight organisers would build rings and seating using their own money and invite boxers from various districts to fight. The boxers’ pay was based on ticket receipts.

“I would go all out to win but on top of all that I had to pray that a larger audience would turn up; I would often count spectators while fighting,” he says.

“One day the organiser did not pay us and we had to sell our clothes to get home,” he adds.

U Daung Ni’s career was also hit by tragedy at the age of 24 when he killed one of his opponents.

“I had a heavy heart before I fought him and I rejected [the fight] three times but my trainer encouraged me to fight. I did and, unfortunately, he died of his injuries in the ring, leaving two children.”

Over the years he has tried to block out that part of his life but without success.

“It’s a life and death struggle. My opp-onent risked life and limb for his hobby,” he says.

U Daung Ni finally stopped boxing at the age of 40 and has some gripes with the sport.

“The crowd want to see risky fights; they want to see bleeding, swelling and injuries. Only all-out matches thrill the audience but these days boxers spend time in the ring without fighting for minutes at a time; it bores them,” he said.
“Boxing is dangerous; a severe blow by an opponent can mean a broken bone, blindness or even death, often for little reward. Recognition cannot be sought when you’re no longer famous and [boxers] are abandoned by the people, but they still risk their lives for their passion.”

 

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