This is pretty fucked up. I mean, there’s nothing normal about watching children beating the living shit out of each other, even if it is culturally acceptable. The spectacle is brutal, too brutal. This wasn’t what I expected hours earlier when my hotel concierge recommended a ringside seat at a Muy Thai fight. Where’s Jean Claude Van-Damme? Where are the gloves and pads? Why is there blood running out of little Klahan’s nostril?
I’m in Bangkok alone, and the alternative to a night of violence inside Lumpinee Boxing Stadium involves downing beers in the always colorful Patpong district. I spent the previous night aimlessly wandering those alleyways so I opt to avoid repeat offending. I have never been to a boxing match back home, karate tournament or anything of the sort, so this will be a new experience, something I value on trips such as these.
My VIP gringo ticket to the weekly Muy Thai fight set me back $25; the taxi from my hotel to the other side of the city … another $10. Add a snickers bar and bottle of water to the tab and we’re looking at a relatively inexpensive, exciting night on the town.
The early matches feature children, some as young as eight, kicking, thrusting, punching and pummeling the crap out of each other. This, I learned several days later, is a point of contention for some in Thailand. Training and competing before the onset of puberty can lead to reduced intelligence and dementia due to brain traumas from being hit in the head. No one inside the stadium seemed to give a squirrel’s nut about that. The children fight, championed by their families in the stands, because their families need the money. Muy thai is big business in Thailand.
A match finishes. Another starts. A match finishes. Another starts. The fighters get older and older as the night progresses towards the main event. I take a picture. I cringe. I take another picture. I grab a beer, switch memory cards, talk to a Japanese man, cringe and take another picture. There’s spit. There’s grappling. There’s blood. Then, a lifeless man out cold on the mat. How did he get there? It happened so fast. One second the guy was dancing around the ring, the next, immobile.
As the emergency crew sprints into action, I snap a photograph using my 200mm fixed lens. This will be my last picture of the night, my last fight of the night. The main event is four fights away, but I have seen enough. Some people can stomach violence better than others, I’m not one blessed with that talent. The human body isn’t designed to take this sort of abuse, from adults or children.
