Boxers represent new dawn for Iraq
-Marty Gervais
SULEIMANIYA, Iraq - The exhausted boxers, slumped in a dilapidated bus with torn seats and grimy windows, chant their early morning Muslim prayers on their way back from the park after their first workout of the day.
Their routine is the same each day. They rise at dawn, step into the empty streets, hear the roosters lifting the darkness from the urban landscape, and board a rickety bus with bald tires to a park made infamous by Saddam's murder of innocents.
YOUNG ELITE
These young men, with gym bags resting on their laps and riding this bus, are the elite of Iraq. They're the ones who will compete at the Pan-Arab Games in Cairo in November.
All eight, with the exception of Andre Gorges, a 22-year-old fighter from Windsor who has been asked to join the team, dream of tasting the splendour of the Olympics in Beijing in 2008.
Josh Canty of Windsor is the one chosen to get them there.
But what can go wrong will go wrong.
This 32-year-old trainer, who has guided two world champion boxers and many more to national and provincial titles, takes it all in stride. He keeps a sense of humour about it and rarely, if ever, complains.
Things are done differently here.
On the first day of workouts, no one gave him a key to the facilities with the outdoor ring, but Canty wasn't worried. He commanded the military police -- always along for protection of these pugilists -- to edge their truck up against the barbed wire fence, and ordered his boxers to scale it one by one.
One boxer scurried up and held down the barbed wire top while seven other fighters gingerly slipped over and jumped to the ground.
The only problem was that the assistant coach, Flah Ahmad, couldn't make it over, and spent the session shouting through the chain link at his boxers and translating for Canty.
Water has also been an issue. It seems the Kurdistan Boxing Federation, whose facilities are being used for the workouts, can't understand why the fighters need water. It may not be something they worry about, but Canty does, and finally resorted to swiping water bottles from the hotel mini bar to give his team relief from the 30 C-plus heat.
RINGSIDE LIGHTS
After one practice, the Kurdistan Boxing Federation held its championship bouts in the outdoor ring, and fans turned out in droves. But, typical of Suleimaniya, the electrical power cut out. Ultimately, the generator used to restore power also failed, casting the ring and crowd in total darkness.
If this were Canada, the fights would be cancelled. But this is Iraq. The organizers didn't panic. They simply employed military vehicles to illuminate the ring with their headlights.
The only problem was the aim of the lights, so low that all that was visible were the boxers' ankles flitting about in pitch blackness. The judges were forced to lean on the mat and squint to get a better look.
At the start of the third round, however, someone managed to get the generator to work, and suddenly the lights came back on and a cheer went up.
This is Iraq. Things don't always go smoothly. Life is unpredictable. But for these boxers, being in Suleimaniya is a gift.
To bed down in a hotel -- no matter how primitive the place is by western standards -- is better than home.
Some fighters can't afford mouth guards, and over the years, their teeth have been ravaged. The rules here are lax. Some can't afford proper footwear and wear cheap running shoes.
For Canty, it's fine.
"They're humble and eager in spirit. Poverty breeds humility and a sense of community," he said. "That's what you find here. These are good people."
Canty has witnessed this before in guiding Windsor fighters to India and Russia, where the facilities are not up to Canadian safety standards.
The type of poverty Canty has observed in Detroit pales in comparison to Iraq. These boxers hail from Baghdad. They have lost loved ones to terrorism. They live in districts where, to go home, they have to pass through countless checkpoints. They live in neighbourhoods where electricity and running water are virtually non-existent.
For the Iraqi boxers, coming to Suleimaniya is a rare taste of freedom.
Here the military is on their side. They are heroes to the kids who turn out to study them shadow box and spar in the late afternoon light. The kids will sit on the hill near the club, a tiny cramped facility with broken windows and bars. Rubble and garbage litter the ground outside.
The place is like a dungeon, says Canty, but he likes it because most down-at-the-heels boxing clubs "turn out the best boxers."
When things get crowded, he dispatches the boxers to an abandoned building next door where the fighters work up a sweat, silhouetted against the open windows. They can see the mountains behind the city. They can see the ring across the street behind the chain link fence. And one by one the scruffy-looking neighbourhood kids ease their way up the steps to peek at these fighters. They are the elite, the ones who will capture glory and make them proud.
Canty is there to lead them, working out hard by their side, but also to return to his Border City Boxing Club with a fresh perspective. At the end of their first workout, the Windsor-born trainer was surprised when the fighters all lined up and did a cheer for their team and shook hands. It was a ritual of respect. A respect for their workout, their bodies, for endurance, for each other.
"You don't see that in Canada. Here it makes the whole experience special," Canty said.
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