Inside the African Youth Boxing Club in Enkanini. Photo by Adam Armstrong.
6 March 2014
“Boxing saved my life… without boxing I would be dead”. Thembani Gqeku was telling me about his childhood and his experiences as a young professional boxer. Gqeku started boxing in East London in 1978, when he was nine years old. He had fought 18 professional fights, with five losses and a draw.
Gqeku says that when he was growing up, boxing gave him a reason not to smoke, drink, or hang out with gangsters, as so many other young men do. He says, “boxing gives you discipline”. He now runs the African Youth Boxing Club in Enkanini, Khayelitsha.
Gqeku in his lounge, with one of the boys in his class. Photo by Adam Armstrong.
Gqeku started the club in 2011. He trains a total of 38 children, mostly boys, aged 7 to 15. Training happens six days a week but the schedule is informal. Children start arriving between 3 or 4 in the afternoon and the class starts once enough children are at the gym.
Gqeku started the gym for the youth who live in his area. When explaining why he chose to call it the African Youth Boxing Club, he says, “This gym is not for me; it is for everyone.”
He spoke of the young men living in Enkanini as “our boys”, and about how he wants to teach them a skill. He teaches boxing, but he also teaches them respect and discipline, and how to survive in life without using drugs or committing crime. “If I get the boys into boxing, I get them out of crime… The boys who train with me, they think twice before committing crimes.” Gqeku has five children himself. Often when he speaks of “my kids”, it is not entirely clear if he means his own children or the ones he trains.
Headquarters of the African Youth Boxing Club in Enkanini. Photo by Adam Armstrong.
Gqeku runs the gym for free. When I asked him about charging fees, he laughed and then frowned. “No, I don’t charge… no one has any money.” It seemed a ridiculous suggestion to him that he charge for his classes. His wife previously worked at Kulangawazi Creche, although she has been unemployed since the start of 2014. Gqeku himself has been unemployed for several years. It is unclear to me how Gqeku gets by from day to day. He said there are days that he doesn’t eat.
Enkanini is essentially a series of shacks built onto the sand dunes. Even for an informal settlement, Enkanini is one of the hardest places to live. There is no running water or electricity in Gqeku’s house. His eldest son, Aviwe, told me that to charge his phone he needed to go Makhaza and leave his phone at a friend’s house.
Gqeku speaks to the group before class. Photo by Adam Armstrong.
The road into Enkanini: a sandy track off Baden Powell Drive. Photo by Adam Armstrong.
The gym is inside a shack. There is no electricity in Enkanini, so it is dim inside. The only light comes through holes cut into the walls of the shack which serve as windows. I was there on sunny, scorchingly hot days. The air was hot, the rooms stifling, dry and still. In winter it is grey, cold and dark.
He trains the boys hard. They are fit. Each class starts with a warm-up consisting of stretching, push-ups and running on the spot. After that he teaches punches and blocks, and spars with the kids.
Gqeku’s youngest child, Oyama (pictured), is two years old, but he already knows about boxing. He can swing an impressive over-hand right.
Hard work. The boys warming up. Photo by Adam Armstrong.
The children who arrive to train are excited and smiling. After the warm-up they stand in a circle and Gqeku introduces them to me. Each steps forward and recounts his boxing record. “15 fights and 3 losses”, says one young boy smiling at me nervously. Gqeku offers these children sports coaching and a place to be after school. It is a moment in their day that is safe, fun and stimulating.
Some of the children he trains show promise; three are fighting professionally. One child, who has been training with Gqeku for two years has a record of 35 fights and no losses.
The majority of Gqeku’s children will not become professional or “fight their way out of poverty”. Perhaps this is for the best. South African township gyms have a long history of creating national and international boxing champions, but many run out of money shortly after they retire. The stories of working-class fighters from townships becoming professional fighters often do not have happy endings.
Oyama with his gloves up, ready to spar. Photo by Adam Armstrong.
Gqeku’s gym is not likely to produce a national or provincial champion. His training facilities are humble, but he provides a safe space for young boys to come and train and spend time after school. Boxing offers an alternative outlet for aggression, as opposed to gangsterism, in one of the poorest parts of Cape Town.
Gqeku has created a place where boys and girls can be children, learn a sport and learn about courage and difficulty. Gqeku will not become famous through his work, but boxing saved his life, and it may save the lives of one or two more kids.
Gqeku and the children at his gym. Nosiphiwo (left) smiles anxiously. Photo by Adam Armstrong.