I don’t speak a lick of Swahili or Kirundi. And the other Burundian boxers hardly speak French or English, but we still communicate; not through talking, but through sport.
Regardless of whether or not I can verbally speak to them, sweating and sharing punches with one another forms a bond between us. It is an odd interaction where I learn to box purely from gestures and charades, but it teaches me to pay attention to minute details rather than asking relentless questions. But more interesting, there is a camaraderie that is shared even outside of the boxing gym; when I was running in the park in Burundi, one of my fellow boxers joined me and we ran together, not saying a single word, just understanding that we had a common goal: practice. Our words are sit-ups, our sentences is sparing, and our paragraphs – boxing.
