loosie: words: Beasts of Battle

Beasts of Battle

Loosie goes camel wrestling in Turkey.

by grimy | 2002.10.18

"If you have the time", people often say, "go to Turkey, it's really a great place."

Like myself, you probably respond with a "fuck off, cocksmoker" and deliver a quick slap to their face. And indeed, this is appropriate.

Rarely is a Turkey booster a good friend or a person fit to issue advice on your social life. Istanbul and Constantinople, exotic and cosmopolitan destinations? Doubtful. Kurdish children routinely beheaded and castrated by the Turkish government? Absolutely.

But if you've been hoodwinked into visiting Turkey and manage to escape your hairy-armed kidnappers, ditch the gag and head for a genuine Turkish festival. In a land saturated with thinly mustached women, only the festival is as common as the hirsute ladies. Loosie has sifted out the fake competitors and crowned the Camel Wrestling festival as the premier event.

Starring adult camel bulls neck deep in machismo, the event has historically lured the country's elite bulls to wage war in towns throughout the Aegean region in Turkey. These prime fighters are fed, trained and scrubbed down like the shit-kicking champs they are. Despite their glistening jewel-studded saddles, the ugly egos of these bulls rear high. Stay nibble on the feet and keep a vigilant watch, these nasty beasts will spit fast and hard at you, your pupils are in their cross hairs. We are shit in the camel's eyes.

Before battle, the camels strut down the village's dusty roads with owners at side. As the town criers hype the crowd into a mad frenzy, star-struck villagers grovel at the camels' hooves and the owners scream death threats at fellow competitors.

http://www.loosie.com/images/camel1.jpg
Little in life is more enjoyable than watching camels wrestle.

This event is designed with the chronic gambler in mind, so arrive early at the arena for a choice spot and bring a fat money clip. Drums beat with a mean spirit and the rotating circle of bearded spectators is powered by the steady flow of bills. For a first time spectator, things do not seem right. The arrival of a plump and sultry young cow that parades in front of the seething bulls only reinforces this feeling. Her tantalizing hip dips excite the brutish males and streams of viscous milky saliva slide from their mouths and nostrils. The crowd roars and bets are doubled.

The bull camels normally wrestle hard and with grit. The head butt is the move of choice for the traditional school of camel wrestlers. It is successful in the knock- out contest for precedence in a herd, and more importantly, precedence in mating. Occasionally, the bulls hunch low and really grapple, feinting in here and there, eventually locking a fore-leg inside the leg of the opposition and toppling him to the dirt.

When a bull can no longer sustain the barrage of vicious head-butts and crafty take downs, he high tails out of the arena, hysterically galloping towards the surrounding spectators with the conquering bull in fast pursuit. The camels, weighing close to a ton, occasionally leave behind a mess of crippled gamblers, wide blood patches and trails of saliva.

Typically, the match leaves both competitors healthy enough for another day of wrestling. A safe battle is guaranteed by a board of referees. Safety precautions include the attendance of a board of prestigious referees, the fastening of the camels' mouths and the presence of fourteen swarthy rope bearers who can pull apart the combatants if the action gets too intense. But for the real champions and their owners, these measures are sneered upon and the battle rages until a camel is crumpled to the ground. A true champion does not run for the hills like a pussy.