Here to Help: South Sudanese Wrestling
In Bennett Springs, a ring is being painted on a local soccer pitch.
Plastic chairs are lined up. There’s a DJ booth.
Loor dancers and drummers compete with the speakers and the Bosnian-Herzegovinian Cultural and Recreational Centre, on whose grass we stand, is prepared for an after-party.
But first, wrestling.
Today, Perth’s Western Empire will take on Melbourne Lions.
The Lions’ champion sent a letter with a challenge, the challenge was accepted, and now here they are.
No social media pantomime, no weigh-ins. No masks, no gimmicks, no ropes and no mats.
These are the rules: Make your opponent touch the ground with something that’s not hands, feet or knees, and do it in the ring.
If wrestlers leave the circle (and they do, on their feet and locked together) they must find their way back if they want to win.
There are no strikes — kicks and punches are forbidden — but exploratory touches are heavy with intent.
Over the next three hours, nine from each team step into the circle and fight for community pride. Throughout each match — and before, and after — the all-female loor dancers cheer them on.
The combination of noise and action makes this an event in every sense.

Maketh Jok arrived in Australia 20 years ago and is one of the organisers.
“Today, there are no injuries. But, as you can see, it’s a physical game so anything can happen.”
Maketh talks about a previous meeting that did need an ambulance. Thankfully, there was one on site.
He, the fighters and the crowd accept that risk means rewards: tradition, cohesion, life being lived.
It gets dark, the Lions pull away and eventually they win 7-2. Maketh is disappointed, but philosophical.
“It brings people together to unite. I’m happy with that.”
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