WHY MY BRO
Ruby Nyika had a ring-side seat to watch her ‘spindly-limbed’ brother David win a historic gold yesterday – and it proved to be an emotional rollercoaster ride for the family.
IT’S been a two-day diet of Glo Hart lollies and venue wine. Prefight nerves have been rampant. And that’s just me.
This weekend is the boxing final at the Gold Coast 2018 Commonwealth Games where David Nyika – my younger brother – had set his sights on becoming the first double-goldbearing New Zealand boxer. I can’t imagine how his nerves were.
Fighting a 91kg Australian in his backyard, we knew the crowd would be brutal. So, when David met us for his routine pre-fight hug outside the venue we were practicing Te Reo songs to bleat amid the bullish chants of ‘‘Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, oi, oi, oi’’.
Chuffed, he enveloped us in a cuddle before departing to the changing room to gear up.
When the bell rang, the familiar compulsion to cover my eyes was strong.
Dad’s family escaped Uganda during the dictatorship of Idi Amin, a man known as the Butcher of Uganda. The president who rose to power on his charm and charisma went on to torture, mutilate and eat his victims.
They made a new life in New Zealand: a white woman, a black man and two coffee-coloured, fuzzy-haired preschoolers were always going to stand out when they began showing up at Sunday Mass in Oamaru.
For my two brothers, my sister and I, New Zealand has always been our home – and for David, that means representing New Zealand boxing overseas.
It’s been more than eight years since my spindly-limbed brother slogged it out in the ring for the first time.
But I suspect I’ll never get used to watching him get punched in the face. Especially in front of thousands.
For yearsMum has clung to the faint hope that David would hang up the gloves and play a ‘‘nice, normal’’ sport. The problem is, he’s good at beating people up.
But yesterdayMum– usually wracked with nerves – was OK as we watched him fight a boxer ranked fifth in the world.
It was the last bout of the afternoon and the 3000-seat venue was crammed with bloodthirsty spectators dying for a knockout to cap off the day.
Punches flew thick and fast and I resisted the urge to crawl under my seat and block my ears.
Just halfway into the first round of the final against Australian golden boy Jason Whateley a couple of desultory
David runs over for sweatdrenched hugs. He’s straight back to that familiar cuddly big kid.’
chants from the Australians trickled away as David’s opponent cops a few of sharp jabs to the chin.
‘‘That’s the best way to shut them up,’’ Dad muttered.
We roared our tuneless (but oh-so-heartfelt) rendition of