WHEN HUNGER STRIKES: Srisaket Sor Rungvisai reveals all

Oliver Fennell on the astonishing rise of Srisaket Sor Rungvisai

HUNGER drives all living things. Its existence can push a human or an animal to lengths – or depths – that a well-fed counterpart wouldn’t even imagine. And the memory of hunger, for those who’ve truly experienced it, is powerful enough to haunt even those who are now well-fed; to ensure they continue to fight just as hard as they did back when even mere survival was a daily struggle.

Hunger is also a synonym for ambition. We hear even millionaire fighters talk of how “hungry” they are. Of course, many boxers fought their way out of poverty, but how many truly know hunger; how many have endured the fear of not knowing when, or how, they would eat? To what lengths have they gone to feed themselves?

Srisaket Sor Rungvisai did what for many would be unthinkable – he dug through trash to find food, taking home to eat what others had thrown away.

Now a superstar in his native Thailand, and considered one of the world’s top poundfor-pound boxers, the WBC super-flyweight champion has dined in opulence with politicians and celebrities after conquering marquee names in New York and Los Angeles. But it was an attempt to make it in another big city – the Thai capital, Bangkok – which led Srisaket not to the bright lights but to the dustbins from which he pulled his dinner.

The native of impoverished, rural Srisaket province (from where he gets his ring moniker; his real name is Wisaksil Wangek) moved to Bangkok on his own when he was just 16, and while he would experience real, physical hunger once there, his relocation was also motivated by the metaphorical kind.

He wanted to prove people wrong, to dispel the barbs of his fellow village folk who had labelled him a failure. Fighting, at that stage, was not on his mind. In fact, he’d already tried that and, as strange as it may be to imagine now, he was not very good at it.

“I was a muay Thai fighter back home,” says Srisaket. “My family before me were muay Thai fighters – my father, my grandfather. But people in my community said I wasn’t as good as them. They said I would have no future. So that’s why I moved to Bangkok – to prove I could survive on my own. I wasn’t motivated by fighting.”

Srisaket set off one morning with little more than small change in his pocket. Eight hours later, he arrived in the teeming metropolis, home to 10 million people and a world away from his sleepy, bucolic roots. He rented a tiny room and set about job-hunting.

The first opportunity he heard about was a vacancy for a waiter. With no money left for public transport, Srisaket decided to walk to the restaurant. He set off not knowing his way around Bangkok and not realising quite how huge the city is. A confused and exhausted country boy arrived at the restaurant several hours later, his convoluted route to the restaurant having covered an estimated 60 miles of the noisy and insufferably humid streets. Unsurprisingly, he failed to impress his would-be employer, who quickly rejected Srisaket’s job application, leaving him to walk all the way back.

Without the luxury of time, or to pick and choose his vocation, Srisaket accepted a job as a binman, collecting and sorting trash from a nearby mall. The pay was low but at least it was a regular income and a significantly shorter commute than the restaurant would have been. It also provided him with a regular source of free food.

“People just threw food away,” he says. “I would find things to eat that way. There was a supermarket in the mall. The moment their food expired, they would bin it. I would collect this expired food and take it home.” ³

PEOPLE JUST THREW FOOD AWAY. I WOULD FIND THINGS TO EAT THAT WAY. I WOULD COLLECT IT AND TAKE IT HOME”