The birth of an ancient sport: Yağli Güreş

Hello, welcome come aboard. We’ve been busy this week, preparing to head up to Bodrum to pick up our friends, Charlie and Megan. Bodrum is 167 nm away, Longo Mai has a conservative average speed of 5 or 6 knots thats between 27-33 hours of sailing. Unfortunately it’s not as simple as planning a car trip. The weather and safe anchorages play a large part in planning. We can’t leave Finike until after Thursday (06 Apr) and we need to be Bodrum Friday of the following week. Unfortunately the weather is finicky this time of year and while we have a day and a half of promised tailwind, it isn’t enough to get us all the way to Bodrum.

Especially as the following day’s forecast is predicting a head wind with gusts up to 30 knots. Over the last week the forecast has changed daily, and our plans have changed accordingly. Ian’s career was reliant on these environmental forces and his as relaxed as a Turkish dog resting in the middle of the road. (Trust me these dogs own the world and even the biggest trucks will swerve or stop and let them move in their good time.) He tells me if you plan early you’ll plan often. But he now takes it to the next level and is quite happy to wing it on the day. I’m not so lucky, its never been in my nature to be relaxed when there’s a deadline looming and I think it’s fair to say I’ve been a bit of a pork chop about it all. Thankfully Ian also weathers my moods well. Our friends are incredibly understanding and are now meeting us in the lovely town of Göcek. This is easily achievable for us and shouldn’t put too much of a dampener on our plans for their visit.

In the meantime we’ve also been taking advantage of the sunny day to mend the gel coat. This is a delicate grubby job with the sticky gel coat goop setting (going off) very quickly. The less excess goop the less sanding. Being new to this, Ian and I have a bit of sanding to do over the coming week.

We plan to leave Saturday and one of the last tasks will be to visit the Finike market in the morning before we leave. Just as it was in Brisbane, going to the market is a highlight of our week. There’s a restaurant on the way that makes a pretty good Menemen, which is like Shatsuka or Spanish eggs except the eggs are mixed in. Turkiye is predominantly Muslim country (officially non-secular) and as Finike is a conservative agricultural town, there’s no bacon or chorizo but the Menemen is always spicy and the ingredients are farm fresh making the flavours rich and flavoursome. The coffee is passable and my caffeine snobbery has been softened by necessity and now I’m just grateful its hot and passably drinkable.

After breakfast, we head down to the markets. Changing the route of our walk often; feeling like locals as we navigate the back streets. Next to the markets there’s a primary school and sports arena. Even on Saturday mornings there is the merry laughter and rambunctious shenanigans of kids at play during recess. Last Saturday we were lucky enough to see Yağli Güreş being practised at the sports arena.

Yağli Güreş is a popular sport in Turkiye. As a spectator’s sport its quite appealing. The wrestlers wear short leather trousers called “Kispet”, made of leather. The Kispet of adult wrestlers weigh a whooping 13 kilos. The only accessory the wrestlers, or pehlivan, team with their Kispet is a liberal dousing of olive oil. I guess there’s no surprise in me now telling you Yağli Güreş is known as oil wrestling.

The objective of oil wrestling, is not break your opponent but to to disable him. Therefore, unlike other wrestling sports the pehlivan can win by putting his hands down the other wrestler’s kispet and grasping the lower end of the pant’s leg and thereby prevent him from attacking. Yağli Güreş is serious business here in Turkiye with the National Champion winning 100,000USD, sponsorship and a very impressive gold belt.

The history of Yağli Güreş is as rich as you would expect given it dates back to 1000 BCE in Persia. The current rules date back to the Parthian Empire (238 BCE – 224 CE) and there is a strong tie to religion with the sport being conducted during Spring festivals. However, it didn’t become a sport in its own right until the reign of second Ottoman Sultan Orhan Gazi (1281-1362). Originally the matches could go on for days until someone won or died of exhaustion. It wasn’t until 1975 when someone with a little bit of common sense introduced a time limit.

This all very fascinating and impressive however I can’t help thinking how this wonderful sport really started. Maybe something like this.…

A troop of seasoned soldiers sit around a camp fire during a Spring Festival in some ancient city or other. They’re laughing and drinking as they boast about this battle or that fight. There’s a little more drinking and the crusty old veterans tease the junior soldiers about their lack of experience with their manly weapon. They all drink some more.

The camaraderie is high and spirits are flowing and everyone is happy until a procession of virginal maidens glide by, their hands in prayer and eyes cast down demurely. Their white shifts fluttering in the evening breeze, occasionally giving tantalising hints of the shapes beneath.

As the soldiers all quietened to watch the procession pass, Darius and Bahar, two of the younger fighters try to impress the ladies. Their mates egg them on as they all keep drinking. Their taunts and catcalls are sufficiently loud enough that the last virgin pauses and looks up with innocent doe eyes and blushes.

Darius and Bahar decide a wrestling match will prove their masculinity and prowess to this willowy maiden; ensuring her heart and more importantly her body is given freely and wantonly to the victor. So turning to their buddies, the two soldiers say “here hold our drinks” before throwing themselves at each other.

Their inebriation loosens their skills while heightening their emotions and soon the wrestlers forget the triviality of their purpose and begin to battle in earnest. Laughs become growling sneers. Curses become threats as a crowd grows around them. Their comrades and other spectators begin to wager on the outcome as more spirits flow lubricating the cheers and jeers.

Anoush, their wisened and grizzled sergeant, sitting at the next camp fire see ing the potential for a disastrous outcome, grabs a nearby jug and strides over to dump it’s contents over the two wrestling men. Except, alas, the jug isn’t full of water but olive oil. Slipping and sliding and unable to get a purchase on each other Darius and Bahar stop, gasping and spitting oil. Their surprise turns to humour and they begin laughing again.

Just as it looks like they’re about to clasp forearms and put aside their differences, someone in the crowd shouts out that Darius was the winner and he wants his bet paid out. Across the way there is a retort that Bahar was the winner “as any blind man can see”. Anoush, Darius and Bahar watch the mood of the crowd turn ugly. Anoush realising this could turn even nastier with the outcome worse than just the wrestlers getting mean and hurting each other, thinks quick and turns to Darius and Bahar and with a shrug, nods for them to continue.

The men struggle for a while as they figure out just how they’re going to win if they can’t get a good grasp. The crowd mood lightens as the fighters fumble along. Eventually, Bahar puts his hand down Darius’s pants grabbing the leg end and lifts him off the ground to dump him unceremoniously into a nearby pond. Anoush declares Darius the winner to the raucous laughter of the crowd. All threats and curses are forgotten as bets are paid out. Finally everyone toasts the wrestlers and plies them with more drink. There you have it Yağli Güreş is born!

Sometime later, Darius remembers the lovely maiden who had unwittingly incited the spectacle. He looks around thinking he’s in with a good chance. However she and her sisters have moved on (becoming bored long before Anoush intervened with the olive oil). Later Darius learns the maidens went on to the chieftain’s tent; which of course, is where all the money and power lies.

Fair winds and a dearth of sea monsters for your week ahead.

(Thanks to: Wikipedia, All about Türkiye, and A Sports with Religious Rituals from Hıdırellez Cult: “ Kırkpınar Oil Wrestling)

PS: I asked Ian what to call this weeks’s post and he suggested: “Lubed Up and Ready for Fun” or “it’s not romantic unless your eyes meet” (and that second one I’ve had to wave the politically correctness wand over) That’ll teach me for trying to include him in the creative process!