NAZILI, Turkey -- Bells clang rhythmically, drawing closer as men with berets, stout guts and leathered skin lead their camels into the ring of combat. Zeybek music -- a squeaky, kazoolike sound made by a wooden flute accompanied by a drum -- carries on the wind.
It's the music, they say, that makes the camels dance.
Darkening clouds threaten rain. Yet thousands of villagers assemble in makeshift bleachers or lounge on truck beds surrounding the ring. They have come from throughout rural western Turkey to see this winter spectacle.
Under a rainbow of umbrellas, they open picnic baskets and break out bottles of raki, a clear, licorice-flavored alcohol that turns milky when mixed with water and incites imbibers to kick up their heels in sweeping folk dances.
The camels are better dressed than their owners. These are fighting camels, bred in Iran for ferocity. But before the battle they sparkle. Elaborately woven tapestries in bright, beautiful reds, blues, greens, pinks and oranges cover their two humps, shifting as the camels step gingerly forward, as if dancing through water. Across their backsides are banners announcing their names and the salutation "Masallah" -- may Allah protect you from the evil eye.
Ali Onal, accepting a sloppy, frothy kiss from his camel, Onal, estimates the cost of a camel's dress clothes at $3,000. Not too extravagant, considering that the camel itself costs perhaps $25,000.
The referee summons the first two contestants over a scratchy sound system: Gozluklu from Soke will wrestle Faruk from the Mediterranean resort town of Antalya.
Gozluklu's name means "Spectacles." Nearsighted or not, it leans into its opponent.
Camel wrestling is a little like arm wrestling: The idea is to get leverage and press down on the opponent -- but on camels, necks substitute for arms. Anchoring themselves with mighty rear legs, the two animals try to use their weight to force the other to its knees.
In short order Gozluklu has Faruk down. Then, with its long neck, it presses Faruk's head down and tries to get it between its forelegs. In this position, the camels are locked together like Siamese twins, and it is hard to tell where one begins and the other ends.
The spectators leap to their feet, chanting "Gozluklu, Gozluklu!" Overwhelmed with excitement, a boy sweeps a rolled-up poster and shouts, "Come on, son! Come on!"
Great, deep groans issue from somewhere in the wrestling hold. White froth, like the head of a badly poured beer, flies through the air and splotches on the muddy battle ring. A grating, high-pitched "kuhhh, kuhhh, kuhhh" fills the air -- the camels are grinding their teeth, which are capped before the match so no blood spills.
The referee, squatting with his cordless microphone just inches from the combatants, flails his free arm and confirms: "It's down! It's down! It's down! Yes, Gozluklu is the champ!"
But the animals are a little less clear on the ending point of their struggle. It takes 20 men with two lassos to rope a foreleg of each camel and pull the 2,000-pound beasts apart.
The rope men have another duty. During each wrestling match, they have to circle around and step lively to keep the dueling camels from tumbling into the crowd. Once it almost happens, but nimble spectators dodge out of the way in the nick of time.
It will be a long day. Some 140 camels are wrestling, one match at a time, each lasting up to eight minutes. As one contest is waged, the next two sets of camels warm up by galloping around the periphery of the grounds.
Gozluklu's winnings amount to $140, plus a carpet. Faruk's labors bring its owner $85. It is considered noblesse oblige for the camel owners, who typically are rich men in poor villages, to donate their prize money, along with the proceeds from ticket sales, to schools or hospitals.
"Camel wrestling isn't a job," Ali Onal explains. "It's a tradition from my father and my grandfather, so I give all the money away."
Encouragement for battle
Nature sets the camel-wrestling schedule -- in the winter mating season, when male camels vie for females. One owner today has brought along a female to encourage his fighter. The two camels walk companionably side by side, behaving themselves and frothing at the mouth.
Training for a fighting camel consists of lots of walking. From September until the season starts in November they work up from eight to 12 miles a day. During fighting season they keep in shape by eating and drinking sparely -- 4 1/2 pounds of vegetables and a half-gallon of water daily.
In the off season, camels are pampered pets. Their appetites increase in summer and they consume enormous quantities of vegetables, washed down with 13 gallons of water a day.
'His camel cried'
Camels live for 30 years, and the males are interested in wrestling from about age 7 to 20. Owners claim that camels are intelligent, with unfailing memories and fierce loyalty.
"When one of our camel-owner friends died, his camel cried," insists Alkan Demirtas. "Camels are like angels," he coos lovingly.
Adds camel owner Tayfun Bayir: "India has its sacred cow. For us it's the camel. The prophet Mohammed rode one from Medina to Mecca."
Camels, it appears, are capable of cross-species friendships, too. One of them has adopted a donkey as a mascot or cheerleader. During matches, the camel likes to have its donkey in view, explains a fan in the stands. "He's the camel's buddy. When the camel sees its donkey friend, he feels more courage and confidence."
Camel owners say their two-humped champions have dramatically affected the quality of their own lives.
"My life changed," says Alkan Demirtas. "I've met a lot of people and friends, and it gives me good luck."
In the stands, a knot of spectators has formed to extol the virtues of camels.
"It's our tradition, it's from our ancestors," says a fan who travels the Aegean coastal towns every winter weekend to watch the local matches.
"Americans have eagles, Russians have bears, the Turkish nation has camels," adds another enthusiast.
He takes another swig of raki and declaims: "Being Turkish" -- melodramatic pause -- "is being a camel."
Pub Date: 3/18/99