IN MOROCCO YOU HAVE TO BE STRONG LIKE A LION.

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It is very tough there. My dad took me to Muay Thai in Casablanca when I was just seven years old. This was because whenever I came home from school I would always be in tears because some kid would always punch me.

The first time we went I didn’t like it and started to cry. But the coach there told me that once I learn how to punch and understand what to do it will be easy. I said “OK” but in my mind I was saying that “I don’t like this; I don’t want to do kickboxing.” But with each session I quickly felt stronger.

The bully had heard that about me training. In Casablanca, everyone knows everyone else’s business, so this wasn’t a surprise. One day he approached me and said “You go to a gym now, huh? Do you think you are tough?” The coach had taught some fighting techniques, but before I could even think about them, I grabbed him with both hands and headbutted him. I had broken his nose.

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STREET FIGHTER

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My parents were not happy. They didn’t want me to fight in the street. They just wanted me to have fun, gain more confidence and learn something new. “Only fight in the gym” my mom told me, but as a kid I didn’t understand. “If someone punches me, then I have to punch them back” I replied.

What’s interesting is that once the parents of the kids at school found out what had happened, and that I had been learning kickboxing, they sent their children too. My coach made very good money after this.

As I got older my coach could see my potential. In my teens he encouraged me to enter some competitions – gym vs. gym fights. After one bout he said, “You’re a very special fighter and you need to keep doing this.”

So, every three weeks I would have an amateur fight that the coach would organise. We both made a little bit of money out of it. Something like AED 300 ($80) each time. It wasn’t much but I loved fighting.

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