Everyone is welcome in the boxing school of Rudy and Farah from Hoogezand. “Those guys need us”

Gorecht-West in Hoogezand is a neighborhood where the sun seems to shine just a little less often. The houses are gray and life is difficult behind many front doors. 11 percent of people over the age of 15 are on welfare.

In the middle of that district is the De Badde community center and kickboxing school Chiyo Thai is located there. It’s a gym with mats on the floor and punching bags on the ceiling. About twenty children do kickboxing exercises.

“Why are you standing still?” Farah looks sternly at a boy in an orange shirt. “To work!”

About Farah and Rudy

Farah Kouboye (46) sits on the windowsill and keeps an eye on his students. He grew up in Amersfoort and moved to Gorecht-West twelve years ago because the mother of his child moved there.

He started working as a youth worker and saw poverty and loitering youths. “In Amersfoort I also gave boxing lessons to children. When I asked what those boys wanted to be, they said: doctor or boxer. If you ask here they have no idea. They are not interested.”

Ten years ago, the municipality asked him to give kickboxing lessons in De Badde. A few years later, Rudy Schouwstra (41) joined. His school now has about seventy members. These are mainly boys and girls from the neighbourhood. Those who have money pay a contribution, if not, there is always something to arrange.

The mothers help

Take Javayro, 14, for example. His mother Randy (41) sent him to Farah five years ago. Her son was not well. “He had been through more than is good for a boy his age,” she says. When Randy used to say something to her son, he just kept staring at the floor. “But that changed”, her eyes turn red. “Now he’s looking at me again.”

How is it possible? “Yes, say it.” Javayro also doesn’t know exactly how to do it. The boy is sitting on a gym bench. He has a thin mustache, black boxing shorts and a black shirt. What he does know is that he feels better. Less pressure, less fighting.

Throwing and taking a hit during the lessons has done him good. He knows that. What if he gets into a fight at school? “Never. Trainer always says: don’t use your strength if it’s not absolutely necessary.”

The tranquility itself

Trainer Farah is a big, strong man. The tranquility itself. When Javayro started five years ago it was clear that he was having a hard time. Farah took him aside in the locker room.

“Is something wrong?”

– “No trainer.”

“Are you sure?”

He does this to all the boys and girls who are going through it for a while. They now call him when they have a problem. Rudy visits people’s homes when necessary.

Therapy

Did his mother ever consider sending Javayro to a psychologist? No. Boxing is better, says mother Randy. “A psychologist like that always revolves around money. Those people benefit from it, but Farah does it with his heart.”

Together with Apollonia (31) and Jacqueline (42), Randy helps out at the Chiyo Thai boxing school. Rudy and Farah are the boss in the room, the ladies do the rest. “All voluntary.”

Jan (53) tells the same story. He lives with his children Valentijn (7) and Larissa (9) behind Farah and Rudy’s boxing school. “They have been through something,” he says. On the advice of an aid worker, he sent them to Chiyo Thai a year ago. Jan also saw his children flourish. “The anger is gone, they are not so anxious anymore.”

Angel patience

Farah understands what the young people have been through. He also has ‘life experience’. He does not need a salary for the lessons. He uses the contribution to drive boys to the games. “Those guys need us. When they get out of the ring after a game and give me a hug, that’s all I need. Money can’t compete with that.”

“Yallah”, he shouts to Abdullah, a Syrian refugee who has recently started training. “Speak Dutch!”