How Charles Manyuchi was caught kissing his opponent Jose Feria

How Charles Manyuchi was caught kissing his opponent Jose Feria

By Robert Mukondiwa

They are pretty little things, bees are.

With a gold and black series of belts running across their bulging little bodies as they hover over all the brightest, most beautiful and aromatic of flowers.

Furry little velvet fluff across their bodies shining against the summer.
Smile if you're winning...Charles Manyuchi stares at Jose Feria's lips hours before the fatalistic 'kiss of death'
You almost feel the urge to delicately hold them in your fingers. And then the killer sting comes!

And Charles Manyuchi. Just like the bees as his surname means, is a welterweight 175 centimetre deadly equivalent of his namesake in the animal kingdom.

And none better to attest that than Colombian Jose Agustin Julio Feria, who got a good sting in the last bout against the soon to be immortal rising star of pugilism in Africa at the Harare International Conference Centre-his first boxing homecoming in years-definitely his biggest at such a high profile on home soil no doubt.

With the athletic mien of a dancer, graceful gait of such and poise of an assassin who moves through the world on the balls of his feet-like a ballet prancing being, Charles Manyuchi stole the show in a bout that was literally short and sweet.
Landing punches rehearsed from the bible of pugilistic delivery, Charles Manyuchi pummelled his opponent, his shiny crimson gloves perfecting the sweet yet evil science that is boxing as they made sadistic love to his opponents face and frame.

He isn’t an evil man, Charles Manyuchi. Surely he is fair and honest. A fairness shown by how he made sure Feria’s body got a good serving of his unrelenting punches but also fairly made sure his face also got a fair share, going for his kisser time and again.

Mrs Feria, if there is a Colombian goddess answering to that name, will have to forego any French kisses perhaps for the next month at least owing to the scientific punishment meted on her man’s lips by the terror from Zimbabwe that Charles has no doubt become.

It was not a title fight. This was no rumble in the jungle. No Tyson v Lewis.

But for that evening. In those legendary 2 minutes and 42 seconds-Harare became a little Vegas, delivering a fight night that many people will hold dear as they beheld their proud compatriot raising the flag and dishing some discipline on a South American student!

The one he kissed with his lethal gloves!


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