Wrestling With Identity and Resilience

Amid the rocky hills and fertile plains of Sudan’s Nuba Mountains, a centuries-old tradition of wrestling continues to thrive, even as conflict tears the nation apart. Wrestling here is more than sport - it is identity, heritage and resistance. British photographer Tariq Zaidi’s latest series, captured in February 2025, brings this powerful cultural ritual vividly to life at a time when Sudan’s social fabric faces its greatest strains.

Nuba wrestling is one of Africa’s oldest continuous sporting traditions, rooted in rites of passage, agricultural celebration, and spiritual devotion. Matches often coincide with key points in the farming calendar - after the harvest or during the dry season when communities come together to test strength and honour ancestry. Victory is simple: the first man to force his opponent to the ground wins.

These bouts are about more than physical prowess; they are affirmations of communal pride, social status, and the enduring spirit of the Nuba people. Zaidi says, 'In a world where so much is disappearing, it felt urgent to photograph a culture holding fast to its identity. This project was over a year in the planning. It began with a conversation with an anthropologist colleague, who suggested that—despite ongoing conflict - there might still be a window to witness and document traditional cultural practices.’

Nuba wrestling first captured global attention through the lens of pioneering photographers. In the late 1940s, George Rodger, a founding member of Magnum Photos, documented the wrestlers in a series that highlighted the dignity and vibrancy of Nuba life. Later, controversial (because of her deep involvement with Nazi Germany) German filmmaker and photographer Leni Riefenstahl spent months living among the Nuba, producing the book The Last of the Nuba (1974), which, despite its problematic framing, remains a visual record of a proud and resilient culture. Zaidi’s knew of the visual heritage but not directly affected, ’I typically work in colour as it better serves my intent to convey mood, nuance, and environmental context. It’s a core part of my visual language rather than a deliberate reference to earlier work.'

Today, as Sudan grapples with civil strife between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and Rapid Support Forces (RSF), documenting Nuba wrestling takes on new urgency. Where Rodger and Riefenstahl captured a relatively untouched way of life, Zaidi’s images show a culture persisting in the face of profound disruption. He explains, 'Due to the sensitive nature of the region and in order to protect the safety of those who assisted - particularly local guides, fixers, and the communities visited-I’m unable to share specific details. The area remains highly volatile and at risk of targeted violence.’

Tariq Zaidi’s career has been defined by a commitment to telling underreported stories of resilience and cultural identity. Born and based in London, Zaidi left a successful corporate career to pursue photojournalism full-time, teaching himself the craft and earning international recognition. His images have graced The Guardian, BBC, The New York Times, and National Geographic, among many others.

Through projects such as Sapeurs: Ladies and Gentlemen of the Congo and North Korea: The People’s Paradise (featured in previous issues of this magazine) Zaidi has consistently sought out communities navigating hardship with dignity and pride. His latest work in Sudan continues this mission, offering a deeply respectful, human-centred portrayal of a people determined to safeguard their traditions amid war and displacement.

Zaidi’s images and choice of gear capture all the drama, ritual, and community spirit of a Nuba wrestling tournament. Crowds gather under the baking sun; children climb trees for a better view; drums beat as wrestlers stride into the arena, bodies covered in ash to both honour tradition and make gripping harder for opponents. Zaidi recalls: 'Despite the constant threat of violence, the sense of joy and pride at these events was overwhelming.'

He continues, 'I used a Sony Alpha 7 III paired with a Sony FE 24–50mm F2.8 G lens. It’s a flexible, lightweight lens well-suited for capturing both close, personal moments and wider scenes. I worked exclusively with natural light - no flash, reflectors, or tripods. My advice? Remain discreet and respectful in sensitive environments - stay light and agile.'

In these matches, brute force is less important than strategy, speed, and honour. Wrestlers, often clad only in ochre-painted skin, point out their opponents with a dance-like flourish before each bout. Ash smeared across bodies speaks not just to technique but to spiritual beliefs, symbolising purification and ancestral connection.

Victory is celebrated with unbridled joy. Champions are hoisted onto shoulders, paraded before the cheering crowd, and showered with songs composed by village women in their honour. For young men, a wrestling win is more than personal glory - it is a rite of passage, boosting their standing within the community and, often, increasing their desirability as marriage partners.

Zaidi’s photographs do not shy away from the realities of modern Sudan. Armed spectators, displaced communities, and the intrusion of modern weaponry into ancient traditions provide a stark backdrop to the scenes of unity and celebration. In this tension - between preservation and change, resilience and rupture - Zaidi finds the emotional heart of the story. 'It wasn’t just the athleticism - it was the incredible sense of belonging, of generations bound together through ritual,' he adds.

Today, wrestling among the Nuba is a defiant assertion of identity in a country where minority cultures have often faced marginalisation or worse. Holding a wrestling match in a refugee camp, as some displaced Nuba communities now do, is an act of cultural resistance as much as it is a community gathering.

While some urban centres such as Khartoum (before the current conflict) saw attempts to commercialise the sport - complete with referees and prize money - the spirit of traditional wrestling remains strongest in the villages and camps of South Kordofan. Here, it continues to function as an expression of community resilience, connecting generations and providing a sense of normalcy amid chaos.

This cultural tenacity is mirrored across Africa. Traditions such as Senegal’s Laamb, Nigeria’s Kokowa, and Ethiopia’s Tigil similarly blend sport with spirituality, community bonding, and cultural pride. In each case, wrestling is not just entertainment - it is identity made physical.

Despite war, displacement, and the creeping influence of globalisation, Nuba wrestling endures. As Sudan’s national sport after football, it remains a symbol of unity for the Nuba people and an essential thread in the wider tapestry of African wrestling traditions. Zaidi says: 'I hope these images show that heritage isn’t a relic of the past. For the Nuba people, it’s a living, breathing part of survival.'

Zaidi’s project stands as a vital contribution to the ongoing story of the Nuba Mountains. By focusing his lens not on despair but on celebration, skill, and community, he offers a portrait of hope at a time when it is desperately needed. His photographs, rich with humanity and pride, remind us that traditions - when nurtured - can outlast even the gravest challenges.

'In the face of unimaginable hardship, the Nuba people have not just survived—they have flourished culturally,' Zaidi notes. 'Their wrestling is not simply a sport. It is a language of resilience.’ Thanks to photographers like Tariq Zaidi, that language now has a new global audience.

You can follow more of Tariq's work on Instagram (@tariqzaidiphoto), Facebook (@tariqzaidiphotography) and his website https://www.tariqzaidi.com/