Bringing Dambe To The Global Stage

The Nigerian entertainment industry,  especially music, film, and comedy, is no doubt one of the most visible and globally recognized sectors in the country. We’re all proud of the international recognition these industries have received, not just for placing Nigeria in the global spotlight, but also for helping to export our culture to the world. Another area with the potential to do the same is our martial arts community.

What comes to mind when you hear the word martial art? For me, The Karate Kid pops up immediately. Go a step further and you think of Taekwondo, Kung Fu, Judo, Kickboxing, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and maybe even Tai Chi. From that list one begins to wonder, does Nigeria even have any martial arts of its own? If so, what are they called? Why aren’t they as popular? And how can we grow this scene the same way we've grown our entertainment industry has? 

Nigeria’s love for combat sports didn’t begin with the bright lights of international boxing rings. Long before Hogan Bassey lifted the world featherweight title in 1957 or Dick Tiger dominated the middleweight and light heavyweight divisions in the 1960s, there was already a fighting culture deeply rooted in our traditions. 

Take Dambe, for instance— a fierce, gritty martial art practiced by the Hausa people in Northern Nigeria. It's more than just a sport; it’s a battle of strength, endurance, and pride. Fighters wrap one arm for striking and face off in matches that feel more like cultural festivals than competitions. Dambe uses only the dominant hand to strike, while the weaker hand is extended toward the opponent  to ward off blows. That lead hand serves as a shield, while the dominant hand is referred to as the spear. Fighters often grapple and grab to create an opening for a powerful strike, something you might do when your shield breaks and all you have left is your spear. Victory in Dambe isn’t about scoring points, it’s about landing that one decisive strike, often referred to as a killing blow. It's not meant to kill literally, of course, but it symbolizes a knockout. This concept of a single, fight-ending strike sets Dambe apart from Western boxing, where matches are usually won on points or by wearing the opponent down. Names like Ado Dan Kware, Ali Zuma, and the legendary Shago aren't just remembered as fighters—they are celebrated as local heroes, men who carried the hopes and spirit of their communities into every match. Proof that Nigeria's martial arts didn’t come from the West. They were already here, in our culture, in our people.

While efforts have been made to spotlight Dambe, such as the 2003 All-Africa Games in Nigeria, some of the traditional elements are changing. The Traditional Sports Federation of Nigeria has already begun making some adjustments to modernize the sport, trying to balance cultural roots with a more structured approach. But that places Dambe in a tricky spot. Traditional fans may feel like it’s losing its soul, while younger, urban sports lovers still don’t see it as flashy or polished as football and the likes.

Unlike football or boxing, you rarely see Dambe on TV. It doesn’t  trend on social media and it's not front-page news. And because it’s not in people’s faces, most Nigerians don’t even know about it, let alone follow or support it. I mean, how else would I have known about Karate if I hadn't first seen it in a movie?

In 2019, the Federal Ministry of Youth and Sports Development announced plans to create a national league for Dambe. But those plans seemingly fell through due to the Covid-19 outbreak in 2020. This shows that local sports don't enjoy the same level of government or corporate sponsorship that others do. Without funding, it’s hard to train athletes, organize events, or promote the sport nationwide.

To help our martial arts communities thrive, not just Dambe but any other indigenous sports that exist, we need to give them a modern push. If we can film the fights with better cameras, tell the fighter's personal stories, post clips on Instagram or TikTok, and get them on TV, people—especially young Nigerians—will start to care. Creating clearer rules and hosting regular competitions would also make it easier for new fans to follow. It’s not about changing what makes Dambe special, it’s about helping more people see the beauty and pride in it, just like they do with Kung fu, Taekwondo, and the rest.

Jesse Bina