Photos by Lindsey Newhall

Abdul leaned forward a bit toward the boy sitting across the table. "Glad to see you again," he said in his native southern Thailand dialect. "How are they treating you at the other gym?"

"Good," the boy said between spoonfuls of short noodles. "I like it there. Fighting a lot now."

Abdul nodded, rubbed his eyes, cloudy with the beginning of cataracts, and clutched the side of his stomach gently. The boy, Kob, had been one of his students in the village until two years ago, when Kob moved across the island to Singpatong-Sitnumnoi, a large fighter's gym. He still comes back to visit his first gym, though. Less than an hour from his current gym in Patong Beach, Kob stops by Sor Abdul Gym every time he returns to Somphan Village, his hometown in northern Phuket.

Kob ate his noodles quietly next to a few other young fighters from Singpatong, all deferential to the serene Muay Thai gym owner seated across from them. They'd heard about his recent medical problems and cautiously asked how he was doing. He lifted his shirt to show the bandages on his abdomen, assured them he was okay and that he'd recover.

No one was training at Sor Abdul Gym anymore, mostly due to Abdul's current medical condition. It was glaringly obvious the gym was not in use: half the bags were in heaps on the ground, their contents strewn about as if thieves had shred them to scavenge valuables. Rice bags and housewares were stacked in the ring.

Still, despite the messiness, I didn't expect to find a gym like this in Phuket, of all places. It was too modest, just a single old ring and a few punching bags. I've seen gyms like this before, mostly in rural parts of the mainland, but never in such a tourist-heavy, vacation-destination island like Phuket.

Then again, the gym fits in with its surroundings. Somphan Village is virtually untouched by the tourism industry that changed the face of the rest of the island. This is the old Phuket, what the island used to look like before the development of luxury resorts, bar streets, and backpacker hostels.

Dilapidated as it currently is, Sor Abdul Gym has been a fixture of Somphan Village for the last 30 years. Abdul, now in his sixties, retired from fighting in his early adulthood to a life of running small business around his Somphan home, including his current businesses: a rubber tree farm and the little mom-and-pop shop that served us our noodle breakfast.

Abdul originally started the gym back when his two sons, now grown, were small children. "I wanted my sons to know Muay Thai, so I built a place where they could train."

It was a tiny gym then, even smaller than it is now. Word spread around the village that a former fighter was passing on his skills to a new generation. Boys began showing up, asking Abdul if they could train too. He never turned them away. Instead, he let them train for free. "The gym has always been for the children and their trainers to use to make themselves better."

Gyms like these are common in rural Thailand, and often function as something of a club or community center. In its 30 years, Sor Abdul has seen about 150 local boys come through. Abdul doesn't hire trainers; he simply provides the space and equipment. No money is exchanged—he doesn't pay trainers and students don't pay him. The trainers, often family members of the boys, work with their students in hopes of developing successful fighters, thereby giving the children a viable career path and making money off fights. Abdul's policy also includes not taking a cut of the fight purse; unlike most gyms, which take about half, Abdul lets the boxers and their families keep the entire purse from each fight.

"I don't make money from Muay Thai," he clarified when I asked directly, and said he built the gym because he saw a need in the community.

Kob, now fighting out of Singpatong, is one of the many boys whose fight career began at Sor Abdul. Inspired to fight after watching a local friend win a match, Kob started training around age 12. Abdul taught him all the basics, just as he's done for every beginning student at his gym, before sending him off to another gym—in this case Singpatong—once he reached a higher skill level.

Now 16 and with around 60 fights to his name, Kob is competing frequently under Singpatong's management in both Phuket and Bangkok. When I asked Kob what became of the friend his age who inspired him to start training, Kob said his friend quit Muay Thai long before he was ever good enough to make it to Bangkok. There was a hint of pride in his smile, especially when he added that he himself has recently been winning significant fights in the capital.

According to Kob, there are major differences in training at Sor Abdul versus Singpatong. "Here it's all local people," Kob said, "but in Singpatong, it's professional Thai fighters from all different provinces, and lots of foreigners. And we train a lot harder there."

Singpatong, with its intense training and large foreign population, is a far cry from this quiet, isolated locals-only gym. No sign of Sor Abdul expanding his gym or pursuing the foreign market, though. Unlike every other gym I've visited in Phuket, no out-of-towners train here, nor is there any infrastructure to handle future foreign customers. "I wouldn't know how to deal with foreigners," Abdul said. "I don't understand their language or customs."

Abdul's main priority is to use Muay Thai to benefit the community. "In Muay Thai, you take care of each other," he said, adding that he hopes to recover from his surgery soon so he can get his gym back in order. "Muay Thai is not a business in this village. It's for the people."

On our drive out of the village back to Singpatong, I wanted to ask Kob if he'd come back to this tiny gym in his hometown to train again once Abdul reopens the gym, but I knew decisions like that are rarely left up to the young fighters in question. I asked him anyway. He said he didn't know what he'd do, but would probably stay at Singpatong. Assuming he wants to continue fighting, staying at Singpatong would be the better choice. Sor Abdul is a starter's gym, where local talent is born before being turned over to more established, structured gyms for development.

When I asked Kob, only 16 years old, what his dream for the future is, he gave me the standard answer of becoming a champion fighter, winning titles and all the glory that comes with it. "But after I finish fighting, I think I want to be a trainer like Abdul or Num [the head trainer at Singpatong]," he said. "I think it's a good dream."

Special thanks to P' Inyas for help with language interpretation.

Check out these related stories:

An American Sociologist Is Studying the Behavior of Muay Thai

Life of a Pad-Man: A Muay Thai Trainer's Remorse

In Old Issan: The Genesis of a Muay Thai Gym Owner