Project Doughboy: Zombie Apocalypse, 2 of 3

PART TWO: Kamala, the Ugandan Cannibal

The recent gory attack in Miami, Florida, where one man ate part of another man’s face and the media frenzy that has followed regarding fear of an impending Zombie Apocalypse gave rise to a taboo deeply rooted in our collected sub consciousness, the fear of cannibalism. This is a phobia long-exploited by the WWF as can be seen in today’s entry, Part Two of Zombie Apocalypse, featuring the persona of Kamala, the Ugandan cannibal.

Question: Is this banner: A) A promotion for a Thanksgiving Day drive to feed the hungry B) Publicity for a WWF famine relief effort, or C) The latest slogan for Kamala, the Ugandan Cannibal, who, week after week, indulges his insatiable appetite for pale, beefy Doughboys…? ANSWER: B

Today is Thanksgiving Day — a holiday in which food becomes the focus; elaborate meals are planned, food drives and funding efforts are undertaken to feed the less fortunate, tables are set, family and friends gather.  It’s the one day when we’re permitted—expected, really—to overindulge; to stuff ourselves and become, in a sense, like Doughboy (who were also celebrated in this Blog last Thanksgiving).  Though some of us are thankful year-round for the soft pale flesh, the tender bellies and shapely spandex-clad rumps of Doughboys, most others regard these slightly overfed jobbers as “turkeys” of the ring, garnering little regard or attention, let alone respect.

One monster heel who lavished due appreciation upon these wrestling ring “turkeys,” eyeing hungrily the tender white meat of these ineffectual jobbers, was a wrestler known as Kamala, the Ugandan cannibal. It was as though Kamala lorded over his own personal Bar & Grill from which he could select a Doughboy du Jour on which to chomp down on; such was the line-up at the WWF in the early 90’s, an era in which a parade of “enhancement talent” was offered up unceremoniously to the ravenous Kamala, week after week, much like the proverbial Christians to the lions.

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Kamala is a persona adopted by grappler James Harris, a gimmick dreamed up by his wrestling pals Jerry Lawler and Jerry Jarrett. The character is a Ugandan cannibal with a painted face and body. He wrestles barefoot and in a loincloth. As portrayed by Harris, Kamala is a dim-witted man-beast who relies upon the prodding and instruction of his masked handler, Kim Chee, and his manager, Harvey Wippleman.

Although the action in the ring never includes blood-letting or explicit displays of cannibalism, everything about a Kamala match implies that Kamala is a huge beast looking to be fed.  Tribal African music accompanies his stride to the ring as on-air commentators question the sense of any young jobber foolish enough to face off against such a wild, hungry creature. The large native further intimidates his opponent by slapping his huge belly as the bell sounds, as if to indicate the empty space inside that he’s looking to fill.

A signature event in any Kamala match that both his handlers and the audience seem to relish (and participate in) is the moment when the rotund native is encouraged to roll the unconscious jobber across the mat like a wad of dough before pressing his own huge mass against the hunky body of the defeated man for the final pin. It’s as though Kamala is engaging in a sort of “feeding foreplay,” pawing and pushing the fallen Doughboy to and fro like a lion examining his prey.

Then with the sheer force of his weight alone, Kamala lays on top of the jobber as though he were a smothering African snake or a hippo that crushes and drowns its victims prior to eating them.  At times, the routine goes awry and the huge man-beast, like a wolf drawn to the scent of blood or a dog protecting its food from its Master, refuses to relinquish his hold on the soft, warm flesh of his defeated prey At this point, Kim Chee and Wippleman rush into the ring in a panic like a pair of lion-tamers whose beast has gotten out of control.

A jungle savage persona such as Kamala could be considered racially offensive to blacks if the character itself wasn’t so ludicrous and over-the-top.  It’s doubtful that anyone at the time wasted too much energy lodging a protest or boycotting the WWF due to Kamala.

And what about white jobbers involved?  It’s interesting to note that the “enhancement talent” selected to go up against Kamala during his WWF run in ’92-’93 were mostly pale, hefty guys (such as J.A. Gooden and Mike Starr).   Were the most fair-skinned jobbers available on the roster chosen deliberately to contrast with the dark bronze of Kamala’s skin? Or does a Doughboy, as the name implies, with his white, plump, un-muscled flesh, simply offer a more tender, beefy dish with which to tempt a huge cannibal such as Kamala?  Could a case be made (albeit not intentionally on the part of the WWF) to consider Kamala as a metaphor for the AIDS epidemic, coming as he did, in the 80’s, a menacing force out of Africa, victimizing one segment of the wrestling world, Doughboys?

And how does the victimization of these Doughboys amp up the sexual charge of these bouts? If we buy into the notion, the fantasy, that if our guy loses he ends up as an entree for the heel, then at once the stakes are higher.  The Doughboy is not just fighting for his life; he’s fighting for life and limb.  Add to that the idea that the very trait that attract some of us to him—that extra bit of flesh at the waistline, that full, shapely backside—these are the very attributes that the cannibal-heel is also eyeing as he (in the imagined scenario) prepares for his next meal. So it’s the very features that define the Doughboys that are now at stake—prized by Doughboy fans in the viewing audience, yet ready to be claimed by the heel—as a meal— like a trophy, once the battle is won.

At the end of the day, the ring action never goes further than the posing and the suggestive. The fantasy world of pro wrestling assures us that the taboo of cannibalism will remain firmly in place.  That assurance permits both wrestlers and fans alike an opportunity to play along for a time with the scenario in much the same way that a Thanksgiving Day feast permits us to overindulge in the sin of gluttony for a time… Kamala satiates his hunger while the viewing audience at home joins in, erotically devouring the defeated Doughboys, reveling in the sight of soft, pale jobber flesh crushed under the bulk of the massive man-beast; we become, in a sense, “carnal cannibals” ourselves…

Happy Thanksgiving — enjoy your meal!

To Be Continued…