Wrestling has developed independently in almost all corners of the globe, from African tribes to Outer Mongolian cavalry, serving as a tool for self-defense, social bonding, and fitness. In Vietnam, this tradition has evolved into ‘Dau Vat’, an ancient martial art renowned for its speed and aggressive nature.
The Rules of Dau Vat
During the Vietnamese Lunar New Year or ‘Tet’, wrestling festivals are held in high esteem across the country, often seen as pilgrimage sites for martial artists. The rules of Dau Vat are relatively simple:
- Two fighters compete in short, intense bouts emphasizing maximum speed and force.
- Fights begin with a veneration dance, somewhat similar to the Wai Kru in Muay Thai.
- Throws, sweeps, and takedowns are permitted; no striking allowed.
- Winning requires throwing the opponent belly-up or taking both feet off the ground.
- Festivals run for 3 days, with each competitor fighting at least 6 matches.
- Fighters must maintain a 50% win rate to avoid elimination.
- Winners receive ‘Lucky’ money, but the true prize is the honor and prosperity earned for the coming year.

Preparing for the Festival
I had the privilege of joining one of the oldest and most authentic wrestling festivals in Liễu Đôi Village while working on a documentary series about Vietnamese martial arts. A month before the event, I met with Thuy, the village’s cultural representative and TV repairman, who graciously invited me to stay with his family during the New Year celebration.
After a hearty lunch and a few shots of homemade rice wine, Thuy introduced me to Linh, a former professional Dau Vat fighter who took me under his wing, teaching me basic throws, grabs, and falls to prepare for the festival. The training took place in a small and dusty hut just outside of the village, that had been converted into a training room, with the floor covered in rice husks and a blue tarpaulin on top. Despite the lack of equipment, training with Linh was intense, with moves reminiscent of Judo and Greco-Roman Wrestling, such as circling the opponent’s attacks to lock up shoulders and elbows from a standing position or using scissor takedowns, in a style more similar to martial arts like Vovinam. Linh’s skill and precision were awe-inspiring, and I felt grateful for the opportunity to learn from him. He sent me home with a few bruises, but also a bag of tricks to practice for the upcoming event.


The Dau Vat Festival in Liễu Đôi Village
riving in Liễu Đôi just before dark, we were greeted by Thuy and his family with steaming cups of tea, candied fruits, and Banh Chung, the traditional sticky rice cakes filled with mung beans and pork, wrapped in banana leaves. The first evening was spent jovially, as we gathered in his living room for a boisterous, beer-fuelled karaoke session.
The festival began early the next morning with a parade, nearly a thousand strong, marching from the centuries-old ‘Soi Vat’ wrestling arena to the shrine of Mr. Đoàn, a legendary warrior who is credited as the patriarch of Dau Vat that lived almost 1,000 years ago. The atmosphere was electric, with participants carrying colorful flags, ornate palanquins, and fragrant incense to honor their ancestors and local deities, marching to the rhythm of drums and singing traditional songs that echoed through the village streets.


At the shrine, village elders performed a solemn ritual, burning incense, offering gifts, and praying for their ancestors’ blessings to commence the festival. The opening ceremony included a reenactment of Mr. Đoàn finding a sacred sword that bestowed supernatural strength upon him, followed by a mesmerizing flag dance to the beat of a ritual drum, the dancers’ movements growing faster and more frenzied until they reached a climax, symbolizing the return of victorious warriors.

The Competition
The first few bouts are symbolic and one of the most unique aspects of this contest known as ‘Trai Rot’. In these symbolic bouts, the sons of the villagers born on the most auspicious dates in the previous year are required to wrestle. As they are at most one year old, their fathers or even grandfathers must fight on their behalf. Due to the symbolism of the bout, there are no winners or losers; they are fighting for honor. The drums start slow and mark the pace for the bout. As they pick up speed, the grappling becomes harder and more aggressive until they suddenly break and the two fighters separate. In this contest, it is crucial that neither of the fighters fall, as it would reduce the prosperity of the sons and their families. This lasts for several rounds until both competitors are exhausted.

As the competition progressed, the dedication and skill of the wrestlers were remarkable. Young children who had trained all year for a few minutes of glory took to the arena, their matches undertaken with intensity. I was particularly struck by the sight of two elderly gentlemen, aged 84 and 87, preparing to fight. In a display of incredible vitality and commitment to the art, they grappled in age-defying performance that stood as testament to their lifelong dedication of Dau Vat.


When my turn came, I was quickly defeated by a classic double-leg takedown, my opponent’s skill and speed outmatching my own. The experience, though humbling, was exhilarating. I continued to compete, relying on my weight advantage to stay in the running. In one memorable match, I faced off against the heaviest competitor in the district. We circled each other, grappling for position, before he dived for my legs. I managed to grab him around the waist in a sprawl, rolling backwards and throwing him over my shoulders. He left the ground marginally before I did. I may have won on a technicality, but I won.

However, my success was short-lived. In my next match, I faced Linh, my mentor and a former professional fighter of great renown in the village. Despite his graciousness in allowing me to showcase some of my newly acquired skills, Linh quickly demonstrated the gulf between our abilities. With a lightning-fast single-leg grab, he threw me to the ground, my back and neck hitting the canvas painfully. I was out of the running, but the experience of testing my mettle against such a skilled opponent was invaluable.
As the competition reached its later stages, the atmosphere grew increasingly electric, with village rivalries coming to the fore. That afternoon, we were treated to a ‘traditional’ bout between Linh and Truong, another former professional. It was a masterclass in technical skill and endurance. The two fighters grappled and threw each other for a grueling 5-6 minutes without respite, their movements a blur of speed and power as they slammed each other to the ground, only to spring back up and continue the battle.


As the final few rounds progressed, the arena was packed and everyone wanted to come and get a good view of the action. Finally, after successfully throwing the last remaining competitor, Linh was named the Champion.
However, no one seemed to be leaving, so I asked the long-haired old gentleman sitting next to me on the doorstep of the shrine. He told me, “Now we have the champion fights – these are the important ones!”
Linh sat in the center of the ring and any competitor could walk in and challenge him, to which he must keep accepting until everyone was satisfied with his victory – some friends, some former competitors, either way, they weren’t stopping him now. After five additional fights back to back with no break and no losses, Linh was declared the grand champion, and through his success, the ancestors were honored and the village deemed prosperous!
As the festival drew to a close, we sat with the village elders on the floor of the shrine, drinking fragrant green tea and chewing betel nut and areca, a traditional stimulant common in Southeast Asia. The elders shared stories about the importance of keeping Dau Vat alive and preserving its historical and cultural significance. One spoke of a the dangers of wrestling and explained about a fighter who had suffered a severe injury during a bout many years ago, yet continued to attend the festival each year, even when he could no longer compete, his presence a sign of the deep bonds of community and tradition that wrestling fosters.
As a final gesture of camaraderie, Linh presented me with a medal from his collection as a souvenir of my time in Liễu Đôi, a tangible reminder of the generosity and friendship that had marked my experience of the festival, and of the enduring connections that can be forged through a shared passion for martial arts.

Conclusion
Participating in the Dau Vat festival in Liễu Đôi Village was an incredible experience that offered a firsthand look at the enduring power of tradition and the sense of community martial arts can foster. Witnessing this ancient combat sport in its purest form, being embraced by the village, and taking part in the vibrant celebrations surrounding the festival provided a deep appreciation for the significance of Dau Vat for the local society.
Festivals like this one serve as a vital link between past and present, a means of preserving and transmitting the knowledge and values of this indigenous martial art to future generations. Through the symbolic bouts, displays of skill, and community celebrations, the people of Liễu Đôi Village reaffirm their connection to their history and to each other, ensuring that the spirit of Dau Vat remains a living, breathing part of their cultural heritage.
To learn more about local wrestling and other Vietnamese martial arts, or the history and legends of martial arts, check out Augustus’s books ‘The Martial Arts of Vietnam’ and ‘Legendary Masters of Martial Arts’ by clicking on the link or pictures below.
This article is a reprint of one first published in ‘Word Magazine’ in 2016.