Boxing was his life

By Jeff Haney

Thursday, Nov. 22, 2007 | 6:56 a.m.

Joseph Kiwanuka was hesitant - and a little embarrassed - to have his story told publicly.

It's a story of a Las Vegas boxer, but one that takes place far from pay-per-view extravaganzas or multimillion-dollar paydays.

An amateur star in his native Uganda, Kiwanuka has lived in Las Vegas since he came here in 1992 to pursue a boxing career. He had 38 professional fights, all in the U.S., including some headliners that drew a crowd when they were shown live on TV in his homeland.

For a couple of years in the late 1990s, Kiwanuka was considered a serious contender for the world super middleweight title. Unbeaten in his first 21 fights, Kiwanuka lost eight of his last 10 and has not fought since 2004.

Kiwanuka, 36, has encountered hard times since the end of his career in the ring. He has been diagnosed with "traumatic cataracts," an injury caused by absorbing repeated punches.

Essentially broke and lacking much formal education, Kiwanuka can't afford the operations needed to ease the eye trauma, which would run into thousands of dollars.

In recent weeks, Kiwanuka's situation has deteriorated further. He had been living with a friend, a fellow Uganda native, but was forced to move out and to sleep on the floor of a gym for a couple of nights. He then found himself on the city's streets.

Now, 15 years after he left Uganda on a one-way ticket to the U.S., Kiwanuka wants to go home.

A soft-spoken yet eternally optimistic man, Kiwanuka speaks of opening a gym for young fighters in Uganda, of becoming reacquainted with the family and friends he left there and has seen only on occasional visits.

"Of course I want to go back home to stay," Kiwanuka said. "I just don't know when it's going to be."

Still in superb physical condition except for his vision, Kiwanuka took to hanging out at the UNLV boxing gym to remain close to the sport, the only way of life he has known.

"I pull up every day and I see Joseph there waiting for me, shadow-boxing outside the gym," said Frank Slaughter, a volunteer assistant coach with the UNLV boxing team.

Slaughter, who has become a friend and mentor to the former fighter, described Kiwanuka's jab as "beautiful" and encouraged him to work with the UNLV boxers.

"Having pros come down there really inspires our team," Slaughter said.

Slaughter is working on a bittersweet project: trying to organize a fundraiser, perhaps a boxing show featuring a card of amateur or exhibition fights, to provide Kiwanuka a ticket to Uganda.

Although he has had bites of interest from figures in the local boxing community, the idea has yet to gain much traction.

Slaughter sees Kiwanuka's tale as a sad example of boxing failing to take care of its own.

"He came here on his own to try to realize a dream, but he didn't do it here," Slaughter said. "We'd like to get him set up, hopefully with a stake of a couple of extra dollars in his pocket. If you just drop somebody off in a Third World country, you're not providing a very good service.

"If we can get him a little help, I know he envisions making a better future life for himself in Uganda."

The news was not good for Kiwanuka the other day during an eye exam in the offices of Dr. Thomas Kelly of Silver State Eye Care in southwest Las Vegas.

Because of the traumatic cataract, Kiwanuka's vision in his right eye was 20/400, Kelly reported. It was 20/60 in his left eye with the possibility it could get worse over time. Glasses would not help, though an operation could.

Kiwanuka, clutching a Swahili-English phrase book during his visit to the office, appeared resigned. He acknowledged he probably had been too stubborn toward the end, driven by an attachment to boxing, in trying to extend his fighting career.

"After my fight against Vinny Pazienza (in 1999), there were some fights where I couldn't see them perfectly, but I fought anyway," Kiwanuka said.

His face lights up at the memory of fights at the Blue Horizon in Philadelphia or the Palace in Auburn Hills, Mich., where he fought frequently in the '90s.

For Kiwanuka, then 25-1-2 and the North American Boxing Federation super middleweight champion, his fortunes turned with a loss to Thomas Tate in 1997 at the Blue Horizon. The 11th-round knockout cost Kiwanuka his NABF belt as well as a mandatory world title shot. It was as close as he would come to a world championship and its accompanying big purse.

"I always want to be around boxing," Kiwanuka said. "But when I started losing, the fights stopped coming."

As Slaughter sees it, Kiwanuka has given everything he has to boxing. He's reluctant to say so because of his pride, but Kiwanuka needs the sport to give a little back, to help him to find his way home.

"I love boxing," Slaughter said, "but I hate to see what it does to some of its people."