Junga

Junga is a colossal Negro Pit fighter, a native of the distant southern land of Kush, who serves as Conan's first true adversary in the gladiatorial arena of the Pit. He appears only once in the narrative, but his role is decisive: he is the instrument through which the young Cimmerian, still a slave broken by the Wheel of Pain, is forged into a killer and a man. His death at Conan's hands is the first of many, and it marks the moment when the abstract lessons of the riddle of steel become flesh and blood reality.

Identity and Introduction

Junga is introduced as a gigantic Negro, a man whose skin is of ebon hue, a sight Conan has never before seen. His father had told him that such men were said to live a thousand leagues or more to the south, in the land of Kush. The fighter's bullet head is shaven smooth, and deep in the shining mask of his heavy-featured face, his eyes burn with feral fires. He is a magnificent specimen of savage manhood, his oiled body gleaming in the firelight like a statue carved from obsidian, with terrific strength sleeping in his massive shoulders and arms, and muscles like writhing pythons tensing and relaxing beneath his skin. He is one of the fighters of a rival Pit master, an Asa from Asgard named Ivar, and he is chosen as Conan's adversary in the Pit. As he chews on a handful of leaves, a potent narcotic enters his bloodstream and ascends to his brain, and the look in his eyes becomes inhuman, the eyes of a beast of prey.

The Fight in the Pit

When the drug has taken full charge of Junga's brain, he springs upon Conan like a charging tiger. In an instant his huge hands close about the novice's throat and clamp tight, sinking into the flesh and stifling the warning growl that rises from Conan's chest. The Cimmerian's hands lock on the wrists of the black, and the two struggle together in a dance of death, swaying back and forth in an embrace as intimate as that of lovers, while the Vanir chieftains howl with excitement. Blood lust flames in Junga's eyes, and grinning his fanged smile, he springs catlike at Conan. But the young Cimmerian is ready. He twists lightly aside and, as his opponent flies past, brings one balled fist down on the nape of the other's neck. Half stunned, Junga falls to his knees, while the throng yells hoarsely, some in amazement, others in anger as they see their wagers fade away, still others roaring encouragement, for never have they seen such a fight between an untried youth and a proven champion.

Conan ignores the crowd. For him the world has narrowed to one Pit and one antagonist. As the lust to kill wells up within him, he hammers the dazed Negro again and again, smashing his nose into a smear of red and closing an eye with a swelling bruise. Then Junga springs back and, bending nearly double, hurls himself at his adversary. His bullet head slams into Conan's belly, driving the youth back against the boards that line the wall of the Pit, and the Negro's partisans go wild with cries of "Junga! Junga!" As Junga closes with the Cimmerian, Conan seizes one ebon arm. Ignoring the pain in his belly, he wrenches that arm behind its owner's back and pulls up with all his might. The black screams like a speared stallion as sinews tear from their moorings and the bone is twisted from its socket. He slumps to his knees, his dislocated arm hanging uselessly.

Death and Aftermath

Then Conan gets his hands under the black's armpits and slams his head into the wall of the Pit. The onlookers fall silent with tension, and in the silence they hear a sound like the snapping of a stick. Conan has broken Junga's neck. Swaying with exhaustion, Conan lets the twitching body slide to the ground. He staggers away, bracing himself against the Pit wall, and gasps for air. The crowd goes mad. Chieftains rip off golden armlets and broaches and hurl them into the Pit, at Conan's feet. But the weary Cimmerian ignores the glittering bounty. Just being alive is treasure enough for a Pit fighter. Toghrul lowers himself into the Pit and slaps Conan's bruised and aching shoulders, grinning and gabbling incoherent praise while stooping to gather up the golden offerings.

The Meaning of the Fight

Junga's death is the moment Conan becomes a Pit fighter, a man-slayer, battling for his life to feed the blood lust of the Nordheimers. The life of a Pit fighter is not quite the worst of lives, Conan grimly discovers. To face an adversary and kill him is to enjoy, for a fleeting moment at least, the illusion of freedom. It is, in a way, to be a whole man again. The gruelling torment of the Wheel had dehumanized him; the fierce battles of the Pit restore something of manhood and self-love. Junga is the first proof of this restoration, the first life taken in the arena, and the first confirmation that the heart of a man, like a piece of unworked iron, must be hammered by adversity and forged by suffering nigh unto the point of breaking. Only when his heart has become as steel will Conan be worthy to wield a keen-edged sword in battle and win against his enemies, as did the gods when they conquered the dark giants. Junga is the anvil on which that heart is first struck.

Narrative Role and Significance

Junga functions as a threshold guardian in Conan's journey, the first true test of his fighting prowess and his will to kill. He is a champion, a proven fighter, and his defeat at the hands of an untried youth marks Conan as a prodigy of violence. The fight also establishes the brutal economy of the Pit, where slaves are pitted against each other for the amusement of the Vanir and Æsir chieftains, and where a man's life is worth no more than the wagers placed upon it. Junga's death is the first of many that Conan will deal, and it sets the pattern for his entire career as a man-slayer. The fight also foreshadows the philosophy that Thulsa Doom will later articulate: that through pain and suffering, Conan has been made a champion, a hero, a veritable demigod. Junga is the first casualty of that making, the first life spent to forge the steel of Conan's soul.