Morengy is no longer quite what it was yesterday. Like any living cultural practice, this traditional Malagasy boxing evolves with its time. A transformation that today fuels genuine debate between tradition defenders and renewal advocates. The former regret a slow erosion of this ancestral discipline's foundations. For them, every innovation distances morengy from its essence. The latter, meanwhile, praise organizers' initiatives attempting to blend custom and modernity to maintain public interest, particularly among younger generations. While certain symbols remain intact — the fabric bands wrapped around fanorolahy fighters' hands, the arena delimited by wooden stakes and ropes, or the rhythm of rounds — new codes are emerging. Most striking is perhaps the "clash" organized before combat. For nearly two years, adversaries have met in neighborhoods or public spaces to exchange provocations before crowds already captivated by the spectacle. Last week in Antsiranana, days before Morengy Rivodoza, two fanorolahy arranged to meet their supporters at Scama bus station. "I'll destroy you on the ring," one launches. "You're not in my league," his rival counters. The fight begins with words, long before blows... According to observers, this staging draws inspiration from American wrestling, where figures like John Cena or The Rock build confrontation through verbal jousts before stepping into the ring. This evolution raises questions, but it chiefly recalls an obvious truth: a culture refusing all change risks freezing. Morengy remains faithful to its identity while borrowing new languages to continue gathering people. Its mutation doesn't necessarily mean renunciation; it perhaps reflects a living heritage's capacity to dialogue with its time.