Year Abroad: Semana Santa Part 5 – The day I played at a bullfight

            Saturday of Holy week rolled around and it was time for me to go and play at a very special event with the band…a bullfight.  I’d been humming and hawing about whether or not I was going to go and do it, but I decided to go mainly because when would I ever get the chance again.  The answer to that is never.  And I could not let myself not go just because I was squeamish and didn’t agree with what was going to take place. 

            So my mum and I walked down to the bar next to the bullring where the band were meeting and we talked to them about bullfighting and how we do not have anything like this in Scotland, and no we don’t even show it on TV.  My mum was going to wait in the bar for me to finish because a) the bullfight tickets were so expensive because there was supposed to be a celebrity matador who ironically had to pull out because he injured himself whilst on his cattle farm and b) she had already seen a bullfight and didn’t want to do it again.  So off I went with the band into the ring.

            The kids from my classes were explaining all the different things that I was going to see and what each part meant.  Then one of the old men from the band came over to me and asked if I wanted to get my picture taken with a Matador…again, when will I ever be able to do that?!  So we ran over and got a picture with Sergio Aguilar the best of the matadors who was there that day. 

Me and Sergio Aguilar the matador

            We then made our entrance into the arena.  We marched around the ring for a couple of laps and played some music, then we had to climb up to the very top of the seating area and wait until we had to play.  The bullring was about half full, but because of the date and weather conditions it was only the hard core fans who came out to see it. 

            Bullfights are very ritualised and each stage can only began after certain conditions are met.  The start of the fight involves two men on horseback saluting the president (the judge who makes sure each part is completed and who makes the decisions as to whether the bullfighter is awarded trophies, if the bull gets pardoned etc.) and who then take a circuit of the ring.  Then all the men who will participate in the event come out and salute the president and the crowd.

The men who salute the president

We played whilst all the toreadors came into the ring.

            Then a trumpet blast signals the start.  The bull comes out of the holding pen, often being forced to come out with people banging on the cage.  The toredors start baiting the bull to charge at them by waving their capes.  This is to see how dangerous the bull is and where it wants to run to in the ring.  After the necessary number of passes it is time for the picadores to enter the ring.  These men are on horseback and their job is to stab a group of neck muscles on the bull causing it to be weakened and to start losing blood.  The horses are blindfolded and are covered in padding so that they are less likely to be injured. 

The first picador whilst the other toreadors act to keep the horse from being in danger

Sergio "dancing" with his bull before killing it

Using the cape 

            The second stage involves two men sticking flags into the bull.  These also weaken the bull’s muscles and causes more bleeding.  The bull is angry but exhausted and is dying already and so it is time to bring out the matador.

            The final stage is the killing of the bull.  This is also the stage where the band comes in.  A good matador can use the cape to “dance” with the bull and so the band played pasadobles.  And then he goes for the kill.  If it is done well he may be awarded trophies like the ears and tail, if not then he will be booed by an angry crowd.  They may have just watched a spectacle of death but they do not actually want to see the bull in pain, by this point they want it to be put out of its misery with dignity and as little pain as they can.  Once the bull is dead it is dragged from the ring by two mules.

            Throughout the whole evening I had a knot in my stomach.  But I tried to distance my personal opinions from what I was seeing and to attempt to see it as part of the culture I was surrounded in.  This was definitely helped by the fact that I was surrounded by the band who were all locals and many of whom are fans of bullfighting, although not all of them are.  Over the course of three hours I witnessed the death of six bulls. 

           

            One of the matadors, a local boy from Linares, was not good at all.  He is a younger brother and son of two very famous bullfighters but he does not seem to be all that talented.  He botched the killing of both of his bulls and the crowd booed and hissed at him.  He also received a time warning as he took far too long to kill the bull.  Another was gored during the killing of his first bull.  He was kicked to the ground, kicked in the head, had some broken ribs and ended up with a gash in his leg.  He was dragged from the ring but got back up and killed his bull while holding his side.  He was applauded but he didn’t get any trophies because he did fall down and that means he is not worthy.  He was taken to Ubeda and was operated on overnight.  The last matador was the man whom I got my picture taken with – Sergio.  He was a good matador.  He was the only one with whom you could see the argument that bullfighting is an “art”.  He used the cape to get the bull to move to the music.  After his first bull he was awarded both of the ears, but during the killing of the second bull he tripped and so was only awarded one ear.  Three in total.

Carrying his trophies.  Two ears cut off of the dead bull.

Sergio after being awarded his trophies which he threw into the crowd.

            Two of the bulls were very pathetic creatures according to the people I was with.  They fell over and the crowd starting laughing.  I felt really ill at those points and by the end of every round I just wanted them to put the bull out of its misery, and to be taken away from that place.  The biggest and best bull was saved until last, and after that was done it was time to go home.  I went over to the pub to see my mum and the first question I was asked was “Cuantas orejas?” (How many ears?) as this indicates the quality of the match.  Three as it turns out is not good.  I sat down with a drink and recanted the tale to my mum.

            As it turns out Sergio was awarded another honour.  He left the ring salida en hombros which means on the shoulders of his admirers. 

            I am not in favour of bullfighting but I am not advocating that it should be banned.  It is not our place as foreigners to say.  I don’t think I am likely to go to another corrida but I am glad that I went to this one.  I saw this bullfight in the best way that it was possible for me to see it and it has taken me a while to reconcile my thoughts and views, although they will remain privately with me.  I can understand why some Spaniards enjoy it, and why others hate it. 

            If you have the opportunity to go to a bullfight with local people with local knowledge then go.  You will certainly experience another facet of Spanish culture.