Each world is country. It is a phrase indifferent, I know, but when you travel, they discover why. Sisco My friend recently told me - and forgive me if I'd put even mention it in mine - that the purpose of the trip is to find the similarities and surprising differences. Like with like, here I found a kind of bullfight, as in the country that welcomed me in what, ironically, I like to call exile, mostly because of that country, which gave me the chance, I have this other .
Fin bref ... even here in Madagascar is a form of bullfighting. It's called Savik or tonolon'omby and celebrate especially in the north of the highlands, and its almost exclusively this season. We have seen Ambositra, a town of 30,000 inhabitants south of Antananarivo. The purpose of
Savik is anything but similar to that of the bullfight, but the medium is the same: to play with the bulls, showing that man is superior to the beast. However, while in the Iberian consideration the battle is the first sound of a trumpet, here there are no blades or plates or flags. In Madagascar the man, barefoot and armed only with a stick, he can win only if he can dominate the beast by force. Which means, in our case, taking it to the hump. Needless to point out, Madagascar is the version of a zebu bull.
The fight takes place inside an enclosure no larger than 10 meters by 10 meters high and surrounded by a fence a little more than a man. Perched on the edge of this, there are the players, more or less than a fortnight. From their vantage point, the zebu harass discreetly, if necessary down the arena and inciting him to change direction, trying, as they can, gettarcisi of the neck. There are 3 ways to catch it: for the hump on the neck or horns. So be careful to form them. Long and curved: positive! Court and massive: Brand bad! With horns long you let your fit, while the horns always make it to court zebu some room for maneuver. Be grabbed and shaken it is always better to find that gored and torn, so: " ol napivarahana dia manana ny roa Hery " - a man warned, that is for two, as they say in these parts.
Once on the zebu, the skill lies in trying to stay as long as possible, challenging the strength of the animal, like a rodeo, drag the litigant in a very dangerous ballet. And if Spain are what count courage and coolness, but here is the melee. And here, the zebu, once finished the game, the arena comes with its own legs. Mica kills you, not you bleeding. Madagascar I'm not crazy, to shred the strong arm of their work in the fields, the most accurate thermometer of their wealth, the equivalent of a cake ready, to be shared when there is something to celebrate, are weddings, funerals or renewed health. The zebu is hard cash on all fours. How many fighters depend on the life of the bull to go on? Maybe that's why, here bullfighting is still a game, not a cruel war. Between man and beast is still a deep bond, cemented by the earth and from work and the role it plays in the economy of the zebu rural society. And it is this complicity in setting the rules of the contest.
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