| Bullish tendencies | |||||
| By Piers Grimley Evans | |||||
| After many hundred years of being held in an open arena, Fujairah's bull-butting contests are soon to take place behind a fence. Piers Grimley Evans observes (from a safe distance) a tradition on the cusp of change.
The boy's red shirt glows in the setting sun as he ambles around a parked pick-up. Clearly he is not expecting to encounter a ton of agitated bovine sinew. But from the other side of the arena, we know much better. For a second we hold our breath. It is the element of surprise that gives flavour to bull butting. Almost everything about it is unexpected. For starters, the arena - a nondescript stretch of brown sand by Fujairah's corniche - is hardly the place for an epic confrontation. Indeed, at four o'clock on Friday afternoon there is little sign that this is the right place. A few poles in the ground and three tall ridges in the sand are all that suggest this could be the venue. But just as we start to worry, along come lumbering the contestants - gigantic Brahma bulls inflated to a WWF silhouette on a diet of milk and honey. First is a mean-looking black prize-fighter trotting briskly down the road pursued by two attendants hanging onto ropes that lead through a ring in his nose. After a minor tantrum, he is tied between two poles. He snorts and tears a hole in the ground with his forelegs while eyeing me with evident dislike. Soon he is joined by another dozen hulking competitors with wobbling humps and curtains of dewlap. Their flesh is generally pale, sometimes exotically mottled like a computer-animated dinosaur. They sulkily disembark from battered pick-ups to be tethered between palms and posts. Apart from their occasional bellow and mechanical pawing of the ground, they seem to regard both the forthcoming confrontation and the gathering crowd with indifference. Meanwhile, the sand around us fills with an odd mix of polished Landcruisers and rattling jalopies. The stones spaced along the ridges around the arena are quickly occupied by squatting spectators. Others carefully position their SUVs for a ringside view with mod cons. Only a handful of T-shirts mark out the tourists among the crowd of luminous dishdashas. Fujairah's fervour for bovine sumo-wrestling has two possible origins. One is Portugal. In their efforts to wrest control of the spice trade in the 16th and 17th centuries, the Portuguese built a string of forts along the east coast at Dibba, Khor Fakkan, Bidya and Kalba. The opportunity was certainly there for them to spread their leisure habits. What's more, bull butting, or chega de bois, still takes place in northern Portugal. It is also popular in Goa, India, where it is known as dhirios, and it may be no coincidence that Portuguese colonists also came here (although, in fairness, the same tradition can be found in Korea, which had much weaker ties with Portuguese voyagers). The alternative view is that we are witnessing the survival of something far, far more ancient. "The people of the UAE are believed to have originated in Yemen with a large-scale migration around 700 years before the birth of Islam. From time immemorial, bulls were a special symbol in Yemen," says Peter Hellyer, who has written on Fujairah and its traditions. "Just conceivably, the tradition of bull-baiting is a survival of ancient reverence for bulls." But in the animals themselves the confrontation seems to arouse little passion. The first two beasts enter the arena with a relaxed air, their carb-stuffed buttocks swinging in a cocky American Gigolo-style waddle. Until forcibly dragged to face each other the bulls ignore each other completely. At a critical proximity, however, instinct kicks in violently. Their vast heads slam together and the struggle begins. The attendants retreat, making space for a highly-strung compere with a megaphone, and the animals, still welded in a head-butt, tussle for dominance. The compere circles and bellows amplified encouragement at the bulls, but to the unpractised eye the fix is in. Almost all contenders seem to be aiming for a draw. In any case, after a few minutes, the MC's signal brings the contest to a close. The assistants rush back, expertly hook out the bulls' trailing leashes and lead the animals off. On come the next pair of contestants and it starts again. That's about it. Or at least it is most of the time. Any disturbance to the routine is rare, yet when it comes it can usher in absolute chaos. One bull, already separated from his opponent, wants a re-match and breaks free. Assistants frantically snatch at trailing ropes while jumping out of his line of sight as his huge head angles like a turret in search of a target. In all the excitement, his opponent heads out of the ring alone. A line of spectators crouch in readiness for flight and the slamming of doors as others seek the safety of their SUVs is like automatic gunfire. Later on, as dusk sets in, another bull takes a look at his challenger and, to general merriment, is ready to ramble. He trots out of the area and his adversary following in leisurely pursuit, comes face to face with the boy in the red shirt. For a moment, both pause at the unexpected encounter. The boy then scampers back behind a car and the bull carries on, out across the road and down a dirt track across a neighbouring field. To avert heart attacks among health and safety professionals, it is probably just as well that Fujairah Municipality has announced that it will soon run a fence around the arena. That said, there is perhaps something to be said for getting there before it happens - but keep your children in the car, don't wear red and, above all, don't blame me if it all goes terribly wrong. |
- Forwarded by http://www.goa-world.com/
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