I had been focused for the full hour that I was waiting. I failed to notice how many people had gathered, or even that somehow a dozen Bulls had been guided across the field. Just so you know, autocorrect is giving Bulls that initial upper-case letter. I am not trying to turn the livestock into something high and mighty.
As we were driving into Payakumbah, I was noticing more and more people leading cows down the road. I asked my driver what was going on, and he shrugged. Maybe they sell. Some were trucked in, so clearly something was going on. Then we got to the field. Ah, he said, maybe a race. We stop? We stop.
He confirmed the event was an hour away, and I sat down to tell you about my day to that point. Okay, we’re caught up.
Somehow a signal was given, and the Bulls thundered through the mud towards us. They mostly kept in their lanes, an amazing feat considering the only lane markers were strung overhead above the start line.
I have no idea how the drivers got their animals to go, but go they did.
The winner was the first bull-and-driver pair to cross the finish line. Not everyone held on for the entire course.
The harness was fashioned from bamboo, and can best be described as elliptical. Long, slightly curved and reinforced at the narrow ends. I watched a few Bulls being harnessed, yet I can't relay how it was done.
After the race, most drivers had company to help them retrieve their animal. The drivers mostly tried to get the worst of the mud off by taking an extra few dips in the field. Many took off their shirts, leaving them remarkably bare (only tight shorts). The assembled women were well covered, including with Muslim head scarves. Each of us, I'm sure, admired these muscular torsos and legs.
We watched three heats, each about 15 minutes apart. As a spoiled sports, I suggested we get back on the road before the race traffic dissolved, and all of the audience took to the road. Another 250-350 vehicles on the road would have resulted in volume delays, and holiday weekend traffic was already heavy enough.
We stopped for dinner by the bus-attracting waterfall, at a bingo-hall sized restaurant that specializes in Padang food. We sat down at a large rectangular table. The waiter brought finger bowls to wash our hands, and then a dozen dishes: a beef curry, some finely-ground beef, a frittata, something that looked like quail eggs, a few tofu and tempeh dishes, something green and stringy (think sliced steamed spinach), some green chilies in a liquid, and some fried chicken. Then a large bowl of white rice. The payment structure is a lot like Dim Sum -- you pay for what you've actually had. For two people, the bill was 50,000 rupiah, or about Cdn$5.
I don't know which was more delicious, the chicken or the finely ground beef. It had chilli, cinnamon and some other warm spices. The heat came after. Thank goodness for the rice. The chicken was the best fried chicken I've ever had.
Somewhere along the journey, I saw some bamboo that had fallen. The stalks were a food 35 feet high, and had broken at about the 20 foot mark. Was that a strong wind, I asked. No, the Aceh earthquakes couple of weeks ago. Apart from people occasionally standing in the centre of the road with a donation bucket to capture the captive market-jammed traffic, that bamboo was the only evidence of the earthquake that I've seen.
The field was pastoral, a good thing, considering it was a rice paddy much of the year.
The start line was far away, and the bulls weren't always interested in standing around.
And they're off:
I tried to install a video. It was more difficult than I thought. Even though I pressed the correct button. Maybe I'll upload to YouTube; maybe I'll try again when I get home.
It wasn't always easy to get bulls to the start line. The picture below shows a young driver in training and gives you an idea about the harness
Another heat, close to the finish line.
Fabulous! I am binging your blog. :-)
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