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April 30, 2007
The Men on Horses (or Malas Pesadillas II)
Date: Mon, 30 Apr 2007 11:34:09 -0400 (EDT) [11:34:09 AM EDT]
From: Jason L. Stern"
To: ____________@___.edu
Reply-To: ____________.edu
Subject: The Men on Horses (or Malas Pesadillas II)
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Dear _____(friend)____,
I find myself writing this letter you late in the middle of the night as I sit here in bed, after a long but well fought battle trying to go to sleep.
Today, like every day, was an experience here in Merida.
During the day, I went to the “Plaza del Toros” (the bull-fighting arena) here in Merida. Bull-fighting is a sport in Mexico just as it is in Spain; it’s more common, however, in the northern part of the country than it is here in the south, in Yucatan. When I bought my tickets last weekend, the man at the ticket office told mw nothing about there being bull-killing involved. While I am a meat-eater, I don’t find myself advocating the sport of bull-fighting nor any venue that severely jeopardizes or compromises the health or safety of an animal. So I bought tickets for what I thought was a “bull-fashion show”—that is, they told me that the bulls would be presented in the ring by their breeders and that there would be a traditional sort of Yucatecan dance done alongside the bulls. I bought three tickets: one for me and two for two of the girls, Rebecca and Molly in my Rutgers program.
After buying my tickets, going to the arena, and finding my seat, I finally got the truth. The show featured six bulls, all of a smaller size. At first, there was a sort of traditional dance that went on. But afterwards, men on horses came out and started spearing each of the bulls. People cheered, waving ribbons and flags, and it was one of the most sickening experiences I have ever witnessed in my entire life. How could you justify the death of an animal as a spectacle? The men on horses rode out with their lances, dressed in their Mexican uniforms and looked all tough. But I knew that deep down, in reality, the horse riders were probably cruel and unfortunate humans that couldn’t find something more morally righteous to do with their lives. They are probably nothing but cowards.
Every time that the bull was speared, I peered away into the crowd; I found myself looking at the Mexican flag, flying in the distance beyond the stadium. And when the final man came out—the man with the red, shiny cape—I just continued to stare down at the ground, because I knew that it was his job to ultimately put the animal to death for the sake of claiming the crowd’s round of applause. We left after the third bull was put down. And as we walked out of the stadium and down the winding ramp towards ground level, we came almost face to face with the other bulls, which were left as display until it was their turn to enter the ring and die. I stood there for a moment and became really sad, to be honest.
I thought of Dayna, one of my friends here, and the infinite joy we get out of befriending the stray dogs. I thought of the time we walked the beaches of Chabihau in the middle of the night, looking for stray dogs to feed them our spare food. I thought of my own dogs at home, which I miss tremendously. And I thought about human consciousness and what would have provoked someone to “design” this “sport” in the first place.
Let me also just remind you that eating meat at lunch or dinner is totally, one-hundred percent different than watching humans kill animals before a laughing, exhilarated, drunken crowd of Mexicans. It’s not “just like a baseball game” as Rebecca said, nor is it “just like if they slaughtered an animal for food” like Molly said. I paid to watch animals die and other people glory in those deaths.
And now, I cant sleep.
Posted by jlsumich at April 30, 2007 11:52 AM