Chile, photos, captions ... (16) Rodeo Campo de Ahumada (2 / 2)
The first candidates have just arrived at the rodeo. They are a little ahead. They are also very young. Some have only twelve or thirteen. Their mount is well maintained and the habit of the great days gives these riders look a singularly serious and haughty. All donned the poncho (the manta) ceremonial, gaiters leather-finely-wrought and silver spurs on wheels. A straw hat with wide brim completes the package. This is maintained by a thin leather girdle that youth "centaurs" squeeze between their teeth.
Of all the roads surrounding this convergent other groups of competitors. This time it's grown men. Huasos the face brown and weathered by the sun. Globetrotters
shaped by weather and a lifetime devoted to rides in the mountains.
Now you can hear in the distance a heavy pounding: the trampling hooves cracked the runway. The arrival of the herd is imminent. The conversation fell silent and everyone has abandoned its task to verify the rumor. In fact, fifty cows and bulls gleaming carried by six men have just appeared. The corral is barely opened nervously rushes into the cattle. Now everything is ready for the meeting.
on the register provided for this purpose, an officer advises carefully the names of participants and the amount paid for each registration. This Sunday will be 25 in total, ages 12 to 65 years to compete for this friendly game. Friendly, because the points that each contestant will garner today will not be considered for the national finals of Rancagua. No matter, everyone is here for fun and about thirty spectators ran from the immediate vicinity will be well enough to create an atmosphere worthy of the biggest competitions.
The principle of the Chilean rodeo, to be simple demands no less from the teams involved a fair amount of skill and great speed of action. Each round takes place on the same ritual. First, two riders, partners for the occasion arise front of the jury before running the first lap as a hello to the public. Once this formality, the bovine - cow or bull is finally introduced unceremoniously in the center of the arena through a narrow corridor connecting it to the corral. Without further ado, team members begin to pursue him and then try to immobilize it in a specified time and a specific point in the chamber, where it was padded so as not to injure the animal .
The first beast committed this afternoon is a young bull and nervous especially nimble. After a couple of minutes it will reach to escape, leaping nimbly over the enclosure and face brushing against the passage of one of the few spectators leaning on the wall of protection.
A little later, after a series of rounds of excellent craftsmanship, provided that a neophyte can tell, it was the turn of an ox a moving placidly to pitiful posture in the team. Neither huasos howling or the neighing of horses nor the whip violently firmly told not managed to remove the animal from its torpor and veal. He had also the combined efforts of four or five men to hunt the unworthy animal from the enclosure.
Apart from these two games somewhat comical throughout the day, ran without a hitch and the sun in the late afternoon, began to raise the mountains surrounding beautiful colors purple and ocher.
A detail perhaps might tarnish this Sunday and it felt festive break from the organizers a vague uneasiness. He murmured in fact that the orchestra would not come.
It even came to send a jeep with a winch if the vehicle musicians would have fallen into a rut. After one hour, the jeep came back, but still no new artists.
Although there was one, the party should continue at all costs. Already, the paper plates were responsible for grilled meat, salad peasant Coriander and consistent flat bread baked in the oven. Empty bottles began to strew the prairie and around the tables, the first unsuccessful applicants justify in great detail why they were disqualified. At one
GameCafé where we had been invited to share the cup of friendship, someone we
explained that there were more than five or six years more than any gringo was spent at Campo de Ahumada, at least to attend the rodeo. The mere fact of being here so much we thought was worth "admiration" as affectionate hugs. Several people had even offered to host us for the night.
Among the organizers of this tournament, there was also the one that everybody familiarly called Don Segundo. He was officially appointed to introduce us to his friends and huasos each table, a round of beer or wine was offered in honor of these foreigners come so far to applaud the exploits of cowboys Cordillera!
Don Segundo was not really an authentic huasos and perhaps he had never ridden a horse, but its function as a paramedic in the region had led to bond with everyone and it seemed better than anyone about the lives and customs of the peasants a little forgotten. You
-go account, he kept repeating like a mantra, that is for us a festival like this?
- Formerly
(at the time of Pinochet) a Such an event would necessarily have the endorsement of the police, municipal authorities or of any provincial representative. ... Sometimes the paperwork did derail the project or else they would lead so late that it was impossible to organize the rodeo ... Don Segundo
And, after each "discourse," to raise his glass to the health of this country finally free.
Even if these words cast a doubt left in the eyes of some, everyone agreed, however, raise a toast to the reborn democracy that some seem to learn through one of its most tenuous.
The moon had just appeared between the peaks when finally arrived the orchestra. There were three musicians - an accordionist, a guitarist and a bassist to get everything stiff a break winded and dilapidated.
Without delay, we hastened to install the generator. The dance-clay, immediately lit up and the trio was beginning, in the greatest indifference, a directory of cuecas particularly confusing. Not that the musicians were poor or uncoordinated but the generator, located behind by his chaotic din, instruments and melodies rendered hopelessly unrecognizable.
Anyway, the dance in time was not interested yet grnad world and he would have had to divert more of the manly bar its entire public conversations full gallop, fury and dust.
In fact, the biggest challenge to overcome for small orchestra was likely to face an audience with the gender distribution was so unfair.
There were about fifty men for four or five shy female partners! And they were obviously very latest contribution. Just a dance she had ended the breathless rider had to rush back with another boy. Male partners, who for the most part, had kept their boots and gaiters. Others had not even taken the precaution of withdrawing their spurs jingling wheels which also merrily to the rhythm of rumba and other zambas.
When I asked why Don Segundo huasos these wives were so rare, he replied with disarming aplomb he had to have someone take care of livestock and children ...! And for that, there was no Sunday ! The hours passed
happy and carefree. At our table the conversation took a turn increasingly lively and drink followed another with a regularity bordering on saturation.
Like wine, pisco and beer began to take effect, we began to worry about the state we would finish this evening and especially how we would make our way back to our tent .
Don Segundo, always in good spirits and never caught short, a moment of imagined us back to our camp on his own moped. The idea was generous, but judging by his approach and his eyes flickering slightly blurred, I think it would have been unable to differentiate its machine of a nag. As I told him about my fears of falling into a ravine, Don Segndo burst out laughing and said solemnly: "If
such a disaster should happen, I can promise you that we would make every effort to make our annual rodeo when your name is in memory of your passage.
More seriously, the paramedic finally admitted he was no longer in its best form and he would not insist further. He escorted us, however, some hundreds of meters on the way home, just like one of those housewives escorting their guests to the edge of the property.
These few steps away from the atmosphere would also become loud, he said, recovering his spirits somewhat.
We stopped at the edge of a pen, this place was an old almond tree instead of terminal. Don Segundo had decided to leave us there. But before we part, he insisted on giving us a gift to say the least unusual.
From his pocket he took out what I thought was a piece of cardboard oily.
-This is for the road. That's what I better to offer. It's called the "jerky". It's smoked horse meat. All huasos outweigh it in their bags when they go through the mountain ... ..
Unbeknownst to everyone, the way back had turned into a snake light. Intense moonlight had snatched from the abyss. This was not the summary track this morning but a long casting phosphorescent unwinding at the option of chaos and our steps become uncertain.
I chose to refer to the Chilean capital through a small photo essay in black and white made Sunday, December 10, 1989 at about 11am. It seems necessary to give these details because this was a historic moment not only for all but Santiago Chile. That day in the park O 'Higgins, stood the closing speech of the campaign by Patricio Aylwin, the Christian Democratic candidate for president who would be held four days later. The first elections "authorized" by the dictator Augusto Pinochet since he took power in September 73. Patricio Aylwin, proclaimed candidate of the consultation was then the leader of a somewhat heterogeneous as it included no fewer than 17 parties, labor movements and pressure groups sometimes very distant from each other on the ideological level. But Communists, Christian Democrats and liberals "moderate" conscious of the urgent need to shelve their old divisions formed but for the fact that a single coherent front against the dictatorial regime in place. Four days later, the results would also be no appeal since Aylwin would win the elections with 55.2% of the vote against the candidate of Büchi UDI (supported by Pinochet) with 29.4% and 15.4% for the candidate Errazuriz. An independent candidate is proclaiming Centre - belonging to one of the oldest and richest families in the country, the owner of an incredible number of companies and mines. Patricio Aylwin's victory certainly did not radically change the life of the Chilean economic or social development, especially that Pinochet had taken care to name for many years to come 
his cronies to key positions, especially in the judiciary and the army, but In any case, this election was going to breach the symbolic and allow democracy to repoint the nose. And that's what you could feel this Sunday, December 10 in Park O 'Higgins, where nearly a million people had made an appointment for a giant feast, moving and hopeful. He also seemed to evoke this symbolic piece of history today as Chile in two days, June 26, 2008, we celebrate the centenary of the birth of 
