Bull Run, Bastille Day Tradition, Republican Herald, July 2011

Bull run Bastille Day tradition
Published: July 31, 2011






http://republicanherald.com/news/bull-run-bastille-day-tradition-1.1181449

I'm back from a Bastille Day celebration on July 14 that got my heart beating so hard I was afraid it was going to crack my ribs.

I've been to a "bandido," a bull run - including some hand-to-tail-to-horn wrestling between foolhardy young men and black long-horned bulls - and I'm part of the "collateral damage" because I've had my foot rammed by a bull's horn!

I went because it is the thing to do on Bastille Day in Languedoc, the part of southern France where I spent the holiday. I went to see bulls running wild through the usually sleepy streets of the village of Congenies, where the festivities are taking place. I went because I had a hard time imagining such a thing.

Hurrying to the village center, anxious to find a safe perch from which to observe bulls on the rampage, I looked around me and observed families with small children, groups of teenagers dressed in matching jerseys, villagers old and young, relaxed, happy, what you might call a typical "block-party crowd." The only person who seemed worried and nervous was me.

Following the instructions of the dear English friend who had invited me to her home for the long weekend, I headed for high ground, a raised garden around the village church, surrounded by protective metal bars put in place especially for the occasion - a cage for humans, while the bulls had the run of the streets. Similar bars were in place around City Hall, and from a loudspeaker attached to its facade, rousing music of the kind associated with bull fights was being broadcast throughout town.

I quickly found a place behind the bars, only to realize I was pretty much alone. The happy families, the grandparents, the young children were either sitting on the raised wall of the church garden, outside the protective metal bars or standing right out in the street at the level of the bulls!

I scolded myself for being overly cautious, slipped through the bars and sat down on the wall between a father holding his toddler son and two boys, 7- or 8-year-olds, who kept calling out "torro" and "olé" as they impatiently awaited the bandido's start (the word "bandido" has its root in the verbs "to chase" or "to hunt" in Occitan, once the dominant language in this part of France).

Then came an explosion and at the far end of the street the pounding of hooves. Nine riders, five women and four men, astride white horses, galloped toward us, each holding a staff topped by a small silver trident, guiding their mounts to form a tight pack around the bulls.

The riders' task was to contain the bulls while that of the reckless crowd in the street was to distract them, extract them from the pack by grasping at their horns or tails and attempt to wrestle them to the ground. Most often, the bulls broke away and ran, careening through the streets pretty much like a bat out of hell - on hooves.

That's when it happened. A bull swerved toward the wall. The locals jumped up or pulled up their dangling feet, but I lacked their practice or their reflexes and its horn hooked my right foot.

As I sat with an ice pack on my big toe, my heart was still beating fast because I realized things could have been much worse. Luckily for me, the bulls's horns were capped with protective foam and cork. Otherwise the horn would have penetrated my flesh and dragged me to the ground!

For the inhabitants of Congenies, what happened to me is all part of the fun. Next to City Hall, an ambulance is waiting and most of the injured drag themselves to it on their own.

And what I've discovered, despite my mishap, is that bull running it is indeed great fun. More than fun, it is an art, and in this part of southern France, a deeply rooted tradition going back 500 years.

At that time, the "gardians," as the riders are called in Occitan, organized themselves into a brotherhood whose patron was St. George the Dragon Killer. Their symbol was a staff mounted with a trident and their steeds - the native white wild horses, sturdy beasts, difficult to break in, but able to travel on all terrains, from the salt marshes of the Rhone Delta to the region's rocky foothills. The "gardians" herded the native wild bulls with their lyre-shaped horns, a smaller and faster breed of cattle than the Spanish bull. They also developed games and contests between bull, horse and man, distinctive of this region and markedly different from the bull-fighting tradition of nearby Spain.

Those traditions and games are alive and well today, with one important change. The brotherhood of "gardians" includes many fine horsewomen who participate in bandidos, where they demonstrate their skills. As for those on the ground, each village or town has its own team of bull-runners, composed of young men and women, who dress in the local colors and band together in the streets, working together to tackle a bull to the ground. What might seem the most macho of sports has welcomed women at its heart.

Perhaps the most important local tradition, of which the region's inhabitants are rightly proud, is that the bull is never harmed. After a bandido or a "course camarguaise" (the region's version of the corrida or rodeo), the bull returns to its pasture to peacefully graze. When in the ring with a bull for a "course," the "raseteur," an unarmed man on foot dressed in white, attempts to snatch from between the bull's horn a red ribbon or a white pompom.

I've never been a fan of Bastille Day, a holiday I've always associated with Parisian crowds and noise, but I think that is going to change. Next year, I hope I'll be back in Congenies, and who knows, I might even join the natives in the street for a run with the bulls.

(Honicker can be reached at honicker.republicanherald@gmail.com)