-^-for posterity-^-

dua bo.

what a wonderful experience. the cow races. well, some are cows and some are steers and it’s not at all like a horse race. in fact, it’s not exactly like anything i’ve ever seen in my life but it was dreadfully similar to watching a high school football game.

this is a khmer/vietnamese cultural event.

we drove from long xuyen to tri ton district early yesterday morning. we arrived at the festivities just as the sun was beginning to flare up. the races took place in the middle of a rice paddy. as we walked towards the noise, the crowds swelled. by the time we reached the ticket gate i was covered in sweat and being pushed from all sides. i was nothing and had no choice except to follow the flow of the masses. we bought tickets and were pushed down muddy paths.

all along the paths people are selling things. they have small stands; some just set drinks on the ground, others carry baskets with fruit. people stop and stare at us. they point and say things like, ‘he is very tall.’

we reached the back corner of the racing area. the ground surrounding the track was raised about ten feet in the air. the track was about 150 meters long and about 70 meters wide. people lined all the banks, they were crammed together. there were no chairs except for the ones some stood on to get a better view. we ended up standing at the back of three rows of people trying to see through them to watch the action. i actually saw the races, some people who came with us were too short and never actually saw any of the cows race.

we saw glimpses of cows and people and movement and mud but nothing more. we figured out where the finish line was and moved there. that was where the action was.

after about a thirty minutes of trudging through mud and people, we arrived at the finish line. there were actually two finish lines and they were both adorned with checkered flags. the flags were cloth and the checks were drawn in with a marker. we found a decent spot and stopped. this was cow racing.

two teams of cows (or steers but, for simplicity, i will call them cows) race against each other. one skinny, young man/boy stands behind them holding on for dear life. the boys stand on a wood board which is attached between the cows by two large pieces of bamboo. they lean back and hold a rope and change direction by delicately hitting the cows with a candy-cane shaped stick. they can do two things with the sticks: whip the cow with the hooked end or poke the cow in the rectal area. the pairs race on a muddy track and the wooden boards skip along.

the race begins with two pairs. they go around the track three different times and, on the final lap, have to run as fast as possible for the final 150 meters. as i said, there are two finish lines. if the second team passes the first finish line before the first team, they win. if the first team passes the second finish line before the second team passes the first finish line, they win. the second team has to run as close to the first team as possible but they are not allowed to pass them. the first two and a half times around the track are fairly boring. these are not cows that are breed for racing. these are cows that normally plow rice fields slowly all afternoon. they are tall and you can see their ribs. they have small horns and long faces. they do not run that terribly fast.

sometimes the first team will try to storm away at the beginning. if you fall off the wooden plank and land on your backside, you lose. if you hold on and stay on your stomach, you’re still qualified. lots of drivers fall off. also, if you fall off, the cows will run faster. the weight that is normally on the plank and the friction that it causes with the mud tells them to not run too fast. without that weight, they run frantically. sometimes they run into the crowd.

i stood with the men. i knew i was in trouble when i looked around and saw that there were no women, only young, male farmers. these were the invincible types. they talked about the cows for the first two laps. they talked about the drivers. they talked strategy. it was just like being at a football game. they all looked, chatted and argued over results. i asked them if the bulls ever run up the sides of the banks and they casually said yes. they told me to run if anything happened. that was reassuring.

sure enough, not one or two races later a driver fell off of his team. he fell off on the opposite corner of the track and his team charged across the field. it took me a while to realize that they were heading right for us and, when i did, i realized that i was wedged into the crowd. there is no way to escape when there is no where to go. the crowd was all leaning, too. they tend to lean when anything exciting happens. if you don’t want to lean, you really don’t have a choice in the matter. you have to lean. usually, during the last sprint of the race everyone pushes on the person in front of them and the man behind you pushes on you and you all push on each other and become small. for some reason the crowd was leaning on each other, leaning towards the racing bulls. things happened slowly. the bull got very close to us, turned a bit to the left and charged through the crowd. luckily, one of the bulls tripped on the piled dirt and fell dragging the other one with him. they didn’t get too far and the crowd did its best to disperse.

they drug the cows off and the races continued. we left early because it was too hot and there were four more hours of racing to go. my legs were stiff from standing and my shirt was soaked through with sweat. i said good bye to my fellow sports fans, they smiled, casually raised their hands and were back to their cow racing. we walked through a rice paddy to go home. we walked through a rice paddy in the middle of the afternoon and i took my shoes off because everything was wonderful. i walked through the mud and looked down the whole way and got delightfully dirty.