LAST night I went to my first live bullfight… and as I have said to friends, “You cannot complain about politics and politicians if you have never voted.” So…  I have never liked bullfighting, but I had to see it in the flesh to be really true to my beliefs.

My mother is Spanish and I have been brought up with my grandfather watching the fights on TV, in all the bars, all over Spain. I’ve read Ernest Hemmingway’s books and the story of “El Cordobes” - “I’ll dress you in mourning”. I’ve tried to understand the “Art” and the “Beauty” the paseos, the veronicas… But to me it was a ritualised torture and killing of a brave and noble beast.

Cortes de la Frontera used to be a prosperous village, hence it has its very own bullring, empty and unused all year except for the bullfight during feria. Jesulin de Ubrique was the main draw, after all he is a local hero. Also Alonso Sanlucar, who looked about 14.

The first bull was fought by an older man, (forgive me for not remembering his name) who looked like he had seen better times. He killed the bull quickly , the sword plunged through his heart , everyone cheered, “ole”, all eyes on the triumphant  bullfighter, my  eyes never left the bull, his bloody tongue lolled, his terrified eyes rolled, his legs  twitched and jerked as they hacked off his ears . I sobbed. The mules dragged his sorry carcass out of the ring, where it was hacked up and put in plastic trays and loaded on a lorry, even before he had stopped twitching. My friend Sara saw this bit outside the building.

The audience waved white handkerchiefs and our mayor awarded the bullfighter two ears. Every Bull Fight won ears and tails. This was supposed to be the highest accolade and yet all the bullfighters received them.

The bullfight has become a series of tired moves, the bull made angry and in pain, never stands a chance. I noticed that their horns had been trimmed, surely illegal? It felt outmoded and old fashioned, pointless and routine. The spectators were excited, but it felt like the gladiators and the Christians, a kind of frenzied blood lust. The nearest most of us gets to see where life could be ended right in front of our eyes.

This is a part of old Spain, a part best forgotten, ancient rites of fighting bulls now no longer relevant to this society. I have heard that these bulls would no longer survive without the bullfight, well so be it. No more death in the afternoon, no more torture. Barcelona has outlawed the bullfight, but I suspect it is more about Catalan separatism than it is about the bull’s welfare. It is an important step in the right direction.

There is a new Spain growing and the Bullfight should not and cannot survive. A young Spanish woman left before I did. I knew exactly how she felt. Needless to say I will not be repeating the experience.

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Last Night I Went To My First Live Bullfight
Monday, 22 August 2011
LAST night I went to my first live bullfight… and as I have said to friends, “You cannot complain about politics and politicians if...

© 2012 - Secret Andalucia - Guadiaro Valley, near Ronda

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