The Cock Fight
The first time Kolja asked me if I wanted to go to a cock fight (these are popular events in Latin America where men gamble on two fighting chickens), I told him that cock fighting was immoral and I did not want to go. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I should go to at least see what it was all about, from an anthropological perspective.
A few weeks later, my friends and I went to see a cock fight just around the corner from the school where I work. It was a Saturday night, and I went with a group of my eight closest friends. The scene really is quite remarkable to one has never seen it before. You enter through a narrow alley into a courtyard with a well-lit ring with 3 foot walls and steep metal bleachers erected all around. There were hundreds of men there in baseball caps, t-shirts, and jeans focused on a central ring; there were some women there too of course but this is primarily a masculine endeavor. The ring, perhaps 20 feet in diameter, is decorated with painted advertisements for Nicaraguan beers and Coca Cola. The ring has a sandy dirt floor, lined with wooden square on which the chickens are placed before the fight.
We grabbed our drinks and headed to the top of the bleachers. One fight was finishing and the new chickens were being brought in. The proprietor of each brings the birds from the back (where they are kept in cages and then weighed, with much fanfare. Then he sort of warms the bird up by getting him to hop around and getting him excited by waving another chicken in front of him. Small razor blades are attached to each chicken´s foot. At this point, the patrons have had a good look at the birds (their size, movements, reaction time, etc.) and begin to place bets on the fight. Of course, the owners of each bird have more at stake than anyone. Thousands of cordobas are bet on each fight: Gambling is the whole point.
Since we wanted to partake, my friends and I formed a syndicate. Four or five of us who favored the same bird and would bet 100 cordobas (20 or 25 cordobas a person) against one of the locals standing near us. This was exciting. If we disagreed amongst ourselves on the stronger bird, we might place a small 10 cordoba bet within our group of friends. Betting made this more interesting, because otherwise it´s just two birds pecking and fighting against each other. Altogether that night I won 30 cordobas, or a little less than $2, which isn´t so bad.
The fight begins with much screaming and shouting. And all of a sudden we were caught up in it too. The birds are charging at each other, pecking and ducking and clawing and scratching and moving about the ring. It´s a very professional set up with an umpire and a timer for each match. Often there was a man in the ring with a fancy video camera filming the fight. The owners and the umpire stand around watching the birds go at it. Usually it´s pretty even for the first few minutes and then one bird begins to take the upper hand. As blood starts squirting out onto the feathers and the floor, the crowd´s cheers become more intense, or more desperate.
At the point one it seems one cock has clearly won -- because the other bird has given up fighting, running away or crouching into a ball to minimize to the pain -- the birds are often picked up. At this point, you can see such things as one owner licking the blood from his chicken´s neck. Then comes what to me was the saddest part: Even though it is clear that one chicken is the victor and the other is badly, almost mortally wounded, the birds are still put out there again for a second or even a third time. It is really upsetting to watch these lop-sided attacks, where the winner claws at the loser with his beak and razor-aimed claws. The losing bird is there getting hurt badly. I just don´t see the point to it. It disgusted me.
Then the fight ends and a new batch of birds and owners enter the ring. The rhythm of the night repeats itself for hours on end. We stayed for a few fights and then left, feeling we had gotten a good sense of it. I was glad that I went to see it, but I don´t think I´ll be buying season tickets anytime soon. There was something repugnant in it to me, but I also realize that it´s not my culture and that I can´t judge it. There´s something in a cock fight that appeals to the lifestyle and outlook of the people here; of course it´s foreign to me. Still, it was sad for me to see what happened to the birds at the end of the fight. However, cock fights have been popular events in Central America for hundreds of years, and I don´t think they´re going away anytime soon.
A few weeks later, my friends and I went to see a cock fight just around the corner from the school where I work. It was a Saturday night, and I went with a group of my eight closest friends. The scene really is quite remarkable to one has never seen it before. You enter through a narrow alley into a courtyard with a well-lit ring with 3 foot walls and steep metal bleachers erected all around. There were hundreds of men there in baseball caps, t-shirts, and jeans focused on a central ring; there were some women there too of course but this is primarily a masculine endeavor. The ring, perhaps 20 feet in diameter, is decorated with painted advertisements for Nicaraguan beers and Coca Cola. The ring has a sandy dirt floor, lined with wooden square on which the chickens are placed before the fight.
We grabbed our drinks and headed to the top of the bleachers. One fight was finishing and the new chickens were being brought in. The proprietor of each brings the birds from the back (where they are kept in cages and then weighed, with much fanfare. Then he sort of warms the bird up by getting him to hop around and getting him excited by waving another chicken in front of him. Small razor blades are attached to each chicken´s foot. At this point, the patrons have had a good look at the birds (their size, movements, reaction time, etc.) and begin to place bets on the fight. Of course, the owners of each bird have more at stake than anyone. Thousands of cordobas are bet on each fight: Gambling is the whole point.
Since we wanted to partake, my friends and I formed a syndicate. Four or five of us who favored the same bird and would bet 100 cordobas (20 or 25 cordobas a person) against one of the locals standing near us. This was exciting. If we disagreed amongst ourselves on the stronger bird, we might place a small 10 cordoba bet within our group of friends. Betting made this more interesting, because otherwise it´s just two birds pecking and fighting against each other. Altogether that night I won 30 cordobas, or a little less than $2, which isn´t so bad.
The fight begins with much screaming and shouting. And all of a sudden we were caught up in it too. The birds are charging at each other, pecking and ducking and clawing and scratching and moving about the ring. It´s a very professional set up with an umpire and a timer for each match. Often there was a man in the ring with a fancy video camera filming the fight. The owners and the umpire stand around watching the birds go at it. Usually it´s pretty even for the first few minutes and then one bird begins to take the upper hand. As blood starts squirting out onto the feathers and the floor, the crowd´s cheers become more intense, or more desperate.
At the point one it seems one cock has clearly won -- because the other bird has given up fighting, running away or crouching into a ball to minimize to the pain -- the birds are often picked up. At this point, you can see such things as one owner licking the blood from his chicken´s neck. Then comes what to me was the saddest part: Even though it is clear that one chicken is the victor and the other is badly, almost mortally wounded, the birds are still put out there again for a second or even a third time. It is really upsetting to watch these lop-sided attacks, where the winner claws at the loser with his beak and razor-aimed claws. The losing bird is there getting hurt badly. I just don´t see the point to it. It disgusted me.
Then the fight ends and a new batch of birds and owners enter the ring. The rhythm of the night repeats itself for hours on end. We stayed for a few fights and then left, feeling we had gotten a good sense of it. I was glad that I went to see it, but I don´t think I´ll be buying season tickets anytime soon. There was something repugnant in it to me, but I also realize that it´s not my culture and that I can´t judge it. There´s something in a cock fight that appeals to the lifestyle and outlook of the people here; of course it´s foreign to me. Still, it was sad for me to see what happened to the birds at the end of the fight. However, cock fights have been popular events in Central America for hundreds of years, and I don´t think they´re going away anytime soon.
posted by Hayden @ 1:00 PM
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