A Gaucho Festival
The little town of San Antonio de Areco boasts streets of low, whitewashed houses, a tiny tree-shaded plaza, and a big river running nearby where turtles live, and shrieking parrots build communal nests.
The day of the festival the local troops of horses gathered under the sun-dappled trees in a large meadow, boggy from the recent rains. The families who had brought them camped under the trees and set up barbecues where sides of beef skewered on sticks were sizzling over fires. As for the horses, only the lead, or mother horse was tethered, the rest clustered round her, occasionally flurrying round in a circle, then coming to rest peacefully again.
The men were dressed in the gaucho uniform of loose, fringed trousers, soft leather boots, some with spurs, broad leather belts studded with silver motifs and a sheathed knife stuck through the back, loose white shirt, neckerchief and the ubiquitous beret. They were preparing their lead horses with saddles over colourful wool or sheepskin blankets, bridles glittering with silver motifs, their tails cut neatly at the end, their manes combed. Some men had ponchos thrown casually over one shoulder or tied round their waists. The women who were to take part in the parade wore tight-waisted, puffed-sleeve, long frilled skirts of sprigged cotton.
Time for the parade the troops set off from the meadow, along the lane and round the town. The owner families, proud in their short black jackets and hard-rimmed hats, rode ahead, hand on hip, the other skilfully guiding the horse. Some had wives, daughters or girl friends riding behind them, their long skirts draped over the horses rear. Behind came the troop of horses, a gaucho holding the rein of the lead horse. When the group came opposite the VIP stand, the owners doffed their hats, and the gaucho, with a cry of command, set the troop of horses swirling once, twice in a circle in front of the stand.
After lunch everyone repaired to an enormous fenced field. The audience sat or stood behind the fence, eating, drinking and chattering, while the 48 troops one by one entered the field and paraded round the perimeter. When all were assembled, at a signal every troop swirled and circled on command one wanted to be viewing it from on high, so breathtaking was the impression of flying hooves, floating manes, streaming tails. A few lone horses lost their troop and were galloping from one to another seeking their own.
By some secret method all but six troops were eliminated, and left the field. One gaucho was then assigned to each troop, which was not his own, and proceeded to demonstrate his mastery over the horses, sorting out the huddle until he had them in a straight line like a chorus. From these six one was then chosen as the best, and to the applause of the crowd lead a victory parade.
The show was over. Horse-boxes were being loaded, barbecue fires extinguished, many troops set off to ride home. A day which had displayed the beauty of the horses and the absolute skill and mastery of their guardians was over.
Written by Robin Piette
Film and edited by Gilson Pereira
18 сен 2024
