Champion bulls
Stumbling upon some memorabilia related to bull fights, goes back in time to relive this traditional form of entertainment that was popular in Kelantan a lifetime ago
“TWENTY Ringgit will do,” quips my regular runner, handing me a solitary plastic bag. At a glance, the quantity of old newspapers, magazines and documents appear smaller than usual but the requested sum of money changes hands anyway.
After watching him ride off on his dependable Honda C70 motorcycle, I shift my attention to the contents. I hope I haven’t exchanged good money for some trash, the thought crosses my mind. “Positive thoughts,” I unconsciously whisper while skimming the top of the trove. Luck is on my side; my optimism pays off. Within minutes of searching through the jumble of chaos, a thick folder marked in bold with the words Berlaga Lembu Kelantan finds its way into my hands.
The wealth of photographs, photocopied articles and notes in the collection soon puts me firmly in seventh heaven. Although bull fighting is now a thing of the past in Kelantan as well as the rest of the country, my latest acquisition brings to life the interesting tales about fighting bulls which once brought fame to their owners and trainers.
The photographs are so vivid that I can almost picture myself jostling among the crowd and joining them in raucous chorus, cheering on the magnificent behemoths as they pitted physical endurance
and skill against each other in the bong berlaga lembu, the Malay equivalent for the arena.
While bull fights were not unique to Malaya alone, the manner in which it was conducted, however, sets the berlaga lembu in Kelantan miles apart from the others. Compared to the practice in Spain where the matador sought to slay the bull with lances and swords, the Kelantanese version is a milder and more humane experience. It was unusual for the animals to receive a scratch, let alone lose their lives.
Enjoyed by Kelantanese peasants until the early part of the 20th century, bull fighting tournaments were usually held after the harvest had been reaped and the barns were full. With the food secured for another year, the months of toil in the rice fields were temporarily forgotten as the people started preparing for celebratory pleasures.
The banning of this form of public spectacle wasn’t due to cruelty to the battling beasts; it was instead the result of several serious mishaps caused by bulls going berserk after doing battle. This matter was exacerbated by the presence of mild gambling which the authorities felt could throw the fragile peasant economy into disarray if not immediately nipped in the bud.
Despite knowing that it was strictly forbidden under Islamic law, quite a number of punters persisted by giving the excuse that it was done merely to give excitement to an otherwise mundane kampung life. Wagering on the outcome of bull fights was mostly on a small scale, considered by many to be somewhat along the lines of the old English village horse race.
While a small number depended on random predictions on the outcome of the fights, the larger majority of serious punters preferred to diligently follow the progress of the animals in the weeks leading up to the fight before putting down their hard-earned money based on keen observation.
Preparations for the big day were rather elaborate. Potential winners were chosen using a meticulous process and the selected few would undergo training that could sometimes take up to a few months before entering the bong.
Beauty in shape and grace in movement were among the crucial criteria when selecting a potential champion. The ideal candidate should have a smooth, evencoloured coat and sturdy thick horns, which were not too long.
Throughout the duration of training, careful attention would be given to nutrition and temperament. The bulls were fed a special protein-rich grass that, occasionally, had to be acquired from considerable distances.
During each meal time, the jora (trainer) and the gembala (attendant) would mix raw eggs and wild honey with the fodder. They’d then sit by and watch patiently to ensure their charges finished every single portion.
This special diet helped to keep the bulls in optimal condition as they underwent training for the big day. The gembala would take the bull to a field and tether him close to a cow on heat during the initial training session.
After allowing the bull to catch sight and scent of the female, the gembala would lead it towards an ant-hill. This preparatory stage would end when the bull begins to vent its sexual frustrations by goring the ant-hill aggressively and throwing showers of soil in all directions.
The next stage involved the gembala bringing another bull into the field and securing it in close proximity to the same cow. Then, the fighting trainee would be led back to survey the scene from a distance. This stage never fails to send the potential champion into a fit of jealous rage, an attribute that definitely goes a long way in ensuring victory in the bong.
This procedure is repeated daily until the pupil under tutelage thoroughly hates the sight of other bulls. At the same time, the gembala would by now proceed to handle the ill-tempered bull cautiously, making certain that his charge doesn’t get too