Todos Santos is an indigenous town located in NW Guatemala high in the Cuchamatan Mountains; the highest in Central America. From my house, it was about a 5 hour journey. We made the journey, however, because on November 1st, All Saints Day, Todos Santos hosts the Drunken Horse Races.
Two riders wait for the race to begin.
It was a beautiful climb to the plateau and then even further to Todos Santos. The plateau reminded me of parts of New Mexico with large yucca plants, rolling hills and hardly a tree to be found. Sheep herders separate plots by construction small stone walls, then planting bushy red-flowering plants on top.
Once in town we knew it was feria. The town square had a marimba band, complete with local drunk men dancing (no town feria is complete in Guatemala without the local drunk men dancing). The ferris wheels were up, food vendors were out and the traveling arcades with games from the late 80's were packed with local youth.
Todos Santos feels eerily Disneyland-esque due to the fact that nearly all the men and women wear the traditional clothing; meaning that all the men dress alike and all the women dress alike. For the men it's red striped pants, a blue striped jacket with colorfully woven collar and to top it off (pun intended), little safari hats with blue bands.
Here is a model. This man, Andres, was invited by another volunteer to join our Halloween party. He is a sweet man that lives in another village but made the trek to Todos Santos to visit the cemetery where all three of his children are buried. His wife is sick so he came alone. He hung like a champ among the loud and costumed gringos.
Along with the red pants, blue jacket and hat, he's also wearing the black riding chaps that many of the older men in the town wear, even though they may not ride.
The race was not on a track. It was about 250 yards of dirt road that had been blocked off. On this end stand the community leaders; the city counselman. They whisper to the horses and riders as they arrive and then send them off again with shouts and waiving of sticks.
The horses sprint until they nearly reach the end.
The riders are drunk. They are dressed in brightly colored clothes. There appeared to be no point system, no timing, no keeping track of who was arriving first or second. The race started around 8 a.m., and although we left around 11:30 we understood that it continued into the afternoon.
Horses sprinted from one end of the road to the other. Once all the riders arrived at one end, there would be a short break, maybe a minute, then one of the community leaders would blow a whistle and everyone would make noise, sending off the horses to the other end. Many times horses would plow into eachnother or not want to run again, fighting it's rider.
This is not a safe activity. This man proves it. Before we arrived, another rider fell and was carried off the track into a nearby house. A few hours later he was carried from the house into town. We were not sure if he was dead or alive. We heard that the people of the town believe it's good for the harvest if a rider dies. Last year, no rider died and all of Guatemala has been in drought the last eight months, putting the corn harvest in jeopardy.
Front row seats.
Each rider had a signature move: this guy was no hands, another guy would sway from side to side, another guy just yelled the whole time.
Thinking critically about the race. No, wait, just drunk.
Trying to hold on...
The pack was always crazy as it came from one end to the other, you never knew what you were going to see.
Out of control.
And of course, Nic and I added to our Guatemala Stone Face Style photos.
