THE ULTIMATE COCKFIGHT

words and shutter HENRIETA HANISKOVA

There are moments in your life when you know that if you hesitate and don’t throw yourself straight into the burning flames of temptation, you will forever regret not having done so.

For me, I would rather regret things I have done than those I never did do, even if that means danger or losing advantages. But sometimes you just have to follow your heart and can’t say no to your curiosity. (And mine can be safely called insatiable.)

There I was on my oh-so-boring vacation in the sunny Dominican Republic getting drunk on fruity-girlie drinks from the all-inclusive bar, pretending to not notice the bartender that kept trying to start a conversation with me for the third night in a row. I bet he did not know that I would react to a simple comment he made about his day off and the cockfights he was heading to for the afternoon. Unbearable curiosity flooded my entire being, and my brain could not conduct any reasonable thinking at this point. It’s a strange emotion I never could resist, that gets me into trouble on a regular basis.

The next day I found myself driving the car with my little friend and his cousin into the dirtroad-pothole-middle-of-nowhere unknown. Feeling adventurous and excited, only halfway there, some semblance of reason started kicking in and I began to wonder. I do not speak a word of Spanish, didn’t have any idea where we were or where we were heading to, nobody knew where I was, and my rented car and all of my camera gear were a handsome amount of money for anyone. My broken English friend decided to show me the “cock” he had brought for me. “He’s real ugly this cock” he said and all my doubts about defying my fears were gone faster than a lightning bolt. How could I ever hesitate about this? I could not wait to be there and see it, breathe it, drink with everyone and scream for my cock if need be!

I know I keep calling the poor little creature the “c” word, but that started with the bartender’s lack of exposure to the subtleties of the English language. But to be honest, that only made the whole experience that much more endearing. After all, I had a cock for a day!

To all of you boys that’s nothing new, but for me it was an experience of a lifetime, and on top of that here I was, killing two birds with one stone.

After a 45-minute ride through a jungle, we had arrived at the place where afternoon matches were being held five times a week. Now don’t get too excited; it didn’t look like the new Olympic stadium that will be built in London, didn’t even look like some mafia hideout. The cockfights are perfectly legal in this country. It was just a wooden shack that seemed older than the Coliseum, with huge gaps between the planks of wood it was made of, big enough to fit a scared chicken if need be. We purchased our tickets and entered through the little barely-could-be-called gates, and headed straight for a group of men that were very excited to see my cock. They checked him out from every possible angle, even put him on a scale before they found an appropriate opponent for him. He went through many hands for everyone to see the goods and decide whether or not they were going to bet on his little not-so-feathered ass. I felt a little exposed, I must admit.  First, all eyes were on me, not understanding what in heavens was I doing there, and then this procedure with my cock… You would understand if youd have been there. They got used to my camera extremely fast, I must say. After the initial visual molestation, they seemed to accept me and even enjoy my presence. Suddenly everyone wanted a picture of themselves with their buddy or their cock in their hands. It was quite an afternoon of showing off and posing for my camera. I still don’t know if they liked better me or just my equipment. The ceremony continued after all got their beers and settled into white plastic chairs to prepare the little brave warriors for their battles. Slowly and with care, they added super-sharp little claws to each foot, glued them down and taped them, too.