La Balsaria

Ngabe indigenous villages have a tradition of battling a neighboring village after a big harvest, by hosting a huge festival during the summer months. Two men are armed with 6 inch circumference balsa poles (think balsa wood airplanes), and charge into each other and attempt to throw, and hit, the opposing man’s legs. The other purpose of the event was for men to meet a new spouse (polygamy is only slowly going out of fad here) from another community. Traditionally the balsa winner can take the loser man’s woman back home with him.

I attended a modern day Balsaria for a morning with my neighboring Peace Corps friends on day 2 of the 3 day event. I started hearing talk about it a few weeks ago, but it was not publicly advertised with posters or radio ads, mostly just because it wasn’t necessary, but also because such events have apparently been outlawed. My community is very Christian so most people were not planning on going, and did want me to go either. So many people talked about it distastefully that I told very few people that I was planning on going. However, I knew that some of my neighbors would be there, as I heard loud conch shell horn noises late into the night for the entire week beforehand.

I hiked to the party site at 10 am with 3 other girls and 1 guy, all of us girls wearing naguas. As we descended into the valley we could hear cow and conch shell horns as well as war wooping. It sounded pretty ominous. There were men and women passed out on the sides of the trails, as chicha fuerte, a fermented corn drink, is what keeps the party running. We entered the corralled area and were immediately surrounded by a group of men who thought we were newspaper reporters. However as soon as we all proved we could speak and understand a bit of the local language, the attitude completely changed and they tried to get us to start drinking.

Imagine a wild west saloon, everyone milling around holding half gallon containers of this corn drink. Many of the men are wearing dresses, and have stuffed leopards and cats tied onto their backs. Men and women have their faces painted somewhat like football players. There are a few organized balsa games going on, but people are also crowded around pairs of women, men, and boys wrestling and fighting each other.

For all of this, I felt safe there. A few of us knew community members in the crowd and people mostly just wanted to talk to us and figure out what we were doing here. Just to be safe though, I told everyone I met that my husband was waiting for me in my house, and it worked relatively effectively as a deterrent.

Two hours of watching the fights in the hot sun was enough, and I headed home. For all of my neighbors who were so against me going, many of them were very interested to see my photos. A couple of young woman even told me, “Why didn’t you tell me you were going? I have always wanted to see what it’s like!”. In retrospect, I’m not sure how I feel about the Balsaria. Today I asked a guy that I work with if back in the good old days, people used to throw the balsa without drinking obscene amounts of corn liquor. He told me that balsa throwing only ever comes after chicha drinking. So, it is tradition, which makes the debauchery slightly more acceptable. And the costumes are just so bizarre that I will most likely be back next year.