Ramon and the Boys
by Charlie Lacy
For several years I lived in Santa Cruz de La Sierra, Bolivia. I had a cattle production and marketing consulting company and most of the time I was working throughout the area with some of the larger ranching operations. In 1974 I agreed to haulter-break and gentle a group of 3 year old Nelore bulls for the annual international cattle fair, to be held in Santa Cruz. For those of you who may not know, the Nelore breed of cattle is very predonminat in many parts of South America and are of Cebu origen. The breed is white in color, with a hump and look very similar to the American Brahman breed; however the Nelore is somewhat thinner boned and taller. The smaller horns of the Nelore grow up rather than out like the Brahman and the Nelore, an extremely skittish breed of cattle, are generally in a bad mood. The animals are accustomed to living in remote areas in or near the jungle and often only have close contact with man perhaps five or six times in their life-time.
The primary negociation of the company that contracted me was cotton and sugar cane farming; however they were becoming active in the beef cattle business and wanted to exhibit some of their pure cattle at the fair. Ralph, the general manager of the company, was married to the owner's daughter and he had grownup in Boston, Massachusetts. He met his wife Luci at Harvard University and she convinced him to work for her father in Bolivia.
Ralph was a very nice guy who had grownup in the city and really had no working knowledge of cattle. He had worked for a large dairy operation in Mexico, but always in the office, not in the field. To Ralph all cattle were the same, regardless of the breed or their envirnoment and he was determined to have his ranching operation participate in the show.
At that time I had a ranch rented about two hours drive from Santa Cruz. The ranch was near the hacienda of Ralph's father-in-law and I agreed to trail-drive 50 bulls to my ranch and halter-break and gentle 10 of the best, if possible, within two months time. I had a ranch manager (mandador) named Ramon. Ramon was 29 years old, about 5'4 in height and couldn't have weighted more than 130 pounds. He was wiry and strong, "pura fibra", had worked with cattle for some time and thought it would easy to tame the bulls in a month's time. The bulls weighted an average of 356 kilograms or about 780 pounds when we left the hacienda and after a four hour trail-drive the bulls arrived at my corrals.
Ramon lived with an older, heavy-set lady named Flora who had three practically grown sons. I would occaionally hire the boys to fix fence, build corrals, work cattle and do general ranch labor. I arrived at the ranch about an hour after the cattle and went to the corrals with Ramon to see Ralph's future show stock.
The corrals were constructed of wooden posts, near 15 foot long and about 6 to 8 inches in diameter. The long posts were positioned horizontally and secured at he ends between two 6 foot vertical posts that were buried about 3 feet in the ground. The end of the long post was laid on top of a short piece of post at ground level, followed by another short piece and another long post, followed by another short piece, etc.. The short pieces or spacers and the long posts alternated until the height of the corral was a little over 5 feet tall, just the right height for a 350 kilo bull to rest his head over the top log. There were no swinging gates. The entrance of the corrals were opened and closed by removing smaller horizontal posts that were placed in between the ends of the logs. Not to handy, but the corrals worked.
There was a large dugout tree trunk that served as a water traugh for the cattle and doubled as a place for Flora to wash clothes when the animals weren't drinking. After washing the cloths, she'd drape them over the corral to dry which often presented some problems. On more than one occasion Flora would have just finished washing the clothes and had them hanging out to dry when Ramon and the boys decided to work cattle in the same corral. You can imagen the layer of dust that would cover the clothes and ofcourse Flora would get madder'n hell. Flora would get so mad she'd refuse to cook for two or three days.
When we got to the corrals the bulls were resting and as we slowly walked around and in-between the animals, they would getup, streach and move out of our way. Ramon assured me that the young bulls were as tame as dogs and he and the boys would have at least ten of the young Nelore bulls haulter broke by the following week. I was thinking that the majority of my experience working with Nelore cattle had been pretty bad, but who knows, maybe Ramon and the boys had some tricks up their sleves and knew how to handle them. Never the less it wouldn't take long for them to know what they were in for.
The large dirt floored ranch house-combination barn was about 40 years old and located near the corrals. Ramon, Flora and the boys lived in two large, adobe (made from mud and dryed cane) rooms at the end of the barn. The walls were about 12 inches thick, which provided cool insulation during the hot summertime. The kitchen was large, wide open and separated the two rooms. Flora cooked on a wood stove and on a windless day you couldn't see for the smoke that would fill the barn. Flora wasn't a bad cook, considering want she had to work with. There was no electricity on the ranch and the water was hauled in buckets from a nearby river to the house.
Their daily diet consisted of rice, beans, boiled platano (simular to a banana), potatoes, hot-peppers, large kernel white sweet corn on the cob and sometimes one of the chickens that they raised. Beef or pork was only served on special occasions, normally only when I brought it from town. Sometimes the boys would catch fish, an armadillo, a possum (zorro), a snake or a rabbit that would also be eaten. Incidentally after the armadillo was cleaned and the intestines removed it was cooked in and served up-side-down in its own shell. Although the armadillo was not my favorite dish, it was tasty and enjoyed by many people in the country.
I was always amazed at the large portions of food that Ramon and the boys would consume. Flora would heap their large porcelain coated metal plates so high and full of food that it would be falling over the side; however in not more than 10 minutes every plate was empty. Incidently after each meal Ramon and the boys would meticulously rub the plates and cooking utensils with sand until they were shiny clean, as was the tradition.
By the time we had finished inspecting the bulls and discussed how they were to be tamed it was late in the afternoon so I decided to head back to Santa Cruz. I had a trip planned to the northern Beni cattle region of Bolivia the following day and I needed to finish some details before my flight. I offered to let them use a big, black, Argentine Percharon horse, named Negro, a friend of mine was keeping at the ranch, should they need it. The horse was over 17 hands tall and weighed more than 1600 pounds. Old Negro, due to his large size, might be very useful in taming the bulls.
Ramon was very confident in completing his task before the two month time limit and I told him and the boys I would be back the following week to check on their progress. I had promised to pay a special premium to the boys for every bull that was gentle, so they were grinning from ear to ear as I drove out the front gate.
Almost a week had passed. I'd returned to Santa Cruz from a hard trip to the Beni, the night before and right now it was 9 o'clock in the morning and I was on my way to the ranch. The road to the ranch, from the city of Santa Cruz, was paved for about the first 30 minutes, than at the turnoff the road became hard packed dirt (lastrada) for another 45 minutes and for the final 45 minutes or so the road was narrow and sandy. My car was a yellow, rear engined, fiberglass convertible called a Gurgel, made in Brasil. The car was built by the Brasilian branch of the German Volkswagen company and was considered excellent in rough terrain. Francisca, a Bolivian girl friend, had joined me on the trip. Although Francisca lived in Santa Cruz, she had grownup in the country and wanted to see my ranch, so I invited her to tag along.
After about an hour and a half's drive out of Santa Cruz we crossed a wide, but shallow river. About 5 minutes after crossing the river, we rounded a sharp curve on a section of the road that was deep sand and surrounded by lush jungle. Some cattle were slowly crossing the road so I stopped to let them pass. After the cattle crossed I tried to start moving again but the sand was so deep that my tires started spinning and I couldn't make any progress. Francisca immediately pulled off her shoes, jumped out of the open car and started pushing, still nothing. I turned off the engine and climbed out to check the situation. As I walked to the rear of the Gurgel I noticed Francisca's blouse and bluejeans neatly hanging on a tree branch beside the car. To my surprise, Francisca was half way under the car digging out the sand and wearing only her bra and panties. Suddenly two men, who apparently had been following the cattle on foot, appeared and without saying more than "Buenas dias" (Good morning), began placing rocks and branches under the tires which provided enough traction to get us going again. Meanwhile Francisca came out from under the car, brushed off the sand and dust, got dressed and after thanking the men we were on our way again. After a few minutes I started laughing, looked over at Francisca and I couldn't help but ask her why she had undressed. Francisca, smiling and with a certain innocent look on her face, explained that what she had done was very normal out in the country, she hadn't packed a bag and didn't want to dirty her only change of clothes.
We arrived at the ranch early in the afternoon after having pulled over for lunch on the road. I'd packed a cooler with some sandwiches and a couple of liters of Pilsen beer, which always came in handy in this almost desolate country side. The beer, brewed by Bolivians of German descent, was excellent and was sold only in 1 liter (about a quart), dark green bottles.
Flora greeted us just as we were driving into the barn. I parked the car and inquired about Ramon. Flora told me he and the boys were working with the cattle so I went to the corrals. There wasn't a sign of anyone so I started back to the barn where I had left Flora and Francisca. On my way back I'd noticed some broken lower branches on a tree, as well as several of the corral posts were lying on the ground and for some reason things just didn't seem normal. Suddenly I could hear Ramon yelling, the dog was barking and it sounded like a bull was bellering from around the other side of the barn.
As I rounded the corner, I saw one of the strangest sights I'd seen in my life. Ramon was on the ground, under the bull. The bull, scrached and bleeding, was saddled and one of the boys was riding him. Another boy was riding old Negro, the Argentine Percharon, with a long piece of rawhide lariat that went from the bull's neck to where it was tied to the tail of the horse. The boy, who was riding old Negro, appeared to be trying to pull the bull off of Ramon and the third boy, the youngest, was up in a tree. The black dog was bitting at the bull's heels and the young bull, completely out of breath and standing still, was looking down at Ramon. Ramon rolled out from beneath the bull and yelled at the black dog. The bull jumped a couple of times and the boy riding him jumped off. Ramon walked over to where I was standing and on his way he yelled at the boys to tie the bull to the closest tree.
As we were walking to the barn, I noticed Ramon was limping and I asked him if he'd had any better luck with the other bulls and he commented that they'd been working with this one all week and hadn't had the opportunity to try the other bulls. Ramon assured me that the bull was getting gentle. He went on to tell me that the first day the bull tore up the corrals, escaped and it took them all day to catch him, but since then the bull was getting easier to handle. Ramon was still sure that by the following week the young bull would be gentle.
Well to make a long story short, Ramon and the boys never tamed any of the bulls. I told Ralph that the bulls were to wild to gentle and it would better to start taming the animals when they were young calves and he agreed.
The same day, as Francisca and I were driving back to Santa Cruz, we saw a young two toed sloth (perezoso) very slowly crossing the road. I stopped, picked up the cute little animal and put it in the front luggage compartment of the Gurgel. When we arrived at my house I opened the compartment and to my surprise the sloth, which are known for the strengh in their arms, was completely intangled in the wiring of the car. After about an hour I managed to remove the sloth, together with the majority of the wiring. I released the sloth in my garden but it took more than 3 days to have the car repaired.
Ramon, Flora and the boys continued living at the ranch and working for me, but oddly enough I never heard the names of the boys.
Charlie Lacy, a transplanted West Texan living in Costa Rica, is a tropical zone cattle production and marketing specialist. In the past twenty-five years he has lived and worked in many Latin American countries as a cattle project consultant with several international organizations, including the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO). Charlie is considered one of the few experts in his field and established the cattle marketing system for the country of Costa Rica. His short stories are true accounts of some of his experiences in the Latin American cattle business. Any comments about the stories can be sent to endovac@sol.racsa.co.cr.
