As if parting the seas, a barrel-chested priest in a black cassock strides through the crowd, a heavy leather ball stuffed with wine and dirt on his head. Moments later, fully swallowed by the mob, he fires a shotgun blast into the air, sending two entire villages into a frenzy.
Between the cheers and clouds of dust, you can sense shoulders colliding, shoes skidding on asphalt, bones and wills testing their limits as dozens of men discharge their energy in short, violent bursts, inaugurating the annual game of lelo burti, or ‘field ball’.
