Sardinia's Mamuthones, dancing around fire

A while ago I wrote about Mamoiada's Mamuthones, mysterious masks that populate Sardinian carnival. Actually they weren't born as carnival masquerades but to reproduce a propitiatory ritual that is believed to date back 2,000 years.

Academics, historians and all types of researchers are trying to give an explanation to this myth, that still today is shrouded in mystery. Mamuthones are respected and feared figures that remind of Sardinian lost civilisation. They are dressed in black-sheep skin and wear a scary mask: the uglier, the better.

Along with the Mamuthones, also the Issohadores are part of the parade: they lead the Mamuthones and try to grab women with their rope (another ritual: women are the symbol of life).

The first time I saw them was in the occasion of last year's carnival, and I liked it so much that this year I went back for the festival of Sant'Antonio Abbate (Saint Anthony Abbate). According to the Mamuthones themselves, Sant'Antonio Abbate is a much more important and proper occasion, "because the carnival is somehow "hybrid", and we end up mixing with the other masks."

I have to say, seeing Mamuthones and Issohadores dancing around the fires was better than seeing them parading along other masks. The atmosphere was joyful, and children and adults alike were following the mysterious characters, projections of their past, their traditions and their ancestors.

I had booked a room at a guesthouse named "Perda Pintà" (Painted Stone) in honour of a massive stone dating back at least 5,000 years, even prior to the prehistoric civilisation that in Sardinia is known as "nuragica". The stone was found by the owners some ten years ago and Mamoiada's council decided it was best they would keep the stone where they found it, to maintain its original location, but they would have to allow tourists in. In fact, their garden is always open for visitors.

The rooms of the Perda Pintà guesthouse are exquisitely cosy and the cleanest place I've ever been to. Should a guest suffer from insomnia, Maria Giovanna gives a solution: books are available to anyone in every room and hall. The morning continental breakfast comes with a choice of milk, coffee, tea and cakes made by Maria Giovanna herself.

I have shot a *very* rudimentary video (hey, I'm just starting and it's taken with an old little camera), to give you an idea of the ritual and the cheerful atmosphere the Mamuthones can provoke.

"S'Ardia" on foot, less dangerous more painful

My latest travel article for MatadorNights is about S'Ardia, a religious festival where the most important moment is a reckless horse race. In Sardinia dangerous horse races seem to have been always very trendy since in many villages they are the main attractions.

In Sedilo, where the real Ardia takes place, two weeks later horse-riders and common village-people engage in the same race with only an apparently little difference: the hostile path is faced on foot.

The "Ardia a piedi" (Ardia on foot) starts at 6am, and it couldn't be a minute later in Sardinian July, when burning temperatures start hitting at 6,30am. The scheme is exactly the same as when it's run with horses, just a bit slower, especially when uphill.

The day after the run, all townspeople exchange comments on their own Ardia and the competition becomes over who can boast more pain and wounds, caused by falls or the leaders' escorts who certainly don't spare baton blows to the bravest who try to overcome St. Constantine and his generals.  

I have run this race on foot a couple of times, and this gave me the opportunity to boast some injuries for having tried to arrive to the little sanctuary before the Saint and, mostly importantly, to hear my grandfather say: "Seeing all this youth running for St. Constantine just opens my heart."

Sedilo, faith, life and death

Is it still possible to die for faith? Yes it is. But is it still accepted? It seems so.

In Sedilo, tiny hamlet in central Sardinia, every year a dangerous horse race takes place. In the video is only the start, I've seen this run all my life and is still gives me the willies.

Is it the recklessness? I don't know, maybe. But this year one of the horse-riders fell off the horse and died. The route is truly dangerous, full of pitfalls, with very narrow bits, especially when it approaches the arch, where seven years ago another rider died bumping into it at high speed.

After that accident, the vault was widened and padded. This year, arguments on enhanced security measures are still raging. Helmets, changes in the route, any sort of further rule was suggested, and riders don't even want to talk about it.

"We know what we face, we are trained and prepared to the dangers," it's the most common answer riders give, men and women alike. Every year the leader of the run changes, and to be chosen by the parish, the name needs to be registered in an old register. They wait for a lifetime, since when their parents put their name on it, knowing that one day it will be an honour for their sons to be Sa Prima Pandela.

Is it faith? Most likely, among the riders will be also some non-religious, but for St Constantine can made an exception. Love for horses (Sedilo's riders are among the best in Sardinia), faith, passion and tradition are the ingredients for this feast day that has become the soul of this village and its inhabitants.

Being half from Sedilo, I know there is no law capable to stop this race, nor the riders will wear any helmet. They don't run for show, they don't run for money, every year there is at least an accident, more or less serious and they will keep running, with or without tourists. Sedilo's townspeople will be there, no doubt about it, some praying, some laughing, everybody hoping the race will end with all riders safe on top of their horses at the sanctuary, where they are awaited and will be feted.

And if someone won't make it, there will be the solidarity of the community, and the following year everything will take place exactly like the previous one.

This is the way it, like it or not.