Barbaric Bulls in Barcelona

Conflict is spread across every country, every city, every family. There will always be poverty and sorrow. It affects everyone, it doesn’t matter if you’re wealthy, or poor, white or black if you live near it you live with it. Sometimes it leads us to do better things, or work harder to get out of the situation. This is the story of Fernando Silva.

Fernando was born on March 21, 1990, the first day of spring. Everyone in his community thought he was a lively, lovable adolescent. Fernando was born in Barcelona and was still growing and maturing there in his home city. His family was poor, poverty affected him strongly. His dad, Xavi was holding a small job cutting wood for a lumber shop. His mom, Margarita struggled to hold jobs and was currently working at a salon within three miles of their house.

Fernando had three siblings two sisters and a brother none of which were in high school, the oldest one was Fernando who was twelve. Life was slow and hard he couldn’t find a job although he was looking for one to help support his family. His youngest sister Cecilia was four years old and underfed. His family was in dire need of a breakthrough.


“Mama what is for dinner tonight?” Fernando yelled from the living room.
“Casserole Fernando,” she replied back from the kitchen.
The Silva family lived in a very modest one floor house, in a very poor community.
“All right mama,” Fernando said, it was the same meal they had for the past five days. Food was coming less and less. They were slowly fading away from society they were becoming more and more cut off, and although everyone loved them, they could not support them.
Dinner was dull as usual the same problems the same conversations. Then something sprang out of nowhere. The doorbell rang. Xavi got up and walked to the door looked through the peep hole and opened it. In the doorway was Diego one of Fernando’s closest friends with a broad smile on his face.
“Can you get me Fernando senor?” Diego asked.
“Sure son, now what is this about?” Xavi questioned.
“You’ll see,” Diego grinned.
Fernando ran to the door hearing that it was Diego.
“What is it?” Fernando yelled.
“There’s a challenge for a slot to be a matador on Saturday. It’s being held at the arena. You can be a professional matador and get paid for it if you win!” He exclaimed.
My world spun for a few seconds as the idea of this exciting opportunity washed into my head. I was astounded that I got this shot to make it. Be famous throughout Spain, and help my family crawl out of poverty.
I muttered thank you to Diego and then walked to my room and sat there thinking about all that could happen. While I was thinking I thought about my odds not to make it. Then I remembered I had to. To thrive and to live I had to get this job and I became determined. I stayed up for hours laying in my bed thinking before I finally drifted asleep and dreamt about myself in a suit and cape dodging bulls left and right with ease and perfection. What a dream it was.
The next few days I prepared myself, mentally by meditating and envisioning myself in every possible tough situation there was and overcoming it. Also physically though, getting in shape running sprints, miles, doing push-ups, sit-ups anything I could to further prepare me. I even practiced with a stained, tattered table cloth acting as if it was a cape and side stepping whenever I imagined a 300 pound bull rushing at my cape and I would avoid it with ease and smooth, perfect movements.
Finally Saturday arrived and I was so excited I jogged the three miles to the arena. I was astounded by the amount of people there. There were a little over a hundred enlisted but it looked like twice that in in the waiting area.
One person that stood out clearly was Gerard Torres. One of the local rich kids, who thought he was the coolest, had it all and he ALWAYS got what he wanted. It didn’t matter what he requested somehow he always ended up with it, usually with a contribution from the wealth of his parents. But I knew I had to beat him, that was my only option, if I didn’t it would mean most likely the death of me and not only me but also my loved ones. I could not have that happen and if it was possible I became even more determined.
Once more the dream I’d been having came back to me, I was in a stadium with thousands of people in the stands watching me dressed in my glamorous matador costume avoid every new bull they through at me, climbing over every obstacle that came I envisioned myself like this because I knew this was how I had to make it turn out.
I watched people come in and out of the arena their eyes looked depressed and beaten while my eyes stayed locked in on Gerard. I watched his every move, his leather cowboy jacket he was so proud of bristled in the wind while his belt held up his classy white suit pants. We made eye contact, he grinned and sneered at me, the same way he looked at the pigs he wrestled, when he knew he had them beat.
The difference was he could never beat me; my will would beat out his money. My hard work would trump backyard practice with his friends. I could not be denied my will burned for this and the flame could not be put out. Two people were in the arena being watched and judged at a time. After what felt like an eternity but was only thirty minutes I got to go in to try out, and who else was in there with me but Gerard.
“Good luck, not that it would help you!” He yelled then laughed.
“Work is what will get me through not luck,” I sneered at him.
“I’ve never lost at anything,” he replied.
“There’s a first time for everything,” I shot back.
My audition started with the physical aspect, I did very well for me but not my best and Gerard edged me out with what looked like his best performance. I was frustrated going into the second stage but would not be daunted. The second stage was form and elegance. My slides and spins were flawless and the judges said it looked amazing, I crushed Gerard although he didn’t look terrible.
For the final stage we had an interview on why we deserved the job, this was hard to answer but I thought about why I needed this and let it flow.
“I don’t deserve this job, there are millions of people who are at least close to as good as me. But I need this job, I love this profession, but I need this job. My family is in poverty we’re very poor and running out of food and money every week we have two weeks left before we run out of food according to my parents. I’ve worked so hard for this and I have an unstoppable will to be the one out there elegantly avoiding charging bulls, with thousands watching, with my family watching. I wish to get this job to get them out of poverty so they can watch me. This is my dream and my ambitions are set high. I refuse to be denied.”
“Thank you very much,” the man said “you are in our top ten choices we will send you a message when we have chosen.”
He sent me home and I had mixed feelings. But overall I was very proud of my performance, and proud of myself. No matter what happened I gave everything and never felt better. I got home and went back to school for the next five days. Then on Friday there was a knock on the door.
I opened it and got an envelope handed to me. I opened the envelope see what the future of my life would be.