A Kiss for the Bull

For 400 years, bullfighting has been Lima's favorite spectacle. The great Pizarro, according to tradition, killed the first bull in a fight before the cathedral in the Plaza de Armas; the old Lima bull ring, built in 1765, is said by Limenos to be the world's oldest. But never has Lima known a fighter like its own Conchita Cintron, the world's greatest female torero and mistress, to boot, of the art of rejoneo (bullfighting with a short spear from horseback).

Back in Lima last month after a Colombian tour, 24-year-old Conchita, a slim, trim blonde with unforgettably cold blue eyes, was the talk and toast of the Peruvian capital. U.S. Ambassador Prentice Cooper stopped her on the street, introduced himself, gladly shook her tiny, calloused hand. Twice she fought in the ring--and brilliantly. She might have appeared oftener (at her usual $12,000 fee), but she was annoyed that Lima's new 30,000-seat bull ring, for which she laid the first stone three years ago, was still unfinished.

Limenos remember Conchita as a wiry tomboy who, at eight, learned riding from the great Portuguese rejoneador, Ruy da Camara. He taught her also the bullfighting art, first in Peru, later in Portugal, where she appeared in a ring at twelve. For eight years now she has fought in the big time--in Spain and Portugal, in Mexico, Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador and Peru.

Conchita has evolved her own special act, which has been accepted by many orthodox aficionados. First she meets the bull on horse. Glacier-cool, she keeps in the path of the charging bull "until the last moment, then skillfully maneuvers her superbly trained mount aside. Still on horseback, she digs the beribboned banderillas into the bull's hide. Then she hops on to the ground for conventional cape work. Occasionally Conchita stoops and kisses the bull between the horns. Her explanation: "It is a gesture of triumph, like a rooster crowing over the dead body of its opponent."

Last week Conchita was back on the circuit, in Quito. Ecuadorians jammed their old, wooden bull ring. Some even sat on the roof. Although the first bull was sluggish (dulling Conchita's artistry), the judges awarded her both ears. She passed one to the crowd, threw the other away. Aficionados understood: she knew she had not earned a trophy.

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