THE minute I arrived in Lethem, Region Nine, I could feel the pulse of the savannahs, faster than usual, as if the land was gearing up for something big.
Easter weekend in the Rupununi doesn’t just mean celebration—it means Rodeo.
During my prior visits to the Rupununi, I’ve always heard the tales of the iconic rodeo. This year, an opportunity presented itself for me to attend, and of course, I saddled up!
A parade through the central town, Lethem, officially raises the curtains on the event.

Last Saturday at midday, with heat already pressing down like a heavy hand, cowboys and cowgirls in full gear trotted proudly down the dusty streets, their horses kicking up clouds as locals lined the sidewalks.
I’d like to think I had the best view of the parade as I rode alongside on an ATV, in the hope of capturing a few flicks of the opening action.
I found myself swept along with the crowd toward the Triple ‘R’ Rodeo Ground, heart racing, not quite sure what I was about to witness—but knowing it’d be unforgettable.
And I was right.

First up was the wild-cow milking competition. Let me tell you—this event is chaos.
A drove of wild-eyed cattle let loose in the arena, with teams of ranchers diving into the fray, trying to hold them steady long enough to squeeze a few drops of milk into a pail.
It was hilarious, messy, and downright insane. But there was something more to it: a kind of raw, unfiltered courage.

These weren’t just games, these were traditions, reminders of the hard work that built this community.
Next came the ribbon-roping, and that’s when the crowd truly came alive.

A cowboy would lasso a galloping cow while his partner, usually a young woman, chased it down and snatched a ribbon from its tail. It was all speed, coordination, and split-second timing.
Every time a ribbon got grabbed, the crowd erupted.

But the rodeo wasn’t just about the stunts. Between events, I wandered around the grounds and immersed myself in Guyana’s Rodeo culture.
There were traditional foods I devoured, and vendors selling everything from leather boots to woven crafts. It felt like the whole of Rupununi was on display, not for show, but in celebration.
I heard stories of ranchers who’d been riding since the ‘60s.
I saw children mirror the skills of their elders.

And when the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the savannah, I realised this wasn’t just a rodeo, it was a legacy.
A celebration of grit, heritage, and unity in a place that feels like it’s holding on to something precious.

I’ll never forget the way the dust rose behind the horses, or how the night echoed with laughter and stomping boots.
The Rupununi Ranchers Rodeo isn’t just an event you attend. It’s something you feel. Something you carry with you.
And I already know—I’ll be back next year.