A Small-Town Fiesta

In the midst of a Mexican
procession... see below. :)

Yesterday I had the unexpected (and entirely wonderful) chance to visit the little town of Santa María for a fiesta! I'd heard a great deal about these small-town celebrations, from books as well as from US traditions of what Mexico is like, but nothing could have quite prepared me.

I was invited both by Gloria Azcatl and Miguel Tiro, and it would fulfill a requirement for my classes down here, so on a whim I decided to take off and make the hour-and-a-half journey out there again to see if I couldn't learn something. Upon my arrival in the town, things seemed to be quite normal -- dogs, people yelling random phrases in English to see if I understood, and funny looks everywhere. But I found an older member of the community, and when I stopped to talk to him one of the first things he mentioned was the fiesta. At that time (early afternoon) they were just getting going on serving mole, which is one of the most traditional and common dishes in the fields of Puebla. It's just a bit spicy, with a chocolatey-ish taste, and all the chickens are straight from the fields of the villagers. Before I went over, we had a great talk. He told me about the days of his youth, when rain was more plentiful and all the roads were dirt and everyone stayed and worked the fields, and we discussed the pros and cons of the younger generation heading off to the city and to college. All three of his kids have left the town for more prosperous work, which he considers to be a blessing, but at the same time it pains him to see the town slowly aging and farmland going unused.

When I made it over to the mole, I found several huge tents strung up between houses. The whole town contributes to these events, usually about five dollars a family, and almost everyone attends. Accordingly, underneath the tents were dozens of big tables with hundreds of people, along with at least twenty servers bringing around rice, mole, tortillas, soda, and beer. Most of the men had drunk at least two or three beers, and it was only two o'clock... but at least that got me into the fiesta! I was standing there, trying to search for one of the two people I knew in the whole town, and everyone was starting to notice the solitary gringo at the edge of the crowd. Finally one of the more tipsy men approached me and starting signalling for me to sit down. When he found out I spoke Spanish he was even more excited and sat me down next to several single women. Tends to happen down here. :)  Immediately we were digging into rice and homemade tortillas and the delicious chicken (no silverware, except for the rice -- tortillas and hands), and the whole atmosphere was full of life. Then out came the band and our hosts and their helpers and they began dancing like they hadn't just been working for eight-plus hours to prepare everything! Some of my favorite photos are below, and I also posted a very rough video at http://youtu.be/txvCcAChXnQ. Make sure to turn down the volume if you watch it. :)

Most of the band -- fun guys. They travel from town to
town playing for various fiestas.

The dancing! The host and his wife were in the middle dancing
together, while all the helpers danced in a circle with the gifts
they'd been given for helping -- a whole chicken and a blanket.

At 3:00 the "procession" was scheduled, to take the miniature statue of Saint Joseph from one host's house to the next (they switch every six months). The family who was losing the santito today hosted for mole -- the family receiving had to provide cacahuates at their house (I'll explain in a sec). The church was full, but only just barely, when I got there just about three. They were obviously just finishing a service, and I caught the end of it (see right). It was fairly repetitive -- the priest would say the same lines, then the people would say a few lines, and they'd repeat four or five times sometimes. But I loved the devotion of the dear people. Small-town Mexicans are truly a special breed. Finally the priest led the way and we paraded around the church with long candles, visiting five little sanctuaries and repeating the same sacred song and prayer before each one (see below). As we walked from sanctuary to sanctuary, however, the band started to play, men set off fireworks from some houses overlooking the church, and the church bells themselves loudly chimed until the moment we stopped in front of the sanctuary! Then everything would go quiet, and the two-person choir would sing the song and the priest would say the prayer. It was such a contrast!

The priest is in the middle -- what a shame that his face got cut off! We got
to talk for a moment after the final service before he ran off for a fiesta in
another town -- good man. I'd like to meet him another day. The sanctuary
is on the right, and almost everyone is holding candles.

Finally we made it back to the church, our numbers about four times what they were at the beginning due to the trickling in from the mole. After the final service, the town gathered around the plaza and I waited expectantly to see what would happen. At first it seemed like nothing special -- a man put a paper-mache goat on his head that had a framework of ribbons on its back. But to my surprise, someone put a lighter to it and he started dancing around the plaza with fireworks going off in all directions! Probably not the safest tradition, but tons of fun. The picture is to the right, and I posted a low-quality video at http://youtu.be/bXRqY2yAvQI. (Remember to turn down the volume if you watch it).

When the plaza was clear to navigate again, I set out to find my friend Miguel Tiro's house. He had told me it was very close to the church, and after a couple of inquiries I located it easily. After a couple of minutes, I convinced him to take me to the final part of the fiesta and we followed the crowd to the new home of the statue of San José, where there the hosts brought out mounds of cacahuates (peanuts) straight from the farms a few hours to the north! Everyone loaded their hats and shirts and dresses with them and threw the shells everywhere while the men continued to light off more fireworks next to the house. As for my place in the festivities, it seemed that having a townsperson at my side combined with the more unofficial activity convinced many of the villagers came up and meet me. It was fun to speak to them in Spanish and watch their reactions, and I soaked up the carnival-like atmosphere. Finally things began breaking up, and I headed down to Miguel's house with him. There I got to meet his wonderful wife and three children, and even got invited to dinner with them on Monday. I really like the family -- what a blessing to be here meeting all these people.

Before I went home, I dashed off to Gloria's house to tell her I had been at the fiesta but hadn't seen her. Turns out she had been in the peanut house, but I hadn't penetrated far enough to see her! So we chatted for a moment, then I caught the bus and arrived home exhausted but happy.