Last weekend was Father's day and a Catholic celebration for Jesus. I'm not sure what the holiday was exactly because I could not understand the full explanation, but it was my first experience attending a mass that Saturday night. Mass was as everyone who has been describes with a lot of standing, sitting, singing, and more involved, except it was in Spanish, as one might expect, and I caught about every other word. It was a very neat experience overall. I'm sure most of the people in the iglesia looked at me as I walked in fifteen or more minutes late with my abuela thinking "Who is this gringa?" Pero, I watched and did what everyone around me did. After the sermon, if that is the correct word, there were four men carrying a large, heavy wooden pillar contraption with a miniature statue of Jesus in the middle. The entire congregation, myself included, followed the priest and these men with the pillar around our neighborhood until we landed in an area with a stage and set for a party. There were other people nearer the main road who worked on two massive pyro structures, stacking pieces five feet tall each on top of each other. They seemed to be ever-growing with piece after piece being assembled each time I walked by. In the main area a mariachi band played and people danced in circular groups. I had vivid flashbacks from my Greek Festival experiences in San Antonio when my abuelita grabbed me to join her group for a few songs. It was all smiles and laughs and improvised footwork, much as most of my life here has been to now. Especially in the time spent with my host family.
Late in the night - which literally never ended considering the fiesta lasted well into the following night and possibly even that Monday - a man wore another smaller pyro structure called "The Mad Cow," lit it on fire, and ran around the crowd with extensive sparklers flying out in all directions. Regardless of the potential detriment to my safety (I did get a small burn on my foot), I managed to capture some video of the Mad Cow, which can be viewed below. I missed the massive structures being lit because I am a grandma who likes to sleep before 1:00am most days.
However, there was still plenty to experience the next day. I stood in my kitchen watching as my abuelo kept bringing in mas y mas pan. I asked why there was so much, but did not understand anything in the response except for "sesenta," meaning 60. I know my eyes went wide, but I still did not understand what was happening. I use exaggerated expressions to appear like I understand sometimes when I know I'll figure it out soon enough. Well, I did figure it out. About noon or later, I can't be sure since my sense of time has been completely skewed since coming to Peru, I walked outside with my abuela. We saw a large group of people walking up our hill on the other side of the road with the pillar of Jesus and the mariachi band. They played music and danced hiking up to a house across the street. It appears they did not get what they came for there, because shortly after arriving they turned around, went down the road and across the bridge. Then their direction changed and they were walking toward us.
At this time, my abuela grabbed her large, beautiful photo of Jesus and placed it on a table she had moved outside of the house. It was adorned with three vases of flowers. My abuela was in a buzz about the people, she ran back inside and I followed, slowly unsure of what was happening. It started becoming clear that these people were coming up to see us. I worked it out that they were visiting people's houses in the neighborhood who had a photo of Jesus or some other possible sign to symbolize they were welcoming the procession. Inside the house, my tia (aunt) furiously put together sandwiches, while my abuelo set up the beer and sodas outside. They handed me a stack of small cups to hand out and I stood there a bit dumbfounded as my sister and cousin ran in and out of the house passing out the sandwiches and refueling their trays with more. The pillar with Jesus sat in front of the house and people stood around eating their sandwiches, drinking cerveza and/or Siete Arriba (which they call 7 Up, but I like to call "Siete Arriba"), talking and sometimes dancing. This went on for mas o menos 30 minutes. Again, my concept of time is totally off since I seemed to have forgotten what it means from living here for two weeks.
It was a whirlwind of glee, cheer, and satisfaction on the part of the procession and my family. I stood by with the cups in my hand, not distributing much of anything, in awe at the entire situation. This fiesta, which fell on Father's Day, was quite endearing. I was a bit torn since I felt they had likely been traveling around the neighborhood for the full morning. On the one hand, it is beautiful and cheerful to see how community and a common purpose brings people together to help one another and share happy moments like this. On the other, I couldn't help thinking about this country's problem with alcohol and how this could be one of those enabling instances for people to drink without guilt and with a purpose. Anyway, I didn't give it much mind, but it did make me curious. One of the main objectives we have in my PC program is the prevention of alcohol and substance abuse, so it is definitely something to consider, but I'm not sure from what context I ought to consider it. It was another interesting moment of trying to work through my understanding of the world through North American eyes and not knowing when to shed my preconceptions of how life should and does operate. Overall, the fiesta was a lot of fun. Everyone seemed to have a great time and my family was very content with themselves for their accommodations, as I feel they should be. It is perfectly amazing to watch community organization and assistance in action. What a beautiful world we live in :).
The Mad Cow
The Mad Cow :O
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