Mike Humfreville
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Posts: 1148
Registered: 8-26-2003
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Dia de Los Muertos
Dia de Los Muertos
A windless morning followed by a balmy afternoon. Cirrus clouds crawled up the gulf, working to stir up monsoon activity on landfall in Arizona. The
southern bay where we live was glassy and we could catch slightly modified reflections of the southern land point a few miles across the water. It
was wonderfully rewarding just to be in such a tranquil place, watching the birds and the bait trying to survive. The surface of the water was slick
but darkened in splotches where the bait was driven upward by larger predators from below. The surface-breaching bait caused the water to sparkle in
the morning light and the sound of a thousand tiny fish falling back into the water is unmistakable; the larger fish threatening from below and the
birds lurking above. There is no protection for the young and innocent.
Our friends stopped by to ask if we would like to join them for a gathering in our village, at the plaza and at 6 in the evening for Dia de Los
Muertos. We told them we would enjoy that and agreed to meet the next day and drive to the village together.
I have read about this particular day in Mexican communities but have never participated in it. I wondered if it was an event that had triggered what
we think of as Halloween. Should we bring candy for the children I wondered?
?Let?s just play it by ear.? our friends said. And we did.
We drove the rocky road 4 miles into the village, the five of us, with baby Esperanza giggling and cooing and beginning to form words in our back
seat. She is a sweet baby and caused me to reflect on the younger years of our two boys, taking me back over other rocky roads.
We arrived at the plaza and parked and disembarked and entered the throng. Children were dressed in small costumes and a hundred people were
wandering through the respectful gravesite alters representing specific individuals who had died. On each alter the surviving family had arranged
items they remembered from the deceased person?s past and designed to attract the departed souls; photographs, preferred foods, music, on one an
entire case of makeup and brushes and facial applications. Dates of birth and death were posted and one was young. How sad and how respectful and
happy it was at the same time. Those that had passed on were still with us forever, an active part of our lives, never to be forgotten.
A path led to each alter. The path was created by small stones, some colored, and edged by unlighted candles or other objects that defined the
entrance to the alter for the soul of the deceased. As light faded in the evening children lit the candles on alters and their paths and soon there
were flickering lights everywhere. I asked our friend, Cristina, a young marine biology major working on her Masters, what the arrangement meant.
She told us, essentially, that each scene represented a path; a path of the life lost. The entrance pathway was an invitation to enter the alter for
that person. The alter was a composition of the person?s most valued items and what they might most want to enjoy on their day, perhaps to take back
with them to heaven, in memory, when the celebration was complete. What a wonderful concept.
We left before the evening was over; baby Esperanza was fussing for sleep and we had a long, slow drive. We watched the children being rewarded for
their costume considerations. Applause was prominent and we participated. And soon we were on the road south to our house.
On the ride we were discussing the evening and I wondered how we in the United States have gotten so far without this same event. We have Halloween,
but we have no Dia de Los Muertos. No specific day to celebrate the moments we remember of the times that we spent with those that came before us,
those that led us to this point, those that evolved us to where we are.
The next day we were driving through the village. The cemetery was filled with flowers. Most gravesites were covered with orange paper flowers as
there are no live orange flowers here this time of year. Cristina told me the orange color represents light, that it comes from the pre-Hispanic
days, the Aztecs or Toltecs or even before we had names for races.
It was a day, a simple event in the plaza of a small Mexican village that will hang in my mental closet forever, never forgotten.
I?ll wear it every year from here on with pride.
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David K
Honored Nomad
Posts: 64479
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: San Diego County
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Mood: Have Baja Fever
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Thank you Mike...
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bajajudy
Elite Nomad
Posts: 6886
Registered: 10-4-2004
Location: San Jose del Cabo,BCS
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Thank you Mike!
I think that the Mexican ideas about death are much healthier than the way we think, dont you? And their sense of family keeps them close, even to
those who have departed. So they are not missed, as we think of them, but remembered and loved..nothing bad, just the way it is or was.
It is a wonderful party not a sad occasion.
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woody with a view
PITA Nomad
Posts: 15937
Registered: 11-8-2004
Location: Looking at the Coronado Islands
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Mood: Everchangin'
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nice job mike! your wordsmithing is excellent and i look forward to all of your tales...
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No specific day to celebrate the moments we remember of the times that we spent with those that came before us, those that led us to this point, those
that evolved us to where we are.
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my mother died at the age of 45 some 14 years ago. my way of honoring her life is to light a candle on her birthday. mostly at home, but once at the
church in san ignacio, once at the church in waikiki. i'm not even really religious and neither was she, but sometimes the best places to remember
JoJo are found along the trail...."hi mom!"
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bajalou
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 4459
Registered: 3-11-2004
Location: South of the broder
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For some of us Memorial day in May is the day to remember and honor our ancestors -but certainly not with as much a ritual as in Mexico.
No Bad Days
\"Never argue with an idiot. People watching may not be able to tell the difference\"
\"The trouble with doing nothing is - how do I know when I\'m done?\"
Nomad Baja Interactive map
And in the San Felipe area - check out Valle Chico area |
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Paulina
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 3810
Registered: 8-31-2002
Location: BCN
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Mike,
When we were living in Ensenada we learned about the holiday from Cody's school in Chapultepec. We gathered information from our local community and
studied online as part of our home schooling, multicultural unit.
We built an alter on top of our dining room buffet that included photographs, and or crayon drawings of those members of our families who lived before
us. Some of the drawings included their past time interests, favorite foods, places to visit, etc. Papa John's picture included a tractor and Grandma
Karen's picture had a beautiful rainbow.
We visited the Pan Sima bakery across the street from MaLousia in Maneadero and talked to the baker about the holiday. We bought the bread that he
baked just for the occasion. Down the road we purchased several bunches of the traditional Marigold flower to add to our family alter.
In preparation for the holiday we visited the local Cantu graveyard. We found one lone American that seemed to need some loving. We returned a couple
days later totally prepared.
We cleaned off his gravesite, gave him a fresh can of Budweiser to replace the one that we found on our previous visit. We cleaned him up and set him
up to compete against his local neighbors. We gave him a fresh loaf of pan de los muertos, bright orange marigold flowers, his favorite beer, candles,
what more could he ask for?
The cemetary was alive with activity. We were asked by a passer by if we'd like to pay them in exchage for prayers given on behalf of our special
friend. Another asked if we'd like to donate funds to keep our friend's grave site cleaned for the following year in case we couldn't look after it.
We could have listened to special music played for our friend for a small fee. There was a taco van selling wonderful smelling goods, as well as the
many wheel barrow pushing vendors selling candies, tamalies and other sweets. One could purchase fresh flowers as well as artifical flowers and ribbon
decorated wreaths. There were many people who were anxious to capitalize on the holiday.
We met smiling faces as well as those who looked at us with curiousitoy in their eyes. Some would cast the evel eye as if we were tresspassing on
their sacred boundries.
Who were we? Why were we, Americanos, there on their special holiday?
Many had paint buckets, rakes, brooms, wearing clothes that were ready to be dirtied as they scrubed and sweated over the flaking grave stones,
wrought iron fencing that needed prepping and repainting, weeds that needed pulling, rocks, old candles, faded plastic flowers that were eventually
thrown across the road to the other side only to join the pile that has grown there from many years of the same passing holiday.
We left our friend on the hillside of Cantu well decorated. He knew he was loved, even though he had no idea who his loved ones were!
Looking back, now that we are living in the States, we miss the Local Holiday, the celebration of LIFE. The celebration of those who lived before us,
those who gave us life. What an honor to be part of something so special.
I've always wondered how the holiday was honored in Bahia. One of these days I'm going to be there to witness it. As well as the local people who
I've loved and lost, there is an Americano couple that also need remembering. Frank and Shirley are located on the first row, far left hand side
facing south. Look out for them Mike, they were special people.
Saludos,
Paulina
\"Well behaved women rarely make history.\" Laurel Thatcher Ulrich
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