Two weeks ago found us heading south to the state of Oaxaca to celebrate el Día de los Muertos. Literally translated to “Day of the Dead,” it’s a celebration, rather than mourning, of deceased (obviously) friends and family members. Someone was explaining this tradition to me, and he mentioned the following observation: “foreigners have a hard time understanding it…you probably think we’re really crazy, celebrating death like this.” Meanwhile I had actually been thinking, “this is the awesomist holiday I’ve ever heard of.” Does that put me into the category of crazy once again?
Sidenote: I know awesomist is not a word, but that’s the word I was thinking. I am trying to maintain the authenticity of the story. Sank yo doctor.
And it was indeed the most amazing celebration I’ve experienced. Before the actual day (well, several days—when you can’t fit it all into 24 hours, just add more hours) there is the usual commercialization that comes before every holiday: there are sugar- and chocolate-skulls sold in the shops, the kids dress up in costumes and go around asking for money, the Catrinas (skeleton figurines) appear in windows…
Calaveras de azúcar (sugar skulls)
But in reality it is still taken seriously, and in each house the family puts up an ofrenda, or offering, for the family member being remembered. A table of three layers is elaborately decorated with food, drinks, incense, a photo of the person, hojaldra (a special type of bread), flowers, candles, and the person’s favorite items, so that they feel welcomed when their spirits come back. And when they've had their fill, if you get hungry, you can steal food from the table. So that it doesn’t go to waste.
Una ofrenda en un restaurante
By far the part that made the biggest impression on me was the nighttime visit to the cemetery. I had never before seen more alive people than dead people in a graveyard, but there it was, packed to the brim with people, flowers, and the occasional mariachi band, all ready to spend the night there. It simply amazed me…all these people sitting by the tombstones of family members, but no one crying. They were there just to be with them, because the spirits supposedly come back on this night. We couldn’t have been more out of place, a group of United Statesians weaving through the Mexican families, tripping over mounds of dirt and speaking spanglish, and we could feel each other’s discomfort, but we brought flowers to put on the abandoned graves, and I’m glad I got to go as I have never seen anything remotely like this before.
Wouldn't it be interesting to see what your own ofrenda would be like?
No comments:
Post a Comment