Story: Bibles and basketballs, fireworks and flowers

Michael Kay

By Michael Kay
Written on 20 May 2008
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Forget Day of the Dead, forget Cinco de Mayo--go to a Chiapas pueblo for a real Mexican fiesta

The festival was in full bloom when I arrived. Delicate and gregarious, large and small, flowers were everywhere. They burst across the backs of many women’s traditional white shawls, fantastic embroideries in crimson, fuchsia and gold-specked threads. They lined the shoulders of the men’s smocks and bunched in the smalls of their backs. They bloomed from women’s tight hair buns, in thick petals of lustrous satin. Even the town’s main church was well adorned: sunflowers, roses, asiatic lilies and birds of paradise filled the alcoves of the moss-stained facade. And in the center of it all, framing the church doorway on a backing of verdant fronds, small red blossoms spelled out: VIVA SAN ISIDRO LABRADOR.

Saint Isidroe the Laborer, considered the patron saint of peasants and farmers, was the focus of that May 15th in Huixtán, a town of just under 20,000 in Chiapas, Mexico’s southernmost state. Had I been a month earlier, I might have watched festivities for St. Mark the Evangelist in Chiapa de Corzo. A month later, I could have enjoyed processions for St. Peter in Acteal. Each town sits within day-trip distance San Cristóbal de las Casas, a frequent stop-over for travelers on their way to Palenque and other Mayan ruins, as well as a destination in its own right. Despite the proximity, these and many other local fiestas remain largely under the radar. The city’s tourist office did not have Huixtán’s festival day on their official list—which itself took some searching to uncover—and I didn’t spot another outsider in the Huixtán crowds all day. In fact, my presence attracted more than one curious, lingering look.

Nevertheless, fiestas such as Huixtán’s are perhaps both the least culturally intrusive and the most exciting time to drop into one of the many small pueblos scattered across the Chiapan highlands. During their generally one- or two-day span, otherwise sleepy villages fill with vibrantly dressed locals and loud music. Food stalls and ambulatory vendors sell authentic Mexican classics at authentic Mexican prices—in Huixtán, my lunch of two well-loaded tostadas and a pair of chicken empanadas came to less than $1 while dessert, a melon popsicle, was not even a quarter.

What can you expect? Every pueblo is different, but here is a sampling of what I saw in my afternoon in Huixtán. In the crowd, barefoot campesinos in hand-woven clothing stand beside spiky-haired boys punching out text messages. The sermon, delivered in both Spanish and the indigenous language Tzotzil, a first language for many in the pueblos east of San Cristóbal, mixed remonstration against globalization with condemnation of same-sex marriage. As soon as the last sacrament concluded, a startling explosion of fireworks kicked off a basketball tournament. Attention diverted from the tournament, in turn, by the periodic passing of a parade led by blonde-wigged, pink-masked dancers wearing ponchos made from the classic red, green and black Mexican blankets. Floats carried both Catholic and pre-Hispanic religious symbols, respectively a model of the saint and representation of one of Palenque’s pyramids. In short, you’ll witness not just local culture, but the omnipresent Mexican juxtapositions.

In other towns, the unique Catholicism of many towns of highland Chiapas—a mix of indigenous and Catholic practices—is on full display. The church in San Juan Chamula—a automonous Tzotzil community that tourists fill year-round—is well-known for its hundreds of burning candles and pine needle-covered floor, as well as its worshippers’ practice drinking soda to expel evil spirits. Other pueblos’ religious expression takes a more flowery focus, such as San Lorenzo Zincantán and, of course, Huixtán. Collective taxis can take you to virtually any pueblo in the area around San Cristóbal.

Wherever you go, however, be prepared to store your memories mentally. Photos are considered at best extremely rude, at worst a theft of a person’s spirit. Asking permission can render some success, but try leaving your camera at home. You may find you see more.

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