Dec 7: Purisima and the Griteria
Trip Start
Nov 2007
1
28
33
Trip End
Dec 2007
Leon,
Nicaragua
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Dennis mentioned to me a story about the head priest that went something like this. Nica is so crazy that even the preist has a temper problem! A few months back, a car hit his at an intersection and the priest jumped out of his car, screaming at the other driver, challenged him to a fight, then picked up a tire iron from his car and began to strike the other drivers car!
After meandering through the cathedral we found our place in the middle of the squre for the fireworks. Nica men LOVE fireworks, they go off constantly throughout the day here, but especially during purisma at 6pm, 12am (and one time at 2am). At times it can feel like a war zone with people setting off bottle rockets and all sorts of incindiaries from the street, their houses...everywhere.
Dennis had us stand about 30 meters back from the cathedral so were a bit safer from the ´running of the bulls´. At 6pm, the fireworks commensed. Unlike the US, there is no ´safe zone´around the fireworks. They were being shot off not but 100 feet away and exploding right over our heads. The problem with this is that if you look up to see the fireworks, you end up getting ash from the previous explosions in your eyes.
After a short but furious bout, the fireworks died down and the bulls began entering the ring. A bull is a guy with a small wooden structure over his head. The wooden structure vaguely like the bucking bronco saddle that some bars have, except that it´s lined with firework capsules. The bull then runs about in the crowd setting off the rockets in all directions. The rockets dart off into the crowd, fast and furious. You really have to pay attention, cause you may have to duck and incoming!
After that, starting about about 6:30 is the Gritaria, literally, the yelling. It´s alot like Halloween. Everyone, kids, youths, adults and all race through the neighborhood collecting treats. A house that wants to participate, creates an alter to honor the virgin Mary in the doorway. The alters can be quite a display as neighbors aim to create the best homage. As you approach the door, you yell excitedly ¨Quien causa tanta allegria?¨ (who causes all this happiness?), to which the person replies "Mary" and you reply "Viva la virgen" (Long live the virgin), and they give you a gift. Most gifts are small pieces of candy. Some, the BEST, are homemade treats like a sticky rice and cream or grainy chocolate like rice treat. Others are religious. Mel and i got a few Mary bracelets, mary key chains and even a mary post card. Some houses have separate gifts for kids and adults, and adults get more pracitical things like a bag of chlorine, laundry soap, a platic bowl or even a broom.
The atmosphere is ELECTRIC, like halloween on steriods. There are hundreds of people on every street, they scamper to each house in the race for candy. Once you get to a house, the competition is fierce! There may be 20 or more people at a single house at a time pressing up against the metal gates that guard most front doors. Hands extended through the gate, everyone jockying for the best position to get candy and run.
We weaved through the streets of Dennis neighborhood and the neighboring burough of Subtavia. Subtavia is a native neighborhood (like an indian reservation in the us) that mel and i had visited earlier in the day. We walked through the ruins of a 500 year old church there! I think Dennis could have kept going but he saw that mel and i were tiring and we called it quits around 8, having collected about 50 gifts each. In general, the candy giving goes until 11ish. We retired to lawn chairs in front of Dennis´ house where we watched the crazyiness on the street.
About 10ish, Dennis niece asked if Melissa wanted to accompany here back to her house to pick up a chicken that had been stewing for dinner. Mel accepted and accompanied her on her moped. It was a harrowing ride, especially on the way back as they weaved through holiday crowds and traffic, mel clinging onto the woman while balance a huge pot of chicken between her legs. Mel tells me she said her only hail marry during this trip :)
Then dennis friends showed up and we spent the next few hours singing (or in mel and my case, listening) to amazing renditions of nicarguan folk songs by dennis and his amigos. All were, like Dennis, poets. They spent the night belting out songs about sandinistas, the war, love and their hopes for the future. The main guitar player was a young good looking guy in his 30s and his older ´partner´, a chain smoking woman who wispered requests and occasionally sang in a soft low voice. Then there was the ukrainian educated chemist who, according to dennis had been a sandonista fighter in numerous wars and had stories that would make dennis look like childs play. "For every puddle i drank from to stay alive, he drank from 5". There was also a native, from subtavia who spent over an hour explaining to me the political and economic situation of native Nicaraguans. If only i had understood more than about 5% of it! (he was talking fast and fireworks were going off). In addition there was dennis, his niece, mel, myself and eventually "the oldest poet in leon" who was probubly beyond description, but i´ll try... this 90 year old man looked like a spanish gentleman of centuries past, comic relief right out of don quiote. He was wearing a suit, which looked as if he had been wearing day and night for most of his 90 years. He had a jolly comportment but didn´t talk much. his amplified gestures did the talking. When he was introduced to me, he bowed so far that i thought his nose would hit his knees. When he was introduced to meliss and took her hand, kissed it and laid it against his face for a few second, closing his eyes and smiling. (On the way out, he unbutton the top of his shirt and placed melissas hand against his heart, rolling his eyes toward the sky and smiling. Its hard to describe, didn´t seem dirty at all. )
With each glass of rum, mel and i became closer friends to dennis. By the nights end, when dennis was wasted were his ´best of friends´. He´s a happy drunk :) who lives a poor life. I was a little shocked at his house. The front room, about 20X10, had thick walls, but behind that was a kicken and bedroom that looked constructed of corregated metal. there was no fridge, only a icebox and no toilet, only a bucket for poop. If you wanted to pee, the back yard did just fine. When i asked for a cup of water, he grabbed a bowl and scooped out water that had been standing in the sink. It grossed me out a bit but i drank it out of courtesay (and thirst!).
At 12:30am, the main fireworks began. From every streets, they were fired. Hundreds were going off on our street alone as men held bottle rockets in their hands, lit them then let go. It was so loud that several people in our group had to go inside and cover their ears. It also seemed pretty dangerous to me, especially when dennis, who had way too much rum went to set a few off. The subtiavan man jumped up to assit dennis and ended with a quarter sized burn on his hand which said was nothing but looked nasty.
After that, the poet couple drove us back to our hostel where where we slept, as much as possible through the fireworks. Unfortunately, all we have to show for the experience is a mary bracelet mel was wearing because my candy bag hanging from the arm of the oldest poet dude who fell asleep on a rocking chair within 10 minutes of arriving.
