Saturday was fiesta day in Villa Pinal -- a small village about two or so miles north of Melaque.
The church I attend (San Patricio by the Sea) has formed a relationship with the village school (highs and lows). Each Christmas for the past three years, some of the congregants have put together a late Christmas party for the children.
It probably should be re-branded as an el dia de reyes party because it is always close to Epiphany.
All of the ingredients for a great Mexican party were there. Music. Cookies. Punch. Piñatas. Gifts. Opportunities to dance with a real Disney princess.
The street in front of the school was blocked off. The village organizers set up chairs and tables. And the children and mothers started flooding in.
The main event was the piñata -- or, I should say piñatas. When it was broken open, it was followed by two more in succession.
North of the border, we tend to think of busting the piñata as an individual accomplishment. But it is a true community event down here. The batsman often provides the group with candy -- and ends up empty handed for the effort.
The street in front of the school was blocked off. The village organizers set up chairs and tables. And the children and mothers started flooding in.
The main event was the piñata -- or, I should say piñatas. When it was broken open, it was followed by two more in succession.
North of the border, we tend to think of busting the piñata as an individual accomplishment. But it is a true community event down here. The batsman often provides the group with candy -- and ends up empty handed for the effort.
The young children took their whacks first. Batting rather ineffectively.
Even though a few well-placed hits knocked off decorative symbolic cones. But the candy-filled body remained generally intact.
The youngsters played the role of picadors against their quarry. Just doing enough damage to pique the interest of the crowd. Enough wounds to promise something good was in store.
Even though a few well-placed hits knocked off decorative symbolic cones. But the candy-filled body remained generally intact.
The youngsters played the role of picadors against their quarry. Just doing enough damage to pique the interest of the crowd. Enough wounds to promise something good was in store.
Several older boys waited patiently in line. Eyeing the bouncing piñata. Looking every bit like ball players just waiting to get into the batter's box.
A couple of teenage girls showed they had good mettle. But it was the boys who had the courage to look foolish in the quest for a moment of glory. And glory they got.
They flailed and bashed until candy rained down on their fellow celebrants. More than one child ended up with a whacked noggin by rushing in too quickly to claim ill-gotten gain.
The fiesta warmed my small town heart. This is the type of event I remember fondly while growing up in the coastal mountains of southern Oregon. Whenever there was some event, the entire town turned out to make it something special.
A couple of teenage girls showed they had good mettle. But it was the boys who had the courage to look foolish in the quest for a moment of glory. And glory they got.
They flailed and bashed until candy rained down on their fellow celebrants. More than one child ended up with a whacked noggin by rushing in too quickly to claim ill-gotten gain.
The fiesta warmed my small town heart. This is the type of event I remember fondly while growing up in the coastal mountains of southern Oregon. Whenever there was some event, the entire town turned out to make it something special.
After dispatching all three piñatas and distributing the candy according to Ayn Rand principles, the children lined up to receive gift bags.
"Lined up" is not an attempt at irony or sarcasm. They really lined up as if they had been attending a German school. Their teacher divided them by age and sex, and they filed by their respective tables to pick up their bags.
"Lined up" is not an attempt at irony or sarcasm. They really lined up as if they had been attending a German school. Their teacher divided them by age and sex, and they filed by their respective tables to pick up their bags.
Volunteers at the church spent a couple of hours on Wednesday packing bags for 325 children -- with notebooks, crayons, pencils, coloring books, balloons, candy, tooth brushes, and too paste, note book paper, and other age-appropriate gifts.
Once the loot was distributed, the children started wandering off to their homes. The fiesta was over.
There were no effusive Anglo-Saxon affectations of gratitude. An occasional gracias. But no "Oh, you shouldn't have."
We talked about what we could expect to hear during Bible study on Thursday evening. And about the purpose of sponsoring the party.
We were not there to earn God's love. (Jesus warned against any such motivation in Matthew 6:1-2). We were not there to save the villagers from their poverty.
We were there to share a fun moment with them -- a moment that came directly from our heart to theirs.
The smiles were thanks enough.
Once the loot was distributed, the children started wandering off to their homes. The fiesta was over.
There were no effusive Anglo-Saxon affectations of gratitude. An occasional gracias. But no "Oh, you shouldn't have."
We talked about what we could expect to hear during Bible study on Thursday evening. And about the purpose of sponsoring the party.
We were not there to earn God's love. (Jesus warned against any such motivation in Matthew 6:1-2). We were not there to save the villagers from their poverty.
We were there to share a fun moment with them -- a moment that came directly from our heart to theirs.
The smiles were thanks enough.
