Yesterday we talked about the catrinas on Barra de Navidad's malecon -- and a bit of the history of why they were there (hello, dollies).
Between the time I shot them and posted, the catrinas suffered an ignominious fate.
I shot them on Tuesday. Even then, you can see that someone has had his way with this catrina. One arm was amputated and the other pulled out of joint. She looks as if she had fallen into the hands of ISIS.
Well, apparently, that analogy is not quite as offensive as it first seems. I received news yesterday after my essay was published: "Somebody went down to the Malecon yesterday and dismembered several of the Catrinas. For no reason. They cut of hands and heads and clothes. So very sad! What is wrong with the world??????"
What is wrong with the world, indeed. We could easily discuss the theological implications of that question for days. But we won't.
What I did do was listen carefully to how people here reacted when I told them what had happened to the catrinas. Almost everyone immediately jumped to the "who" question -- and several had their own theories. It was like a Rorschach test of personal prejudices.
"An angry American."
"A drunk Canadian."
"The French."
"Drug addicts."
"Teenage Mexican gangs." (I always find it funny that a bunch of old men from Ontario are not called a Canadian gang. It must not translate well.)
Of course, no one knows who did it -- except for the person who did. But we are humans and we have opinions on everything. Even things where there is not a shred of evidence to support our conclusion.
I have no theory on who vandalized the catrinas. Cutting off the leads and clothes was just a bit too creepy for me to contemplate.
These incidents always dispirit us. I feel the same way about this as I did when the Taliban blew up the Bamyan Buddhas. Or when ISIS destroyed the ruins of Palmyra. Or when I read about Christian missionaries tried to turn Hawaiians into New England township dwellers.
The best way to fight that, of course, is to get back on the horse and keep chasing the fox. There will be other fiestas to relieve our minds of the inhumanity that too often intrudes in our lives.
May the catrinas rest in peace. We have a revolution to celebrate in a week -- and I have an inkling that the catrinas may be sticking their heads back into our lives.
See you on the other side of grief.
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