the valley of death

According to the Roman Rite liturgical calendar, yesterday was All Saints' Day and today is All Souls' Day.

As good Catholics, most Mexicans celebrate those days at mass. But, as good Mexicans, they also celebrate dia de los muertos. Yesterday for dead children. Today for dead adults.

Or, at least, those are the days that the church has allowed Mexicans to celebrate those days. Before the Spanish arrived, some of the Mesoamerican tribes honored their dead at various times of the year with their own idiosyncratic traditions.

When the Spanish conquered Mexico, the Catholic church considered prohibiting the rituals as pagan. Instead, the church did what it often did best when confronted with ingrained cultural practices: it simply incorporated them into the Catholic culture. That is why Christians celebrate Christmas on the day of a Roman pagan holiday and why we still use the word "Easter" (in English), the name of a pre-Christian goddess. 

The church agreed to allow the traditional rites of the to be practiced, but only under its terms. First, the tribes would need to abandon their own celebration dates in favor of the two church calendar days of 1 and 2 November.

Second, the tribes were free to place their traditional elements of wind, water, earth, and fire -- and whatever else they wanted to put on the altar. But they would be required to include at least one Catholic symbol.

Modern altars incorporate all of that history. That is why you will often see a pitcher of water, candles, paper banners, and food (especially, the deceased's favorite foods and drink) displayed -- along with photographs of the dead relative along with the ubiquitous marigold lane whose scent provides a path to the living. Or, at least, that is the myth.

For the past couple of years, families and merchants have been building altars tucked between the various businesses on the street that leads to Barra de Navidad's beach. And that seems appropriate. After all, the altars celebrate life, not death. In one sense, they are an affirmation in the Christian promise of resurrection. Why shouldn't Adam Smith's invisible hand be at work amongst us?

Most of the altars had family members in attendance who were happy to talk about their relative -- or friend. I have now lived here long enough that I knew a number of the people attending the altars.

But, because it was a celebration of life, the traditional mechanisms of joy were also in attendance. No Mexican party would be complete without a carnival. Including this boat pond for children, which was more an homage to Esther Williams than to The Serpentine.

Or this game of chance that attracted no one as if it were less an amusement and more a Faustian contract table.

For adults, there were the more-dubious pleasures of alcohol served at temporary bars on the malecon. The stools were eerily empty. As if it was some dadaist day-of-the-dead performance art commemorating those whisked off by the bottle.

I had heard that there would be giant skeletons displayed on our malecon. That enticed me. I had just seen some amazing sculptures in Mexico City that gave the impression giant skeletons were rising through the asphalt.

This was our local version.

Plyboard skeleton heads advertising various bars and restaurants in Barra de Navidad. 

A group of decked-out women were selling bread. One called out to me that I needed some. I responded that my stomach was far too fat. She laughed and told me I walk too much; I needed some bread.

It turns out she has regularly seen me on my exercise walks. Barra de Navidad is truly a small town -- and that is one of its charms for me.

Were the altars worth the walk? Certainly. They were something different. And I had the pleasure of just pausing and talking to people. Of course, "pausing to talk" means I stood in one place for no more than 30 seconds.

And that has to be considered a good evening spent.

I believe the altars will still be there today and this evening.