La Posada

The La Posada processions have begun in Antigua. Every nite for (12?) nites groups from the different iglesias around town proceed to selected homes to be welcomed for food and drink. First you hear the sound of small drums and sometimes bells, then here comes the procession, 12 or more people - some with "robes" a la the Middle East (sheets and headbands) who carry the creche, others carry tall lanterns on poles, still others follow, singing. Last nite there were little girls with silver crowns heading the procession. I followed one to the house and watched them open the door, shedding light onto those at the front of the procession, then one by one they entered, still singing. Down the long hallway, through the door, I could see the living room with its tall lighted tree and the family waiting to welcome them. For Antigua's devout Catholics this is the visit of the Holy Family. Anyone is welcomed to come in with the group, but I haven't tried that yet. Maybe when my son comes to visit (today.) 

I was especially happy that I had recently attended the La Posada performance put on by the Montessori school children when I was in Chico, to read and hear the song in Spanish, and see the event enacted. Very sweet, all around. Navidad. This town seems different while my son is here. More inviting, I guess. We try out five different restaurants, partly because of our differing dietary needs, partly just to experience more of Antigua. We also go to my salsa class together, which is a great joy for me. And we go to Sin Ventura, and get to see some of the incredible salsa dancers in this town. This bar is a pretty joyful – and crowded – place this night, where it had been deserted for the nights of Christmas. And it is just lovely to have my son here. Lots of talk, lots of eating, and walking. A total treat. And Christmas Eve is incredible. This country’s response to everything is to set off fireworks, but on Christmas Eve they outdo themselves. We sit on my roof-top terrace and every firework ever created is crashing and flashing and booming over our heads. It is spectacular!!! And one also feels connected to all the different smaller pueblos around Antigua, as Santa Maria, San Juan, Jocotenango, and others set off their display. I can see them all from my wonderful rooftop terrace. In this country so dedicated to its Christian religions, this seems an odd way to greet the birth of their Christ. Yet, maybe just an expression of joy.   My son returns to New York for New Years Eve.

A grey January morning in Antigua – 6:30 a.m. I wait for the bus for Pana sitting on a low wall next to the Bodegona. My young male companion from the project stands nearby. My feet are bare in my sandals; I can feel the cold. A man walks by with his hands clasped together, as if praying. Others have their arms wrapped tightly around themselves. A young blond girl waiting for the bus across the street grabs her boyfriend; he clasps her, keeping them both warm. Near me under the stairway leading to the Mochilero’s Place over the Bodegona, a man sleeps on the ground in a blanket. An older indigenous woman stops across the street from me. I watch her adjust her bundle and am struck by the sight of her leathery bare feet on the cold sidewalk. 

We get on the bus, which is handled by my Guatemalan companion – where is the bus going, what’s the cost? As I wait, sitting by the window, I notice the camaraderie between two disheveled men when they meet each other….slapping each other’s arms, delighted looks as they walk off together, as if conferring the day’s agenda. A tall man stands where we were sitting moments before. He is eating something steaming from a paper cup. He picks up a scrap of blanket that was lying next to me as I sat there – 1-1/2 feet wide, maybe 4 feet long; synthetic light blue material, slightly dirty. He looks it over, then puts it down again, but before he leaves, he picks it up and tucks it under his arm. How different this street must look to the people who have to live here: Which corner is out of the wind and good to sleep in? What objects can be made use of? Waiting, I attempt a poem: Mami, I watch you stop and settle your bundle in a doorway You reach up and arrange your long hair in a tight knot. Your feet are bare. “No quieres zapatos, Mami?” I would buy them for you if I could; if I knew you wanted them. You place your bundle back on your shoulders, Holding a strap before you in each hand. I know that gesture: a long walk is ahead. “But Mami, the pavement is cold this morning.” 

The bus takes off for Panajachel. This is my first time there on a chickenbus (camioneta, locally.)