Damas y caballeros (ladies and gentlemen), I have bad news: my accent is officially changing.
When I first got here, it was all about trying not to talk with the admittedly sometimes comical Spanish ceceo (Spaniards pronounce some of their c’s and z’s as th’s…por ejemplo: “graTHias” instead of “gracias”…After four months abroad and a year of watching too much Spanish television, I accidentally fell in love with the dialect…which, unfortunately to a lot of Americans, sounds an awful lot like a speech impediment) and instead develop a more neutral and inconspicuous accent. Newsflash to me: Panamanians don’t have a neutral accent. At least here in La Villa anyway. Instead, I’ve started noticing that when a lot of them speak, they drag out their sentences with this looooong whineyyyyyy tone. At first it was funny. But starting just a week or so ago, I began noticing that I was doing it too. Now, no matter how much I consciously tell myself before I even open my mouth up to say something, the ending sentence will inevitably come out as a drawn out whimper of some sorts. So. In my life as a Spanish speaker I’ve gone from talking with a lisp to sounding like a bratty two-year-old.
I’m finally here to give you your history lesson on the tradition and two week party that is Corpus Christi here in La Villa de Los Santos. I’ve never really been big on history so I’ll try to include everything and keep it short n’ sweet.
Believe it or not, this fiesta dates all the way back to the year 1246, when the now beatified Juliana de Mont-Cornillon had a series of religious visions about the presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. It was quickly extended throughout the Church by Pope Urban the IV. Here in La Villa, the celebrations officially start on the day of La Santísima Trinidad (Holy Trinity) which is actually a week before Corpus Christi. At approximately noon on that Sunday, we meet these guys for the first time:
The dreaded Diablicos Sucios (“Dirty Devils”…no Dad, not the vacuum cleaner. I’m stopping you before you can make that corny joke you probably had prepared). With their elaborate masks and cool castanet playing, they easily became my favorites of all the Corpus characters. So the Diablicos come running through the streets as the church bell in the square goes crazy, setting off fireworks and coming together for the first official danza (“dance”): evil has been released.
Fast forward to the following Thursday (Mom and Coleen’s first day) – the festivities all start with Mass in the church. Before the priests and bishop enter, ALL of the characters of Corpus Christi come in first…a grand total of seven separate, elaborate processions down the center aisle before the poor, sweaty altar boys can even start choking on the billowing incense they have to hold in the extremely crowded church.
One of the processions entering |
After the loooooooooooooooong Mass, the procession passes through the beautifully adorned streets of the plaza square. The Santeños work for hours creating these alfombras with petals and seeds and make some of the most impressive designs I’ve ever seen:
It’s almost kind of a shame to see it all destroyed by the procession that walks around the plaza. The priests and bishop, accompanied by the many dances, carry the Eucharist around the park to all four corners, stopping at each one to pray and venerate the Blessed Sacrament at an altar placed there.
Let’s go through some of the characters, shall we? First, it’s important (and interesting) to note that this part of Corpus, the “folkloric” part consisting of the different dances and characters, started as a way to convert the indigenous people of Panama to Catholicism. They somehow managed to stick around even up until today.
1) Danza del Gran Diablo y los Diablicos Limpios (“Dance of the Great Devil and the Clean Devils)
Before entering the church in the procession, these devils first ask St. Michael the Archangel for permission and, after receiving the go ahead, turn their masks to the side while they dance down the aisle as a sign of reverence and respect for the Blessed Sacrament.
2) Los Diablicos Sucios
You’re all acquainted with these dudes by now, whose main objective in the celebration is to scare the faithful and remind them of the presence of evil. The masks they wear are sold for a LOT of money and, according to some friendly Panamanian woman explaining things to me in the church, win “all kinds of prizes.”
I know it’s weird, but my heart melted seeing little kids dressed in the elaborate devil costumes come by dancing.
3) Danza de la Montezuma Española (Dance of the Spanish Montezuma)
This was the part in the procession where I looked at my sister and we immediately started giggling at the same time. Why? A procession of Spanish conquistadors and indigenous women marches in together…EXCEPT they aren’t actually women, just Panamanian men all dressed in the same bright red dresses, makeup and long brown wig. And trust me, these were some of the ugliest women I have ever seen (my favorites were the ones brave enough to keep their mustaches. It was kind of like they were saying to the rest of the world, “Look, I may be wearing this awful baina (code for “thing”) but I’m still manly enough to grow facial hair.”)
This dance relives the happenings of the Spanish conquest and provides ample opportunities for wisecracks.
Unfortunately I didn't get a great picture of them coming in... |
Side shot...why am I in a dress again? |
4) Danza de la Montezuma Cabezona (Dance of the Big-Headed Montezuma)
If that sounds like a horrible translation...it’s because it is. My other two choices were “pig-headed” or “bull-headed.” So I’ll let you pick your favorite. I didn’t really get this dance. Another long procession of men dressed in women’s clothes but this time accompanied by guitar players in more traditional Panamanian outfits. All I know is that they are called “big headed” because of the fat crowns they wear on their heads.
5) Danza del Torito Santeño (Dance of the Bull)
**I didn't get a picture of this, only video. This is the best I could find: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ3_l7t9zFUNuHDQRZKm8Cz6HcSvmL5tjxs4QgwI5pOg5cH5VnsnRXeWoDZw_cuJGUxdfF72HIWjkSw348aMS5TCUODPXLw_7N2DoqPKjCVAXA0DIZm5P7s3uFk_2wQj8oQA7WOIb3_8E/s320/EL+TORITO_jpg.jpg
Supposedly the purpose of this dance is to demonstrate the work of the local farmers. I just discovered that the bull in this dance always has a local or national “problem” written on its side (different every Corpus Christi). This year’s word? El goloso. In Spain it meant a sweet-toothed person, but here someone described it to me as meaning gluttony. And on that note, I’m going to go take a break to eat an avocado…
Okay back. Moving on…
6) Danza de las Enanas (Dance of the Dwarves)
This was another dance that made me giggle. Apparently it was started after a tribe of African Pigmy people that first arrived in the area looking for gold and, because of their small size, could enter places normal people couldn’t. How it works: the person inside the costume wears suspenders with the dwarf costume attached that reaches approximately up to his belly button. He then covers the rest of his body with a colorful cone complete with two eye slits cut out on top.
7) last but not least, Danza de los Gallotes (Dance of the Vultures…more or less)
Thank goodness for the internet because I had no idea what this dance was either. According to my trusty website find, the men in this dance dress up as vultures and parade around a donkey they assume to be dead. When they swoop in to take the first bite, the donkey, who is only sleeping, gets up and gives them an endless butt-whipping.
Phew. I’m pooped. Needless to say, it was a lot of tradition to absorb and comprehend in a few weeks. I’m definitely thankful I got to witness it all though. Soon to come: part two of the adventures of the Nelson women in La Villa de Los Santos…
I’ll leave you with this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VSlaLx-fnnk&feature=related a great summary of the sounds and sights of Corpus Christi. ¡Que lo disfruten! Enjoy!
You always sound like a bratty 2 yr old.
ReplyDeleteBring me home a mustached man dressed in a red dress. Or a mojiganga.