A fun take on death
Barra de Navidad came alive for the Day of the Dead — Día de los Muertos as it’s known here. Overnight this wilted, somnolent little pueblo broke out into vibrant blossom.
As Americans celebrate the spuriously founded Halloween, Mexicans prepare for Day of the Dead — actually the two days succeeding Halloween. This is a tangible, collective recollection of loved ones lost and “quite a fun take on death,” noted Tim. Far from a morbid plunge into the bleak, these days are celebratory. This is no grim procession or communal wail-fest. Mexicans have no trouble acknowledging their mortality and the longing death brings, while remaining abidingly convivial. It’s as if life and death are separated by a tortilla-thin wall.
A few days prior you could scarcely find a cup of coffee for sale in Barra, since the holiday, people walked the cobbled streets en masse and every restaurant or makeshift stall was open for business. The scents of celebration hung above the crowd: tamales, sopa, tacos, hotdogs, empanadas, churros, elotes — as did the colorful crepe paper bunting. We walked beneath the banners threading the streets, enchanted by the lively depictions of skeletons enjoying life in its many vivid manifestations. People wore costumes and face paint. Women dressed as catrinas — elegantly clothed skeletons, typically in Victorian garb or wedding attire; some recalled Frida Kahlo with flower-laden headdresses and long skirts. Trumpets and guitars filled the night as young and old danced, parading their finery for this year's catrina pageant.
There were elaborate altars, meticulously designed with flowers and candles and personal miscellany to recall a family member. There were multi-generational altars honoring both the long-gone and the recently passed. Orange marigolds, dyed rice, detailed sand patters. Of course there were the crucifixes and Virgin Marys and familiar Catholic icons, but peppered with unexpected additions: food, booze, a few mannequins dressed in the ordinary clothes of the deceased. And all this to what end? The purpose, so far as I could see: to remember.
As outsiders, aware but unversed in the spirit shaping this holiday, our only gauge of it was our bones, and the quiver it sent through us was something positive. More than just fun and festive. This deliberate time to remember sent a message: death is part of life and to ignore it is to dishonor the dead.
And these days suggest something else that seems to be woven into the fabric of life here (something I can hold on to even in these dark hours following the US election): there’s plenty to mourn, but also so much to celebrate.
