Fiestas Patronales and Semana Santa

I recently learned that March, in my community, is the greatest month of the year. The main reason for this is we have our Fiestas Patronales in March. Every Catholic church in the country has a patron saint, and each patron saint has a time of the year in which they are celebrated. Our saint is San Jose, and our time of the year was from March 11^th-19^th. Most churches are located in pueblos, so Fiestas Patronales are generally big celebrations with tons of fireworks, dances in the evenings, contests, etc. Since our Fiestas were celebrated in our canton, things were on a much smaller scale, which to me, was a lot more fun.

Each day, from the 11^th-19^th, there were processions in the afternoons followed by mass. The processions start from a designated house, follow the main road through the canton, and end up at the church. At the front are four men carrying a statue on their shoulders as you would imagine an ancient Roman goddess to be carried. Behind them, everyone else follows, singing songs about Jesus and San Jose led by three women on a megaphone and a man accompanying them on the guitar. In the very back (where I usually hang out) are men with fireworks, shooting them off every 20 yards or so.

At mass, 75% of the people sit inside, and the remaining 25%, again mostly men and again including me, hang out outside, joking and talking about futbol and women. Throughout mass, fireworks are continually set off for emphasis during various parts of the sermon.

This is how things went the 11^th-18^th. The 19^th, being the last day, was different. The day’s events started with a procession at 4am (I did not attend) complete with singing and fireworks. Then, I assume everyone went back to bed until 2pm when the festivities at the church began again. The main attraction was the crowning of the reina (queen) of the Fiestas Patronales. The crowning of the reina is a common Salvadoran fundraiser where a number of candidates will sell votes (a quarter a piece), and the one who sells the most votes is queen. In all the crownings of reinas that I have seen, the candidates are young, attractive, single girls between 15 and 20 years old. For our Fiestas, the candidates were all women over 60. It was one of the neatest things I have seen since being here. They were all dressed up, people were cheering the hearts out for all of them, and there was nothing but smiles. The winner was hugged by everyone and received a scepter and a crown to wear while sitting up front in a seat of honor during mass.

After mass, was the final procession (this time at night) with a number of fireworks, and nearly the entire community walking. People kept talking about the torito (little bull) and asking me if I was going to manejar (drive) it. I wasn’t completely sure what they were asking me, but I assumed there was going to be some bull riding. I actually convinced myself that I’d give it a go, and was even kind of looking forward to it with some adrenaline pumping. When we arrived at the church, the announced it was time for the torito. Turns out, the torito is a bamboo structure that can be worn over someone’s head (think a Chinese dragon.) The torito is covered with sparklers, so when it is lit, sparks are shooting out all over. “That’s cool” I thought, “but I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” Ah, how naïve I was. As the sparklers burned down, they began to ignite fireworks that shot out in all directions from the torito. So, here you have someone running through a crowd of a couple hundred people (old women and young children included) with fireworks shooting off of it in all directions. It was nuts. I was crouched behind a wall laughing as the torito ran away from me, and praying as it was running towards me. 4 people were burned and it was not lamented or unexpected—just a risk of religion I guess.

Semana Santa, which starts the Monday before Easter and lasts for a week, was not nearly as exciting. Once the Fiestas ended, there were still daily masses, but not nearly as fun.

This month, I attended more Church than I have in years. And you know what, it was worth it. I’m willing to attend mass all year, crossing myself when I enter Church and the soccer field—basically, I’m willing to be Catholic—if it means I get to laugh at and hide from the torito again next year.