Friday, April 6, Part I

I was back at the main street by 5:15 am, (Ewan joined me within 5 minutes, and Sara shortly after) by which time Christ and Mary had drawn fairly close. There was a much larger crowd than during the night when I had let. I saw the statues draw closer and then meet and join in procession back into the church, about 5:30. Christ was left in front of the monumento, without his cross, while San Juan Carajo and Maria Andolor were placed near the Maria altar. I didn’t know it yet, but San Nicolas had been taken to the cofradía of Santiago Apostol.

When the statues are deposited, a new ceremony develops. Huge foil-decorated candles are carried in by persons, mostly men, moving on their knees the whole length of the church and onto the mat, up to the pillow. They lay the candle on the pillow in both directions (vertical then horizontal) then put a donation in one of the plates, and carry it behind to where a priest has opened the sacred navel hole. Groups of candles are placed into the hold while the priest prays and lectures to the holders. These are mainly male heads of families and older boys who will be tending the candles for more than 24 hours before they take them to their homes or to cofradías where they will burn for weeks in some cases (all of this and most other information from generous Andrew Weeks). I did see few women, whom I would assume are widows. Some of the candles came as arrangements carried on platforms. After the candles are blessed in the navel, their holders line the sides of the church nave and light them. I see this as the reverse of the candelabra ritual the night before, which signified the death of Christ/Maize, now replaced by his rebirth after the nighttime insemination. This ceremony of bringing and blessing the candles took about 2 hours.

About 7:30 am, the preparation of the cross began, A tall cross wrapped in white cloth was removed from the wall next to the Christ retablo and laid, with its top raised on a table, on the long mat where the ritual of placing the candles on the pillow had just taken place. Over the next several hours the articulated statue of Christo Sepultado was removed, by men of the Cofradía Santa Cruz, from the glass coffin near the base of the Christ Retablo and placed on the cross. His arms and feet were bound to it. New plastic flowers were used to replace those of the horizontal arms of the cross and Christ’s crown of flowers. His lower torso was dressed in a powder blue shroud to which were sewn dozens of plastic flowers. While this decoration goes on, a procession of men and women comes on their knees beside the cross to offer their devotions to the head of Christ. Meanwhile the coffin on the urna was being readied with a new mattress, blankets, flowers, all thoroughly perfumed with deodorant sprays.

Interrupting this procedure was a Catholic group with priest and loudspeaker, first making a stand in the church plaza and then entering the church with a small statue of Christ carrying the cross. The catholic Atitecos knelt and prayed in unison, singing hymns.

Also taking place at the same time, beginning around 9am, was the laying of the coloured sawdust carpets that decorate most of the ritual route (8 long blocks). One could see the leaders with coloured drawings of the designs that had been approved by a committee, and several helpers using piles of coloured sawdust drawn from huge bags with metal basins. Some of the repeated patterns were created with cut wood stensils, and many others were drawn out by the leaders. Each block-long segment is assigned to a specific person/artist, with the final examples at the end of the circuit being particularly high in prestige. The last segment is given to an alcalde, and the second last by the famous Ateteco artist, Nicolas Chavez, to whom Andrew introduced me that morning.

By 1pm, the image of Christ on the Cross is ready to be raised. Eight long poles with cloth-wrapped forks are used to lift it into place and set it into the navel whole. Two ladders are placed against it, and two sacristans climb the ladders and bind them to the arms of the cross with cloths. It is important to note that the traditionalists and Catholics apparently see this raising of Christ on the cross in two different ways. This is Good Friday, so the Catholics see it as representing the crucifixion, when Christ dies, to be reborn on Easter Sunday. For traditionalist, Christ-as-Maize was already reborn after the night-time insemination and the dawn lighting of the candles. So when he is raised in the whole that represents the navel of the world, he is the Maize as world tree, raising the sky.

While traditionalists and Catholics may see the image of Christ on the Cross in very different ways, it should be noted that this part of the ritual, like many others, requires a symbiotic collaboration of traditionalist and Catholic. Before the Catholics can have a mass for their crucified Christ, they must rely on the traditionalists of the Cofradía Santa Cruz (Holy Cross) to ritually prepare the image of Christ and bind it to the cross which they have also decorated.

When the cross has been raised, the traditionalists leave and Catholics crowd the church for a mass. I took the time to look in on Rilaj Mam again and to walk the ritual circuit to see the progress of the “alfombras” or sawdust carpets. They had been started largely in the order that they would be crossed by the urna or coffin of Christ, so those nearest the church entrance were almost finished, while those near the end of the circuit had barely begun; they would not be reached by the urna until early the next morning. Men with water tanks on their backs came around continually to soak the carpets with water to keep the wind from blowing the sawdust away. This process blurred the edges but did help preserve the carpets.

Thursday, April 5

For our Guatemala trip we met at project central for a briefing at 7:30, distributing the instructions that Allen Christenson had so generously typed and sent through email, then left on two vans at 8 for the border. There were few hassles at the border and we changed vans for the Guatemala portion. We stopped at the crossroads between Totonicapan and Xela (Quetzaltenango) to get money from ATMs and then continued on to Solola. There we ha to wait for 45 minutes outside a university campus, formerly a notorious military camp and torture centre identified by a giant boot at the front. We were waiting to deliver a passenger to another van headed for Antigua. By the time we arrived at Panajachel it was late and pouring rain. The manager of the vans offered to have us taken to the launches, and there a driver arranged for a private launch at only a small amount over the usual fee per person. We crossed the lake largely in the rain: those up front got a soaking despite being handed a tarp after a while. We arrived at the hotel around 6:30 and checked in, after which I hurried to the church to see the ceremonies.

I was hoping to see the end of the “last supper” with the 12 children as apostles, but it had apparently been cancelled because the new priest, who is antagonistic to traditional Maya religion, refused to bless the food. But this gave me a chance to look around. I went first to see the “monumento,” the additional retablo set up against the central retablo of the church, made to look like a mountain to represent the mountain of abundance. The armature is made of old carved spiraling columns rescued from long deteriorated retablos from the side of the nave. These are connected with a network of ropes demonstrating that the world is created in part through an act of weaving. Hung onto the network were the fruits and flowers that young men had brought from the coast earlier in the week. Each fruit was decorated with coloured strips of tin foil. The monumento extends outward in triangular sections at the side, instead decorated with palm and evergreen fronds. This, and flat carved panels of scrolls at the top, emphasize the mountain shape of the monumento. The monumento has a doorway left into it, signifying the cave into Flower Mountain or the mountain of abundance and renewal, but through this door could be seen the statue of Santiago, the patron saint of Santiago Atitlán, The Christ retablo to the right was covered with a sheet, as Christ, the Maize, is now in the underworld for the 5 transitional days when his alter-ego, Rilaj Mam or Maximon, rules. Only the Mary retablo, at the right, was completely visible.

Along the central axis of the nave, and near the “navel hole” in the church, were set up five saint statues on tables. Three of these would be the most prominent in the night’s outside performance: Christ carrying a cross, Mary of Sorrows (called Maria Andolor), and San Juan Carajo (St. John the Prick). The other two were San Nicolas and Christ of the Palm Sunday, riding a donkey.

In front of the five statues was a mat with a pillow and offering plates on it, flanked by two benches, I suppose set up for the last supper that didn’t happen. Also along the central axis of the church but nearer the entrance the great triangular wood candelabra was set up, with some candles in it that were going out. More of this later. In one front corner of the church, the urna or coffin and platform for Christ was already lit up with Christmas lights and attracting attention. I also took the time to leave the church and go into the chapel nearby where Rilaj Mam or Maximon was set up as ruler for the time that Christ-as-Maize is in the underworld. He is placed on a cut section of a tree, as a way to perpetuate the earlier tradition, forbidden by the catholics, when he was placed on the monumento.

The candelabra ceremony started about 8 pm. A religious functionary took charge of lighting the candles, which must be done in specific order from top to bottom. When each was half burned, they were replaced, also in a specific order. He put each candle out with a “snuffer” kept in a bucket of water. Behind this man was another constantly swinging and renewing an incense container, which is great because the pom or copal smells wonderful (piney). Standing on the other side of the candelabra were two sacristans who chanted from antique books, with texts largely in Latin. One political leader, the head of the cabecera of Santiago Atitlán, sat at the centre of the central bench, on the other side of the sacristans, and facing the candelabra. Along the sides were various people, including some tourists that a guide shoved into the seats. In one interpretation, the candelabra, and especially the top candle, represent Christ-as-Maize, and when it is finally snuffed out, it represents the death of the Maize in the underworld that prepares for his rebirth.

While I was standing and watching the ceremony, a non-Maya gentleman asked if this was my first time seeing Semana Santa at Santiago Atitlán, which I readily admitted. I asked him the same question and he replied that he had seen it several times, since he was making a documentary on the ceremony. I figured at once this was Andrew Weeks and addressed him as such, introducing myself as well. This was a very good thing, because over the next 48 hours he spent a huge amount of time with me, explaining things and taking me around to places that I will mention later. I had noticed several important-looking men with staffs and cloths wrapped around their hair had gone in procession to the benches around the mat near the statues, farther up the nave. He took a look and explained that this was a fairly grave political situation. All of those men are “alcaldes” or heads of the cofradías, the religious brotherhoods operated by Maya traditionalists, and they really should be sitting on the benches around the candelabra. Andrew noted that among them was a man who had been named as the “cabecera” or “mayor” in competition with the official one, seated with the candelabra. This new cabecera and his alcalde supporters were thus snubbing the old cabecera who sat largely unsupported.

About 10 pm, people started refurbishing some of the statues that would be taken into the street for the night’s performance. The flowers on Christ’s cross were renewed. Palm fronds were woven to make a new “hat” for San Juan Carajo. Several men crowded around San Juan to help bind the statue to the table-like litter on which he would be carried. The binding must be firm because he is raced back and forth along the main street all night. More later. As Andrew predicted, lots of adolescent males crowded around the statue, having their say and trying to get involved. The carrying of San Juan is something of a mark of male prowess and these adolescents were strutting their stuff.

By midnight, the statues were ready to be taken into the street; all but the Palm Sunday Christ. The procession descended the church steps, crossed the church plaza westwards, descended the plaza steps, and entered on the main north-south street. It turned south and at the first corner of the circuit, deposited the statue of Maria Andolor at a shrine that had been set up with several religious functionaries attending her. The procession continued eastward along the ritual circuit, climbing up a rise, then turning north at the corner, continuing along behind the church plaza to the third corner, turning back west to the fourth corner at the main street again, where Christ and Nicholas were deposited. Then San Juan Carajo began his famous “corrida” in which he runs back and forth along the main north-south street between Christ-as-Maize and Maria Andolor. At the Maria Andolor station, the bearers of San Juan Carajo thrust the statue upward twice while they hoot. The explanation, made clear to anthropologists by Atitecos, is that Christ-as-Maize is inseminating Mary-as-Earth in order to be reborn. However, when San Juan Caracol gets to the Christ station, he is also thrust upward with hoots, as is San Nicolas who accompanies Christ. I stood near the Maria much of the time, listening to Christmas carols played on the Christmas lights strung over the street for decoration.

I watched this action until about 2:30. I knew that the Christ and Maria statues were supposed to draw together during the night, but by this time they hadn’t moved. I decided to get 2 hours sleep and then return in the morning.

Wednesday, April 4

Today's Maya art class finished up with ceramics, looking in more detail at audience scenes not only in terms of the interactions of people on various levels of the social hierarchy, but also at the objects displayed or exchanged and their impact on hypotheses concerning the nature of the events portrayed.

The afternoon was spent getting ready for the Guatemala trip tomorrow, along with a brief excursion with Sara to the Casa del Cacao to try out their atole + cacao recipe. It's something I'd like to return to.

Updates to the blog will have to wait until our return on Sunday. There should be lots to say by that time.

Tuesday, April 3

Today in class we looked at the scenes on late classic Maya ceramics on which humans are shown interacting. We began with activities associated specifically with men or women, and then talked about audience scenes. Several students had a chance to "read" ceramic rollout images (from the Kerr archive on www.famsi.org).

I spent much of the afternoon marking fieldtrip assignments. But when I went out to xerox Allen Christenson's advice for the Guatemala trip, I got to hear three musicians from Chamula playing near the Arco at the end of the touristic andador. As usual, the "combo" included violin, harp and guitar, with the harpist providing the vocals. The style involves multiple repetitions of a single melodic phrase. When I got home, I played the disk of sacred music from the Chiapas Highlands that I had bought from the Museum of Maya Medicine and found it was very much the same music.

The bad news at present is that Sophia's apartment was robbed last night, while she was in it and sleeping. Gone are her computer and credit cards. It was a wakeup call for me and perhaps others who have slid into thinking that San Cristobal is such a safe place. During the day, there are guards with guns stationed all over the historic centre, protecting the businesses. But at night when the businesses are closed, the streets seem unpatrolled.

Monday, April 2

In class today we looked at the representation of narratives involving deities on Maya ceramics, focusing especially on the cosmogenesis/Maize regeneration narrative also discussed last term, but also discussing many narratives for which no explanations or related texts have surfaced.

The big fieldtrip assignment series was due today. A good number had their work in this morning but others trickled in during the day and evening, so I won't start marking them until tomorrow. I am also working on arrangements for our day trip to Amatenango scheduled for April 10.

Sunday, April 1

Today was Mexico's time change (Guatemala is now an hour different) as well as Palm Sunday. As Sara advised me that there would be a mass in Tzeltal in the small church adjoining Santo Domingo, I headed up there shortly before 9 am. I didn't see Sara there so I stayed outside, sitting on a stone bench, and watching the church. I spent an hour watching vendors set up their stalls and lay out there wares. There were also many of the Aguacatenango palm frond weavers there, weaving and selling to people entering the church. Of these, a young mother and her son (about 1 year old) sat down next to me and I got to watch her weaving the fronds as the child played around and had some snacks. Shortly before 10, I saw that all the people in the mass were called outside, where they were joined by the priest and all waved their palm fronds. My first experience with Palm Sunday.

The afternoon was spent labeling slides from the fieldtrip, both the ones I took on a small camera and that James took for me on the big one. I have a long way to go but made a bit of a dent. In the evening, Sara came over with fruit to join me for supper and we had a conversation (my Spanish lesson for the day). Then it was time to prepare classes for tomorrow. But this was not going well as my dental problem has returned with a vengeance! I'm just going to expect it will go away like last time, and not interfere with the Guatemala trip that starts in a few days.

Saturday, March 31

I spent most of the day at home working, first marking assignments and then organizing and listing expenses for the program, and finally beginning the process of fixing up and labelling the photographs from the fieldtrip.

When I went for a walk, I saw that one side of the cathedral plaza was occupied by families from Aguacatenango, all weaving palm leaf ornaments in preparation for Palm Sunday. I was particularly impressed at the family enterprise: men, women, boys and girls, all weaving intricate designs with the palm fronds. I even bought two of them.