The volunteers place the sawdust in a four to five-hour day

By: María del Refugio Reynozo Medina

I do not know exactly when these walls first witnessed the hymns and songs of fervor to the Virgin of Guadalupe. My grandparents who were born here in 1917, had memory of it. In my town it seems that the whole altar shakes with the sounds of the band. Every December 30 after six in the morning, when the musicians sing the waltzes, pasodobles and the mañanitas around the dark-haired image that on the penultimate day of the year is still being celebrated, something happens in the hearts of those born here.

Most of the volunteers are women.

More than two hundred roses, carnations and chrysanthemums frame the image on a small platform. At four o’clock in the afternoon the streets are buzzing with people wandering around with a festive air.

Outside a house, a family prepares an arch supported by metal bars and lined with bouquets of fresh flowers and intertwined fabrics, as they drink from their glasses, chat and laugh. Two streets ahead, a man briskly throws buckets of water onto the swept cobblestone street. The scent of wet earth lingers for more than a block during my walk. In another house, a woman places a bouquet of flowers on a small improvised altar outside her home.

The women organize themselves to spread the different colors.

A boy carries a sack of sawdust.

In this neighborhood that people call slum, black bags with garbage lie next to the streets. Other bags and boxes with garbage are at the entrance of the houses. In some of them there is a smell of decomposition. A woman says that the last day the municipal garbage truck passed by was more than seven days ago.

The sprawling garbage also greeted the passing of the image during the procession.

Next to the decorated and swept streets, there are bags with garbage.

On Ramón Corona Oriente Street a group of people spread dyed sawdust to form a mosaic with the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe and added bouquets of roses. The mosaic carpet covers about four blocks which have been closed to traffic by the organizers. The volunteers are armed with wheelbarrows, buckets and sacks filled with multicolored sawdust, and they walk through the streets embroidering the cobblestone street with wood dust.

According to the testimony of a neighbor, the City Hall collection truck has not come for more than 7 days.

On Porfirio Diaz Street, a group of young people and children assemble another sawdust mat with the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe and more roses. A girl about six years old walks with a small bucket and sprinkles sawdust. On the corner, another arch of fresh flowers progresses. A man on the same street nails a canvas with the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe to the wall, and places colored lights around it. 

The decorated ribbons contrast with the straggling garbage bags.

The mayor, Rosa Villa, sent for a tow truck to remove the vehicles that do not comply with the instructions to clear the main streets. 

Musicians play throughout the procession.

At six o’clock in the afternoon the first call is heard and people begin to pass by and head to the temple. There are women wearing blouses with ethnic touches, girls dressed as the Virgin of Guadalupe, children with blanket attire and tilmas with the image of the Virgin of Tepeyac.

At the front of the procession goes the dance, two young men carry a drum that they beat with force from time to time. Next, the group of dancers emits a sharp shout to then execute the series of dances of the ritual. The group of over 500 worshippers with their white flags is in the procession and at the end of the procession, the music band.

It begins to get dark and the faces of some pilgrims are illuminated by the lighted candles in their hands.

When arriving at the temple, the picture with the image is lowered from the platform and taken to the altar amidst the burning wicks and looks of fervor. The musicians enter playing the Guadalupan Hymn, the bright feathers of the dancers move to the beat of the drum and the conch shell and the faithful break into applause, some to tears.

The walls of the temple shake again and the image rests on its throne of flowers.

Translated by Sydney Metrick