Category Archives: Death and all its trappings

The Day of the Dead–El Día de los Muertos

catrin

Explaining the significance of this festival to someone who has not experienced El Día de Los Muertos is challenging. The facts are there, easy to find in Wikipedia or other “impartial” sources, but until you stand in front of an altar built for someone you know, you won’t understand.

There are actually 2 days in the festival known as El Día de Los Muertos. During these days, it is believed that the door between the living and the dead is opened for a time and the spirits of the dead come to visit those that remain behind.

November 1st is known in the area that we live in as El Día de Los Angelitos (The day of the Little Angels) and is a day to remember children that have died. As these are private, family gatherings, there is little to note except that there is typically a mass held for the deceased child (See Luctuoso) and toys are brought to the crypt or tomb and left. Special prayers are directed to La Virgen, who lost her own child, in this time of remembrance.

zapotec figure death life

A Zapotec figure representing the duality of death and life.

The more public and better-known festival is November 2, El Día de Los Muertos and its traditions have more to do with the indigenous Mexican than any supposed Catholicism influence. The prehispanic goddess Mictecacihuatl was known as the Lady of the Dead. She was honored during harvest rituals with fire and incense, images of the dead, food offerings in ceramic vessels and flowers. From these traditions comes the modern Mexican belief that souls continue to exist after death in an area similar to the Catholic Purgatory but once called Mictlan, a place of silence and rest. There the souls waited, not for reward or punishment, but for this day when they can return home to visit their loved ones.

lacatrina

(La Muerte) Death is still a Lady in México, now personified as La Catrina. Most Mexicans like to think that the popular image of the Catrina is ancient, but the truth is this caricature of vanity was first drawn by cartoonist José Guadalupe Posada about 100 years ago to poke fun at mestizos (mixed-blood) or indigenas (native people) that pretended to be European. Diego Rivera first used the name Catrina and helped popularize her in his mural, Sueño de una tarde dominical en la Alameda Central.

suenos de una tarde

Regardless of her origin, La Catrina reigns during los días de los muertos.

face paint catrina

Another Catrina-related tradition is the writing of calaveras literarias (death poems) that poke fun at death. In these short, rhyming verses, La Muerte comes and indiscriminately passes by or takes those mentioned by name in the poem.

calavera_01

frida altar

An altar in honor of Frida Kahlo.

In Moroléon, deceased national and local public figures are honored with altars built in El Centro. More often, altars are built in the homes or at the panteón (cemetery).

baker altar

An altar in honor of a recently deceased local baker including pan de muerto.

ofrenda

The altars may include marigolds, salt, favorite foods presented in ceramic dishes, pan de muerto (a luxurious sugar bread only available during these days) tequila, candles, incense and special personal items.

flower petal art

Each item has its own special meaning and reason for inclusion.

marigold cross

Marigolds are called Flor de Muerto (Flower of the Dead) or cempasuchil (Flower of 400 lives). I imagine it came by its name due to the fact that each petal has the potential to become a future marigold plant, hence each blossom can have many future lives. The strong scent of the flower is thought to lead the spirits home. Sometimes paths of petals lead from the cemetery to the home.

traditional alter

A dirt cross is included at times to remind the living that “From dust we are and to dust we will return.” (See La Novena)

copal altar

Copal is the resinous sap of a tree and has been burned as incense since the time of the Aztecs as an offering to the gods. On the Day of the Dead altar, the scent attracts spirits, drawing them home. It is also used to cleanse the area and to ward off evil.

cantiflas altar

An altar in honor of the deceased Mexican comedian Cantiflas.

Colorful tissue paper, papel picado, is cut into intricate designs and strung to flutter over around the altar. Holydays throughout the year are marked with papal picado strung over processional routes, reminiscent of their use during prehispanic rituals.

sugar skulls

Sugar skulls and figures on sale in el Centro.

You may also find calacas and calaveras on the altars. Calacas (skeletons) are carved wooden or ceramic skeletons often presented in joyous or lewd activities. Calaveras, are sugar skulls made with the name of the dead person written in sugar icing on the forehead and eaten by a relative or friend in honor of the dead.

A crypt decorated for El Dia de los Muertos.

A crypt decorated for El Dia de los Muertos.

At the panteón (cemetery), during this two-day period, families usually clean and decorate graves with ofrendas (offerings). In our case, it meant a trip to my mother-in-law’s crypt, bringing marigolds, candles and a bottle of coke, her favorite beverage. There were hundreds of people at the cemetery, some with lonas (tarps) set up and camp chairs, others perched on buckets playing cards. The families stay long into the night beside the tombs of loved ones telling stories and remembering, weeping and laughing. Some even brought mirrors in hopes of getting a glimpse of the soul as it stops by for a visit. For this one night, the dead are not gone but brought back through the memories of those that remain.

************************************

SOTBS Blog Hop Op1Sq
    Have a Day of the Dead themed blog post?

Link it up here!   An InLinkz Link-up 

disclosure

8 Comments

Filed under Death and all its trappings, Mexican Holidays

La Novena and el Luctuoso

la novena
Then began the novena, 9 days of prayers for the release of my mother-in-law’s soul from purgatory.  This was held where her body had been viewed, with the leftover candles from the funeral.  A candle must be lit at all times and no one may sweep, since this would be rushing her soul out of the house. (See Mass and Burial)
Each child took a day to sponsor the novena, providing refreshments for those that came to pray.  I thought my night of hosting went well.  I had to be signaled that the prayer was over and hurried to the kitchen to serve the flan, jello, and juice that I had bought earlier in the day, my son and husband helping to serve.  I hadn’t had time to prepare anything traditional or home-made, but that’s why supermarkets were invented right?
A woman named Socorro did the prayer reading for each evening.  It seemed to be her calling, presiding over novenas when asked.  She isn’t paid per se, the refreshments each night being given in compensation for her time.  (See Parenting Challenge–When someone dies)
Each night, Socorro and her echo, another religious woman, intoned prayers from a little booklet.  It’s important that everyone  sit in the same seat each night, but I didn’t understand the reason for this, just that’s the way its done.  The prayer session lasted about an hour since every few minutes there was a round of choral recitals of Padre Nuestro, (Our Father), and Ave Maria pleading that if my mother-in-law’s soul be found at the gates of purgatory, that she be pardoned as well as any other souls found with her.  Apparently, her eternal damnation or salvation would be based on the strength of our prayers during the novena while her soul was wandering around in purgatory.
A glass of water and a white towel were set out the first night.  This was in case the soul was in need of refreshment.  If the soul visited and drank the water, the towel would be imprinted where it had knelt.
As this was my first novena, I’m not sure how smoothly it goes, but it seemed to me that we had more than our share of issues during the 9 days.
The first night, the little children, who were exempt from the prayer meeting, locked themselves in one of the bedrooms and we had to break the door down to rescue them as they became more and more hysterical on the other side.  Not a very auspicious beginning to the novena.
Then another night all the sons came drunk to the novena and interrupted the prayers abruptly and repeatedly in order to use the bathroom.  Again, not as it should be.
Then the night D was in charge of the refreshments, not only did she not have enough for everyone and I had to supplement with some flan left over from my hosting, but her husband refused to help her serve, demonstrating what an ass he was to all.
Then L was had a screaming fit because my father-in-law had asked where the money from the presidencia was (nearly 3000 pesos) that she had spent on rent for her apartment and local although it wasn’t her money to spend but meant to defray funeral costs.
Another night, I was called away from the novena by the mother of one of my students who happened to be a judge.  She had been given a copy of the lawsuit that Chuchi sent and wanted to speak with me immediately.  As she isn’t the type of woman you say no to, I hurried to her house.  She explained some of the legal terminology and wanted to know for sure if we had answered the charges as there was only a 10-day period to do so.  If the charges were not answered, Chuchi wins by default.  I called R and he assured me that they had.  I wasn’t satisfied so went to the office of Super Prez and asked him.  He gave me a copy of the respuesta (answer to the charges) and I hurried back just in time for the opening prayer.
Then J was to make the traditional corundas for the last night, but B said he wanted enchiladas, and to please him, his sister P made them although it was extra work and angered her own husband and was contrary to tradition.  The three sides of the corunda represent the trinity and the eating of it as a sort of holy communion in honor of the deceased.
The final novena was a 2-hour session.  Not only were the final day prayers said but the dirt that was in the form of the cross on the floor since the viewing must be lifted.  It couldn’t be swept up and had to be scooped by hand in a prescribed manner.  First the right side of the cross, then the left side of the cross, then the foot of the cross where the three Marys wept, and then the head of the cross.  Flower petals, candle wax, and dirt were all scooped into a yellow shoe box.  More prayers were said and the rosary was placed on top.
ceramic statue novena
Each attendee was given a small ceramic crucifix, like a party favor, with the following poem on the back:
Fin de novenario
“Muero pero mi alma no muere los amare y los bendeciré en el cielo como lo hice en la tierra”   Agradece Padre e hijos
Loosely translated it read:
End of the Prayer sessions
I die but my soul does not.
I love you and bless you in heaven as I did on earth.
With appreciation: Father and children
panteon
The following morning we gathered again at the panteón (cemetery). The sacred dirt in its shoebox, candles, photo, cross, the statue of the Virgin of Guadalupe, some sacred saint prayer cards, rosaries, the glass of water and the white cloth were all stuffed unceremoniously in the windowed front of the crypt.
The altar of El señor de Escapulitas Catholic Church in Moroleón

The altar of El señor de Escapulitas Catholic Church in Moroleón

But that wasn’t the end of it.  The next week there was a mass en el Templo del Señor de Escapulitas.  The priest was paid to say the names and ask for special blessings for those recently departed, but my mother-in-law’s name was accidentally left off the list.  So it was rescheduled for Saturday.
Then there was another mass in another church in the wealthy section of town.  I misunderstood where this mass was scheduled and my son and I went to the wrong church and then arrived late for the services.
Then there were masses scheduled every month.  My son and I went to the first few, but as the sons would be there either drunk or hung over, which in my opinion was shameful, I refused to go to anymore.
B made a vow that he would not shave until his mother had been gone one year.  I’m not sure if this vow was meant to be a bargain made to ensure that his mother’s soul left purgatory for heaven or not, but the result is that for most of the year looked like a ungroomed Mexican dwarf with a beard halfway down his chest. The night of the first-anniversary mass, he arrived completely bald and clean shaven.
So this week there was a mass to mark the one-year anniversary of her death. It’s called el primeto luctuoso (which as far as I can translate means the first anniversary of a person being called to the light).  An ad was placed in the paper for the first luctuoso.  This year, the masses will only be every 3 months.  An ad will be placed in the paper for the second luctuoso.  Next year they will only be performed every 6 months.  An ad will be placed in the paper for the third luctuoso.  After that, there will only be one mass per year until eternity.  Each year with its own newspaper ad.
Again, I discovered that the quality of the misa (mass) is dependent on the money you pay.  My mother-in-law again was given the basic package service.  I can not imagine how much money the church earns through this system since the masses continue for all perpetuity.  Death is quite a profitable business after all.
first anniversary
As souvenirs, the few attendees were given escapularios (small sewn leather charms to be worn around the neck) and a poem.  This one reads:
Te damos gracias, Señor, por habernos dado la dicha de tener una madre ejemplar y disfrutar de su amor.  Tu la llamaste Señor y ella no hizo sino tomar tu mano; al escuchar tu voz.  Agradecemos su asistencia, Esposo e Hijos.
Loosely translated it reads:  We thank you, Lord, for given us the honor of having an exemplary mother and of enjoying her love.  You called her, Lord, and she did not refuse to take your hand when she heard your voice.  We thank you for your attendance, Husband, and Children.
crypt 2

******************************************************

disclosure

14 Comments

Filed under Death and all its trappings

Mass and Burial Mexican style

coffin
Typically, a person dies, his or her body is taken to a family member’s home or the funeral home for the viewing.  Mass is the next morning with burial following.  As my mother-in-law’s body was not released until late afternoon, and the entire family, my father-in-law and his children, were required to report to the Public Ministry Office the following day at 11 and were there until late afternoon again, they felt that they hadn’t had time to properly mourn, so she was returned to the house for a second night mourning after mass.   (See Viewing and Wake)
The altar of El señor de Escapulitas Catholic Church in Moroleón

The altar of El señor de Escapulitas Catholic Church in Moroleón

Mass was scheduled at 9 a.m. in the morning so that the family could be at the 11 a.m. hearing.  The funeral car came to pick up the body and we walked from the house to the church, El Señor del Escapulitas for mass.  The sons and my father-in-law stood with the casket in front of the altar during mass.  The daughters stayed with their families in the first few pews.  My son and I knelt when everyone else knelt, stood when everyone else stood and said amen when everyone else did.  I can’t say that the mass was in any way personalized from what I understood.  Nothing about her life was mentioned, just the solemnized intonations of ritual prayer.  My mother-in-law’s co-workers from the Presidencia came along with a good group of teachers from the school I was working at.

I, unfortunately, experienced another death later in the year when my friend, el maestro (teacher) died.  The mass said over his body was an entirely different affair.  The Padre (priest) spoke about the fullness of his life and quoted beautiful and hopeful passages from the bible.  There were music and singing.  And when his coffin left the church, the masses that had gathered in the Centro gave el maestro (teacher) a standing ovation.  My mother-in-law’s funeral paled in comparison.

So I asked about the differences in the misas (masses) and found out that the church offers levels of services, at different prices.  The basic package was what my mother-in-law was given, very little personalization.  The deluxe package costs more, of course, but has the spectacular effects of el maestro’s (teacher’s) services.

We walked back to the house behind the funeral car after mass. The plan was that my mother-in-law’s body was to spend one night in town and the second night in La Yacata, however, the town children protested due to the fact that there wasn’t running water or electricity in La Yacata.  So her body stayed in town.  Although it seemed to me that my mother-in-law wouldn’t have minded the lack of services anymore, the convenience of the mourners kept us in town. This cause general confusion and attendance was scanty at best the second night, most having believed the body to be already interred or to be in La Yacata.
To top it all off, R arrived the morning of the second day to have me sign papers for the lawsuit from Chuchi.  So there I am, outside in the blazing sun, reading the 3 page paper (because it just wouldn’t do to sign and not know what you are signing) that stated that 1) Chuchi was not president at the time he made the contract and therefore not legally representing La Yacata 2) the pozo perforation is outside the boundaries of what is legally registered as La Yacata  and 3) no water rights were ever purchased that would make a pozo a legal possibility. (See Demanda 1 and Demanda 2).
My husband and I went out and bought 12 rotisserie chickens to feed the family and group of mourners that stayed throughout the day.  We also bought more flowers so that everyone would be able to leave a flower when we took the body for burial.
Tradition requires that the body not be left alone or the soul the deceased might be offended but the second evening, through the pure exhaustion of the family members this was allowed to happen unintentionally.  There also must not be any cleaning up.  The multitude of mourners left their Styrofoam cups and napkins littered about, but we were not to sweep.  All the trash had to be picked up by hand until after the novena, since sweeping would be an insult to the soul, a way of saying that it was unwelcome here.
Having very little rest, the family and mourners drank some coffee for energy before the long walk to the panteón (cemetery) the following morning.  As it is outside of town limits, but within a stone’s throw of La Yacata, often the funeral home arranges for public transport from mass to the cemetery, but as we had gone from the church back to the house the previous day, we were about half the distance already.
Another small band of mourners joined us for the walk from the house to the cemetery that morning.  I didn’t think to bring an umbrella for shade and so ended up with a headache and slight sunburn.  Our walk brought us past the courthouse.  Not one guard was outside, perhaps warned to stay inside, as the sight of a uniform might enrage the mourners.  But from the windows, they could watch us as we passed and take a good long look at what “one of their own” had done.  (See On Life and Liberty)
At the cemetery, the casket was placed in an open pavilion and opened for one last viewing while the crypt was prepared.  At this point, physically and emotionally drained, her daughter P fainted. She was moved to the shade and rubbing alcohol was applied to her face until she came around.
The children were distraught and took turns caressing and kissing her body.  I told my son that we would look, say our goodbyes and he could leave a flower with her body but that he should not touch her skin.  I didn’t want his last memory of his grandmother to be of her cold dead flesh, but of the warm embrace she gave him in the hospital when she said “My niño” (her special endearment for him) before slipping into a coma.   (See Parenting Challenge–When someone dies)
 IM000608
When the crypt was prepared, the sons carried the casket over the uneven ground, past the plots, to the corner where rows of crypts had been built.  The casket was slid into the middle row #19, about at eye level.  The cemetery workers bricked up and patched the hole while we looked on, again in the now midday sun.  I am surprised we didn’t have more casualties from heat stroke.  The wreaths were stacked against the wall and the flower arrangements placed nearby.  And that was that.  Nothing doing but to go home.
******************************
disclosure

16 Comments

Filed under Death and all its trappings