A Traditional Posada

On Friday, 12/16, Alexander invited me to a much more traditional posada. His Mexican family was celebrating with their neighborhood. We got a lesson in Mexican time when we showed up at 7pm (a.k.a., "right on time"), and proceeded to watch a Nature channel program on badgers for about an hour. But then, at 8p.m., Alexander's uncle Jeronimo told us we should go over to the gathering hall across the street.

A more traditional posada is celebrated during the 9 days before Christmas. A small gathering site held the local community, about as many people lived up and down for about two blocks. People sat and recited songs in between people saying what they were thankful for, and repeating a litany of... who knows what, it went by so fast that I couldn't understand it. When I realized they were all going in a row, I became deathly afraid that I was going to have to say something to 100 people I didn't know in embarrassingly broken Spanish. They were all mostly old ladies and elder dignified gentlemen, a few parents with young children. I was mortified. Luckily when it came to us we got passed over. I breathed a sigh of relief, but I stayed a little tense as I kept paying close attention to the amazing things I had no idea about. Alexander and I got plenty of happy smiles from those who must have realized we were way far out of our element.

The food, as it is at all Mexican parties, was great. Alexander made me try something slightly opaque and a little squishy that had the consistency of a gummy bear and tasted like bland chicken. Turns out it was cow tendon. Cool!

Later, we all gathered with candles and nightsticks in the street. A portable loudspeaker system crackled in and out of audibility as an older woman led the songs while we slowly walked up and down the street, imitating the pilgrimage of Joseph and Mary coming to the stable. Candles everywhere kept dying out in the wind, and everyone was rushing to one another to keep their lights alive. When we arrived back at the meeting hall, we sang a back-and-forth song imitating the stablemaster inviting Joseph and Mary in.

Then, piñatas were hung in the street, on a rope that was hung between two houses across the whole street. And such piñatas! There were piñatas for the tiniest children, for the boys, for the girls, for the teenagers, for the adults, some were filled with sugarcane, jicama, or sweets, others were trick piñatas filled with paper filler. On my turn, I started whacking that mother fogger straight-up gangsta style. I didn't realize there was a three-hit limit… as I swung my baton samurai-sword style, I started hearing English: "STOP!" Slightly embarrassed, I let the baton go to the next person. But I did some damage.

Though it wasn't quite as "fun" as the last posada, which had lots of people my age and plenty of drinking and dancing, I had a great time. It really felt like I was experiencing something foreign, as I couldn't understand a word people were saying near the beginning. Sadly, traditional posadas of the type I got to witness are slowly dying out in favor of much more western forms of celebration. Even Christmas trees were not common in Mexico until fairly recently. I hope that this tradition finds a way to continue in some way, though the young people find it boring, I found it a great example of the way a culture continues to move their stories and beliefs forward through the years.