Holy Week in Andahuaylillas

Palm Sunday

Palm Sunday was celebrated the way I´m used to, with a procession and palms. We met down at the chapel on the highway, read some readings, then processed up to the parish for mass.

Palms ready to be distributed

Organizing the procession

Leaving the chapel

Processing on the pista (highway)

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Holy Monday – Señor de los Temblores

Nothing special happens at my home parish on Holy Monday. It couldn't be more different here.

Monday was the celebration of Señor de los Temblores (Our Lord of Earthquakes). The official procession is in Cusco, and thousands of people follow Señor de los Temblores as he is carried to all the churches. In Andahuaylillas, there's only one Catholic church so they carried the cross around the town instead. Along the way we stopped often to pray (and so that the men carrying the cross could rest). It was the first time I've witnessed a Latin American procession. I was impressed by the devotion and care for the cross that people showed.

The beginning of the procession

Mountain in the background

As it got dark with lit candles

The procession passing by our house (on the left) before finishing at the church

Holy Wednesday

Students in Boston are used to having a three day weekend during Holy Week. Students in Andahuaylillas get a four day weekend (Thursday-Sunday). So Wednesday was the last day of school for the week. School ended an hour early for students. After the students left, the teachers from all three levels (inicial, primaria, secundaria) celebrated a mass with Padre Eddy.* After mass we had lunch together. The main plate was sopa de viernes (Friday soup) which is a traditional Good Friday dish. It's made with eggs, cheese, mussels, habas, and of course, potatoes. It reminded me of chowder. I could taste the sea with every rubbery bite of the mussels; it tasted like summers in Gloucester.

The teachers from inicial made peach guiso which is like canned peaches infused with cinnamon, but the peaches are fresh. Primaria contributed pastel de choclo which is the Andean version of cornbread. Each teacher had to bring a bag will 2 cobs worth of peeled choclo. Choclo is more work than corn. You husk it the same way, but to make pastel de choclo you have to peel each kernal. It was slow work, especially for this gringo who's never cooked with choclo in his life. During recess, some of the other profes helped me finish of my peeling.

This is what choclo kernals look like

The lunch was a nice way to mark Holy Week as a combined staff. It fit well with Padre Eddy's desire to bring the staffs from the different levels closer together. I appreciated feeling welcome, as well as not being the newest face in the room (several people have joined the staff since the school year started last month). While I will never have the full status of most profes - my impermanence and lack of proper training make that impossible – I was reminded at this meal that I have a place at Fe y Alegría No. 44.

*I think I mentioned Pd. Eddy before. He's the new director of Fe y Alegría.

Holy Thursday

Holy Thursday mass is, in my mother's words, “the mass of community.” Jesus needed to have that last supper with his closest friends before he could face the pain and terror of the coming days. He needed a goodbye party of sorts. He needed to draw from their strength and love for him to be able to express his strength and love for them.

Holy Thursday mass had a few fun surprises up its sleeve. My favorite was the wheel of bells that was spun during the Gloria. It's about 2 feet in diameter and built into the wall near the altar. I never noticed it until one of the altar servers stuck a large hook into the wheel and began cranking. Thank goodness my sister wasn't there with me; it was so unexpected that between the two of us it would taken all our will to not burst out laughing loudly. The other surprise was also auditory. It was a box with metal hinges on the sides that sounds like firecrackers when shook. The visiting priest from Lima whipped his head around when someone started shaking it. As loud and unexpected as both were, I liked them. Sometimes we got to make some big noise to our big God.

Good Friday

Wow, this was a really long day. One of the Good Friday traditions is that the youth of the town get up before dawn and run a few miles to pick flowers. We made plans with some friends to leave at 2:30. I woke up at 2:20 to find Erin and Theresa knocking at my door. It was pouring rain outside. We didn't hear anything from our friends, so we went back to sleep. At 5:30 our friend Malú knocked on the house door. Instead of running a few miles, we walked for just one. We spent about 2 hours picking flowers before we returned to the house.

The morning sky

Erin, Theresa, and Malú picking flowers

But what are the flowers for, you ask. They're for making alfombras, I answer. Alfombras – literally “carpets” - are made out on the street with flower petals. People put hours into making the alfombras only to see them destroyed as the procession passes over it. They are a beautiful meditation on impermanence. Beauty is created and destroyed within just a day, but people are still willing to wake up at 2 and spend their whole morning pouring their creativity into their work. 

An alfombra down the street from our house

We made a small alfombra on the floor of the parish. Theresa did the design. 

Our alfombra lasted about twenty minutes before it was destroyed as we processed out of the parish carrying Jesus and the Virgin Mary. Jesus wasn't carried on the cross. He was taken down off the cross and placed inside a coffin. The Good Friday procession was a funeral procession for Jesus. It added a lot of heaviness to the tradition. The Virgin Mary followed behind Jesus, dressed all in black.

The men carrying the coffin leading the procession.

The hermandad that was in charge of organizing the procession and hosting the post procession party

The cross that lead the procession

Jesus in the coffin

The Good Friday procession was really two processions. One crowd walked with Jesus's coffin, the other walked behind with the Holy Mother. We ducked out of the crowd with Jesus halfway through to walk with Mary. I've never given much thought to Mary's passion. Walking with Mary I focused on her sorrow of watching her son tortured, humiliated, and killed. No parent should have to bury a child. I wonder if, while watching her son die on the cross, Mary got mad at God. Did she think, “this isn't what I signed up for.” She took a big risk when she said yes to God at the annunciation, and on Good Friday all that she got from that risk was taken away. It also made me wonder about her reunion with her risen son on Easter. Would that every murdered son - and daughter - could be returned to their mother after three days in the tomb.

Theresa and María (Spanish worker who is a friend)

Erin and Theresa

Victoria held my candle while I took pictures

People threw flower petals on the coffin as it passed by their houses.

Virgen Mary's procession following Jesus's procession

Virgen Mary lit up at night

The procession lasted almost four hours. It was the biggest Stations of the Cross crowd I'd ever seen.

Holy Saturday

God is dead on Holy Saturday, so there's no church service. Some people take advantage of the lack of God's watchful eye to steal corn from other people's chakras. Apparently it's the only day of the year this is ok.

We didn't steal anyone's corn (God may have been dead but our consciences weren't). Theresa and I spent the day helping out with a youth retreat for the graduating seniors at Fe y Alegría. Jacqueline had to work at the parish to help at the retreat being hosted there. In the evening we watched the Swedish version of Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. All in all, a chill day on my end.

Easter Sunday

Easter Sunday began at 3am. We headed to the parish for pre-mass choir practice. Mass began at 4. The Vigil mass is the holiest mass of the year and therefore it's pretty long. The sun had come out by the time mass ended. Virgin Mary was carried out to the plaza after mass. This time, she was wearing robes of white.

When we got home, most of the crew went to sleep. I did what I've done so many Sunday mornings, I made bread. I brought pieces of Monkey bread (recipe from a new bread book Mom sent down) out to some of the señoras who cook at the parish. They are always so generous to me; it felt nice to be able to share something back. I also gave some to the woman who runs the oven as a thank you because she gave me some yeast free of charge. Hay que compartir lo que hay – you have to share what you have. I also made a loaf of easter egg bread for our easter meal.

Sweet Potato Monkey bread

Easter Egg bread

I zonked out hard around 3. Theresa woke me up around 5 because Yésica, my cusqueña host sister, was visiting and wanted to say hi. It reminded me that I should call her family and make a plan to visit some weekend this month. After Yesi left we were invited across the street to drink chicha (corn beer). We had an interesting conversation with some Peruvians about how Holy Week celebrations have changed in the last two generations, and the differences in the relationship between the city of Cusco and the communities. “TV ruined everything,” was one man's conclusion. “People lost pride in their work in the chakras after TV happened. Then so many people left their communities for the city just looking to make more money. It really hurt the culture.”

For dinner Victoria made Nutella rolls (also from the new bread book). I had my usual Sunday night skype with the family, and it was time for bed. Holy Week was over. But as Nannie reminded me, there's 49 days left in Easter so we can keep on celebrating.

Easter Brunch

*Thanks to editors Luke and Nora Hill who called my attention to numerous typos. I should double their salaries.*