Kelly CP-10

I have had a very difficult time finding an outlet for a cultural immersion project in Tallahassee. Instead, I will write of a past experience from last summer.
I was in the countryside of Panama doing some independent research on Panamanian ceramics (Past, Present and Future). My friend Bobby (now boyfriend: hearts, stars, and unicorns!) had accompanied me for some days, so we decided to see some of the very rural townsites nearby.

Kids kickin' it outside the church

After visiting some slow towns, we decided to visit a village named "Parita." Parita was a native cacique (chief) when the Spaniards arrived. Parita did not much care for these newcomers and fought them off until he died of unrelated causes. Famously, the Spanish broke into the edifice that was holding his body and tore off all the gold jewelry that were part of his funerary rites. Parita is known for being one of the most traditional townsites in Panama- things haven't changed too too much in hundreds of years.
When we arrived there seemed to be some action going on in the town. We were confused as we had expected to stroll through, see the church and that be about the extent of things.

(Note: My Gringa whiteness must have glowed as bright as the sun as I was stared/gawked/ and just looked over with confusion the whole time I was in Parita).

Salchica!

We walked towards the town square (all old Spanish towns are built on a square whose center is the hearbeat of the town). We could see several people, and some beer and salchicha (variation on the hot dog) stands set up. Confused we asked a police officer what was going on, and he sort of shrugged- not giving us an answer. This turned out to be quite odd as it was obvious to everyone that they were celebrating Corpus Christie- basically the biggest thing that happens in this tiny town. Corpus Christie is an old Catholic event in which the Devil tries to go into the church, but the archangel Michael prevents him from doing so and "defeats" him. Basically- good triumphing over evil. (An interesting sidenote- Panama is the only country that allows the "Devil" to go into the church after his defeat).


After finding out what was going on, people in costumes came out and haphazardly processed through the streets. Men and children were dressed as "Diablos Sucios," an iconic Panamanian costume for Corpus Christie. They wear black and red striped outfits and have a crazy paper mache mask personifying an elaborate devil/demon. Cross dressing is also a part of this festival- Men dressed as ridiculously hideous women, and younger women dressed as campesinos. Of course throughout all of this are little bands playing guitar, hand drums, gourds and accordions.





It was extremely apparent that I was the ONLY gringa in the town. We got some beers and settled into "Jardin Denis" (a bar) and watched the Diablos Sucios perform some of their dances. A man on guitar plays a tune while the Diablos go in little circles, stomp, yell out, and slap this weird dried leather bubble on their thigh/ground and click castanets. There some little boys dressed and performing as Diablos Sucios. Very cute.

There was a little hub bub in the field adjacent to the church. (The church was by far the most impressive edifice in the town). Music was being played and as people watched they noticed a turtle on the ground. It became a soccer ball of sorts and people started kicking it mercilessly. I had not wanted to impose my gringa ways, but I dived to save the injured turtle and we took him to a safe place. (Who knows what became of him).

As night came on, a stage was set up in the field for more Diablo Sucio performances. The night ended with a reenactment of Cortez encountering Moctezuma. (You know, the Mexican conquest). The point of this strange ritual is to display how lucky Latin America is that Europe brought over their Christian ways. It was a droll sort of musical in which Cortez and Moctezuma sort of size each other up and throw jive at each other.

Aiming at the Spaniard with Moctie's arrow

At one point, Cortez's soldiers took away Moctezuma's men's weapons and distributed them to audience members. Shocked, one of these soldiers handed me a (stage friendly) bow and arrow. He went right for me and placed it in my hands- no smiles- and walked immediately back. I was surprised, and my friend offered an explanation. "Well, when Cortez took Moctezuma's arms, he sent them to the Queen of Spain. You're the only white girl here... soo...."

 This reenactment is a common ritual throughout Latin America for Corpus Christie celebrations- but is made more strange to me that these townpeople put so much effort into this stage show (costumes, etc) in the town named after their country's greatest resistor to Europe's influence.

Apparently the man who played Moctezuma had been doing it every year for years- and this was his final performance. After the show was over he received great applause and tearing up went down to embrace his family.

It was getting quite late, and many beers in. Bobby and I walked towards the highway in the hopes of catching a bus or taxi back to our pension. On a festival day, in the remote country, at night, we thought that we were going to be in quite a pickle. After quite a while, a taxi drove by and picked us up. On the way back to the small city of Chitre we talked to the driver about stumbling into Corpus Christie celebrations. He lamented that he had been unable to go.

Bobby and Diablo Sucio

Moi!