Las Fiestas de Zacango

In the months proceeding December 7 and 8 there was intense planning and soliciting of funds for the annual fiestas in Zacango honoring la Virgen de Concepcion. When I arrived around 6:30pm, the men were setting up the lights around the bull riding ring that would shine on the ten bulls and amateur riders.

I walked to the basketball court in the middle of town that had been transformed into a restaurant; people crowded around plastic tables eating pozole (broth with large corn kernels, topped with pork and the choice of adding fresh lime, salt and chile) and drinking Coke and beer. One corner of the municipal building acted as the kitchen where the women of the community dished out bowl after bowl of pozole for the invited guests from surrounding communities who were scattered around the basketball court. The young women of the community, dressed in their finest, served the 50 or so people who ate in shifts.

Doña Antonio, with a huge smile on her face, deposited a heaping bowl of pozole in my hands before I could refuse, and I was soon installed in a chair with a good view of the action. At a near by table, the young boys, who had been part of the procession dressed as tigers or as outrageous, scantily clad women, took a break from dancing to the brass band and indulged in the festival pozole and spirits.

With my fill of food, I returned to the bull ring joining the crowd for the first bull rider. The music boomed and the announcer pumped up the crowd. The thrill of the potential danger pulled a group of boys to the waiting pen, where the bull was coerced into submission. For all of the anticipation and waiting, the first bull was disappointing as when they finally opened the gate, he was laying in a heap on the ground. Several men had to drag the bull out into the ring before it decided to be part of the spectacle.

As the night wore on, the bulls got bigger and more active, jumping and bucking. The riders, with spurs tied to their boots, held on valiantly to the rope tied around the waist of the bull before calling the rodeo clowns to lasso and distract the bull while they escaped to safety. About five or six bulls in, we saw the sparks fly signaling the beginning of the castillo (fireworks display) that was set up by the church. We took off running as if one of the bulls were chasing to be able to see the remaining fireworks.

We arrived in time to see the swirling sparks and lights explosions. The “women” and tigers danced under the falling sparks and the drum kept time for the brass band. As the last firework died out, the revelers filed into the church to venerate the reason for the fiestas.

Beside the church, the basketball court, once restaurant, had been converted into a dance hall. The tables had been cleared to make way for a dance floor, which was completely bereft of dancers. On one end, a stage had been set up with an elaborate sound system for the hired band that was beginning to play to an empty dance floor. This was partly due to the bull riding activity that captivated much of the attention and largely due to the ridiculous entry fee that was required.

As the bull riding ended and with the liquor and beer taking effect, people drifted over to the dance. Women and men, young and old surrounded the empty dance floor listening to the band convince them to pay and enter. However, with patience, they knew from experience that they eventually would be allowed into the dance free of charge. I decided to forgo the evening dance that would last until the wee hours of the morning.

The next day the fiestas continued with more drinking and bull riding, basketball tournaments and general merriment. The stamina and time that communities devote to fiestas is quite amazing. And all in the name of la Virgen.