A surprise party

Strolling through the streets of CDC in the early evening with my fellow TEFL prototypes, Martin and Laura, last night I found one of the amiable smiles and nods that I was endeavouring to exchange with any willing Mexican returned with gusto by one particular elderly gentleman. He was positioned in the open driveway of a particularly well appointed house, grinning at me with the few select teeth remaining in his head. He was gesturing wildly down the street and, beset by curiosity, I herded my hesitant course mates towards him with the intention of using their superior language skills to find out what all the fuss was about. It transpired after a brief discourse that a procession of some kind was being instigated further down the street with the intention of arriving for some sort of celebration at the house outside which we were currently residing.

Before we knew it, we were swept up in the procession, a spirited and thoroughly confusing affair involving lit candles, projectile fireworks set off from the hands of the participants and a liberal, sporadic application of firecrackers during the proceedings. The procession moved slowly down the street with the three of us brandishing live fireworks, sparklers and cameras trying to preserve the moment until we reached the gateway to the house. At this point a lit firework was thrust into my unsuspecting hand by none other than my host mother Toni, who was also apparently the procession. I grasped the cascading shower of sparks at arms length until it became clear from the forceful sounding monologue from my surrogate parent that I was in danger of burning my fingers off, upon which point I hurled the flaming tube onto the impressively sized pile of firework detritus that marked the output of the procession.

Still utterly bemused by the turn of events, we were led inside the house courtyard to a large seated area where the procession became a congregation, utilising the chairs and engaging themselves in a ten minute ritual of singing at a huge altar and surrounding display on a nativity theme. After this ceased, members of the congregation appeared with trays of liqueur and some sort of punch ("Poncha!"), handing us the cups with wide smiles and words that sounded welcoming, despite my inability to comprehend anything that they were saying. Our drinks were soon supplemented with bags of candy and as we sat and pensively chewed on the contents, all of the people around us chatted with us, introducing one another and allowing us to become acquainted with a number of students from the language school at which we would soon be teaching.

After half an hour or so of very patient and enjoyable chat with the attendees, people started to drift out of the front gate, back into the night. Laura and I found Martin at the entrance engaged in conversation with the same elderly perpetrator of the latest bizarre but highly enjoyable testament to the mind blowing hospitality of the people of Chiapas and with the spoils of the night clutched in our hands and smiles on our faces, we finally proceeded back down the street.

Chiapa de Corzo
Monday 5th January