Carnaval

Most likely you’ve heard of the Latin American tradition of Carnaval, a celebration held before the start of Lent. The most famous fiestas take place in Brazil and, within Peru, the craziest celebrations seem to take place in Cajamarca. While I did not find myself in Cajamarca to celebrate Carnaval, I did make my way to Pacora, my municipality and the closest town to my site.

On the Northern coast of Perú where I’m located Carnaval is celebrated during the weeks leading up to Lent with sporadic water fights. In Pacora it culminates with a big fiesta that has evolved into a competition between two teams, el bando verde (green) and el bando rojo (red). Team loyalties are seemingly random and can change from year to year. This year my community opted to support the red team and, given that my sister was chosen to represent the rural sector of Pacora as the princess of the bando rojo, I decided to lend my support and wear red. Thinking that clothing would be my only mode of participation was plain naïve.

Somehow I got involved in the getting ready process and was appointed to do the hair of the junior princess of my community. I tried to explain that it was a bad idea but they wouldn’t have it. Thus, I was instructed to copy what they were doing to my sister’s hair. It seemed simple enough except that they have approximately 10 times the amount of hair than the average person from the U.S. The poor girl ended up with an elegant looking mullet/rat tail. Furthermore, I repeatedly had to ask for the comb without using the word comb because it is uncomfortably close to the Spanish word for male genitalia. They were probably starting to think that I lack any form of memory. I did learn that lime juice is an excellent substitute for hair gel and that curls can be created with a bit of lime juice, newspaper and a strip of plastic bag.

I was told that transport to the event would be provided and indeed it was. Transport was a large mango truck that drove us straight to Pacora and then to my surprise straight into a parade. The parade was no normal parade and I ended up riding front and center at the feet of the two princesses down every street of Pacora while we were occasionally sprayed with water or perfume and people got progressively more impassioned about belonging to the bando rojo, yelling things like “Rojo vive, carajo!”

The parade lasted for some ungodly amount of time, considering the small size of Pacora, which would most certainly qualify as podunk. It ended at the plaza where two stages were set up, one for each team. Which ever team has more people dancing and can dance for the longest amount of time wins. Upon arrival I was quickly whisked into the mob of dancers by some random lady. Within minutes she had introduced me to all three of her sons. She was probably on the verge of suggesting an engagement when I ran away to find Susan.

Susan and I were stopped by a random older man to take a picture with him. Why a picture with two random white people is so desirable is somewhat baffling to me. It’s pretty much the same as getting your picture taken with two random Chinese people. What do you say to the people you show that to? I have no clue who these people are but look, they’re Chinese!

I was not a bit shocked when I saw that each group had a tree in the middle of its dance floor and noted that these trees were laden with tuppers in their branches. The trees, called yunsa, are a traditional part of the carnaval festivities. I’m not sure when the tupper bit got added. Anyway, the tuppers are free for the taking when they fall from the branches. There were things like pee buckets, pitchers and strainers in those branches and I had to leave before anything fell. This was probably for the best because I can only fathom that a falling tupper incurs a rather aggressive struggle for possession.