… straight to Paradise after a stopover in Purgatory
From fire to ashes…
by Pacho Coulchinsky
Today let’s eat and drink
And let's sing and laze,
For tomorrow we will fast”.
Juan de la Encina - Spanish - XVI Century
As the poet would put it, “on February’s lap, summer swings back and forth”… enjoying his ill humour, which is punished by the scorching heat, which lashes us day after day.
It was very common to listen to our parents tell us: “Do not go out at siesta time; even lizards can’t face up to that blistering heat”. As you can imagine, it was not a real threat and not one that we would heed. It was said in order to deter us from taking on the desolate, dirt streets back then, in our little town. Especially, at Mardi Grass. Once assembled, gangs of children would commence a water fight, with filled buckets and water balloons, which was the best possible deterrent against the sizzling siesta time heat. After spending all our energies in this battle, we would come home hungry to clear out the pantry of whatever we found.
When I entered my house, it was completely full. The living room, dining room, workplace and study were all full of young people queueing for my mother. She was a true master of the art of sewing, taking his or her measurements to put together the most intricate outfits. These were worn by those funny people to play strong and beautiful instruments in their respective orchestras, since their so-called "Comparsas" would march down the main avenues main to accompany the hundreds of dancers who offer a magnificent parade every night until Fat Tuesday, just before Ash Wednesday.
Every night, the city would almost divide itself in two, in order to cheer on their favourite Marching Band and the accompanying dancers. Everyone was completely oblivious to social differences, political ideology or the state of the ever looming bad economy, that has marred Argentina now for so many decades. It was a feast for all, where the demons of the reality of every hard day, were forgotten. The sting in everyone’s flesh numbed, for the moment. Once Lent began, the shiny dresses, the elaborate feather costumes, the exaggerated high heels, the tambourines, the trombones, trumpets, and all instruments of so much fun music would be put away ...until next year, since all would embark on a journey of purification for sins.
Interestingly enough, for some years, that beautiful custom was archived in some unknown place to remain only alive in our memory. Fortunately, a few years ago, the custom was revived, by those who could no longer refrain from the joy. Everyone’s patrimony, lovers of music, fun and contagious happiness, were found in an overlooked trunk, the memory of our Mardi Grass custom. And so, the city once more, filled itself with the longing to bring us all together as of old.
Those siesta battles are not as common anymore, water is now a costly commodity that everyone makes sure nobody wastes. But the dancers and their bands go marching down the same big long avenue in style as ever before. Paradise is waiting for us all, and we know that sooner or later, we will make it there. However, we also know that once there, no flashy custom will be able to hide our sinful nature.
From Purgatory… you sincere friend Pacho Coulchinsky
