Well October se me fue as well. Months around here, they're awfully slippery...
Here in Panama we just passed through a marathon three days off from school to celebrate the fiestas patrias, or Patriot Days. November 2-4 and the following weekend was a great big mash of processions, bands, and parades and the following Monday was spent re-orienting ourselves and the students at work.
You might wonder how I put up with so many festivals. I never liked watching parades. Sitting on the sidewalk as floats and people crawl by just isn't for me. I'm restless like that. Unfortunately there aren’t many parades in the United States (that I’ve been to, correct me if I’m wrong) where you just get to jump in and join the fun. Lucky for me, here I get to do just that.
Civic parades in Panama are similar to those parades we have in the US--the sit and watch people march kind. However, a folkloric parade is something completely different. I remember the first folkloric parade I saw. Decorated oxen-pulled carts crawl down the street. The carts are made up to look like scenes from old Panama: the mud house, rice and corn shucking tools, leather sandal making shops, tile roofs. Atop the cart is usually either a queen or a group of people dressed in the folkloric style and waving at the crowd. Following behind is a rowdy band of people singing, clapping, dancing, and jumping. I remember thinking: I want to be there.
Behold the tuna (yes, like the fish): the group of people behind a parade float or cart (depending on whether it’s a regular or folkloric parade) in charge of showing the people watching the parade how sweet it is to belong to said party. The essentials for a tuna: a few small typical drums (if it’s a folkloric parade), enough alcohol to kill any throat bacteria that would prevent you from shouting tamborito (a call-and-response song), and ample stamina to dance your way through the whole parade. In other words, as a part of a tuna, you have one job: dance and get happy. Make people jealous.
I’ve been in several tunas since moving to Macaracas: the first time for the foundation celebration in my town and several others for the folkloric festivals in a nearby town in the neighboring province, including two during these past holidays. Every time people are surprised to see me dancing behind the wagon instead sitting quietly and watching the parade. But why watch? I’m learning here, too, I tell them. I like to refer to the chorus of a tamborito that I like singing:
Life is short (La vida es breve)
That’s the truth (Eso es verdad)
The years pass by and they never come back (Que los años pasan y esos si no vuelven mas)
Who am I kidding? Words can't explain this (a scene from the fiestas patrias):
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