Merry Christmas

I hope everyone had a good Christmas and is not boring or working himself to death over the break. I have a fan club. That is all.

Happy Advent

Contrary to popular belief, I have not moved to Satipo to grow coca and father dozens of half-breed children with a harem of jungle tribeswomen. I am still in San Luis de Cañete, super-civilized, awaiting Christmas the middle-class way. To everyone still at TAC, even the insipid ones (and you know who you are), merry Christmas. My family already knows I love them (I hope). It's summer here and I like it.

I'm back from Cusco. It's been a fine week, with travel, conversation, ruins, art, 24-hour bus rides, and even some real-life soap-drama. God bless. I'm going to a wake. Pray for the lady. This last bit has nothing to do with the foregoing.

I'm in

La Paz

Just in case anyone is wondering, and no one is (except my mother, God bless her), I am in the sort-of capital of Bolivia, in the rain, and something like happy. People speak with bad accents here, but are not unfriendly.

Oh, and Bolivia, a country without a seacost, has a navy. I think it's out of pure aestheticism, and I love it.

I'm in Puno . . .

by the shores of Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable body of water in the world. God willing, tomorrow I'll be in Bolivia.

El Señor de los Milagros

October is a very significant month for Peru. Known as the mes morado or violet month, lent was observed at this time until 1983. It is still a season of processions, above all the processions of El Señor de los Milagros, or Lord of Miracles. This devotion began with a crucifixion scene painted by an Anglolan slave on the wall of his hut. After an earthquake in the seventeenth century, the wall was nearly the only thing left standing in the area. Since then, the processions of the Lord of Miracles have taken place every October. In belated homage, I offer a selection from everyone's favorite Afro-Peruvian poet, Nicomedes Santa Cruz:

PASO A NUESTRO AMO Y SEÑOR18/10/1957
Paso a Nuestro Amo y Señor
andas, lienzo y candelabros.
Paso a Nuestro Salvador
el Señor de los Milagros.
La calle es un río humano
por cuyo cauce, la gente
muy acompasadamente
camina desde temprano.
“Avancen, avancen hermanos,
no estorben al cargador...”
grita el Capataz Mayor
que las cuadrillas comanda.
“Paso, que vienen las andas,
paso a Nuestro Amo y Señor...”

Por las calles se desborda
aquel torrente morado;
gimen los pies maltratados,
la Fe permanece sorda.
La multitud que lo aborda
da marco al rey de los cuadros:
Caídas y descalabros
en aquella mar mulata,
y cual velero de plata
andas, lienzo y candelabros.

Una señora morena
le ofrece todos sus hijos;
una ciega de ojos fijos
pídele Luz Nazarena;
azota una Magdalena
su vil cuerpo pecador.
Al paso del Redentor
doblan triste las campanas
“Avancen, avancen hermanas,
paso a Nuestro Salvador...”

Sobre el lienzo de Jesús
la tarde pinta una sombra.
Sobre las frentes se nombra
señal de la Santa Cruz...
Bajo un cirio –santa luz-
a Ti, Señor, me consagro,
y de tus perfiles magros
venga a nos tu Redención
que nunca negó perdón
el Señor de los Milagros.