Easter in Pucará

Easter has come and gone... and along with it the humid breeze of summer. Saturday we experienced a cold front that required all of gloves, hats, scarves, and té con té (tea with liquor shots in them.) As cambas were arriving in their detailed four-wheel drive vehicles to visit their pariente Pucareños, everyone was wondering whether there would be a fiesta the next day because of the weather. Women huddled by their adobe ovens as bread was made by the kilo and men just decided to begin drinking in anticipation.
Mass was at 3:30 a.m., meant to be celebrated so that we would finish as the sun was rising. I was asked to be the godmother of a five-year old, Alejandra, who lives here with her grandparents. Her parents live in Santa Cruz and have another daughter, but thought raising two was too much, and therefore was sent back here. She is a rather wild child, speaking her mind, hitting girls and boys alike when she doesn’t get her way, and practicing to be a tomboy. But in return she has a wonderful, caring spirit, and I was honored to stand next to her that chilly morning. After the main ceremony was over, about 15 children, mostly babies, gathered around the altar in their white gowns and Father Carlos anointed each of them; we lit our candles together, everyone hesitant to blow them out in hopes of raising the temperature of the church a degree or two. I went to have cafecito at Doña Miriam´s house (Alejandra´s grandmother), and the Nescafé and fresh bread were a welcome treat.
Sunrise was beautiful as I was walking back to my house along the cobblestone street. It looked like all the prayers and good wishes for a sunny Easter had been fulfilled. Women were selling salteñas in the morning, and children were dancing near Prof. Cesar as he played his accordion. I sat with Doña Laura, one of my good friends, outside her store, both like little cats soaking up the mid-morning rays of sun. She wanted to “dar la vuelta” in the plaza, so we did. On the church side of the plaza, I could see women still kneeing in the church, praying. On another the vaqueros were finishing off their ambrosia; stumbling to untie their cows and to bring them back to the fields. On yet another, children were playing soccer with a deflated ball, staying away from the main drinking holes. Women were gathered around the lonely telephone, waiting to call family in Vallegrande or Santa Cruz. The phone hadn’t worked in two days due to the cold, so the line was long and older ladies growing impatient. I could hear teenagers whisper and mock me as I walked linking arms with Doña Laura. Usually you go around the plaza with your cortejo (boyfriend), and of course, my lack of boyfriend in this town makes everyone gossip that I hide him under my bed, or that I just have too high of standards for the pucareños.
In the afternoon, I showed Karate Kid III in the library, kids piling three to a chair, sitting on tables and on the floor. They had obviously tired of seeing their fathers drunk and wanted a new diversion. After the movie, a couple of the boys and I debated which was better, part I, II, or III not to mention which of them had the best karate kick. Before I knew it, the sun had set, and it was yet another holiday I would not see next year. I have to admit I would have done most anything for a brunch out on the patio in Virginia and Maman´s home-cooked meal. Then I realized that it probably wouldn’t have included morning salteñas, accordion music, or strolling through the plaza… so I went to bed completely satisfied on this beautiful, crisp, sunny day in Pucará.