The Colors of Darkness...

There are several different topics I want to share with you and because I have pictures I want to include, I am going to break them out in to separate entries. This will help keep the blog “bite” more manageable if broken down in to subject increments instead of one giant blog entry with a scad of pictures attached.

I loved the way these pictures came out and I wanted you to see them. The day we went furniture shopping in the town of Masatepe, we happened upon this group of brightly dressed dancers walking to the little town pavilion where they were going to perform. We quickly turned around and found a place to park right in front of the pavilion. The majority of the crowd had walked there and many had already begun indulging in the local favorite beverage – Tona beer. I wasn’t sure how they would receive my request to take pictures but those who seemed to be in charge of organizing the event were quite pleased that a gringa wanted to take pictures of such a special event for Masatepe. This camera of mine has given me some amazing opportunities…

Evidently, each little town has its own patron saint and a special day, sometimes even a week, in which they honor him/her…unfortunately, we didn’t get the saint’s name. There are parades, festivities, dances and oftentimes, school is dismissed. The people believe that their town’s patron saint watches over them, intercedes with God and is responsible for blessing them.

The dances are the same ones that have been performed for years and years with many of the steps and motions rooted in their native Indian culture…Nicaraguans are a people who are rich in traditions and they cling tightly to them. This type of festivity contributes much to the joy of the casual “gringo” spectator and much to the spiritual darkness of the participants who adhere adamantly to this homage to a patron saint.

I loved the dances and all the facial expressions that accompanied each whirl and twirl. I loved the dancers’ costumes and the faithfulness in passing on the specifics of their traditions. I loved the gracefulness of the women, the pride of the men and the absolute adorableness of the children. I hate that they pray to a dead saint and they don’t know our resurrected Jesus. It was a good reminder of why we’re here. That day, darkness came clothed in vivid colors.