I Know Why the Andalusians Cry

For the first part of Semana Santa (Holy Week/spring break), my friend came all the way from the USofA. So for a typical Spanish experience, we went south to Andalucía.  Basically, Andalucía is the idea that most Americans have of Spain: flamenco, siesta, sol. I'd never been, but their stereotypes are known throughout Spain. Here Andalusians have the stereotype of being overly emotional, a bit lazy and maybe less educated/caught up in traditions rather than moving forward. Obviously stereotypes aren't always accurate, but they can give insight when generalizing a large population. And factually, the Autonomous Community of Andalucía has one of the highest youth unemployment rates. Spain as a whole has one of the highest in Europe, so it's all around bad news.

Girl collecting wax

In the foreground, taking a break and gazing
upon the float he just carried.

For Semana Santa, Andalucía is known for their daily processions with giant floats of Jesus or Mary. Some of my Spanish (well, Galician) friends joked at the fact that during the processions the Andalucíans would cry, or hold their babies up in the crowd to touch the float. But after witnessing it for ourselves, I can understand their emotion. First in the procession come the hooded fraternity members with walking-stick length candles. Some go barefoot. In Córdoba we noticed children with multi-colored balls, and then noticed them scurrying between the halted fraternity members collecting wax drippings. Some kids had wax balls as big as their heads! After the hooded candle carriers comes altar boys with a lot of incense. By this time you can hear the shrill music of the brass marching band. After the altar boys is the giant float, carried by perhaps a dozen men. Once it's in view, a hush falls over the crowd. Before the float passes, you can usually see a few sweaty guys in sleeveless shirts and the hat with neck protection walking ahead to witness the float. These men recently rotated out from beneath the float and are taking a breather. It takes about four people to direct the float, since the men underneath it are covered by a wooden border with holes designed just to breathe. So the directors yell out "Right! Left in the back!" We saw one parade from a pretty narrow street, and there wasn't much room for error between the row of viewers on our side and the opposite side. That's a lot of pressure. For one float in particular they called out "No one leaves! No one stops!" to encourage the men carrying. Then the guy next to me spoke into the breathing holes, "Lift it with all your heart!" Also we've been told that some flagellate before they go to carry. Yikes. When the floats pass by, most people touch them with a kiss of the hand or sign of the cross. And as a float of the crucifixion passed by, from a window up above children reached out trying to touch it. After the float comes the band, and then it repeats several times. Each parade has at least 3 fraternities each with their own float, band, and hooded marchers, so they got awfully long. At first I was annoyed by the people who walked along between the procession, but then after 2 hours we, too, decided to vacate and had to try to sneak through without being too disruptive.

In conclusion, thanks to this extremely sensory and touching experience, I know why the Andalusians cry during Semana Santa processions.