Photos: Amaurys Betancourt
The clues are unquestionable: it’s the third day of May, and a caravan of cars, horse-drawn carriages and bicycles goes by, with fluttering flags from dozens of countries.
“The Romerías are here,” a neighbor says. Her porch looks out on the Avendia de los Libertadores, the main thoroughfare for the morning parade. It begins at the monument to Che Guevara, passes through Calixto García Park — where the opening event will take place — and ends at the top of Loma de la Cruz, the hill which the crowd climbs carrying a giant replica of the Hacha de Holguín.
The indigenous Hacha (“axe”) is a primitive element of regional culture. In the 1990s, when young people returned to this tradition, one of their advisors was José Manuel Guarch, a seasoned archeologist who functioned as a link between two eras.
Those who carry the Hacha up the hill’s steps, which lead to a spot close to a wooden cross, probably are not familiar with this story. However, at some point, most of them have read the illustrative phrase: “Because there is no today without yesterday.” It is the slogan of the Romerías, and it also sums up the purpose of these festivities: to bring together the past, the present and the future in a single moment.
The neighbor also may have seen what looks like a human caterpillar climbing the Loma de la Cruz with the Hacha held aloft. From atop the hill, almost all of the surrounding homes can be seen. Everyone who lives in those homes knows about the Romerías de Mayo. First, because the ruckus made by so many artists spills out of the museums and galleries, filling the streets. Second, because the locals anticipate this date to leave their routines behind.
One day you may see a group of artists in front of the Museum of Natural Sciences. It is in a neoclassical-style building, with stone steps and lions outside that distinguish it in the community. Inside, it holds a stuffed manatee, a fossil that is thousands of years old and an excellent collection of snails known as polymites. However, the most attractive part of the Romerías is what happens in the museum’s hallway: Bolivian dancers, Galician bagpipe-players, Cuban children…all enjoying themselves under the brilliant summer sun.
Strange things happen during the Romerías de Mayo. The name has become a symbol associated with boisterous creativity, the exchange between artists and their public, theoretical reflection, freedom and surprises. As the week runs its course, completely unexpected events happen in people’s lives: stories of falling in and out of love, discoveries of popular celebrities. Lots of amazement.
“I got home late because I stopped to watch a theater group,” a friend says. He was on his way home after work and came across a street theater ensemble. It was a play about turtles complaining about pollution. It was a story for children, but my friend watched it to the end, even though a group of Colombians close by was recreating a medieval scene.
Of all the moments in the Romerías, nothing is as rapturous as closing night. Areas near the city’s tallest buildings become filled with curious onlookers. Complete families camp out, and vendors set up tables and kiosks for food and beverage sales. The crowd is a mix of everything: researchers, students, the winner of the National History Prize, graffiti painters. The musicians play. People sing in different languages and then dance after applauding the fireworks that light up the sky. The next day dawns and they are still dancing. The clear, star-filled sky is like an umbrella over their heads.
