Pinata Man
I was trying to think of the year when this happened and I figured it out because the baby was maybe a year old then. We had driven down from El Paso and crossed the Eastern Sierras on some very sketchy roads to spend Christmas or Navidad at our home in central Veracruz on the Gulf Coast.
For some reason I have always enjoyed Navidad in Mexico; it's definitely not as commercial at least among the limited income people we knew. We lived on a farm. Gift giving was usually left for the sixth of January or Day of the Wise Men so there wasn't a lot of gifts anyway...
What I enjoyed were the Posadas or Rest Stops the Magi took to find baby Jesus. On each night of the twelve days of Christmas someone would have a party. These were fun affairs with maybe some tamales and atole or corn drink. Everyone was in a festive mood and of course there was the ubiquitous pinata; a must for every posada.
It is perhaps not so easy for foreigners to understand just what a pinata does but very often it is the highlight of the party. The pinata is strung up by rope on a pole or tree and the rope is pulled by someone while the blindfolded participant swings wildly with a stick and the crowd jeers. Everyone likes this merriment and the pinata always draws a large crowd.
On this particular night we were going to an ejido or communal farm for a Posada, the three of us in our VW. As I approached the center of the ejido I realized this was not the small Posada we thought we were attending; the whole community was out in masse for this one.
I turned off the lights and parked. We got out and were sitting on the hood watching the fun; there were maybe four hundred people there. One after the other, adult and child, took their turn at the pinata while the onlookers hooted. The mood was festive and the cool Veracruz air made it quite a night...
As we watched two men took the stick and began to walk toward us. My heart sank, oh my god...and they kept coming walking through the crowds as the onlookers stepped aside. They came right up to me and handed me the stick. My turn. My turn to make a fool out of myself and have everyone laugh at me.
Of course I stood out; I look like a German. Everyone else around me including my wife was mestizo and Indian. Time to have some fun with the Gringo...
I knew I had to take it. It was a matter of being a part of the community; we knew a lot of people there and my wife had some relatives too...so it was a choice of being a fool or a poor sport. I knew the poor sport was not in my behavioral repetoire in Mexico so I took it. They escorted me to pinata, blindfolded me and spun me around several times so I would lose my bearings.
They would tease me by allowing me to touch the pinata with my stick but they were not going to let me hit it. That was OK. I had to show I was making an effort or the fun would be dampened. So I swung wildly and floundered and the crowd roared. Finally it was over and they stopped me and took off the blindfold. All were laughing and nodding approvingly and I felt the mission was accomplished.
These are the people that 'adopted' me as a teenager when I drove a motorcycle to Mexico. They were my friends, family and community. And if they realize I'm a good sport and they get a few laughs that's fine...I don't mind and I bet my wife was laughing too.
I accepted the culture and it in turn accepted me. For that I am eternally grateful...and watch out for the pinatas...
Jack D. Deal
