Last Sunday I went to a town near Toluca called Calimaya. It was the Sunday marking the date of the third anniversary of the death of Mau’s maternal grandmother and all of the family met up to go to mass and to visit her grave. Mau and Sergio and I took off around 9:30 that morning and arrived a bit late to the mass. This was no big deal, however because we barely beat his parents who arrived late because they had to pick up flowers on the way. The church, in session for a regular Sunday mass, was packed so much that there were people standing in the entrance. We would have had to arrive an hour early to get seats.
Mau and some of his cousins and I hung out outside while the mass finished. I found myself fascinated by the tower of paper dolls men were setting up outside. It was about 30 feet tall and consisted of 6 square platforms where the paper dolls stood. It was very colorful and had wires coming down with toys attached. The wire was filled with gunpowder. They lit the structure and little by little the dolls spun around and then exploded, much to my surprise. This was my reaction, “Aww, look at those cute colorful dolls. Oh, and now it’s dancing. Kabloom! Geeze, how terrible! Those poor little dolls, each one having to meet its death in a fiery explosion.” The good thing about this exploding doll tower, similar to what they call a “torito,” is that it does serve a beneficial purpose: when the wires are lit, they release toys that fall to the ground for children to collect. The higher the toys, the better they get. At the bottom there were little plastic pales and water guns and at the top there were soccer balls. The kids weren’t held back by their parents since they had to vie for the toys. Fortunately this gun powder-filled structure ignited gradually and as planned, but I cringe at the thought of the accidents that have occurred with the “torito.”
The Church in Calimaya, Estado de Mexico
A torito in Calimaya
After mass finished I met the members of Mau’s mom’s family. We then headed to the cemetery where we prepared the grave with flowers for the prayer. The cemetery was like none I have ever seen. It was indicative of aspects of Latin America but also of a region so close to Mexico City. Here in Mexico one sees the stark differences between the upper and lower class on a daily basis. I work in one of the richest and newly developed areas of the city but on the way you pass by the hills of the Mexico City shantytowns. On the way home form work on a street called Palmas, I stand in the $.20 bus along with construction workers, painters, and cleaning women, while waiting in traffic alongside the BMWs and Audis of the people who live on Palmas and in Polanco.
In this cemetery, there were marble and stone mausoleums literally next to unmarked lumps of dirt. Some of the families of this town are so poor, that they apparently could not afford even a simple grave marker. The nice mausoleums aren’t at all indicative of the wealth of the town of Calimaya since there isn’t much. Instead, these little chapels are more indicative of the money families are willing to spend (presumably money that would be better spent on new tires for the family car, food, and medical supplies) for religious purposes. The jam-packed church and the number of families willing so spend hundreds of dollars on a mausoleum for their relatives shows the strong ties to religion held by the people of Calimaya.
Between the little chapels spread throughout the cemetery were plots with tile borders, plots marked with wooden crosses, and some areas simply marked with a long mound of dirt and some over-turned rusty tin cans. These cans are used to hold the flowers that families bring when they visit the grave on certain days such as the Day of the Dead. While not being used, they turn over the cans so they do not collect water. It is very sad to think that there are some families with so few resources that they cannot even afford glass vases or grave markers. Or, they can’t use nice vases at the risk of their being stolen. Finally, all of the plots, throughout the entire cemetery, were packed one after another so there was hardly any space to walk between them. I imagine that all cemeteries near and in Mexico City are equally full as there are just so many people here.
One thing I got to thinking about as I looked at the plots practically one on top of another, was the option of cremation. Why, if people can’t even afford what I and many others would consider a proper burial site, don’t people use cremation. This brings up interesting religious and economic questions. First, although the Roman Catholic Church no longer officially bans cremation, it is highly discouraged and therefore cremation is definitely not an option for the people of Calimaya. Also, there are economic implications when it comes to cremation in Mexico. Since cremation is religiously (and culturally as a result) not common, simple economic reasons explain that unlike in more secular nations, it isn’t a cheaper alternative to the traditional burial practice. At one of the fancy funeral homes here in Mexico City, it costs about $3,000 US dollars when in the States, in Phoenix for example, a cremation service costs a little over $500. It’s simple supply and demand.
After briefly holding a prayer for Mau’s grandmother, we headed to the house where she used to live in Calimya. Aunts and uncles brought food and we feasted on chicken and molé, carnitas, chicharrón, grilled chicken and potatoes, and tinga de carne molida. This happed to be the Sunday of the European Soccer Cup finals and fortunately one of Mau’s cousins brought a TV to hook up to watch the game. So, instead of the meal being a solemn time to remember loved ones, we watched soccer. Spain beat Germany in a much deserved victory.
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