Fiestas Patrias - Independence Day in Mexico

Festival Location: Mexico City, Mexico

Festival Type(s): National Festivals, Historical Festivals, Parties

Fiestas Patrias - Independence Day in Mexico Media:

Viva Mexico! Viva!

by © Bob Brooke 2009

It's September 15, but it looks more like Christmas on the Paseo de Reforma, all decked out in red, green and white banners and flags as Mexico City readies itself for Fiestas Patrias, Independence Day, the biggest fiesta of the year. Fountains on the glorieta islands pour out green water. And electric torches and portraits of Father Hidaglo, José Maria Morelos y Pavón, and Don Miguel Allende, created from tiny lights, look like glittering jewels at twilight. There's a strong sense of patriotism as celebratory activities move into high gear.

The city seems alive with people - more so than normal. Naval and arm cadets, in town for the big parade tomorrow, stroll leisurely towards the Zocalo, the city's main square and site of the festivities that will get underway later tonight.

A flag merchant stands on almost every street corner, selling all sizes of Mexican flags. The Zocalo, once a vast square rimmed by colonial buildings and the rumble of vehicles, slowly fills with fake fountains, stages and huge screens so the crowd can watch the festivities close up from remote TV cameras.

Preparations began early on the 15th of September as vendors line side streets leading into the Zocalo. Police have barricaded the 20 de Novembre Street, creating a pedestrian gauntlet lined with vendors for over six blocks. Everything is being sold here-from round flat loaves of bread made in Tlaxcala and decorated with "Viva Mexico" to roasted ears of corn to large straw sombreros decorated for the holiday to chicharrones (pork rinds), as well as toys of all kinds, flowers, candy, all sorts of fruit and sugarcane drinks and, of course, the ever-present flags.

Families stroll along enjoying the festivities. Children get their faces painted with a miniature Mexican flag some wear red white and green headbands. Two little girls sport tiny hats with a Mexican flag sticking out.

At the bottom of 20 de Novembre Street where it enters the Zocalo, people continue to pour into the square. Even at 7:30, the square is nearly half full. Confetti covers the pavement as children throw egg shells full of it at each other-and everyone else.

As I make my way out into the Plaza, streams of sticky pink goo shoot out of aerosol cans, creating streamers. Children and adults wear plastic masks to prevent facial injury from flying objects and shaving cream. Huge lighted banners and ribbons, featuring the national eagle symbol in red, white, green and yellow, plaster the buildings lining the giant square. Huge lighted portraits of Hidalgo, Morelos, and Allende grace the corners and a larger-than-life Mexican flag flies from the staff in its center. Flood lights from the cathedral and National Palace bathe the gathering crowd as dusk settles over the city. Cheering, mariachi music, and the cries of hawkers blend into a cacophony of sounds that boost the spirits and the enlightened the souls of the celebrators. The air in the square seems charged with enough electric energy to last through the holiday.

Families of all sizes-from the very young to teens wearing Nike high tops and headbands, mothers with babies, old men in straw hats and women wrapped in rebozos present a cross section of Mexican life.

At 11 P.M., the President of Mexico repeats the Grito de Dolores (the Shout of Dolores) on the balcony of the National Palace. He repeats the call to arms first spoken by Father Hidalgo in the town of Dolores Hidalgo. But the biggest thrill comes at the end when he yells "Viva Mexico," followed by the roar of "Viva!" from nearly a million-strong. The sound waves seemed to rock the very earth beneath my feet. Afterwards, fireworks, to the accompaniment of Mexican music, light up the sky above the Zocalo.

The next morning after a ceremony at the angel monument, a four-hour long parade of soldiers, athletes, horsemen, fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, makes its way up the Paseo de Reforma from the Zocalo to Chapultepec Park in Mexico City.

One of the first groups to march, following an arrow-shaped contingent of mounted motorcycle police, is a group from Puebla wearing sandals and straw hats and caring machetes. Representing the compesinos who rose up under Father hidalgo with crude farm implements to fight Maximilian's troops, they march proudly behind their banner.

I make my way through the crowd to a vantage point on the monument to Cuahtemoc near the Zona Rosa. A older gentleman, named Antonio, helps me up onto the monument so that I can get a better view.

"It wasn't long ago that I was marching in that parade," he says. "We were all so proud. Everyone wore their best clothes. I can remember how my father made sure that my sombrero was on straight. I pretended that I was a wealthy haciendado riding my horse up the Reforma before there were automobiles. Is this your first parade?"

"Yes," I reply.

"Look over there," he says, as he points to a woman selling wooden boxes. "Do you see those boxes? They are renting them to stand on so that they can see the parade."

As Antonio points out the crates, I notice young men standing on the roof of a bus stop, a family of five is lying on blankets on the roof of their father's taxi, a young boy is sitting on his brother's shoulders.

I say goodbye to Antonio and move on up toward Chapultepec Park. The air hangs heavy with the pungent smell of oil and roasted corn. All sorts of vendors line the Reforma. Young Indian women sell food at make-shift stands - tortas, chicarrones, tostados. Older women sell egg shells filled with confetti. Boys sell games and toys. Men sell nuts of all kinds, and dates filled with nuts. Some give away little bags of peanuts to parade watchers.

A little girl of about six, her face all sticky with pink fuzz, looks out from behind the biggest ball of cotton candy she can find. Another, smiling from ear to ear, has just taken a big bite of a mango on a stick.

Everything is for sale--hot dogs, fresh fruit, mezcal, mounds and mounds of watermelon, tiny grilled tortillas, cucumbers. But the most unusual items are handwoven palm-frond hats that passersby purchase to protect them from the hundreds of rockets that constantly explode overhead.

Though the people, themselves, are quiet, there's a raucous symphony of horns blowing. Bands play patriotic songs and marching groups sing along. I feel even more stirred inside than last night at the Zocalo. It's Mexican life multiplied one hundred fold. A rainbow of color, a sea of humanity as far as I can see in all directions.

As the parade makes its way to Chapultepec Park, the crowd meanders along and I follow. This is possibly the biggest fiesta in Mexico. Families sit in circles on the grass munching on fruit and roasted corn. The ninos play with the pinwheels on each other's heads. A young couple nestle in a loving embrace.

I stop to smile at a young boy having his picture taken. He sits astride a pony and wears a sombrero so big it makes his ears stick out at right angles to his head. For a moment, I remember when I was a kid and the photographer with his pony used to come to my house to take my picture in my cowboy outfit.

Indian women sit on the grass patting tortillas, their babies sound asleep on blankets, oblivious to all the excitement around them.

Just as along the parade route, vendors offer a variety of items for sale. But unlike those along the Reforma, there are finely crafted pieces from all over the country. A young boy purchases a little bird in a basket. The man selling it has others in cages.

Independence Day is for children. Mimes entertain starry-eyed youngsters. An organ grinder cranks out a tune on his ornate box as his monkey dances to the delight of laughing tots.

A young girl of fifteen, named Dolores, comes up to me and hands me a small gaily painted box. "This is for you," she says. "We are so glad that you've come to spend Independence Day with us. I want you to have this to remember it by."

Check out Bob Brooke's wonderful sites featuring more of his writing and phootography at http://www.bobbrooke.com, http://www.therealmexico.com and http://www.allscandinavia.com. All three are updated regularly.

by Bob Brooke

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