Semana Santa

People in Mexico are beginning to understand the gravity of the Coronavirus outbreak.  Andrés Manuel López Obrador, Mexico’s president, has been reluctant to take a strong stand for fear it would hurt the country’s economy. This week he banned large events and non-essential government activities but didn’t provide details about what that would look like or how it would be enforced. 

Instead, AMLO launched a unique media campaign to motivate people to stay six-feet apart. The spokesperson, Susana Distancia, is a cartoon of a young, slim, white superhero wearing yellow tights and a pink blouse. She’s protected by a transparent bubble the width of her outstretched arms. Susana’s battle cry is “Quédate en casa,” or “stay home.” 

Susana has a lot of work ahead of her because next week is Semana Santa (Holy Week.)

Here is something nobody tells you: Semana Santa is a big deal. It is a bigger celebration than Carnavál. The population of Mazatlán doubles as people who live inland head to the coast.  Families come from far away to visit their relatives, party at the beach and fill every hotel room in the entire city.  This year Mazatlán’s mayor has ordered all hotels and beaches closed.

Stone Island, a peninsula across the bay from downtown Mazatlán, is an especially popular spot for visiting families. The beach stretches for miles. In past years, the beach was so crowded during Semana Santa that you couldn’t see the sand.

Although Semana Santa is the week before Easter, nothing about the week seems very holy. Only the old women are in church, earnestly praying for their wayward children. Their children, parents themselves now, are sitting in the sun, women in bikinis and men in shorts and tank tops, enjoying the beautiful warm weather.

I liked joining the Mexican families for the festivities. I liked watching the tourists ride the water taxies to Stone Island, carrying everything they might need for a day at the beach ~ mostly huge beach umbrellas to protect them from the sun and large coolers filled with Pacifico beer. One year I saw a father bring an plastic orange swimming pool so he could keep an eye on his water babies and not have to worry about them wandering into the ocean.

Beach vendors hustle to make money during Semana Santa. This man is selling balloons. All day long he walks up and down the beach, tempting children who are crazy with excitement. Along the way, he passes stands where people sell homemade candy, freshly gathered coconuts, gummy bears, pistachios, strawberries in whipped cream, cold sodas and fresh, hot tortillas. 

There are, of course, other beach vendors who walk the same route selling blouses and skirts, silver jewelry, carved wood statues, beautiful beaded rosaries, henna tattoos, hair-braiding, homemade doughnuts, and tiny turtles made from coconut shells. 

Semana Santa feels like the Minnesota State Fair, except there are almost no blond, blue-eyed people anywhere. Most of the Americans who live in Mazatlán stay home or leave town for the week. The beaches are too crowded for them. 

Maybe they are merely answering the prayers of the old women on their knees in church, praying that the gringos will stay away and let their families party in peace.