Teenage Kicks: El Dia de los Muertos
November 01, 2014
Today on Teenage Kicks, I'm celebrating el día de los muertos — the Day of the Dead — by playing, well, the people who died. From Lou Reed to Kirsty Maccoll to Kurt Cobain, I'll honor rock's fallen heroes.
Why would anyone celebrate Day of the Dead? To someone unfamiliar, it might seem like a morbid undertaking (no pun intended). Here in the States, a lot of marketing tends to conflate Day of the Dead with Halloween. Contrary to popular belief, Day of the Dead is not the "Mexican Halloween." (Pro Tip: if you're not Latino/a, you may wish to rethink that sexy Day of the Dead La Catrina costume. La who? Exactly!)
Day of the Dead is a classic example of what's called "religious syncretism." That's a fancy phrase that basically refers to a practice that's a combo of two or more religions. Catholicism in Mexico is chock-full of syncretic stuff. When Spaniard Hernán Cortéz and his posse showed up in 1519, there were already a number of thriving civilizations in Mexico and Latin America (and North America, too — let's not forget them! AGAIN.) With the fall of the Aztec empire, Christianity was imposed as the national religion, but a lot of the indigenous practices got absorbed into the new religion. Day of the Dead has its origins in an Aztec festival that celebrated the goddess Mictecacihuatl, who presided over the underworld and cared for the dead. But it's celebrated on the same dates as the Christian All Saints Day and All Souls Day (November 1 and 2) and, for many, the Day of the Dead includes a healthy dose of Catholic ritual.
Day of the Dead is frequently celebrated by the building of ofrendas — altars constructed to honor and remember those we've lost. If some of the trappings of Day of the Dead seem lighthearted or silly — sugar skulls, dancing skeleton figures — that's intentional! While the occasion is loving and reverent, it's also a little irreverent (don't get me started on Pre-Columbian culture and dualities, unless you've got a few hours to spare and lots of beer). The deceased are remembered fondly, and their spirits are welcomed into the home for a reunion of sorts. A family might set an extra place at the table for a deceased member; some will gather in the cemetery and sing to their lost loved ones.
If this is intriguing to you, you might consider making your own ofrenda. Set up a small table with a photo of your lost loved one. Include a candle or two, plus some of their favorite things. (An ofrenda which I made for my late father included his favorite vodka and a pack of his brand of cigarettes.) Decorate it with flowers (marigolds are traditional, but any will do) or anything that will make it inviting to the deceased. Gather with friends around it and tell some fun stories of your loved one's life, and raise a toast to them. Building an ofrenda can be a very therapeutic activity.
Another way to participate? Check out some of the events happening around town tonight, via a nice list pulled together by our pals at City Pages. One of my favorites: the annual procession starting at El Colegio Charter School in Minneapolis.
