Beyond any unpleasant experience with some gendarmes, Mexico is its people and its people are friendly, sympathetic, affectionate. While it is too early to talk about dear friends, is not to say that, after the introductions, you can find warm and friendly people willing to give a hand to advise where to buy, you walk through the labyrinthine streets of DF or simply , explain the best way to prepare some chiles rellenos.
Michelle and Luis are our neighbors. We live, "wall medium", in the same condo and are extremely cordial and friendly people. When we were invited to his house "to give the cry" (and do not think atrocities), I found a fascinating opportunity to witness how Mexicans celebrate their national holidays.
What marks September 15 is the beginning of the revolutionary process that started with the anti-Bonapartist movement led by the famous priest Hidalgo in the town of Dolores, when it alerted by the wife of the Corregidor, the famous conspirator Josefa Ortiz de DomÃnguez, hastened to implement the plans discovered seditious and in the mass of dawn on 16 September 1810, urged the people to take up arms with the cry "Viva la Virgen de Guadalupe!, down with bad government!, live Fernando VII! "(because that's" Viva Mexico!, repeated three times or the very famous "Death to the Spaniards!" were added later, as "Mexico" only so named after independence and the proclamation of independence was not a priest but contrary to the Napoleonic invasion of Spain). All this I found out surfing the Internet to not get completely uninformed of the meeting promised to be, Michelle told us, very exciting.
not mistaken. In the house would be half a dozen families and a dozen children from a few months and fourteen years, all residents of the same place. Puberal were there, making a mess impressive, coming and going, running, the boys playing football in the playground, the girls doing choreography with some songs I did not know. I was impressed see all the girls dressed in traditional costumes, some of "Chinese Puebla" others "Adelita" (the legendary hero of the Mexican Revolution).
The meeting was lively, one of those neighborhood meetings where everyone brings something, all carry over and there is food, beverages and alcohol for the next three weekends. The hours passed between the teenager sound of music and talks so loudly that we held between adults and revolving worthy of the date, between the political and historical themes, seasoned, of course, by gossip and the latest occurrences farandulesca within the condominium. After the "Snacks" of law (which here are called "snacks") heard the mellifluous song of siren Michelle announcing "pass at the table, the food is ready" and begin to taste a variety of Mexican dishes (a topic which I take care another time).
We were in full fatigues food when someone said "are now five to eleven" and, as if it were a military order, they all stood up and walked towards the TV that was in a sitting room where up to a minute ago fewer boys were boys do not know what channel that broadcast strident music videos. Changed to another which showed the transmission Live from "the base", the main square of Mexico City, crowded, colorful, full of light and Mexican flags and thousands of people huddled in front of the presidential palace.
All were awaiting the appearance of the president. The honor guard was on his quest, the president went to meet the military and, after the usual greetings, the commanding general of the Mexican army, he took the banner-wielding guard and walked steadily toward a balcony. In the room where we were was respectful silence around the TV we were all we had gone there and nobody, not the smaller, said nothing, staring enraptured how the president came out to meet people who overflowed the square.
He faced the audience and repeated the speech that is historically true or not-has been repeated by all Mexican presidents for decades. The speech that in every square of the republic is also released by the governors and mayors, the speech that is pronounced in embassies anywhere in the world and in any place where a group of Mexicans gather in the name of their homeland. Each of the three "Viva Mexico!" Campaign launched by President echoed in the room where I was, multiplied by all the shouting in unison, large and small. Band immediately began playing and the "Mexicans, at the cry of war" filled the room, there was the sound that came from the television speakers, no, it was Mexico's national anthem sung so loudly, proudly, for all I accompanied him there and, as "the roar of cannon," which is mentioned in the letter, the song washed over everything and it was all adults and children, invaded by a fervor that unfortunately never saw in my country, singing with the same enthusiasm, with the same enthusiasm, with the same love for their homeland. When the president, who only sang the first verse was removed in room where I heard my neighbors with excited surprise, all continued to sing the anthem with reverence and respect, with force and courage, without fear or shame. Only at the end, when it was time that the president had left the podium, someone gito "Viva Mexico!" Again and they all responded.
And nothing else, the night went like all but my eyes could no longer be the same. I was surprised and admired the fervor that saw not only in all the plazas of Mexico through television, but there live, where I was surrounded by ordinary people who, leaving aside their political differences, they felt that night and, above all things Mexican.
What is the boundary between the identity and fanaticism, where do you draw the line that separates those who are proud of who they are for those who kill because they think they are the only thing that can be? I do not know, just know that that night I witnessed a celebration of harmony, affection, love of country and respect for tradition, these ancient traditions, at the end of the day we are as members of a community.
Yes, maybe tomorrow we will all live proud to be sons of the soil and siblings of the same life-ephemeral but wonderful-that touches us, maybe tomorrow the borders are only bad memories and patriotic hymns are replaced by a great song that binds us together as members of the same human community, maybe. Meanwhile, in the midst of dark times, when solidarity has become a dirty word, see the love and pride Mexicans gathered around its history, has been an unforgettable experience.
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