The Holiday Spirit: sugared squash, sparklers, and away on a flaming manger

“Here in Nicaragua, the month of December belongs to the Virgin Mary,” to borrow the phrase of a friend and fellow volunteer. Riiteños celebrate Christmas with fervor. With the bean harvest having just ended, people have the leisure time—and in some cases, the disposable income—to get wrapped up in the holidays.

Squash abounds this time of year, and the traditional way to prepare it, in the spirit of the holiday, is doused in brown sugar and cooked for hours over the fire. It’s cooked so long and with so much sugar, that the squash almost becomes candied. The first piece of the day is delicious. In an average December day, however, I must politely decline the next six servings of “ayote en miel” (squash in honey) that I am offered. (Sometimes they also prepare sweet potato this way.) Today in Managua, the nation's capital, I saw a large colorful banner for a Christmas Foods Festival occurring this Saturday the 22nd, complete with a contest for Nicaragua's largest ayote—to be sliced and cooked in miel. (New York State Fair's largest this-or-that produce item contest came to mind. Which farmer harvested the most giant watermelon this year? And what is the prize, anyway? It would be interesting to know what the prize will be to the grower of Nicaragua's largest squash.) 

December 7^th or 8th marks the first Purisima—a gathering at someone’s home to which all community members are invited. The gathering is Nicaraguan's way of honoring the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, and an expression of their popular Catholicism, of which prayers and celebrations held in homes, rather than the church, are a central feature. They continue throughout the month of December. My family traditionally hosts the community's first and most important purisima, which I just experienced for the second and final time. 

Preparations begin weeks in advance, and intensify two days prior. Of primary importance is the altar: a statue of the Virgin Mary is at center, and flowers, ferns, and other religious items and imagery adorn in every direction. Blinking christmas lights are strewn around a small, artificial pine tree, and on the altar itself: Behold, television stand transformed. 

Women and even the men bustle around the oven and kitchen—baking, cooking and candying squash, and crafting homemade candies. The assorted candies are colorful, fun, and quite good when fresh. The buttery texture of cajetas, made of milk and sugar, are balanced by sand-papery gofios made of corn meal and brown sugar, and the airy crunch of huevos chimbos—a brown sugar candy bathed in pastel-colored meringue. Grated papaya, chunks of coconut, toasted sesame, and peanuts are other star ingredients of these Christmas candies. 

The morning of, the family sits around the kitchen and porch, stuffing 200 bags full of the goods they've baked, cooked, and purchased. The youngest child is sent to run around to the community's roughly 80 households, to announce and invite people to the afternoon's event.

Around 5 p.m., people arrive and find a seat in front of the altar. Chatter subsides at the hosts initiate the prayer, La Novena. A few booklets circulate, but most people know the whole thing by heart. I, unaware of the words and largely uninterested in praying myself, observe the faces and listen to the sounds. Communal prayer is a neat thing to hear, and as a non-church goer, I rarely hear it. The spoken prayer is followed by a cheerful set of songs. From here, the prayer evolves into a beautiful flurry of movement, light, sound, and laughter. As the songs begin, the hosts pass out sparklers to the first row of guests, light them, and then the lighting of the sparklers dominoes across the crowd. The sun having set, the crowd of lit sparklers is a captivating sight and sound, the dull buzzing of the burning as some continue to sing, while others laugh and just observe. 

Prayers having been offered to the Virgin Mary, gift offerings to community members follow. While hosts make gift offerings to neighbors, participants repeat the classic refrain of the purisima: “Quien causa tanta alegria?” (Who causes so much happiness?) The Virgin Mary! Guests receive the gift bags, full of the homemade and other candies, cookies, and a piece of sugared squash; as well as an orange; a banana; a piece of sugar cane; and a traditional corn-based drink sosolca. Plastics containers are also gifted, many of which are decorated with the above refrain, and with images of the Virgin Mary.
                                                                  •

Christmas Eve is the biggest party of the year. Families gather to cook, eat, drink, and pray. It's the only celebration I've yet observed in which it is socially acceptable for women to drink; this facet of social ease and gender equality makes it my favorite holiday. A few houses set up nativity scenes, and as midnight approaches, community members head to the nativity scenes to symbolically witness the birth of Christ. The baby Jesus lays in the manger, covered with banana leaves, paper, or a blanket. Midnight strikes and then...the covering is removed! Fireworks explode! Jesus is born! 

Last year, the firework was shot too closely to the manger, and the baby Jesus caught on fire. People found themselves screaming “fuego!” (fire!), "agua!" (water!), and swatting at the manger, before they could even exclaim praise to the newly born baby Jesus. People here love Jesus, but are also light hearted and have a sense of humor. We are still laughing about the flaming manger, one year later. 

                                                                  •

As intensely Catholic as Riiteños are, I manage to get through the holiday season without much fuss over my lack of religion. Usually I can satisfy someone's troubled curiosity by explaining that I was baptized Catholic (which is true). I sometimes cringe at the oversimplification over a matter I consider deeply important, as entwined as it is with worldview. But I have found that this route is simply easier, and keeps things lighter.        

Purisimas will dot the coming weeks. People continue to bustle, preparing foods and simple gifts, in a true spirit of generosity, giving, and sharing. Whether in the kitchen, by the oven, or at a purisima, I feel the spirit of the holiday in this sort of raw way that always seems to get lost in the mad rush of consumption that cripples Christmas in the United States. For this distance from materialism, I am grateful. So, the simplicity of this life has a dual character. And when I'm in my best mind, I focus on the liberating, rather than the constraining, aspects of this simplicity—to enjoy and embrace it while I can.