Michael Coy
HARVEST festivals are as old as time – but the communities of Andalucía do harvest festival in their own special way.
First of all, in southern Spain, it’s very much a spring celebration, rather than the English autumn version.
Flowers are in bloom, lambs are being born. Andaluzes are rejoicing in the return of the warm weather and the earth’s fertility, and in addition, Spring is traditionally the seaon of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
You may say – and you’d be right – that this all seems a little pagan.
For thousands of years, village communities have walked in procession into the countryside, to pay respect to places that held importance for them. Ancient Britons used to throw small carvings into wells.
Maybe a spring which provided villagers with fresh, clean water needed ‘thanking’, or the place where Paco fell out of a tree but was unharmed should be honoured, or a cave where a god once appeared to Maria’s mother must not be forgotten.
When Christianity came, it kind of ‘adopted’ these old customs, and incorporated them into its own rituals.
Indeed, the holiest thing a non-priest could do, back in the Middle Ages, was to go on a pilgrimage to Rome.
Since people had very little leisure time, it was an impossible dream for most of them, but the few who made it – they had to beg for food along the way – became known as ‘romeros’: and that’s why this local pilgrimage is called a romería.
It once had heavy religious significance, but over the years it has morphed into a sort of mobile party. It’s really a picnic, in costume.
Perhaps a brief mention of the Brotherhoods is appropriate here.
When Freemasonry first appeared in Europe in the early 1600s, it quickly became associated with the Protestant, Reformed version of Christianity.
Consequently, various Popes have banned it.
The Catholic world has evolved its own masonic-style societies, called cofradías.
It is these ‘brotherhoods’ (also known as hermandades) who organise the Holy Week processions – and the romerías.
Everyone gathers early in the morning, and the procession sets off.
There are certain songs that have to be sung, and you can be sure that guitars and tambourines will be in evidence. Oh, and lashings of wine.
At the holy place, everyone stops to eat (and drink).
The bigger, more elaborate romerías have a train of ornate caravans, and people park up and stay overnight. In such a case, there will be bonfires, dancing – and, of course, more wine.
Then the procession heads home.
Though everything is nominally under Church control, everyone is free to have fun, and no restrictions are imposed.
One is reminded of those lines of Hilaire Belloc: “Where the Catholic sun doth shine, there’s joy and laughter, and good red wine.”
Men tend to wear the broad-brimmed flat sombrero cordobés hat, and a lot of women put on their flamenco dresses.
It’s considered good form to carry a wooden staff.
The ‘heart’ of the procession is a small statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary, always carried reverently and always bedecked in flowers.
She should have her own oxcart, but in our modern prosaic age a tractor often does the heavy lifting.
One Málaga Brotherhood, Matríz de Almonte, has been told by the bishop NOT to carry its banners into the countryside on 26 April.
These banners, known as “simpecados”, (free from sin), form part of the Holy Week rituals, and should not leave town.
Naughty brothers!
READ MORE:
- LIFE IN SPAIN: Bar-hopping during holy week
- LIFE IN SPAIN: Michael Coy takes a look at the country’s gambling habits
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