Mexicans celebrating the Day of the Dead wonder what it means to stick to tradition

MEXICO CITY — It’s midnight on the outskirts of Mexico, and the Pantheon of San Gregorio is not only alive, but thriving.

The roar of mariachi echoes over families decorating the graves of missing loved ones with rows of candles, orange cempasúchil flowers and their favorite treats, from pan de muerto to bottles of Coca-Cola.

Every year at this time, Mexico celebrates All Saints’ Day. On November 1, families gather in cemeteries across the country to reconnect with their dead, just as their ancestors have done for centuries.

For many others in such small communities, it is also about preserving the core of tradition, as celebrations in larger centers are increasingly characterized by mass tourism.

“We are maintaining our tradition, part of the heritage that my mother instilled in me,” said 58-year-old Antonio Meléndez. “We cannot allow this to be lost.”

Meléndez was among crowds of people gathered at a cemetery hidden in a maze of canals and brick buildings in Xochimilco, a neighborhood in southern Mexico that has long carried on traditions that have disappeared elsewhere in the country.

He and his two daughters gathered around his mother’s grave, marked with orange blossom petals spread out in the shape of a cross and bouquets of pink flowers, his mother’s favorite color.

Meléndez said she died last year and the loss was still fresh, so he tried to remember her by continuing the same rituals he had watched her grow up, this time with his daughters. Four days earlier, he began preparing for the celebration by making tamales from scratch and building a small altar for her in their home.

According to the Mexican government, Day of the Dead has its roots in ancient indigenous civilizations, which held parties after someone died to guide them to the next life and placed food on altars to keep them nourished during their journey.

“In the celebration of the Day of the Dead, death does not mean an absence, but a living presence; “death is a symbol of life that materializes in a complex altar,” he writes.

When Spanish colonizers arrived and began imposing Catholicism on indigenous communities, they mixed indigenous traditions with Catholic holidays. Celebrations for the dead were then synchronized with All Saints’ Day, which fell on November 1 and ended on November 2.

Although the celebrations begin in late October, Mexican tradition says that on this night the dead are closest to the world of the living, and people hope to keep them company. Although every family celebrates in a different way.

In the Pantheon of San Gregorio, elderly women carry huge bunches of orange flowers, the iconic flower of death. Some families cry in each other’s arms. Others sit alone in silence at the graves of their loved ones. He drinks mezcal much more and tells stories about his family members.

Gathered with her daughter and granddaughter, 60-year-old Beatriz Chávez kneels at the graves of her son, nephew and father, quietly lighting candles.

“It’s like being with them for another year and feeling that even if they don’t see them, we feel closer to them,” Chávez said, noting that she planned to sleep in the cemetery, as she has done every year since her father’s death. when she was 10 years old.

Over the years, tradition has been a major theme in the Disney movie Coco. Mexico’s Day of the Dead parade was also featured in a James Bond movie, even though such a parade doesn’t actually exist in real life. The annual celebration later adopted the idea of ​​the parade from the film.

Now, people from all over the world have come to the Latin American nation, eager to experience the rich tradition for themselves.

But once upon a time, quaint ceremonies in Day of the Dead centers like Mexico, Oaxaca and Michoacan began to fill with tourists taking photos of mourners. In recent years, many Mexicans have begun to combine this holiday with Halloween, and other new traditions have emerged, such as the James Bond parade.

Some, like Meléndez, are irritated by the changes.

“Halloween isn’t ours here, it’s All Souls’ Day,” he said. “It’s sad because it gets distorted. We lose the essence of who we are. It’s part of us, our roots.”

For Meléndez, the ceremonies at their small cemetery take on an additional meaning that he and others say remains true to centuries-old tradition.

This coincides with a larger conversation taking place across Mexico among the influx of American “expatriates” and tourists. As more people move to or travel to Mexico, rents have risen so high that many Mexicans have been forced out of areas where they have lived for much of their lives, leaving much of the city simmering with frustration.

Those who roam the graves and sell flowers and food on the streets see the changes less as a loss of tradition than as an evolution – a way for younger generations to continue to pass on their heritage in their own way and share it with others. new recipients.

This was the case of mourner Chavez, who celebrated with his daughter and granddaughter. They used their iPhone lights to help her grandmother arrange flowers.

“It’s beautiful because we’re talking about other places interested in our culture. “I think it’s important to show all our love for the dead and celebrate death – it’s important for them to know our roots and traditions, from generation to generation,” said her daughter, 36-year-old Ana Laura Anell Chávez.