For those many gringo friends of mine who somehow still manage to think Cinco de Mayo, or the 5th of May, is the date of Mexican Independence, let me clue you that Mexican Independence Day is celebrated on the eve of September 15 and the following day, September 16th.
It all started 199 years ago in 1810. The world had witnessed the American Revolution transform British colonies into independent states, whose laws and institutions were firmly based in the ideas and values of the Enlightenment. The French soon followed with an attempted Enlightened Revolution of their own. Lacking the historical and cultural democratic experience of the Americans, the French Revolution spiraled into a bloodbath of beheadings and wars until a general named Napoleon assumed control, declared himself emperor, and effectively ended the first attempt at a true French republic. As Napoleon expanded his control and influence over much of continental Europe, he placed his brother Joseph on the throne of Spain. Consequently, Mexican authorities found themselves beholden to a crown they rightly rejected as illegitimate. Many upper class Spaniards migrated to Mexico, where they fomented anti-French and Mexican nationalist sentiments. One person caught up in this new movement was a creole (a Mexican of pure Spanish decent) priest who was both as popular with the mestizo (mixed race Mexicans) and natives as he was unpopular with the church (he was tried by the Inquisition) for his Enlightened ideals. He was working with other anti-French and Enlightenment influenced creoles on a plan for armed insurrection when the plot was prematurely discovered in the nearby town of Queretaro. Before the authorities could squash their plans, he quickly rang the bell of his church in Dolores, where he addressed his congregation in the town square (or zocalo) just before midnight.
No record of his apparently inspirational speech survives, but the reenactment of this call to arms (El Grito—“the shout or cry” in Spanish) is the centerpiece of the celebration that kicks-off Independence festivities every year in Mexico. Today's El Grito consists of some reconcrtucted version of the original cry being recited, followed by acknowledgement of the founders, "Viva Allende!" (crowd): "VIVA!" "Viva Morelos!" (crowd): "VIVA!" "Viva Hidalgo!" (crowd): "VIVA!" And it ends with,"Viva Mexico!" (crowd): VIVA! (repeated three times). These reenactments happen in zocalos big and small in cities and towns all over Mexico at 11 pm every September 15th. The reenactment of El Grito is followed by fireworks, dancing, singing and drinking into the night. This explains why the national day off from work for independence occurs on September 16th, not September 15!
Hidalgo and other early revolutionaries were summarily captured and executed, but the revolutionary genie could not be put back in the bottle and the war against the French illegitimacy raged on and was almost immediately turned into a war for complete independence from any foreign crown. Spain finally acknowledged the reality of an independent Mexico in 1821.
Ale and I celebrated our first Grito on our first weekend away together to Queretaro, and then to San Miguel de Allende, home of another early founding hero, Ignatio de Allende. On September 15, the quaint colonial square in San Miguel was awash in a festive atmosphere, filled with tourists, vendors of all sorts and Mariachis throughout the day. By evening it was completely packed with celebrants waiting for the mayor to appear and reenact the “Cry of Dolores.” After El Grito, when the fireworks went off on the huge towering carrousel built in the plaza, the people crammed underneath it began a mad dash in all directions away from the falling flames, burning gunpowder and choking smoke. This, of course, caused a ripple effect in the crowd which resulted in us almost being crushed. We were literally being lifted off our feet and moved feet at a time. It was quite scary for a moment, yet most around me were laughing. (If you are asking why authorities didn’t cordon off the area underneath the fireworks carousel, you obviously have not lived in Mexico.) It was exciting and crazy experience, and devolved into dancing and merriment in the streets; no harm no foul.
This year, a head cold had me feeling a bit under the weather so we invited some friends over for a few drinks and some “servicio a domicilio” or food delivery. My friends showed up, Ryan wearing a national futbol team jersey, and Tim sporting a giant Mexican mustache, sold along with Mexican Flags on the streets during this time of year. The mood was mellow, but enjoyable. We were hoping for sushi but discovered that us dopey gringos had waited too late on Independence Eve and had to settle for cheeseburgers and curly fries. THE Zocalo in El Centro here in Mexico City is ground zero for El Grito, where the president conducts the reenactment before tens of thousands in front of the National Palace and for millions on TV. It rained—hard—all evening, so those who stood there for hours were true patriots. By 11pm the rain had slowed enough for us to go up onto the roof of our apartment building and watch the fireworks from the Zocalo. The HUGE red, green and white bursts were impressive even from a few miles away in the rain. Simultaneously, there were visible displays from at least four other distinct launch sites, as well as various other wannabees launching the occasional missile from around the city. The sounds and sites of Mexican independence reigned down across the cityscape of 20+ million like the rain coming down from the heavens.
The next day we slept in (well I slept in, Ale was up early feeding the baby) and awoke to a beautiful sunny day in which the city appeared washed clean by the heavy rains. After I finish writing this blog, we are going to check out the Bellas Artes museum downtown where there is a visiting El Greco show. If that’s closed today, (the website makes no mention of being closed for the holiday) we’ll maybe head over to Chapultepec park, the giant forest filled with museums, a castle, lakes and an amusement park. It’s a great day to live in a great city, in a great country, in a wonderful world. Viva Mexico!
PS. If you’re still wondering what the hell Cinco de Mayo is all about, quite simply it is a celebration of the victory of a smaller Mexican Army over a much larger invading French Army at the battle of Puebla, on the plains outside the city of the same name that lie a few hours south east of the DF. The French, who had come ostensibly to force Mexican repayments of defaulted international loans, eventually ended up conquering Mexico and installing Austrian Prince Maximilian on the throne, until liberal forces, supported by the US, helped overthrow his French puppet government restoring Benito Juarez to the presidency. Still, the victory symbolizes Mexican pride and resistance to foreign influence and control. Why this day has become a significant holiday in the U.S. (it’s not big here) is likely because beer, chip and dip companies needed a spring holiday to push their products. May Day, the international socialist workers rights day, just doesn’t have the same festive ring to it.
Hidalgo and other early revolutionaries were summarily captured and executed, but the revolutionary genie could not be put back in the bottle and the war against the French illegitimacy raged on and was almost immediately turned into a war for complete independence from any foreign crown. Spain finally acknowledged the reality of an independent Mexico in 1821.
Ale and I celebrated our first Grito on our first weekend away together to Queretaro, and then to San Miguel de Allende, home of another early founding hero, Ignatio de Allende. On September 15, the quaint colonial square in San Miguel was awash in a festive atmosphere, filled with tourists, vendors of all sorts and Mariachis throughout the day. By evening it was completely packed with celebrants waiting for the mayor to appear and reenact the “Cry of Dolores.” After El Grito, when the fireworks went off on the huge towering carrousel built in the plaza, the people crammed underneath it began a mad dash in all directions away from the falling flames, burning gunpowder and choking smoke. This, of course, caused a ripple effect in the crowd which resulted in us almost being crushed. We were literally being lifted off our feet and moved feet at a time. It was quite scary for a moment, yet most around me were laughing. (If you are asking why authorities didn’t cordon off the area underneath the fireworks carousel, you obviously have not lived in Mexico.) It was exciting and crazy experience, and devolved into dancing and merriment in the streets; no harm no foul.
This year, a head cold had me feeling a bit under the weather so we invited some friends over for a few drinks and some “servicio a domicilio” or food delivery. My friends showed up, Ryan wearing a national futbol team jersey, and Tim sporting a giant Mexican mustache, sold along with Mexican Flags on the streets during this time of year. The mood was mellow, but enjoyable. We were hoping for sushi but discovered that us dopey gringos had waited too late on Independence Eve and had to settle for cheeseburgers and curly fries. THE Zocalo in El Centro here in Mexico City is ground zero for El Grito, where the president conducts the reenactment before tens of thousands in front of the National Palace and for millions on TV. It rained—hard—all evening, so those who stood there for hours were true patriots. By 11pm the rain had slowed enough for us to go up onto the roof of our apartment building and watch the fireworks from the Zocalo. The HUGE red, green and white bursts were impressive even from a few miles away in the rain. Simultaneously, there were visible displays from at least four other distinct launch sites, as well as various other wannabees launching the occasional missile from around the city. The sounds and sites of Mexican independence reigned down across the cityscape of 20+ million like the rain coming down from the heavens.
The next day we slept in (well I slept in, Ale was up early feeding the baby) and awoke to a beautiful sunny day in which the city appeared washed clean by the heavy rains. After I finish writing this blog, we are going to check out the Bellas Artes museum downtown where there is a visiting El Greco show. If that’s closed today, (the website makes no mention of being closed for the holiday) we’ll maybe head over to Chapultepec park, the giant forest filled with museums, a castle, lakes and an amusement park. It’s a great day to live in a great city, in a great country, in a wonderful world. Viva Mexico!
PS. If you’re still wondering what the hell Cinco de Mayo is all about, quite simply it is a celebration of the victory of a smaller Mexican Army over a much larger invading French Army at the battle of Puebla, on the plains outside the city of the same name that lie a few hours south east of the DF. The French, who had come ostensibly to force Mexican repayments of defaulted international loans, eventually ended up conquering Mexico and installing Austrian Prince Maximilian on the throne, until liberal forces, supported by the US, helped overthrow his French puppet government restoring Benito Juarez to the presidency. Still, the victory symbolizes Mexican pride and resistance to foreign influence and control. Why this day has become a significant holiday in the U.S. (it’s not big here) is likely because beer, chip and dip companies needed a spring holiday to push their products. May Day, the international socialist workers rights day, just doesn’t have the same festive ring to it.
Photo: President Felipe Calderone issuing El Grito in the Zocalo from the Palacio Nacional.
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