walking on fire

"Do it Ali! Cross! Go! But if you are scared you shouldn't do it. Cross!" My heart was pounding as I heard all of them yelling at me, and I was slightly fearful but trying to calm myself. Diego grabbed ahold of my hand and pulled me slightly forward, looking intensly into my face. He had just done it twice and the utter calmness of his face only reminded me of how uncalm I was. "Are you ready?" he asked. I nodded my head, took a deep breath, looked at the 2 meters of live coals spread out in front of me and started walking forward.

No, I was not dreaming. I was at San Juan festival. I don't know how San Juan got started, but my best guess is that several Guarani men got very drunk one night and began playing with fire and had so much fun that they decided to make it a tradition. At some point it became a national fire festival celebrated every June 24 with extra celebrations in the weeks prior and folliwing the actual date. It is, I think, my personal favorite tribute to any and all saints. It is also perhaps the only time and place when playing with fire is not only sanctioned by parents, but encouraged, organized, supervized, and funded as well. Every school has a festival as well as many churches and families. In addition to the traditional dance and food normally available, there are games and activities devoted to fire.

A group of men or children dress up as "kamba" in mismatched clothing, masks, capes, antyhing to make them look scary, ridiculous, and protect their true identity. Often the object of the kamba is just to run around and scare people, but sometimes they "capture" people and take them to a "jail" where they must pay a fee to be released. A greasy pole is set up and the kamba must climb the pole in order to shake down the treats on top. There are often small fair-like games set up for the kids to play, but the best games are the ones with the fire. One of my favorites is pelota tata (fire ball) when they set fire to several "soccer balls" and kick them around the field or at each other as if they were passing a real soccer ball. Children are given bundles of kapi'i (long, dried grass), and they set fire to them, running around like children in the United States run around with sparklers on the 4th of July, chasing each other, playing swards, and screaming from sheer joy. They stuff a mans pants and shirt to make a type of scarecrow, tie him up to a soccer post and set fire to him. And as if the element of fire wasn't enough, they often put small explosives in his clothes just for kicks.

In some places, such as the school where my host mom teaches, they still do the jahasa tatapyi ari (we pass over the coals) which is said to only be possible on the eve of San Juan between the hours of 10 and 12 at night. If you do it any other day or any other time, you will be burned. This year I went with my host family to the school, curious about this whole coal walking thing they had been telling me about since last year. At about 8:30, a couple of teachers began setting up a large fire to burn down to coals in preparation for the big event. Every 20 minutes or so, they would put on a couple more logs, keeping the bonfire going. This became another game and the boys started taking running starts to jump over the flames. It was only after two boys, coming from different directions ran into each other and fell, that I heard parents and teachers reprimand for reckless behavior. And it was only after the flames jumped higher than the boys' heads that they took a rest at the game.

At 11:30, the firewood was gone and what was left was a large pile of glowing coals. As couple of teachers began raking out the coals to make a 2 meter walkway, people started asking me, "are you going to do it?" My brother Hugo told me that if I did if first, he would follow and then he took off his shoes and socks in preparation for my crossing. Diego was a tall skinny kid, who did the jahasa tatapyi ari every year and I watched him prepare himself, cool as a cucumber. Wanting to take advantage of the opportunity, but still highly doubtful about the success of the event, I began grilling Diego. "Really, you do it every year? Does it hurt? Does it feel hot? Really, dos it not hurt at all? I don't think I believe you. Seriously, you don't get burned... at all? And you just walk normally?" He patiently explained that no, it didn't hurt and no, you didn't get burned, and yes, you just walk normally. He said that if you are scared you will be burned, but there is no danger. Then he said he would walk across with me and hold my hand. I wasn't convinced and watched in disbelief as he calmly walked across the coals by himself. Others then followed his leand and one show-off danced his way through, upsetting the evenly raked coals.

By this time, the pressure was really on. "Come on Ali! Do it!" My host brother and mom were telling me. "Are you gonna do it?" I asked my host mom. "No!" She shook her head violently. "I'm too scared." Strangers heard the discussion and began to encourage me and then Diego (at least I think that's his name... I forgot the introduction in the excitement of it all) came over to grab my hand and pull me in front of the coals.

I still can't really believe it did it; it seems so insane. Nelly didn't even get a picture because she didn't snap it fast enough. It was quite an adrenaline rush and I will admit my hands were shaking afterwards. And my feet? They have 2 very small and extremely minor burns. Apparently I was still scared when I started walking.