Semana Santa In Mompox

After a long trip overland from Cerete we reach the river that Natasha, the producer, had talked to me about. Here we board a ferry and after having filmed most of the trip we reach land in Mompox, the place where the Semana Santa would take place. From what I have understood so far this is a festival that takes place during easter and is celebrated in many places in honour of Jesus Christ. However Mompox is one of the cities where this festival plays an important part of the culture. It is an honour to be a 'Nazarenu' - one of the people that carry the heavy monuments telling the life of Jesus during the long procession. Families have done this act for generations and generations, it is very deeply rooted in their culture. The town of Mompox itself was founded in 1537 and has been able to maintain its colonial style buildings, old churches, towns halls etc. It almost felt like I had just travelled in time to the 16th century as I walked in between the white houses with red clay roofs and large rectangular windows. Another very iconic feature would have to be the many churches that are scattered throughout the town, of which I had a beautiful view from our hotel. The top of the chapels were red and rounded and reminded of the Florence Cathedral, blending in perfectly with the green of the orange trees that sprang up in between the red roofs from the many courtyards. With this view in my mind I take a rest from the long journey we had just arrived from.

The following day starts by exploring the town a little bit and getting to know the people. The festival itself hadn't really started yet so we went to places like the town museum in which the marching band for the procession was practising. One or two interviews later we headed off to film my arrival in the town. Talking to the director of the marching band hadn't been very interesting however filming the arrival was quite the opposite. We organised a little boat to take me out onto the river as the sun set and from this point of view the town seemed even more surreal. From the boat you could see most of the beautiful churches and the many colonial houses that lined the banks of the river. Other boats heavily loaded with papayas and pineapples had been anchored at the stone piers. The people carrying the food looked like little ants from afar. With this in my view the sun started setting and bathing the red roofs, white walls and palm leaves in an orange glow. In the later evening we see an honouring of the dead taking place at the graveyard. Another place that is definitely worth checking out if you happen to pass through Mompox. The event starts with the marching band we had seen practise in the morning playing songs in memory of the resting. Then we get carried by the masses into the completely white cemetery, and along the straight path way leading to a small white chapel. Up to this point I haven't mentioned the heat. It was literally boiling the entire day - high temperatures and high humidity had my shirt sticking onto my skin wonderfully. I mention this because as we enter the little church the heat gets unbearable. The many candles that had been lit by the many people to honour the relatives buried around the church created a micro-climate. The smell and smoke of the candles filled the air and merged with the sweat of the people, I might not have the same beliefs as most of the people here in terms of god. But that didn't matter - I felt the energy of the honouring that took place all around me.

My last day, and the main day, of the festival had a lazy start. All I had to do was register as one of the Nazarenos and then wander about the town for a little bit. During this wandering I encountered a group of Nazarenos that were carrying bells and trumpets. They stopped at every road crossing and sounded the bell, and then the trumpet for a couple of times - this time in honour of Jesus and their ancestors. These Nazarenos had been doing this tradition for generations - one of them, the oldest Nazareno in town, was in the group with his son and grandson whom all were playing an active role in this little procession. We finish the trip at one of the churches by the river, in that church we encounter one of the organisers which we had talked to just yesterday. He was so nice to take us around a little bit - because this church wasn't in its normal state at this moment. Preparations were taking place for the procession that would take place tonight. Side by side were large platforms, some measuring 5mx3m, made out of thick wood planks. On these were statues displaying the life story of Jesus Christ - the flaying, carrying the cross, the betrayal... the list goes on. In total there must have been about 45 of these moveable 'images' that were also covered in colourful flowers and gave off the strong smell of palm flowers that were stuck onto each corner of the platform. Following a brief dinner we head back to the church where the procession would begin. I get dressed in the blue robe and hat that the Nazarenos wear while carrying the heavy monuments. At times about 40 people had to carry just one 'image' due to its weight. This might have all taken place at night time - but the heat had not retreated. Furthermore I was wearing the robe on top of my normal clothes and carrying the heavy platform. As the sweat runs off my forehead I look around myself, the hard wood digging into my shoulder, and stare into the cameras of dozens of people. I guess there weren't a lot of german Nazarenos about. This procession keeps going through all of the town, over a total course of maybe 5 hours. A lot of sore bodies would be created that night. At 2am we finally reach the last majestic church. However it turns out not to be as easy as one might think to actually finish the procession. This church had stairs leading up into it, and while carrying a heavy monument walking up stairs was made near impossible. It took about ten minutes of painful waving back and forth until we managed to climb the stairs and rest the platform next to the others. The second the legs of the monument touch the ground hands of all the Nazarenos shoot up to grab the colourful flowers. It was like a litte fight - a fight over flowers. I was too tired to join in and instead sat on one of the heavy stone stairs.