As I write, scores of Spaniards are preparing to heave crosses, Virgin Marys and Jesuses through the streets, or watch as others do so. And Seville’s Semana Santa (Holy Week) parades are perhaps the most extravagant of all. A total of 62 processions – some containing up to 3,000 penitents – will take to the streets between today and Easter Sunday. Unless, of course, it rains.
The preparations, as always, have been thorough. Anybody wandering through the old town from January onwards may have noticed white-clad costaleros (carriers) packed tightly under heavy wooden floats loaded up with weights. Because it certainly takes practice to be able to carry a 2,000kg flower- and candle-laden paso (float) through narrow streets for up to 14 hours. Others may have seen the same men in bars enjoying well-deserved cañas (beers) after rehearsals, or perhaps heard trumpets and drums playing that evocative – and somewhat repetitive – music somewhere in the distance.
The question is, will this year's hermandades (brotherhoods) make it safely back to their chapels without squabbling? This was certainly not the case in 2013. The controversy of the Panaderos brotherhood, which become a trending topic on Twitter and even made the national press, began on the afternoon of Holy Wednesday. An 80% chance of downpours was forecast, prompting several processions to cut short their trajectories. Two others were called off completely. "It's been cancelled," said the owner of the hotel where my dad was staying in Barrio Santa Cruz. The hotelier, who had been anticipating watching the San Bernado procession pass his home at about 9.30pm, was visibly extremely disappointed he was going to miss out. But then, when you’re talking about airing wooden statues that are up to 500 years old, one cannot take any risks with the weather.
And the rain was to have even bigger repercussions that night. The more the clouds formed, the less the brotherhoods kept to their itineraries. At 10:30pm, when the Panaderos had been out for under an hour, the heavens opened. They decided to cut their losses and immediately head back to San Andrés chapel. Unfortunately the route they chose to take, via Calle Campana, cut right in front of the on-schedule La Lanzada procession. The La Lanzana members had no choice but to stand getting soaked for close to an hour while all 1,200 Panaderos passed by.
The fallout to this decision was substantial, with accusations and insults flying in all directions. The Panaderos were criticised for not doing anything to speed up – instead continuing to sway to the rhythm of the slow, mournful brass music. The audience was shamed for shouting, whistling and even booing the Panaderos (see video below). Some said they heard insults being exchanged between Nazarenos (the ones who wear tall, cone-shaped hoods). On the internet, devotees took to Twitter and YouTube to air their grievances, with heated exchanges still flowing months after the event. Some called for sanctions to be taken against the Panaderos.
Video: Heated moments during Semana Santa 2013: The crowd's reaction
“This is a disgrace. The Panaderos could have easily have waited until the La Lanzada had passed,” said Alejandro, from Cordoba, on YouTube. Meanwhile a member of the Panaderos brotherhood, Joaquin Mañes, had tweeted late on Holy Wednesday: "I would like to apologise to La Lanzada...I hope there will be some resignations tomorrow. Shameful."
Indeed, this degree of altercation, described by one local paper as “reminiscent of conflicts between brotherhoods at the beginning of last century,” is perhaps surprising for a festival where followers are performing penances in what one would hope would be a respectful and orderly religious event.
For some, the rivalry will have come as no surprise. "Semana Santa has nothing to do with religion," said Rafael, my Sevillano conversation exchange partner, as we sat in a cafe in late March, 2014. He added: "It's just a competition to see who can have the biggest paso and the most brothers following it.”
Rafael is not a fan of Semana Santa, dismissing it as a money-making exercise and pooh-poohing the entire concept on the basis that worshipping idols breaches the third commandment. While some would stress that Semana Santa penitents are not technically worshipping the effigies, the monetary gains associated with Semana Santa cannot be ignored.
Switching to English in case he offended any eavesdroppers, Rafael told me what is needed to join a brotherhood in Seville. Surprisingly, it is not necessary to be a member of the church whose effigies are to be carried, or to even attend it regularly. Instead you must join an association attached to that church. A monthly fee is required, and eventually brothers are told they have been selected to be part of the procession. "If they miss one payment, they’re put right at the end of the list again," said Rafael. Waiting lists for the most prestigious brotherhoods can be years long. Similarly, where Rafael lives in Dos Hermanas (on the outskirts of Seville) there are two brotherhoods, with only one shop selling the correct Nazareno uniforms. This means a pretty penny is made from their sale each year. All in all, being a brother is an expensive business.
For some Spaniards, however, Semana Santa is worth every cent. Jose Ruiz, a brother interviewed for a local paper I worked at in Ronda, Malaga province, said: “It’s a tradition for my family as we’re all members of the church. I grew up watching the parades and have always liked the imagery. When you see and feel something special like that, it makes you want to be a part of it.” Like Seville, Ronda is renowned for its traditional approach to Semana Santa.
For others though, Semana Santa is simply a reason to get out of Seville for a week – not only because you can rent your flat out for four times what it'd usually fetch, but also because any hope of leading a normal life – or, in some cases, getting to your own front door – needs to be put on hold until it’s all over for another year.
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