Yesterday the country celebrated the birthday of a hero of the war for Mexican independence: Ignacio Allende, our city's namesake and one of the Founding Fathers. Captured during the fighting, he didn't live to see independent Mexico. His portraits always show him in uniform. This one by Ramón Pérez hangs in the National Palace.
Celebrations of Allende's birthday have military overtones, appropriate for a man who was a soldier throughout his entire life. Elements of the Mexican Army lead today's parade down the Ancha de San Antonio.
The military likes to show off new hardware. Several recoilless rifles, bazookas, and machine guns mounted on Humvees roll by.
At one time I wondered why the Mexican Army would own such heavy weapons. Guatemala and Belize present no threat of conflict, and no weaponry in Mexico could possibly defend against aggression from the USA. So the only rationale seems to be for use against Mexico's own citizens—a chilling prospect. But escalation of the drug wars provides justification for a well-armed militia.
San Miguel's own police force makes an appearance. Compared with the soldiers, they look like they could use a few visits to the gym.
The police also have gear to show off, like these gas masks.
As armed men roll by, a group of pre-schoolers watch the spectacle, sitting in their little chairs.
Much of the parade is in fact made up of children. Every school in San Miguel fields a group of marching students.
Apparently marching, drumming, and bugling are part of the required curriculum in Mexican Schools.
The occasional child wears historical costume. This boy takes most seriously his portrayal of General Allende.
Bigger boys dress up like Allende as well. This man, holding a saber at present arms, leads a woman rider who is incongruously wearing a tiara. How she fits into the historical panorama is a mystery.
A series of flatbed trucks bears dioramas of significant historical events. This one, called Los Conspiradores, depicts one of the secret meetings between Allende, Father Miguel Hidalgo, Juan Aldama and others during the birth of the independence movement. Another diorama features El Pípila setting fire to the gates of the Alhóndiga in Guanajuato, a great flat stone strapped to his back to protect him from the defenders' missiles.
Assorted militias and groups of caballeros ride by. Parade dress for horses includes flowers woven into manes and odd checkerboard haircuts over their rumps.
Always the last in any parade, the bomberos (firefighters) drive by in an assortment of fire engines—some new, some decrepit but still in service. Leading the engines is a color guard made up of fire-axe-wielding young women in short skirts.
San Miguel has a reassuring practice: street cleaners immediately follow parades sweeping up litter and manure. Moments after the last unit passes by, the street looks as if nothing at all has taken place.
Patriotic parades and celebrations in the USA lack the ferver of those I see in Mexico. In San Miguel, the whole city comes to a halt for Allende's birthday. By comparison, celebration of Washington's birthday (which has been watered down these days to "Presidents' Day") seems muted.
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