There's no sleeping! It's 2am and the party is still going strong outside my window in Sahagun! Bands are blaring, children have commandeered the loudspeaker in the square and are singing silly songs to the delight of the hundreds of people dancing in the streets. Trumpets, drums, tubas, clarinets, saxophones, and trombones fill the night with songs to celebrate Saint John of Sahagun!
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| From my balcony at 10pm - silly dances and goofy music! |
There is no daylight savings time here, so the sun is just setting at 10 pm and there is plenty of light to play in until 11pm. Kids are everywhere. It is safe, happy, carefree, and okay to roam anywhere in town. A very different atmosphere than in say York City or Aberdeen back where I come from, where everyone is afraid, streets are dangerous, children are not safe out at night, and people eye each other up with suspicion. So why the joy? Why celebrate this native son of Sahagun?
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| Muhedjar Christian Moors, Pilgrim's Sanctuary Gallery. |
Juan was a celebrity cleric of the Church, a bright star of administration and leadership. He served as head of the Church in Burgos and managed a huge system of church business across the Meseta. But as he served, he saw the corruption of the wealthy class, to include the Church, as an obstacle to what he knew was the true mission of Jesus's ministry - to love and serve the poor. He resigned his position to serve in a small barrio of outcast peasantry on the fringes of the big, rich city. Church leaders were angered and threatened by the young priest's actions. They felt Juan was sending a message about the corruption and greed of their positions. He was.
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| Shrapnel damage at the Franscican Monastery, 1938. |
Class has long been a hotly fought over idea in Iberia. The rich have gotten very rich from the labor of the poor in Spain, and over centuries of violence and war to include engagement as a colonial power, the rich were made richer still from the enslavement of indigenous people in South and Central America to mine and loot precious minerals. The Church was a powerful force for colonial expansion, and for honest, moral clergy like Juan of Sahagun, it was shameful and hypocritical behavior. He returned to his home city to live a short while as a hermit, then minister to the churches of the peasantry. His sermons enraged Sahagun's wealthy class. Rumor has it that he was poisoned to finally silence him. The towns wealthy class felt he was empowering the poor and challenging the system. He was.
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| Illustration and text showing indigenous people and customs of South America. |
I had the good fortune to talk to a shop owner who had done me small favor yesterday. I have been craving a glass of cold milk, but it is not a common cold beverage here. The grocer offered to chill a container of boxed milk for me and so I could have it with breakfast. Oh my goodness was it delicious! We sat and talked a little during siesta about his life in Sahagun where he has lived all his life. He mentioned how his daughter, now in her forties, for the first time had asked him recently about where their own family stood during the Spanish Civil War. Even though Franco has been dead for some time, it has only been recently that people feel it is safe to talk.
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| Pilgrims walking through Sahagun, Pilgrim's Sanctuary Gallery. |
He shared that his father had been taken away for questioning by Nationalist strongmen after Franco claimed power. He never saw him again. His association with a farmers union (as a grocer in the 1930s) made him an enemy of the state. Elias shared that with the current left-leaning democratically elected government, efforts are being made to uncover the people's history of the war. He said that even in Sahagun there is a concern for opening old wounds. The reprisals of the 1940s and 1950s are still felt. It was brother suspicious of brother until Francos dying day.
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| Elias, grocer of Sahagun, and great siesta story teller. |
Another friend hiking the Camino from San Sabastian on the northern coast of Basque Country leaned in close over dinner last night, which we had very late! He mentioned Guernica and asked me if I knew of it. I studied the works of Picasso during art history classes at MICA, so yes, I knew of the town and the heart-rending story behind the artist's work. Alberto dropped his head. It was hard for him to talk about it, the slaughter of hundreds of farmers and townspeople, and thousands of horses, cattle, sheep, and pets during Germany's first air attack to use incendiary pipe bombs filled with napalm-like chemicals. "Our clergy were with us," he said, " They were Basque and wanted to speak the people's language in services and ministry. They refused to follow the Nationalists orders to speak only Spanish. The Mother Church was complicit in the bombing of Guernica to punish these rebel priests and nuns. While your country and Great Britain looked the other way, my grandparents and my great uncle, a Catholic priest, were burned alive." I sat in silence for a long while.
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| Pilgrim and his companions, Pilgrim's Sanctuary Gallery. |
Alberto apologized. "You had nothing to do with it," he said, " Yet I cannot help but think of those thousands of innocent animals brought to market day when those German bombers carpet bombed our dear town. Americans and Brits like to be all high and mighty when it comes to our tradition of bull fighting. But they still turn away in ignorance when the slaughter of a man's way of life, his family, herds, flocks, his priests, and even his dogs are killed innocently. The bull's purpose in life is to die in battle. The milk cow and her calf had no battle to fight. America shrugged. Britian could not see that they were to be next!"
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| Painting of Sahagun evening conversation, Pilgrim's Sanctuary Gallery |
I'm now waiting for my train to Leon. I'm skipping two days of hiking to make up for my unexpected rest day in this Meseta town. I not only saw the running of the bulls, partied in the street with kids and families, but I got to have some nice conversation with folks I wouldn't have otherwise spent time with had I stuck religiously to my schedule. I learned that San Juan is more celebrated each year as people feel more free to speak, to ask about the past and not fear for the future. San Juan spoke up and against social issues of his day, and he was murdered for it - something still fresh in the memories of the people here under Franco's repressive dictatorship. Elisa came across the street this morning as I was finishing my cafe breakfast that included cold milk! He gave me a huge hug and said"Thank you for coming to my shop. I do hope I will see you again!" I hope so too. Thank you, Sahagun!
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| Looking toward Leon from Sahagun. |
