<p>&nbsp;</p> <p><strong>Published in 'The Oldie', March 2007</strong></p> <p>&nbsp;</p> <p></p> <p>Today, 2 February, is the feast of the Yemanj&agrave;: the patron of fishermen. I stroll down to the Rio de la Plata before sunset to see what it's all about. The beach is almost deserted.</p> <p><br />On the shore is an exquisite cardboard boat, decorated with tinsel and flowers.<br />Watermelons are strewn everywhere.</p> <p><br />A group of about half a dozen people, dressed in long white robes, are carrying a big cardboard boat down the steps.<br />In front of the Casino Hotel, a few white-clad people are building a sand altar. I wander towards them, nearly tripping over a bloody headless chicken.</p> <p><br />A blue-haired girl is lining each side of a path from the altar to the sea with alternating candles and flowers.</p> <p><br />"Se&ntilde;ora," I say, "Could you tell me about this feast? I'm a foreigner."</p> <p><br />"We're preparing for the Virgen de la Yemanj&agrave;. She'll be here soon".</p> <p><br />"The Virgen? She's coming?"</p> <p><br />"Yes, but the bus must have got delayed . Here, take this card."</p> <p><br />The Virgen's business card? "La May Adelcia", it says, under a faded 60s photo of a smiling buxom young woman.</p> <p><br />I approach a couple. Maybe they can enlighten me. I show them the card. "Ah, the May", they say. "That's a woman priest. She's the Virgen's representative."</p> <p><br />"What about the watermelons? And the chicken?"</p> <p><br />"Oh, those are sacrifices to the Virgen , the Goddess of fishermen, to thank her for last year's blessings, and pray for protection next year. They send jewellery, perfume, and flowers out in the boats. If the gifts sink, the Virgen has blessed them; if they come to shore, she has rejected them. They will party until dawn."</p> <p><br />"Is it a sect?"</p> <p><br />"More a religion. Its origins are Yoruba. The slaves brought it to Brazil, but it's become very big in Uruguay now."</p> <p><br />The beach is filling up. Each group has a mat&eacute;, the calabash which Uruguayans carry around, containing a strong type of tea, sipped through a silver straw. I look at the sand altar. There is some activity now. It's almost eight. In the centre of a group an elderly woman wearing a long pink satin dress and a rich brocade beige shawl, surrounded by white-clad acolytes. I recognize her as an aged May Adelcia from the card. On the altar stands a statue of the Virgen, decked with bead necklaces, wearing a blue satin dress and a brocade cape. In front of the altar is a large plastic inflated dinghy. People are queuing up to lay gifts inside. I can't distinguish between participants and onlookers.</p> <p><br />The May gives a signal, and she and her assistants walk down the path to the river shore, chanting softly, arms raised high. Suddenly there is a loud hacking noise. The May is laughing - a strange, guttural croak.</p> <p><br />They walk backwards to the altar, except for one young man who prostrates himself in the water.</p> <p><br />The crowd is thick now. It's cold and eerie.</p> <p><br />The May and her followers are chanting and shuffling. The May is pouring Fanta onto the statue's expensive-looking clothes.</p> <p><br />I decide to get some sleep, go home, and set my alarm for five.</p> <p><br />As I drive out, dawn is just breaking. The May and her followers are in the dinghy, their arms raised to the sky, with the Virgen, in the Rio. The beach is packed now, a frenzy of chant and dancing. Empty bottles, dead flowers, and rubbish are strewn on the beach.</p> <p><br />A few people lie face down in the river. I see now that the dinghy has a small engine. Slowly, it disappears into the misty morning.</p> <p>&nbsp;</p>

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;">If you happen to be in the pretty hilltop town of San Valentino in Abruzzo on 10 November, as I was a few days ago, you will witness a rather unusual parade which opens the four days of festivities around the feast of St Martin.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span>Saint Martin</span><span>, a chaste, holy man who lived in the fourth century, is famously known for having torn his cloak in half and shared it with a poorly clad beggar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Somehow, he has ended up being associated with new wine and unfortunate husbands.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;">The event that opens the celebrations in San Valentino has little to do with religion and generosity, and everything to do with ribaldry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>At seven in the evening, there is a procession of men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Well, men lead the procession, and women and children follow behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>No priests, mitres, statues, or icons. no veils or vestments: in this particular cort&egrave;ge, the men wear horns, and carry all sorts of huge phallic symbols, mostly made out of olive tree roots and branches. This is the Festa dei Cornuti, or Feast of the Cuckolds.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;">Traditionally, a group of men would creep around the village at dead of night, and would light lanterns outside the homes of men who had been betrayed by their wives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The night-creepers were in fact the lovers of the unfaithful women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The unfortunate cuckolds, who, on waking, discovered what their wives had been up to, had to wear their coats and hats back to front to publicly acknowledge their status.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;">Nowadays, the procession is much more light-hearted, and everyone has a lot of fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The largest and most elaborate of the phallic symbols, at the end of the procession, is offered to the most recently married man in the village by the previous year&rsquo;s recipient.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Groups of musicians sing: the bawdy songs are often improvised and particular members of the village are singled out for good-humoured teasing.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;">Wine cellars all over the town open up, and local pizzerias stop serving pizzas, instead preparing traditional beef <em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">spezzatino </em>or stew<em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The village is redolent with the mixed aromas of new wine and roasted chestnuts.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;">&lsquo;It is important,&rsquo; says the town mayor from the front of the parade, horns balancing on his head, &lsquo;to understand an essential fact: the men who take part in the procession are not cuckolds.&rsquo;</span></span></p>