Salvador Rodríguez Becerra.
Prólogo. El Corpus de Zahara: Crónica Personal.
The invitation to write a prologue for a book containing the works published to date about this festival seemed to me a good opportunity to tell the story, or a personal account, of this festivity over the past thirty years, the period during which I have been acquainted with this celebration. In doing so, my intention is to place on record my impressions and other data, which at a future date may be of use to write the history of one of the most unique festivals of the entire region. The Corpus Christi festival in Zahara is in need of a historic, anthropological study which, sooner or later, will have to be undertaken, but this will require a degree of calmness that at present is beyond my reach.
For years I have attended this festival “religiously”, taken scattered notes and photographed it from all angles, as the images illustrating this text bear witness. Each year, when the month of June arrived and the summer heat had the entire region in its grasp, one of the unmissable events for my family was to welcome the friends who came in response to our invitation.. Over these years, many people to whom we wanted to show one of the most original, and also least complex, festivals that I know have visited the Corpus Christi in Zahara.
My attention has always been drawn by the number of visitors who come to the town each year, and the expression of surprise on their faces when, hot from toiling up the hill from the point where they leave their cars or descend from the coach, up to the main square that is the centre of social and ceremonial life of the locality, they encountered the unusual spectacle of streets whose paving is entirely carpeted with sedge, in such quantities that the ground could not be seen, and in addition, even more extraordinary, the branches or “bundles” covering the entire façades of the small houses, or at least amply surpassing the first floor. The bundles represent the exceptional decorative nature of this festival, as the sedge covering the streets of the route has been relatively common in almost all the towns and cities, although in much smaller quantities.
More and more people arrive throughout the morning, and little by little, the main square (the Square of Zahara, of Spain, or of the King [it has had all of these names]) fills up, likewise the calle San Juan and the square of the shrine of San Juan de Letrán or of the Virgin of Sorrows, the image of greatest devotion in the town. Some of these make early inroads into the route of the procession, going up calle Ronda or climbing from the main square to enter calle Alta. In the latter, the bundles form a vegetal gallery, causing a surprising effect as a consequence of its narrowness and, in bygone times, the reduced height of its houses.
The combination of streets and squares that make up the route of the procession become, for a number of hours, the ceremonial centre of the town; this becomes isolated from the remainder of the latter, as access thereto is closed with crenellated doors which, as if forming a castle, recall the origins of the town. This brings about the creation of a circuit that is closed to wheeled traffic, enabling the full enjoyment of its tranquillity. The route followed by the Corpus Christi procession is doubtless the most noble of the town -it is where the most prominent families of olden times had their houses- but at the same time it is also the most suited for processions, as it runs along two level stretches. This reason would not be enough to justify the route, as other processions during the festive cycle do not follow this route, seeking a greater participation of the rest of the town.
During the last decades, the festival has been extended for another day or two, until the Saturday when the festival was held on a Thursday, and since it has been held on a Sunday, until the following Tuesday, as the Monday has been declared a local holiday. The expense and trouble involved in organising this festival are considerable; too considerable to waste them in a single day. But in fact, it is doubtless the importance given to this festival by the inhabitants of Zahara, it being the first and foremost in the festive calendar, that is the reason for this extension. This goes hand-in-hand with the distinction made by the inhabitants of Zahara with the festival for non-residents, which is the following day. When the liturgical festival of Corpus Christi was established on a Sunday, the locals reacted against the decision, but the attitude of the bishopric and the issue that, with exceptions, it was held on a workday, contributed to the acceptance of the change.
The locals, after erecting the bundles and spreading out the sedge, an operation performed early in the morning, and after changing into their Sunday best (suit and tie), walk around, going from the railings of the square to those of the “Boquete de San Juan” to look down and count the vehicles coming along the winding road, previously from the bridge of Zahara over the Guadalete, and now from the dam of the reservoir. During the early hours, this count is one of the topics of conversation among the locals who wander around from the shrine to the parish church. On the stroke of twelve, or perhaps one, depending on the priest who has served the parishes of El Gastor and Zahara for many years, the mass begins. In bygone times, this used to be celebrated in the church atrium which, due to its higher level than the rest of the square, and to the massive influx of attendees, was an ideal location, visible to everyone. The liturgy of the Eucharist took place on an altar installed for this purpose, using as an altarpiece two sections of the altar of repose erected within the church on Maundy Thursday.
My attention has always been drawn to the high esteem the people of Zahara have always held for this white-painted, demountable wooden architectural construction. As is well known, this wooden architecture has been used for centuries to hold the body of Christ during the days when we commemorate the death of Jesus, and as, in accordance with traditional liturgy, communion was not administered, the consecrated hosts were kept in some of the final sections of the aforementioned altar of repose, where they stayed until midnight on Saturday. This altar of repose was erected at the centre of the transept, and given its height, it was necessary to use pulleys, in this case wooden pulleys, fastened to the hooks that can still be seen in the dome, to hoist the pieces of the jigsaw forming the architectural ensemble of the monument. Every time this subject is mentioned, nostalgic voices arise, praising the grandeur and artistic value of the monument, no doubt inspired by that of the cathedral of Seville, but obviously on a more reduced scale.
But let us return to the square, where the mass has already started. Several priests, prior parish priests of the town who have come expressly for the festival, concelebrate and help at the mass. In the front row we can see the mayor, the judge, the corporal or sergeant of the Civil Guard, a member of Parliament, or some provincial authority. In the square, the hubbub of those walking around -most of the people- did little to encourage the customary silence of these liturgical ceremonies; others sought shelter in the marquee with a metal structure and a large green tarpaulin, that stretched from the balcony of the terrace into the square itself, almost reaching the lamp-post. For the last few years, the Eucharist has been celebrated inside the parish church, before the altarpiece of the virgin of Mesa.
When the mass finishes, the procession is organised, placing the consecrated host on the paten and this in the large monstrance carried by the parish priest, after the removal of its base to make the load lighter, and which the verger places on each of the altars. The pallium is held by six men who are closely linked to the church, and generally are always the same six men, except in the case of natural vacancies or by exceptional invitation. First in line is the cross, held high, the processional candlesticks and the children who have taken their first communion that year, who thus sport their finery for the second time; a short distance behind comes the silver Eucharist banner, which awakens the curiosity of those present, particularly due to the little bells hanging from it. For as long as we have known the festival, this banner has been carried by the same person, because -as I was told by a local historian- this was a tradition arising from a privilege granted to the first-born son of a historic family of the town.
Certain families that have houses on the route of the procession, in addition to setting up the bundles, prepare a small altar on which the monstrance is placed for a few minutes, as if it were a station, while a number of prayers are said, Eucharistic hymns are sung and it is offered for adoration while the monstrance is elevated.
We will not spend time on the description and analysis of these altars, as one of the chapters of the book concentrates on this in detail. The altar-stations are irregularly distributed along the route, and the reason for this is more a question of social status and the closeness to parish life than a resting-point for the priest carrying the monstrance, although this may be the original reason. The procession halts at each of the altars. The emplacement of the altar installed in the atrium of the shrine of San Juan de Letrán is particularly attractive; here, visitors photograph each other as a souvenir.
The procession climbs the steep calle Ronda, where it halts another couple of times at as many altars, until it reaches level ground at calle Alta. For many, this last stretch is the most attractive, as the narrowness, the irregular layout of the street and the once reduced height of the houses created unusual spaces, where many other attractive altars were located. After descending the short but steep slope, where the priests have to lift up the robes they wear so as not to slip, the procession once again reaches the square, finally seeking the parish church, and entering the building, accompanied by the strains of the national anthem, played by the local band.
For some time now, among the numerous visitors, of particular note is the presence of many senior citizens, who come on excursions organised by various social institutions. There is no lack of families and couples of the kind that go in search of unusual festivals that are out of the ordinary and offer something new: the so-called “cultural tourism”. The public packs the squares and the public buildings, searches for the shade of the houses and the bundles, accompanies the procession along its route, and finally disperses and disappears once the procession is over, between two and three o’clock in the afternoon. The residents of Zahara have now removed their jackets and ties, and now commence -or in the case of most of them, continue- the refreshing libations of beer, manzanilla or dry sherry that the temperature and the festivities demand. Others, though fewer, retire to their homes to minister to relatives, friends and guests who have come to enjoy the festival. Some make merry at home, but most of them fill the bars. Today is the principal feast day, and some of the more distinguished families send invitations to their friends, and to outsiders with whom they have a friendly or business relationship, to come and admire the town in all its finery, because at Corpus Christi in Zahara, “finery” is the word to use. The local authorities do the same with other authorities foreign to the town.
At about three o’clock in the afternoon, most of the visitors have left the town, and the noisy music continues in the marquee until mid-afternoon while the people drink, talk and even dance. Nowadays, the marquee is a spacious canopy under which all can take shelter, where all barriers and control points have disappeared. For many years, since it was first installed, it was equipped with a fence to separate the townspeople. There was an inside and an outside in a public area, only separated by a narrow line. Since the first time we saw it, we thought that this situation did not correspond to the social reality of a small town like Zahara, as it established differences between the townspeople that no longer responded to the real social structure. This restrictive characteristic became more noticeable at nightfall: the couples gathered due to friendship or socio-political affinity sat at the terrace tables, talked and danced until the early hours, while a few watched from outside. It was customary to conclude with the broomstick dance, with the participation of almost all those present. The marquee was replaced a few years ago by a spacious canopy that covers almost all the square and has room for almost all the townspeople, the remainder spilling into the bars located in the spacious festive area formed by the main square, calle San Juan and the squares of the shrine. During these festivities, one can see couples and families who are normally not present in these areas or establishments. As happens in so many other places, the canopy is occupied mostly by young people, who impose their music and their timetable.
This town has managed to maintain a festival of great splendour, and has overcome the generalised crisis of this festivity of recent decades; this, to a great extent, is doubtless a consequence of its historic past. The organisation of a principal festival based exclusively on the procession of a symbol as abstract as Corpus Christi is certainly praiseworthy. Part of the explanation may probably be found in the influence exerted in the town over centuries by the oligarchy of the church, agriculture and bureaucracy, and in that this festival summarises its values and its conception of life. The artistic wealth of its religious heritage expressed in its parish church: the main altarpiece, the artistic monstrance, the silver sacramental banner and the valuable liturgical robes bear witness to this. Corpus Christi is indivisibly linked to the life of Zahara, probably since the town and fortress were first conquered in 1407, as the celebration of this festival had become generalised in Andalusia in the 14th-15th centuries. This town, conquered almost one hundred years before the surrounding territories, was the hub of a feudal estate that gave its name to a marquisate, the head of a vicariate, and later the seat of an archpriesthood of the archbishopric of Seville, and this, given the ecclesiastic, societal nature of the festival, has doubtless played an important part in the identification of this town with the celebration of Corpus Christi.
Finally, I would like to take the opportunity to congratulate the inhabitants of Zahara and the institutions representing it for making possible this first book about the Corpus Christi festival. I hope that other books may follow this one in the coming years, the outcome of reflection and of the search for answers to the possible shortcomings that the festival might raise; this would be an unmistakeable sign that it is alive and well, and constitutes one of the best-known factors of the identity of this town.