Notes from Planet New Mexico
Good Friday, 2014
None of the pictures that follow are mine. I was too busy being careful not to loose my footing while climbing uphill carrying my toddler son on a backpack.
It was gorgeous. Powerful. Awe-inspiring. A bit spooky. Intriguing. Exactly what I needed.
I was hoping we might run into folks singing alabados. And we did! A group of about fifteen was doing a bilingual version of the stations of the cross. The (probably) eldest man, playing a small two-headed hand drum, sang with deep emotion and a haunting voice. He did one verse of "Madre de Dolores" (my favorite alabado). And that was so much more than enough.
* * Other details, so I won't forget: The elder (probably the Hermano Mayor) sang in the old style of alabados, with the quick up-and-down on notes. (I need to find out what that voice technique is called.) He was the only one singing like that. Everyone else had beautiful voices, but did not sing in that style. There was a young man (probably in his twenties) playing the matraca right before each station of the cross.