“QUIEN CAUSA TANTA ALEGRIA?” shouted everybody as they entered Tia Tina’s place for the “Purísima”, the commemoration of Nicaragua’s patron saint. By six thirty the guests began filing into her tiny apartment in Los Angeles and filling the chairs she had lined up in rows before the altar that proudly displayed her most treasured possession: a Spanish-made statue of the Virgin that had survived earthquakes, a revolution and exile.
Purísima is the highlight of Nicaragua’s Roman Catholic calendar. It is the feast honoring the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary, or as she is simply known in Nicaragua: the “Purísima” (the Most Pure). Traditionally this feast is celebrated on 7 December in Nicaragua, but since it isn’t a holiday in the US, my aunt would always plan it for whatever weekend in early December fell closest to the seventh. This is the happiest time of the year in Nicaragua, as it kicks off the Christmas festivities with everyone decorating their homes with makeshift altars in honor of the Virgin. While technically a Catholic celebration, it actually has many pagan elements, as do many “religious” celebrations throughout Latin America. Children and adults alike take to the streets on the evening of the seventh going from house to house shouting: “Who causes so much joy?” with the hosts responding “The Conception of Mary!” The visitors are then required to sing before the altar one of the many hymns that has been engrained in the Nicaraguan subconscious like: “Tu Gloria, Tu Gloria! Gozoso este día…” or “Por Eso el Cristianismo con grata melodía….” For which they are rewarded with a basket of candy, fruits, and a drink of cacao or chicha. This ritual usually begins around six or seven in the evening and lasts until the wee hours of the morning, all the while punctuated by a continuous display of fireworks. Mi Tia Tina had been following this tradition for decades, following her mother, who had passed away years earlier. My Tia would decorate her living room with Christmas lights, plants, flowers, and candles and of course her small statue of the Virgin that had been a gift from one of her many son-in-laws.
This was always the most exciting holiday of the year for me, and la Purisima was the highlight of my own personal calendar, as I looked forward to this feast the way most children look forward to Christmas morning, but I was much more excited about Purísima than I was about Christmas. I still don’t why that is; We didn’t receive gifts from the Virgin, unless you counted the baskets of sweets that were handed out during the prayer, we weren’t off from school either, therefore my fascination with this Pagan (I always thought of it as a pagan ritual…) feast was purely a result of my strange fixation with the mother of Jesus. Maybe it was the combination of both Christmas and Purísima that I liked. On top of that, a few days after Nicaragua’s Virgin feast is Mexico’s: the feast of the Virgin of Guadalupe on 12 December, which for me only added to the fun and made December my favorite month of the year.

Strangely enough, as I grew up and struggled with faith, I continued to harbor a special place in my heart for this celebration. Thanks to my “Holy Trinity” of Abuelita, Mamita Aida, and Tia Tina I grew up devoted to La Purísima, and I never doubted that she loved me and was always watching out for me. Hence the reason I was so excited about this day, for me, celebrating La Purísima was like celebrating the birthday of a loved one, and the preparation that went into this day was more exciting to me than planning my own birthday, which I actually hate doing. It was the opportunity for me to repay the favors I felt she granted me throughout the year, so by planning an elaborate party for her would ensure future protection. Most people would consider this belief heretical, or pagan, but I never cared. I always disliked putting labels on religious beliefs, or lack thereof, for that matter. As a teenager growing up in Orange County, I was rather apologetic about my devotion to La Virgencita, even secretive about it. The main reason was that most of my classmates were some brand of Protestant Christians, or “Jesus Freaks”, and since I craved acceptance in those years, I adjusted my beliefs to theirs and kept mine to myself. After I graduated from high school, went to college and starting meeting different types of people, I gradually began to embrace my unorthodox beliefs and not care what others thought. La Virgen was my Pagan Goddess and I was proud to let people know it, even if it shocked some when I told them that I like her better than anyone else in the Bible, even, horror of horrors, Jesus.
I planned my second trip to Nicaragua to coincide with La Gritería (another name for this feast), for I wanted to experience firsthand what this celebration was all about, and I think La Conchita worked overtime in order to make it special for me. I arrived in Managua on December seventh, and as soon as our plane touched the runway, several people in the front of the aircraft shouted: “QUIEN CAUSA TANTA ALEGRIA?” to which most of the other passengers happily responded: “LA CONCEPCION DE MARIA!!” This exchange was followed by cheers and shouts, as for me, my heart almost exploded out of my chest, and I had to fight to blink back the tears of joy for fear of looking like a complete idiot, but my welcome was complete. A bit later that afternoon, driving through the city from the airport I was mesmerized as I saw people setting up makeshift shrines outside their homes in preparation for the festivities that evening. I felt like Charlie Bucket visiting Willie Wonka’s chocolate factory, and I was thrilled to see the altares all over the city, as opposed to a single one in my Tia Tina’s living room in Los Angeles.
Later that evening one of my cousins picked me up so that we could go “Purísimeando” a Nicaraguan verb that describes the act of roaming the streets and visiting various homes that host Purísimas. “Vamos a Purísimear” now became part of my vocabulary. As we walked from house to house and collected candy and gifts, my cousins and their friends were surprised at how I could sing all the cantos; how I knew the melodies and most of the lyrics that they had grown up with. What surprised them, in fact, was that Nicas in los Estados Unidos also celebrated La Purísima, so even a gringo like me could be a devoto of La Virgen.
It was Saturday, December 06, 1985, and my Tia’s living room was all decked out in honor of the Virgin Mary’s Immaculate Conception. My aunt always had one of the best Purísimas that I can remember, next to Mamita Aida’s, of course, for she always gave out the best candy, she would even let me help her decorate the altar, and once, she let me place her treasured statue on the shrine, which to me was the biggest honor. This was usually the final touch, like placing the bride and groom statue on a wedding cake. With great ceremony, my Tia would hand me the statue so that I could place her amid the flowers and twinkling Christmas lights. The statue, about 14 inches tall, had been a gift to Tia from Edgar, a former son-in-law. From the little that I know, she had had that statue since the early 1950’s, and that Purísima had survived two earthquakes, one in 1968, and of course the other one in December of 1972, which left visible scars on the statue. I also knew that in the summer of 1979, when Tia Tina and Papa Tavo had to leave Nicaragua to escape the Revolution, the Virgencita was carefully packed into her makeup case for her trip to exile in los Estados Unidos. Whenever mi Tia let me handle her statue, I examined her every detail: the glass eyes that produced a rather haunting stare, the tarnished halo with tweve stars, the chubby faces of the cherubs, and the cracks and imperfections that were a product of her tumultuous existence traveling between Nicaragua and los Estados Unidos. Abuelita would always bring her own little Purisima statue, less grandiose than Tia Tina’s, but just as loved, along so that we could place on her on the altar as well, so that she could enjoy her party.
The day had started out early for Mama, Abuelita, my sisters and I. We arrived at Tia Tina’s early to help her set up. My sisters usually had the duty of filling up the baskets with the different cajetas that Tia made and “Leche Burra”, these little brown candies that to me resembled wrapped up turds. My sisters and I were always somewhat bewildered by the fact that a lot of the candies that went into these baskets were the same ones we had gathered on Halloween night. After returning home from trick-or-treating, Mama would always let us have a few pieces of candy before confiscating the rest. On this day over a month later, all of our hard-earned Milky Ways and Sweet Tarts would mysteriously turn up and then be given away in honor of Purísima…While we worked on the baskets, Mama would make dinner, which usually consisted of chancho con yuca, or fried pork and steamed cassava, and Abuelita and Tia Tina would do the final taste tests on the chicha and the cacao, checking the tanginess of the chicha and the sweetness of the cacao. My Abuelita would always tell me how mobs of people would show up at Tia Tina’s house in Managua on the day of the Purísima, not only to partake in the festivities, but to receive their prize basket of cajeta and their glass of cacao or chicha (known as “corn juice” in some Nicamerican circles). The latter was not a favorite for one of my sisters, who felt that chicha “smells like throw up” I admit, even after all these years, chicha is an acquired taste that not even all Nicaraguans can handle.
I always like the aroma of the cajeta de leche and cajeta de coco mixed together in the colorful straw baskets that some relative had sent from Nicaragua, and the smell of the incense, the dim glow provided by votive candles and Christmas lights in the room as the old viejitas grouped around the altar to pray the rosary. I also liked the scratchy sound of the LP with Purísima songs that one of my tios had sent from Nicaragua. All of these factors made me happy, as if I were getting ready to celebrate my own birthday party. Once the altar was completed I would sit in front of it and stare at the blinking lights while La Purísima stared down at me from her place of honor, silently giving me her blessing and thanking me for helping prepare her for her big day.