En hellig fejring i Abla

Flere lokale damer var ved at hænge bannere ud på deres balkoner. Nysgerrig bliver man jo og så skal man ha' fundet ud af, hvad der er i gære. Fiesta! Det var simpelthen dagen, hvor deres byfest begyndte. En fest til ære for Den Hellige Jomfru og byens 3 martyrer. Man har jo ikke andet valg end at blive og tjekke det ud. 

Det startede om aftenen og det var ikke svært at finde ud af, hvor det hele foregik. Bare følg strømmen af mennesker. Folket samlede sig ved Ermita de los Santos Mártires. Et kapel beliggende ved kirkegården 780 m fra byen. Kapellet er indviet til deres 3 helgener Apolo, Isacio & Crotato, som døde for deres tro. En meget stor del af byens indbyggere var forsamlet på stedet da jeg ankom. Da jeg ikke havde helt styr på historien, så jeg spurgte damen ved siden af mig. For hvem var det i grunden, der havde slået de 3 fyre ihjel? Ups! Hun så lidt flov ud og begyndte at grine. Hun vidste det faktisk ikke, selvom hun fejrede dem hvert år. Hun spurgte rundt og kunne senere oplyse, at det var romerske soldater, som blev slået ihjel af deres kollegaer, fordi de ikke ville afsværge sig deres kristne tro. Så fik vi den på plads 😉 Jeg forklarede hende, at jeg var her for at opleve Andalusiens historie og var nysgerrig på, om det var sket i forbindelse med maurerne. “Maurerne? De blev brændt på pladsen midt i byen” sagde hun og rystede på hovedet. 

Efter en rum tid kom først en vogn ud med en biskop-agtig figur, dernæst en anden med Den Hellige Jomfru og de 3 martyrer. Vognene var pyntet med lys og utallige roser. Fulgt på vej af trommer, hornmusik, fyrværkeri og temmelig stor del af byens indbyggere, begyndte vandringen ned af bjerget mod byen. Jeg tror aldrig, at jeg har gået så langsomt. Undervejs skulle en “pige” (læs dukke) futtes af i fyrværkeri. Hvorfor fandt jeg ikke ud af. På broen gik optoget i stå. Nu skulle den have gas med fyrværkeriet. Sippede er de i hvert fald ikke på det punkt. Først det pæne fyrværkeri, som blev skudt af ind over publikum, dernæst det højlydte. Ikke sådan noget T-Hansen fis, nærmere kanonslag eller det der er værre. Man kunne i hvert fald mærke trykbølgerne. Det lød som en anden krigszone. 

Langt størstedelen af byens indbyggere var tilstede. Der var ingen tvivl om, at dette var en folkefest, uanset aldersgruppe. Jeg havde lidt på fornemmelsen, at udeboende folk også kom hjem for at deltage i festlighederne. Folk gik og hyggede sig i optoget. Fik hilst på hinanden, uddelte krammere mm. 

 

Optoget havde efterhånden tager et par timer og de manglede stadig at komme igennem alle små snoede gader i byen, så jeg luskede stille af igennem en sidegade og overlod den sidste del af optoget og nattens fest til de lokale. Jeg blev dog ikke snydt for det sidste fyrværkeri, for det kunne snildt høres selvom, at jeg var krøbet til køjs. 

Local ladies were busy hanging banners on their balconies. Of course I got curious and had to find out what was going on. Fiesta! It was the first day of the town festival. A celebration in honor of the Holy Virgin and the 3 local martyrs. I was left with no choice but to stay and check it out.

It started out in the evening. It was quite easy to find directions. Just follow anyone, as they were all heading the same way. They gathered in front of Ermita de los Santos Mártires. A chapel located by the cemetery 780 m from the town. The chapel is dedicated to their 3 saints Apolo, Isacio & Crotato who died for their faith. That was about all I knew, so I asked the lady next to me: Who killed your 3 saints? Oops!! She looked a little embarrassed and started to laugh. She didn't know, even though she celebrated them every year. She asked about, came back and told me, that it was Roman soldiers who were killed by their colleagues because they would not renounce their Christian faith. Guess we both learned something that day 😉 

I told her that I was here to experience the history of Andalucia and that I thought it might have had a connection to the Moors. “The Moors? They were burned in the town plaza” she said, shaking her head.

We waited for quite some time before a tableau with a Bishop like figure and a bit later another one with Vigin Mary and the 3 saints came out of the chapel. All decorated with a countless number of roses and lights. Brass band, drummers and the crowd were ready. After the first load of fireworks, the procession down the mountain and into town could begin. I don't think I ever walked that slow before. People were having a good time, chit-chatting and greeting each other, watching more fireworks. Burned a doll in fireworks too. I never found out why. Some of the fireworks were just for noise. You could actually feel the shock waves. It sounded like a war zone.

The majority of the inhabitants were present and I had a feeling, that people who had left town, came home for this. It was for sure the people's party.

By the time the procession reached the town it had gone on for a more than an hour and they still needed to get through the small winding roads to the church. I decided to call it the day and quietly slipped off through a side street. I went to my hostel, found my bed and listened to the last bit of fireworks before sleeping. Earplugs made sure, that I didn't hear the partying all night long.