The Cross of May

We were Skyping with Sandie Stratton on Friday afternoon when I heard a brass band. We frequently hear music in the streets of Sevilla but this time the band was close to our apartment, and getting closer. I stepped out onto the balcony and saw excited young boys in the narrow street leading from the cathedral past our apartment. They wore distinctive headdresses; one carried a wooden cross.

In celebration of particular feast or saints' days, Catholic brotherhoods in Sevilla conduct religious processions through the streets featuring a float, or paso, borne on the shoulders of men and upon which is mounted a religious statue. These small processions evidently occur often … we’ve bumped into three in the two weeks we’ve been in Sevilla. But this particular procession was bumping into us, and I was very excited! After taking a couple of quick photos from our balcony, I ran down the stairs to get in front of the paso. In order to do so, I had to squeeze past the marching band, but I saw others doing it, so I plunged right in. I darted into a vacant spot in a store entryway to see everything from the beginning.

The boys leading the procession wore not only their padded turban-like headgear which allows them to bear the weight of the paso, they also had on t-shirts that read Cruz de Mayo … Cross of May. These were young boys, and darling. Bill, who grew up attending Catholic schools, suspects the boy carrying the cross had earned the privilege somehow, perhaps by writing an essay.

Children from various Catholic churches compete against one another during the Cruz de Mayo, imitating the much larger processions with pasos built by their elders for this and other religious celebrations, such as the huge Semana Santa (Holy Week) held in April.

After the boys holding the cross aloft passed by, the paso approached slowly and reverently, carried on the shoulders of other little boys and directed by a suited man with excellent posture, who pressed his face close to the paso and shouted directions to the boys hidden below. The paso paused right beside me, and a shower of rose petals cascaded from the wrought iron balcony above.

As soon as I could, I stepped into the street to see who stood on the balcony, but I wasn’t able to really photograph the little girls I glimpsed in their flamenco dresses. However, I was able to surreptitiously photograph an enchanting baby girl parked in a stroller across the narrow street. Isn’t she adorable?

After the paso passed me on its way to another plaza or its home church, the band marched exuberantly through the narrow street. Then ... it was over. The crowd disbursed and the magic vanished; all that remained were the rose petals in the street.