Halloween isn't as American as some may think. Even here in Spain some think that cutting up a pumpkin and putting a candle in it is an importation from Uncle Sam. Nothing further from the truth.
When October thirty-first rolls around and the typical anchorman announces on a national channel that once more Halloween is gaining in popularity, in detriment of the more Spanish All Saint's Day, I blow my top at the television. If those reporters had done their work more thoroughly they would have discovered that the celebration of All Hallow's Eve is more ancient than that of All Hallow's Day, even in Spain, but especially in northwestern Spain.
Of latter years here in Galicia the old custom of cutting up pumpkins and turnips has been revived and given, erroneously, the name of Samaín. Yes, the habit was peculiar to the area until around forty or fifty years ago, when the Church and its arm of the law in Franco put paid to an ancient tradition. But it was never Samaín here. That name is Irish. Here it was the Magosto, which was allowed to live on as a local tradition of roasting and eating chestnuts and sampling the young wine. The Magosto was always celebrated around the end of October and the beginning of November and is related to the Samhain of the northern Celts. Ramón Otero Pedrayo, an acclaimed historian of Galician history and folklore, related that in the act of eating chestnuts during the Magosto the older Galicians believed that a soul was released from Purgatory. I think that that was a mixture of the old religion and the imposed Church. But in it is reflected that this was an ancient tradition whose roots are lost in time.
So now, in an effort to recover something once lost, primary schools hold contests to see which student (or parent) carves the silliest, scariest or most artistic pumpkin. And hold their own magostos. In the afternoon and with the teachers in charge of the fire, there is a semi school holiday in which the children eat chestnuts, play traditional games and paint their faces with charcoal, trying to scare each other. The real magostos, though, are held at night, though no longer in the chestnut grove. Generally neighbors get together, light a bonfire, and when the ashes are ready roast chestnuts and sausages. The new wine is sampled and the cold is banished from the night. Many people also carve pumpkins, which can be found in supermarkets and fruit stores now. Drive along a road on a dark night around Halloween and you'll find grinning balls of candle light on front porches and window sills. But don't expect kids to go trick or treating. That is not typical here. There may be private Halloween parties with people all decked out in their scariest, but children go from door to door at Carnival time, not now.
So now, when forests weep with autumn rain and leaves fall and die, we revisit old traditions with the help of a couple new ones. But no, this is not a holiday made in U.S.A., however much some television stations may insist without doing the corresponding research.
When October thirty-first rolls around and the typical anchorman announces on a national channel that once more Halloween is gaining in popularity, in detriment of the more Spanish All Saint's Day, I blow my top at the television. If those reporters had done their work more thoroughly they would have discovered that the celebration of All Hallow's Eve is more ancient than that of All Hallow's Day, even in Spain, but especially in northwestern Spain.
Of latter years here in Galicia the old custom of cutting up pumpkins and turnips has been revived and given, erroneously, the name of Samaín. Yes, the habit was peculiar to the area until around forty or fifty years ago, when the Church and its arm of the law in Franco put paid to an ancient tradition. But it was never Samaín here. That name is Irish. Here it was the Magosto, which was allowed to live on as a local tradition of roasting and eating chestnuts and sampling the young wine. The Magosto was always celebrated around the end of October and the beginning of November and is related to the Samhain of the northern Celts. Ramón Otero Pedrayo, an acclaimed historian of Galician history and folklore, related that in the act of eating chestnuts during the Magosto the older Galicians believed that a soul was released from Purgatory. I think that that was a mixture of the old religion and the imposed Church. But in it is reflected that this was an ancient tradition whose roots are lost in time.
So now, in an effort to recover something once lost, primary schools hold contests to see which student (or parent) carves the silliest, scariest or most artistic pumpkin. And hold their own magostos. In the afternoon and with the teachers in charge of the fire, there is a semi school holiday in which the children eat chestnuts, play traditional games and paint their faces with charcoal, trying to scare each other. The real magostos, though, are held at night, though no longer in the chestnut grove. Generally neighbors get together, light a bonfire, and when the ashes are ready roast chestnuts and sausages. The new wine is sampled and the cold is banished from the night. Many people also carve pumpkins, which can be found in supermarkets and fruit stores now. Drive along a road on a dark night around Halloween and you'll find grinning balls of candle light on front porches and window sills. But don't expect kids to go trick or treating. That is not typical here. There may be private Halloween parties with people all decked out in their scariest, but children go from door to door at Carnival time, not now.
So now, when forests weep with autumn rain and leaves fall and die, we revisit old traditions with the help of a couple new ones. But no, this is not a holiday made in U.S.A., however much some television stations may insist without doing the corresponding research.
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