Fiesta - Evan Colley

FIESTA

To his left there were lights and bustling streets. There were happy bright eyed smiley salesmen who wheeled wooden carts about, selling quick food and cola and candy floss, while opposite there were women and children dancing to the small, spritely sounds of a lone guitarist and his old worn out instrument. There was bunting strung above them, tied from balcony to balcony, drooping down toward those below, and with them were lights, like little stars, brightening the street below alongside the voices of happy people and singers and the footsteps of dancers who had been going and going long since the evening. To his right there were people, more people, all chatting and making their way across the bridge and funneling themselves into the opposite street with the bright lights and dancers, which led directly to the square where it all was happening. The great procession was exciting and powerful. He had not for a long time seen so many people so excited. The Fiesta happened annually, and each year its goers seemed to become more and more excited, as they looked to have more and more fun. The reason that they looked most excited, the old man thought, more excited than they would be normally, was because the festival was cancelled last year due to torrential downpour. “What a sad year,” He said aloud to himself. “This one will be happier.” He stroked his white beard and smiled, knowing truly that this year was to be the best yet. More and more and more people walked past the old man, who sat content on his little bench, enjoying the cool heat of the evening and the sounds of the people, their chatter, their shoes clicking the cobbles below them. He sat on the same bench every evening. He enjoyed listening to the river rush beneath him, but he could not hear the river now for the people were too loud. It was the only day of the year where this was the case, and he didn’t mind. The river and its sounds would be there tomorrow, and so would he.

A voice came from the crowd. “You are going to miss it!” The old man brought his head forward and looked at the woman in front of him. “If you do not get up now you will miss the great procession!” The fiesta was in celebration of St. Christopher. It was tradition that an effigy of the saint be paraded around the town, covered in various valuables to show appreciation for his protection and guidance. It was a tradition that had been happening for centuries, and the town was very proud of their annual fiesta. “Ah,” The old man said slowly. “Of course, San Cristóbal.” He looked at the woman gently and smiled. “You do not want to see him? He is the highlight of the whole festival! You can not miss him,” She smiled back at the old man and extended a willowy arm for the old man to take up. The woman had an air about her which made the old man trust her. He did not know what it was that made him think this but he thought it nonetheless. She continued to smile softly, and when he did not take her hand she frowned. “You do not want to see him?” She asked again. “No, no,” The old man replied. “I am fine sitting here. Please, go! Make sure you do not miss him yourself. As you say, he is the highlight of the whole event.” As they were talking the great collection of people behind them grew and grew, and now it seemed that there were twice the amount of people there were before. The evening quickly became hotter and louder, the smells from the stalls more fragrant and the excitement of the town grew to be almost unbearable. The woman looked at the old man curiously. “Why is it that you do not want to go? Is it too loud?” “It is not too loud,” The old man said. “I am not sure what it is. I enjoy sitting here because I can watch the people. I can watch them walk and listen to their voices.” “And that is all?” The woman said. The old man nodded and smiled.

The procession was now at its peak, and the fiesta was at its loudest. The two knew then that the effigy was being unveiled to the crowd. A breeze drifted past the bridge and cooled the old man and the woman, and although the crowd was suddenly at its loudest they seemed not to hear. The woman looked at the rushing crowd and watched for a while. How exciting it must be. She turned back to the old man, and looked at him with great tenderness. She walked toward him and sat down to his left. For the rest of the night they listened to the sounds and watched the people walk by. They did not say a word.

BY EVAN COLLEY.