It holds photos of Francisco in life, his family weeping over his body at his funeral, cookies, and a sugar skull.
There’s a shadow box, which Briceño calls a casa de bóveda, devoted to him, too. Unfortunately, death won out,” she said.įrancisco’s dancing sandals are on the altar now, their wood soles scuffed but not worn through.
Pixam maya full#
full of hope, wanting to work and get ahead in life. One was killed in a workplace accident, another was shot in the street, and the third, a young man named Francisco who danced the traditional jarana, became ill and died. The altar holds photos of three young Maya immigrants who died in San Francisco over the last few years. There are also halved gourds, jícaras, for holding water for the dead the deceased are thirsty after a long journey back to the land of the living. Beside it is an ear of the corn that forms the foundation of the Maya’s diet. A figure of Kukulcán, a Maya creator god, is prominent. It’s covered in a cloth painted with skulls and flowers, made by women in Mayab’s textile group, which Briceño coordinates.Ī green cross crowns the altar, representing the Maya custom of burying the dead beneath a Ceiba tree. In the backyard behind the apartment, Briceño and her compañeras have set up an altar. A dozen or so area Yucatecan Mayan families-mostly from the Mexican states of Yucatán and Quintana Roo-will share food and prayers and celebrate an ancient tradition adapted to life in a new country. Here in San Francisco, she and the other women are planning a simpler celebration. They see that there’s a party in other houses but none in their own,” said Briceño. “They say if you don’t remember your dead-if you don’t put out food, water, some bread, and a candle-their spirit arrives and they feel alone. Alicia Briceño, a small woman with dark ringlets, folds scrambled eggs and a pungent Yucatecan cheese into thick tortillas.Īt home on Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula, she explains in Spanish, families celebrate Day of the Dead- Hanal Pixam in Yucatecan Maya-by sharing meals around their loved ones’ graves and covering the streets with candles and flower petals laid out in intricate patterns. Every so often, the women pause from their work to grab a bite of breakfast from a shared plate on the table.
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