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Piñatas: an animated Christmas tradition

Glorious holiday décor and reruns of “Rudolph,” Charlie Brown, and the Grinch aren’t the triggers signaling visions of chile-dusted sugarplums, peanuts and tangerines in the Christmas party bolas (treat bags). 

Roughly finished brown clay jars (canteros) that transformed with tissue paper and paper mache live in the heart of the versatile, beautiful hand-made piñatas. 

In every Mexican village, there are housewives positioned a block or two apart who supplement their income, year round, by making all sizes, shapes and designs of piñatas. There are tiny ones small enough to be hung on the branches of a Christmas tree, others that are favors for birthday party guests and some that are nearly life size. 

These days, most piñatas look like a parade of Disney princesses and Star Wars characters there are still plenty of wise men, shepherds, lambs, dogs, snowmen, poinsettias and floppy-haired renditions of Donald Trump, Santa Claus. 

The most traditional design, still a favorite after many centuries, is the Sputnik-shaped star with from five to seven points. The cantero is covered with fringed tissue paper and tassels dangle from shiny paper cone. 

At posadas and all other parties and fiestas at Lakeside, the heavy candy and fruit-filled piñatas are fastened onto a system of ropes and pulleys strung over the street or in a garden. The person in charge of the pulley jerks and pulls the rope to make the piñata swings low, sometimes scraping the street. Just as the child stumbles over the piñata at his feet and takes a mighty swing, the rope is pulled and the piñata is suddenly dangling high over his head. 

Meanwhile the assembled crowd shrieks encouragement and assistance. Instead of directing the designated hitter with “left, left” or “right, right,” the savvy observers give directions to the blindfolded child by naming the towns to the east and west. In Ajijic, they cry out, “Chapala!” “No, no, Jocotepec, Jocotepec.” 

One candy-filled piñata is never enough for an event of any size. It takes at least three to meet local traditions. The larger kids wait while the smallest children try to break the first piñata. Succeeding piñatas are assigned to the older girls and then the next is for the boys. 

When the treats spill onto the cobblestones, the children scramble for the candy – unless of course it’s one of those occasions when the piñata didn’t fully break and one clever child runs away with the remains of the piñata tucked under his arm, still filled with all of the treats.  

When there are several piñatas for the boys to break, you can be sure that one will be filled with flour mixed with a few coins. Watching them sputter and wipe the flour from their faces so they can find the money among the cobblestones is an experience all in itself. 

It amazes visitors and guests that so much time and talent is exerted in making an object which is designed to be broken. That’s undoubtedly another of the great lessons that can be learned about the differences between cultures that so treasure possessions that they are hidden away, never to be seen as opposed to cultures who so treasure companionship, entertainment and fiestas that works of art are created, just to be destroyed. 

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