The Sisterhood

Chapter 24


From the Chronicle of Las Sors Santas de Jesus, by the pen of Esperanza, the Mission Convent of Las Golondrinas de Los Andes, December 1552





The convent is celebrating the feast of Christmas in a manner unknown in Spain. The flowers in the courtyard are blooming and many women have come to stay in the convent. Inside the walls all is chaos—hawkers of sweets and snacks and makers of toys, children and visiting nuns, the widows and beatas and relatives and servants and beggars, together with a great crowd of women of the streets and bedizened mestiza mistresses and concubines suddenly turned into what are called here “penitent women” for the festival. The courtyard is thronged from early morning until late at night! People push and jostle; small children howl on their mothers’ backs or scamper wildly everywhere. Some women spend the entire holiday, others come and go on a daily basis. Every cell is full, and the servants and slaves sleep wherever they can find space.

In the middle of all this, something called a santuranticuy, or “buying the saints,” takes place, a kind of market selling small figures of saints and the Infant Jesus whom local people call El Niño. Everyone must avoid stepping on the clay figures the sellers pile up for sale on native blankets, difficult in this crowded space.

A hot drink called “chocolate” is given out to the poor at the gates of the convent, with snacks. The convent kitchen, as crowded as the courtyard, produces a continuous supply of the local sweet bread with fruit, called paneton, and little spicy, savory meat pies paid for by wealthy ladies and some of the richer prostitutes. A great deal of wine and local spirits are drunk at this time. Men stumble about or lie drunk and unconscious in the streets, which may account for why so many women come here, where men are forbidden. Inside our walls there are female musicians and singing and dancing among the women, even the grander ladies.

The night before Christmas is called “Noche Buena.” The bells rang wildly at midnight and the fiesta continued until dawn. Apparently these exuberant celebrations continue until the arrival of the three kings in January. The lapdogs and parrots are sleepless as everyone else. The dogs run madly through the crowds, tripping servants and barking continuously, while the parrots squawk until they are exhausted and drooping on their perches.

Pia manages to stay aloof and composed, but even she enjoyed many pies and licked her fingers. Sanchia disappeared with some other girls her age, and I glimpsed them prancing and whirling behind the dancing women. I huddle in the least-crowded corner I can find and write down what I observe, for want of something else to do with myself. I miss Marisol, who would have enjoyed it all, but oh for a little peace and quiet!