Holy week in Aquixtla

Being a very small place, and one where religion is fused with the state to form a single power, the holy week Aquixtla is of prime importance.
The procession begins in Atexca at 8 am and ends at Cuaitieco at 1 pm. One part is by highway and the other on dirt roads. It is monumental the amount of people walking the path of the cross. We waited it in the house of Doña Chio, and since I first saw the Roman guards, we were still watching the parade of people for 15 minutes.From Doña Chio’s, we followed it to the end. The sun was hot, the line of people was endless. All walking in silence, women with black veils. Dust rose from the earth, it seemed that we were sailing in a sea of ​​ocher. There was a truck with speakers, throwing  prayers and people responded muttered, almost in tears.
In the ninth season, the father spoke: “I hear a lot of noise! Ask for forgiveness! Those who hold grudges, that discredit the other, that they get with the wife of his neighbor, speaking evil of the priests “
His voice gradually increasing, reaching a climax: “Especially ME!”
We spent all stations, to finally arrive at the Golgotha, we were all kneeling, silent, the father’s voice is all that is heard and is serious, grave, heavy, feel ubiquitous, the all-seeing eye, hoping to punish the errant being . It is easy to imagine his face, writhing angrily with every word of sanction.  
At night I go to the procession of silence. The father, I must admit, is an excellent actor, that modulates his voice to the pair of the intensity of the lyrics. At one point in the play, Mary is going to pick up the dead body of Jesus, and the father pronounces slowly and sadly: “Madam, we knew only spitting, hitting only knew, we return him to you mother, mother forgive us, we failed to love him.” The words are so powerful that I found a lot of people crying while the father recited the word.
The procession began, the men carried and followed Father Jesus and the women, all with a black veil, would bear and would go with Mary. People had chains on their feet that silently formed a little rain of sounds that was only interrupted by the seriousness of the drums in a mournful pace. Jesus was lying on a throne, a death-bed to be brought to the Holy Sepulchre.
When we left the church, all the village lights had been turned off, the road where the procession would walk was lit only by candles. When the procession reached the people, they immediately knelt as a sign of respect to death, the police took off their hats. The whole town was hung with black ribbons in mourning. The sky was clearer than ever, with stars like mournful witness of this march. The drums and the strings in the background.
In the end, when we returned to the church, the funeral music rang from the speakers, parents charged Jesus from his throne to the Holy Sepulchre and the people began to form to come and pay homage.