My earliest memories of the traditional folk Catholic dance ritual, los matachines, go back over 70 years to when my family lived in the CantaRanas neighborhood in West Laredo. We’d go to Mother Cabrini Church to watch them dance on May 3rd for the Day of the Holy Cross. As a child, I didn’t understand the tradition or why the dancers danced. I remember being frightened by El Viejo (the Old Man), who would swoop down on us children with a whip in one hand and a ratty old doll in the other. Later, as a doctoral student studying the tradition, I learned that El son del Viejo was just one of over 50 tunes performed as prayer by the troupe.
As I interviewed the elders who may have been the same dancers from my childhood, I discovered they also danced on December 11th for the feast day of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and sometimes on Christmas Eve and other special occasions. I even remember attending an event in the late 1980s at a modest home near Mother Cabrini Church where the Matachines were invited to dance as a prayer of thanksgiving because the family had just paid off their mortgage.
Believed to grant blessings and offer comfort, the Matachines’ object of veneration, La Santa Cruz (the Holy Cross), leads the procession through the neighborhood streets to Holy Redeemer Church during the fiesta followed by the dancers and the community members. Each year, the women in charge of “dressing” the cross meticulously prepare and decorate it for the celebration. The Liendo family has been the custodian of this tradition for generations, and I’ve known four generations of women from this family who have been responsible for dressing the cross each year.
Of the many Matachín groups in Laredo, the troupe I’m most familiar with is the Matachines de la Santa Cruz, as I’ve been involved with them for over 40 years. At one time, the name also included “de la Ladrillera,” a reference to the now-nonexistent brick factory located between the riverbank and Main Avenue. This troupe, which has been in Laredo since 1935, dances on both December 11th and May 3rd at their neighborhood terreno – a lot behind the Ortiz’ family home – and in procession to and from Holy Redeemer Church. They originally came from Real de Catorce in the mountains of Mexico to a cluster of villages known as Las Minas, primarily settling in Dolores and Palafox. They moved to Laredo when the coal mines closed.
Today, there are more than 20 Matachines groups in Laredo, loosely affiliated with different parishes, including San José, San Luis Rey, and Guadalupe. Unlike the Santa Cruz troupe, these groups mostly dance in December and do not use an accordion the way that the Santa Cruz troupe does.
The origin of this hybrid dance tradition, which extends throughout the Americas, remains a mystery. Scholars like Brenda Romero have tried to pinpoint a root culture to explain the blend of Christian and Indigenous folk Catholic elements. While the dancing and musical instruments may differ, one constant across this vast geographical space is the sacred purpose of the ritual: to honor either a specific local patron saint or Our Lady of Guadalupe. For example, the Matachines tradition in Bernalillo, New Mexico, which dates back over 300 years, honors San Lorenzo. It differs from the Laredo tradition in significant ways, including the traditional dress and the music.
In some areas, Matachines dance to a single drum that keeps the rhythm, typically played by a young troupe member. Other percussion elements may include the sound of the dancers’ foot-stomping or the sweet jingle of the bells that adorn the nagüilla (the skirt). In my youth, these noisemakers were made of flattened bottlecaps strung and sewn onto the nagüilla. Today, the jingle bells at the end of the reed cane pieces act as noisemakers attached to the skirt.
In earlier times, the music for the Laredo group included a guitar and a violin in addition to the accordion and drum. As the musicians who played these instruments have passed away, only the accordion and drum remain.
Why do they dance? I asked this as a child. As a scholar, I’ve spent years researching the question. I’ve found three possible answers. The most obvious is that it’s an expression of faith – the dance is prayer, a spiritual and religious ritual practiced by believers. A second reason may be the social bonds that require members of families, who have been involved for generations, to dance with the troupe. A third reason is personal satisfaction. I have often heard Matachín dancers explain they are dancing to honor a manda (a promise), either in thanksgiving for a favor granted (perhaps someone recovered from an illness, graduated high school, or conceived a child after being barren). A promesa might entail dancing for several years, dancing barefoot, or contributing money to feed the dancers during the celebration
Whatever their reason and commitment, all dancers hold the tradition dear and see it as a form of prayer, a reason for hope and for belief that all is good.
