It Ain’t Over Til the Fir Tree Falls

There are far too few parties, in my opinion at least, that involve machetes. To her credit, Peru does incorporate the machete into more social functions than most countries, my favorite of which is the Unsha. Called by many different names depending upon which part of the country you live in, the Unsha (as it is called here in San Miguel), is a sacred and time-honored tradition. It comes about during Carnival season (the weeks leading up to and surrounding Ash Wednesday on the Christian calendar), and for us marks the last few days of celebration.

I actually began a blog entry about this event last year, but was so exhausted/overwhelmed/awestruck by the entire Carnival experience that I couldn’t muster the energy to finish it. This time around I knew what to expect and was able to participate in the events like the seasoned veteran I believe myself to be. I was worried that this year’s Carnival experience wouldn’t live up to last year´s, simply because the factor of “the unknown” was eliminated.

That was not the case. This year proved just as insane and exhilarating, perhaps even more so because we were able to plan properly. We prepared the necessities (paint, buckets, water guns, water balloons, old clothes) in advance and were able to put ourselves in strategic locations before others could target us.

Malicious tots looking for a nice gringo target...

but we would not go down without a fight!

If you were reading my blog this time last year, you know that Carnival is celebrated longer, harder and more earnestly here in Cajamarca than anywhere else in the country. I won’t repeat all the details again (reference my blog from February 2010 if you didn’t already read about it) but will just say that 2011 did not disappoint.

This year the “Peace Corps Volunteer Tribe” took to the streets, joining into the parade with the rest of the tribes and marched through the streets, leaving paint-streaked cars, buildings and people in our wake. I even made it onto national TV by giving a thoughtful and profound interview with a reporter! Okay, okay, perhaps one would call it unintelligible low-brow more so than thoughtful and profound, but a national TV appearance is still a national TV appearance.

Tribe Gringo, approximately 25-deep

Of course, there is always some fraternizing with the enemy

Although it did not disappoint, this year’s Carnival celebration had a bittersweet flavor for me, as it was the last one I’ll get to participate in. After discovering the unexpected joy of it all last year, I had a full year to look forward to the next one. Now that it’s over, I am sad to feel the void of that anticipation. But just as I come to fully realize this fact, the good ol’ Unsha sweeps in to cheer me up! As aforementioned, the Unshas come around during the days following Ash Wednesday, when nearly every “neighborhood” (aka street) in town plans their own Unsha party.

The process is this: in the morning the neighborhood’s Unsha-planner tramples out to the woods and hunts down a proper tree: typically medium-sized with a skinny trunk and ample branches. The lucky tree is then hauled back, where it is literally planted in the middle of the street. That’s right, we jack-hammer a hole in the middle of the street, dig a hole there and plant the tree as naturally as if it had grown there.

Before the Unsha tree can be raised, however, it is filled with presents! The quality of presents depends upon the fiscal situation of the Unsha-planner and his/her committee, as they pay for everything. For this, you really don’t want to end up as the planner (I’ll explain shortly how one actually becomes the planner). Mostly you see house-hold goods in the tree, such as buckets, brooms, blankets, etc., as we have to rely on things you can actually buy in San Miguel (alas, Target has yet to set up shop here).

Once the tree, presents and decorations included, has been raised, the real fun begins. After night-fall, the neighborhood residents and friends start gathering around the tree, along with… you guessed it, a marching band. As the band plays, everyone dances around the tree and revels in post-Carnival glee. Somewhere around 2 am, the machete finally makes its appearance. The Unsha-planner is given the machete, and, after several speeches, takes a whack at the trunk of the tree. The machete is then passed to everyone present and each gets a shot at the trunk.

Your goal is actually not to knock down the tree, as the last person to hit the trunk before it falls inherits the title of Unsha-planner for the following year. And the townsfolk do NOT forget who was wielding the machete when the tree came tumbling down. But it’s also an honor to be Unsha-planner, and the chosen one nearly always accepts the responsibility as such. Plus everyone else wins when the tree does finally fall, because then there is a free-for-all on the presents! You wouldn’t believe the rush that ensues to grab whatever you can from the tree branches, as if that plastic bucket is its worth its weight in gold.

To summarize, we drink for 4-5 hours, then swinging a machete around a tightly-packed group of people… good wholesome fun, really. Just one more reason I love this place and will miss its ridiculous traditions. I´ve participated in many Unshas now, and I´m happy to say that I have never gotten stuck with the final blow… but boy have I enjoyed watching it fall.

Oh Carnival, thanks for the memories!