by dawn's early light

Early in the madrugada (early morning) today, I was roused from slumber by an amplified but slow and mournful drumbeat. Wrapping my thin blanket over my shoulders and slipping on the nearest pair of shoes, I opened the front door and wandered outside. The full moon was still visible in the western sky as the dawn's light began to creep over the horizon.

I walked out to the main road, searching for signs of the music I had heard a few minutes before. As I turned my attention from the sky's brilliant pink and orange hues to the deserted road, a small van with speakers playing the lament I had heard earlier appeared, surrounded by the faithful.

Music, processionals, reenactment, remembrance.

This is Good Friday in Nicaragua. +