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RADISHES
STAR IN OAXACA FESTIVAL
by
Joyce Dalton
While
the derivation of this unique festival is unclear, sociologists do know that in
the last century, Christmas Eve markets sold salt-dried fish and vegetables
after midnight mass. To distinguish one stall from another, vendors sculpted
tiny radish figures, embellishing them with turnips, onions, lettuce and
flowers. Housewives sought out the most interesting for their Christmas tables. In
1897, the mayor of Oaxaca inaugurated the first exhibition of radish art and
the rest is history. Each year, the best displays receive cash prizes. Three
days before the festival, artists begin carving, carefully spraying their
creations now and then with water to maintain freshness. On the big day,
activities get under way with a children’s workshop, where youngsters aged 7 to
12 take knife to radish with painstaking seriousness.
As
the sun sinks, the exhibition officially opens. A single-file line forms and viewers
pass slowly before each lighted display. After a few hours, it’s all over.
Prizes are awarded, veggies are packed up and everyone wanders off for dinner
or to check out the wares of the numerous vendors who have set up shop in front
of the nearby cathedral. A fireworks display signals time to call it a night. On
December 24th, crowds line the streets leading to and surrounding the Zocalo
for the calenda, a procession of floats, each accompanied by dozens of
walkers holding cellophane-wrapped candles.
Sparklers
glow, firecrackers explode and the crowd rushes forward whenever an angel or
shepherd tosses out candy. Stilted figures, representing the Three Kings or
Three Wise Men, weave along the parade route, delighting the crowd with their
antics. After
two nights of excitement, Oaxaca is strangely quiet on Christmas Day. Cafes open late. The usual array of balloon
men with their mammoth bouquets of brightly colored reindeer, Santas, smiling
octopuses and Disney characters have vanished. Only a few vendors spread out
their ceramics, ponchos, flouncy-skirted dolls and jewelry. Even
the pesky children who prowl the tables of the Zocalo’s outdoor cafes,
expecting tourists to drop coins into their ceramic piggy banks, have stayed
home. |
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Religious
tableaux, village scenes, historical events, mythical tales --- all the stuff
of art in countries around the world. But carved of radishes? Only in Oaxaca,
Mexico and only on the night of December 23. 
For
this city’s annual Night of the Radishes, the humble plants are transformed
into saints, animals, dancers, conquistadors, the revolutionary hero Emiliano
Zapata, even the Virgin Mary. Once Oaxaca’s master radish-artists have finished
with these veggies, any resemblance to something that might appear on the
dinner table has vanished. 
Forget
little round American radishes. The ideal medium for artistic expression is a
long, thick-skinned variety that can grow up to 20 inches in length and weigh
as much as seven pounds. Its contorted shape and twisted roots resemble Chinese
ginseng.
By
afternoon, the Zocalo, or central plaza, bustles as contestants set up
individual wooden tables, often topped by three-sided frames, the better to set
off the radish tableaux. Dried grass, leaves and perhaps flowers decorate the
simple settings. Carefully packed boxes are opened to reveal dozens of radish
churches, homes, trees and two- or four-legged characters. This usually is a
family affair and each member struggles to get every detail just so. Meanwhile,
tourists are free to roam the area, snapping pictures at will. 
Though
the night belongs to radishes, some artists have found other media, choosing
dried flowers or corn husks for their creations. 
Each
of Oaxaca’s many churches has its own contingent, consisting of a small, not
overly professional band, candle-bearers of all ages and a truck whose flatbed
typically has been transformed into a manger scene, complete with Mary, Joseph
and several little-girl angels in white dresses and gold halos and little
boy-shepherds in striped cloaks.