iolet gown, white cord, scapular in the heart: gear of October. Slow, slow step, of hundred of thousands of people.
A scream is born in the anonimity: "don't push, don't push...", and the band start playing and the streets smell of incense. A prayer is listened. A woman kneels down..." advance, advance, brothers..." The procession continues ahead.
The city is paralyzed in October. Violet month they call it and
Lima is tinted of that color in homage to its Patron, El Señor de los Milagros, the Black Christ Moreno that from the high of its platform observes with infinite kindness to his children.
Please heal my mother!, one of the faithful ones implores, because the Lord doesn't fail and for more than 300 years have listened the requests of the Limean. For that reason is that an entire town believes and accompanies him when travelling the streets of its city.
During the days of the procession, Lima
lives a party of faith, of hope and of love that doesn't have paragon with none of those that exist in the American continent. It is calculated that not less than 600 thousand people accompany the Black Christ in each one of his exits or "walks"... "because the Lord goes out to give a glance to his city, to see how it is and to bless it", assures one of the members of the Fraternity of El Señor de los Milagros, founded in 1776.
But October is not only prayers and incense, it is also the scent of the anticuchos, of the picarones, of the mazamorra or of Doña Pepa nougat that people sell.
It is the sound of the guitar and the cajón (wood box), of the revel that starts "under the bridge", like the old Creoles used to say. It is the mettle of the Brave Party, of the bull fights afternoons in the historical Coliseum of Acho, waving white handkerchiefs in the air and throwing flowers to the arena... Lima becomes October.
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