"I'll get up as soon as they come!", I say.
They usually don't show, and I have my seat. This time, the friends arrived. I was walking behind the rows, looking for an available spot, when the conductor, Professor Eliseo Martinez Garcia, noticed my predicament, and motioned for me to come and take his seat. I waved 'No!'. I did not want to sit in front of everyone for the duration of the concert. He didn't give up, but picked up a chair, and handed it to me near the front row. He is a good friend. Now, I had a padded chair, instead of the hard metal ones available for everyone else. 'I will enjoy this concert in comfort.'
The TV jingle sounded, the audience hushed, and the band began to play. The Sunday concert performed by the Oaxaca State Band is always an experience. The giant Laurel tree provides cool shade for the sixty members of the band as well as the many hundreds of listeners sitting around them. In the center, the dense cluster formed by the musicians' dark suites, provided a tranquil focal point for my eyes as they returned from the visual feast around me. Above, I could see the radiant blue sky. In front, a colorful array of Sunday dresses, while as a backdrop, large bouquets of balloons floated above the green shrubbery. The balloons seemed to cruise independently back and forth, while their vendors/pilots, remained unseen behind the shrubs. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted in from the edge of the plaza. I missed Adi. She always lets me share her cup.
Usually, I select a seat in the center. This time, thanks to the Maestro, I was seated on the extreme left, next to the percussion section. Sitting in my usual location, when one of the small percussion instruments is played, I can see the hand move, but I can't distinguish the ring. To my delight, sitting this close, I heard the triangle as clear as a bell. I may have to adapt my seating strategy to fit my age, although I may miss watching the first clarinet cheeks puff up, then turn purple, as he completes a long solo piece.
The joy of hearing the triangle was offset by the absence of pretty Maria. A little girl, she wears a shiny violet skirt, a traditional embroidered blouse, and arranges her black hair in a neat braid around her head. She, as her older sisters who are similarly dressed, sells candy from a tray, whose strap she sling over her neck. I like the way she gracefully glides between the rows, not making any intrusive 'Please buy!' gestures, yet capturing the business nonetheless. For three years, we have been watching her grow taller and prettier. She knew she could count on me to purchase a box of chiclets, and on Adi for a warm smile. Today she was not there. I hoped that maybe finally, she was allowed to devote herself to school.
The Sunday repertoire starts with light classical pieces, followed by Mexican and regional music. This afternoon, as the band concluded with a quilt of popular melodies, a teenager wearing the full indigenous costume, stepped in front of the audience. On her head, she held a basket of flowers, while with the other hand she waved her wide, pleated skirt. She danced throughout the piece, then returned shyly to her seat as the audience thanked her with a roaring applause.
Just another Sunday in Oaxaca.
