Philadelphia Weekly

Virgin territory: Immigrants from San Mateo Ozolco celebrate their first carnaval on this side of the border.

Originally this type of carnaval comes from Huejotzingo, Puebla," says Asunci�n Sandoval, a founding member of the newly formed San Mateo Carnavalero group. "We brought it to San Mateo many years ago, and now we're [in Philadelphia] and trying to bring it here."

The dozens of Mexican immigrants dressed as French, Turkish and Mexican soldiers with faux wooden rifles dancing to banda music in the streets of South Philly last week were part of Philly's first annual Carnaval de San Mateo Ozolco. The elaborately costumed and somewhat inebriated dancers filled the 500 block of Mifflin Street before making their way to Sacks Park at Fourth and Washington.

Sandoval, 33, has lived in Philadelphia for 10 years. He's part of the early wave of immigration that over the last decade has transported thousands of young people from San Mateo Ozolco--a tiny secluded village about two hours southeast of Mexico City--directly to Philadelphia. Today more than a third of the population of San Mateo Ozolco lives in South Philadelphia.

It's a transnational community that continues to grow as young people frustrated with the lack of opportunities back home cross the border to work as busboys, dishwashers and line cooks in our city's thriving restaurant industry. Mostly undocumented and with minimal English skills, the community exists under the radar yet remains tight-knit and loyal to its traditions.

"We do this carnaval every year in San Mateo Ozolco. And when we come here every year we say, 'This week is the carnaval in San Mateo. Why we don't do that?'" says Sandoval. "But we can't, or we have a lot of things to do like work, and we don't know if the people like it or not, so we don't do it. But last year we decided--let's do it this year. We see what happens."

A late-winter celebration of fertility popular throughout Latin America, carnaval takes on a distinctive ceremony in the small towns within the Mexican state of Puebla--towns like Huejotzingo and San Mateo Ozolco. In these parishes the traditional indigenous rituals are syncretized with both Catholic practices and nationalistic commemorations of Mexico's greatest military victory--Cinco de Mayo. On May 5, 1862 Mexican forces defeated a French army (assisted by Turkish soldiers) nearly twice their size during the Battle of Puebla.

In San Mateo carnaval takes place the Sunday through Tuesday before Easter. On the third day the people gather in a designated home for food and drink, then walk through the streets in costume toward the town square, where they fire wooden rifles and reenact the traditional love story of the "kidnapping of the general's daughter."

Despite its struggling economy, San Mateo manages to hire the best carnaval bands--groups like La Carca�a and Orquestra Zacatepec, which play in Huejotzingo as well--to perform for the pueblo. While those bands weren't in attendance at the South Philly festival, their music blasted from the speakers set on the sidewalk outside Sandoval's row home. Inside, plates of chicken mole, rice and beans and tortillas were served to anyone who entered.

Sandoval says the carnaval was celebrated late in Philly because the costumes were handmade in Huejotzingo and had to be brought to Philadelphia. While some of the outfits were shipped over from relatives back home, others were delivered in person. Dionicio Jimenez, a San Mateo Ozolco native and the chef/owner of Xochitl restaurant at Second and Lombard, says he collected about 15 costumes for friends and family during his last trip home. The oversized rifles and headdresses were all made here.

And those costumes, says Sandoval, are here in Philly to stay. Pleased with the community's participation and excitement, the organizers are already discussing ideas for next year's events. "Next year will be the same--only bigger," promises Sandoval.