Yes, those were definitely drums. Not the assertive, muscular, rhythmic pounding that fuels many a procession and parade here in San Miguel de Allende.

These were tentative little thumps, like someone was trying them out for the first time. A test ride. Coming from somewhere near the intersection of Correo and Recreo. Hortus restaurant, on the corner, blocked my view from the Jardin. But you could feel a sort of energy building as the drums grew louder, bolder, more assured, more assertive, rhythmic.

Yes, definitely.

A parade was about to break out in San Miguel.

And on a Monday, before noon. Nothing happens in San Miguel on Mondays before noon.

Suddenly, a guttural, primordial yelp cut through the cool air. Followed by another, and another, like a pack of young wolves was gathering. The drums started to speak in one voice, in one rhythm.

OK, this was going to be one of the better Mondays.

(Click on any image to see a larger picture.)

The procession moved rhythmically into the square in front of the Jardin, two lines stepping in beat to the row of wide-tub drums. Each dancer shook a white gourd in one hand and held a symbolic bow and arrow in the other. The chi-chi-chi of the gourds blended with the clacking of each dancer’s slatted skirt. It was like rain and thunder. On a blue-sky day.

Four curiously dressed jesters pranced and twisted through the lines — cajoling and teasing the dancers. A man with a white violin took position beside the drummers and added his own rhythms to the stew.

“Parroquia de Cristo” read the ribbons on their straw hats. One dancer later said they had come from the city of Juarez in the State of Chihuahua, across the Rio Grande from El Paso. Juarez is the home of Parroquia de Cristo Rey.

They danced and knelt in front of the Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel for the better part of an hour, a singularly delightful form of devotion for the dancers and the audience.

In San Miguel, nobody ever said “I don’t like Mondays.”

Videos of today’s procession: