Night of the full moon

It was the night of the full moon and we were invited to the cemetery. We were glad to have our street-wise friend Alejandro with us. There was a gap in the large railings that seal the entrance, just enough to allow a person to get through. Large bowls of fire lit our path as we walked amongst the towers of the dead. Burials are upwards in Latin American cities.

We didn't really want to go and had no idea what to expect. The invite had come weeks before and without much thought I had given my word. Olwen put on a pair of comfortable shoes, Alejandro wore an american football top and I decided on my leather jacket for protection. That was justified when thunder cracked above the cemetery.

Certain images still remain in my mind. There was the man completely in white who walked with a slow deliberate step: the angel of death. There was the young girl with a bouquet of flowers which she destroyed; we saw her entire life. And there was the patience and silence of the many sitting on the stone path even in the rain. They kept looking towards the chapel doors.

This was part of Medellín´s cultural programme and the invite had come from one of its managers. It involved a theatrical performance showing how the memory of a love that had ended in tragedy dominated a woman´s life. Plus there was a tour of selected graves showing the cultural changes over the years. At one time Protestants were buried in the section called, animal excrement.

We came home thoughtful, discussing the meaning of the drama. Alejandro had difficulty getting his mind round his first experience of theatre.

To communicate the gospel you have to understand people. Medellín is an interesting place to do that, if you´ve got a leather jacket and ain´t easily spooked.

Medellín cemetery by day