notes and reflections

In a Catholic city in a Catholic country the bells of countless churches peal out their messages not simply on Sunday but every day of the week. Most of the population of Morelia probably lives within walking distance of a church and most probably wake at least once a week to the insistant clamor of bells.  Probably too, most citizens understand the message the bells are trying to convey.  To someone unaccustoned to the culture however, the message is confounding since the often repetitive ringing doesn´t seem to signal the passage of the hour exactly nor occur at any specific time but rather seems to be issuing a long demanding appeal to the city´s citizens to wake up, pay attention, come to worship or if you´re so lost in sinfulness that you won´t come to church, at least consider the source of this voice and consider the rewards of renunciation. 

The effectiveness of this appeal nonetheless, lacks the visceral authenticity, the conviction and the urgency of real bells since these are not the carefully wrought and individual voices of foundry bells but mere recordings that sound quickly and sharply in the day´s still air, lacking the sonorous, echoeing resonance of brutal clapper against cast iron.  They are imitations needing no Quasimoto´s hands to tug the tower ropes.  They are therefore false but nonetheless simultaneously true, simulacrums that reflect the advance of technical efficiency over more laborious albeit more satisfying endeavors.  In this sense they are not unlike the attitudes toward religion itself held by so many, perhaps not so strongly here in a country with such a strong inbred history of religion, where taxi drivers solemnly cross themselves as they careen past churches, but certainly elsewere, an attitude that reflects not a deep, abiding, unquestioning and comfortable faith but one that pretends acceptance with a fervor no deeper than the water in a saucer.

More easily understood, believable and practical in the life of the city than these sanctuary bells is the message of the Bell Man.  These men or older boys walk the neighborhoods of the city constantly ringing a large handbell to remind householders that the garbageman is coming. Their message is sharp yet like those of the churches, somewhat imprecise.  "Yes," it says.  "The garbageman is coming. No, he´s not here yet.  It may be several hours.  But it will happen. Today. Sometime. Probably soon. Trust me.  I´m the Bell Man."