Rey Mago No Mas

Over the last two weeks I spent 35 hours over 5 days playing the role of Balthazar in Badalona, 20 minutes from the heart of Barcelona. My two fellow kings and I were handing out pamphlets from the city govt. reminding citizens to recycle their electronics. It was a heady, trippy experience, which, surprisingly had less to do with the fact that I wore a cape and crown with blinking lights, than with what I represented. Los Reyes Magos, The Magic Kings, the three kings. They are the equivalent of Santa Claus, mythical beings deciding if a child's behavior warrants gifts. But unlike Santa they are actually a part of the story of the birth of Christ. Even in this Catholic post-religious country Los Reyes Magos remain very beloved figures. Catholicism has become like Judaism for many people, the observation is more cultural than religious. It was more gratifying than playing Santa in the US might have been-- the whole Santa's not black thing, but Balthazar is-- and people who would usually render me invisible in the situation looked me in the face, some despite themselves, smiling they took the flier.

Some of my favorite things:

• the old ladies who would tell me conspiritorilly that I was their favorite Rey, which has me wondering if people's favorite king is at all affected by who Franco's favorite king was, or if, in general favoring Balthazar was a small personal form of resistance for people growing up under the dictatorship, especially among the Catalans
• the old lady who demanded a kiss because I had no candy
• the way that people would weave through us to get the pamphlet from their favored king
• the babies who stared at us--from me the same look would say, 'what's up with these guys? Don't they have any idea what they look like?'
• the children who screamed and waved from across streets, cars and trains
• the children who called 'me' out by name
• the children who gave me letters, but especially the letter from Sara, who came running up the street with her older sister as we were disappearing one evening. I waited for her, and it was totally worthwhile. Every other letter was a list of toys and electronic letters. She actually wrote a letter that began: I'm Sara. I belive I have behaved well all year, even though I have made my mother angry sometimes. But I have asked for her forgiveness. She goes on to ask for a doll that pees, and, if I want, I can bring her games because the kids she plays with don't have any. She makes me want to reproduce.
• when kids would speak to me in Catalan, and their parents, seeing the confused look on my face, would repeat in Catalan
  
• the bartender who gave us the 'Reyes special' when we sought shelter from the storm
• my fellow kings. Despite the special circumstances, it will always kinda suck handing out fliers on the cold day
• I didn't have to wear a fake beard or wig

My least favorite things:

• being called 'el negro', the black one, but to a great degree that's just me being a black American. They don't mean anything, they're not being insensitive, necesarrily. They refered to my fellow kings as 'el rubio', and 'el blanco', the red one and the white one, referencing the color of their hair, but still...At least I didn't see any kings in blackface
• the children who cried
• the children who ran
• the people who acted like we were handing out bags of dog shit
• the drunken adults demanding candy
• every adult demanding candy, except the sweet old lady (see above)
• the security guards who kept throwing us out of places, only to later apologize and invite us back in

I'm glad it's over but it was an interesting experience dressing in costume to walk streets and shopping malls.