Under the Rain, Matanzas Walks with the Virgin of Regla
This afternoon Matanzas does not have enough umbrellas for so much water. It rains, and the streets become mirrors; water runs along the sidewalks and forces one to quicken the pace. But there are those who do not stop. Through the city’s streets, the Virgin of Regla pilgrimages. And while the sky collapses over Matanzas, people advance behind her under a torrential downpour, as if the rain were not an obstacle but part of the pilgrimage itself.
There is something profoundly Cuban in that scene. Faith in Cuba has never walked separated from culture. It blended with our drums, with the paths of our towns, with promises, the prayers of grandmothers, and those very our own ways of asking for protection when life presses hard. The Virgin of Regla arrived on these lands from very far away.
Her story is linked to the tradition of the Virgin of Regla of Chipiona in Spain, and over time her devotion took deep roots in Cuba.
But here she also acquired a particularly our own dimension. In Afro-Cuban religious tradition, Regla blends with Yemayá, mother of the waters, lady of the sea. Two paths of faith that in deep Cuba learned to coexist, to recognize each other, and to form part of that complex spiritual fabric that also explains who we are.
That is perhaps why this image under the rain is so powerful: water over the city, water over the pilgrims, and water accompanying a Virgin who, for many, is linked precisely to protection, to the sea, to motherhood, and to hope.
The city is embraced by rivers, by the bay, by the sea. The Yumurí, the San Juan, and the Canímar have marked its geography and also its history. Here water has been path, sustenance, border, inspiration, and threat. And today it is present once again in an almost symbolic way.
The procession advances. Some carry umbrellas. Others cover themselves as best they can. There are those who simply receive the rain on their shoulders. And surely among those who walk there is a different petition.
A mother who prays for her children. A sick person for their health. A family for better times. Someone who gives thanks for having made it this far. Someone who simply needs to believe that tomorrow can be different.
Because the pilgrimage is not only walking behind an image. It is also walking behind a hope.
In difficult times, when uncertainties abound and certainties are lacking, people seek what can still sustain them. Some find it in prayer. Others in family. Others in community. And many find in faith a way of not feeling alone. Perhaps that is why no one leaves.
The rain intensifies, and Matanzas keeps walking.
The Virgin of Regla advances among wet streets, drenched faces, and gazes that cross. And for a few hours, the city seems to remember something it has known for centuries: that faith is also part of our history; that culture is also built with what we believe; and that Cuba, with all its mixtures, contradictions, and ways of surviving, learned long ago that the same hope can have many names.
Today, in Matanzas, it has one of them: Regla.
And under this downpour, the city pilgrimages with her.
Photo: Evelyn Rosa
