A Black Jesus to Remember me By.

In the coast of the Carribbean we travelled. Our group of 16 we hit the hills to see the Black Jesus. It was on the day before the eve of an event where people make the pilgrimage from places as far as a country away. I heard some came from Costa Rica.

In purple shawls they walked to Portobello for this festival. We missed the festival because of some scheduling conflicts and there was some bitter faces because of that.
We passed them in our mini-bus. Walking down the road along this vast green and coconut filled landscape.

The air in the village where the black jesus is housed was just warming up. There was going to be a crazy party on the next day.


I entered the whitewashed church not knowing what to expect. The church was a cavern that rose to the clouds almost, with rafters hanging in mist above. In the corner was an encased figure hard to make out. The lighting was bad, the wood skin reflecting hot spots back to the audience. In front of our icon laid a stream of people prepared to recieve the icon. When I got there there was a cellphone perched high above the head of one of the parrissioners. No different than my shot here.


The Black Jesus is one of the most powerful of its kind outside of Africa. And through my limited knowledge of SPanish is all of the hard evidence I got. It was a fanatic and I have a couple of keychains to give away from it.

After that our group headed to the Caribbean for a weekend on ISla Grande. We spent a night there in a beautiful set of villas. We swam in the Caribbean Ocean for a couple of hours and were served Agua de Pipa/Coconut Water while still in the water.
We also sat out a rainstorm that lasted about 15 minutes. The rain was so hard we couldnt see in front of us. The salt water would splash into our eyes. The water was so warm it felt like it was being warmed up from the bottom.

I had a whole fried fish before going to bed and I can say I was in heaven.