Benditas de Muro, the memory of a vanished peasantry

PalmSaint Anthony is the patron saint of animals and, by extension, of farmers. Muro is the town that most proudly celebrates this status of the bearded saint on his feast day (January 17). They do so with elaborate and well-attended blessings, which are the culmination of the great winter festival of the Part Forana region, celebrated with traditional songs, tambourines, and bonfires. Now, the Consell de Mallorca (Island Council of Mallorca) has declared these celebrations an Intangible Cultural Heritage Asset (BIC). Their history can be followed in the book recently published by researcher Damià Payeras Capó, entitled Saint Anthony, popular devotion and festival in Muro. "There is documentary evidence," he says, "that these celebrations have been held in the municipality since the 18th century, although they are surely older. It was the time when all the farmers adorned their altars and took them to be blessed to ensure that they would be protected throughout the year."

The father of the hermit's life was born in the 3rd century in Egypt. At the age of 18, he heard God's call and decided to retreat to the desert, where he would overcome all kinds of sinful temptations from the devil. The piglet with which he is depicted indicates his connection to the animal world. According to legend, one day he found a badly injured animal, which he healed instantly. From then on, the piglet, as a sign of gratitude, accompanied him everywhere until the day of his death at the age of 105, supposedly on January 17, 356. In the 11th century, the remains of the Egyptian monk were brought to a town in southeastern France. From there, devotion to him spread throughout much of Europe. In the Balearic Islands, it arrived in the 13th century with the Christian conquest by James I. His feast day is part of a cycle with pagan roots that links Christmas with Carnival and commemorates the rebirth of nature after the winter solstice, with fire as a purifying element.

The Murense Agricultural Union

"In Muro," Payeras points out, "from the beginning, the parish and the San Antonio Works were responsible for the Beneïdes. From the 1950s onwards, the organization was taken over by La Unión Agrícola Murense, 'a sociedad de sus bistias', a mutualist entity founded in 19. In the 1980s, with the restoration of democracy, the City Council became the sole organizer and sponsor of the celebration."

In the late 1980s, the 72-year-old researcher from Muro interviewed elderly people to better understand the collective dimension of the Beneïdes, which in its beginnings also attracted farmers from Llubí – the municipality became independent from Muro in 1836. “The Beneïdes,” he says, “began in the early afternoon. Myrtle. He was on top of two wooden benches, surrounded by the authorities.

“Those who brought the animals out to be blessed,” Payeras continues, “were men, who changed clothes for the occasion. Despite the rain or wind, they always went out. The women had a secondary role in the festival.” It was quite a spectacle. “When a beast came, the crowd would gather in the corner and then flood back into the street. It was like a wave from the sea. Despite the large crowd, there was never an accident with runaway animals. People said it was because they left already blessed.” At the end of the parade, the public passed in front of the priest.

The animals (especially mules, donkeys, and oxen) became the main protagonists of the eagerly awaited day. "They were," says the researcher, "essential for agricultural tasks, just as tractors and cars are today. Without them, the farmers couldn't do anything. Their death was a great tragedy, since they had represented a significant investment. They were led in slings, not carts. In 1946, some 400 animals were blessed." There was also holy water for the rest of the animals: sheep, cows, oxen, goats, pigs, turkeys, geese... "Many of these animals were kept in the village houses. Back then, each house had a corral with a shed and a pen where the pigs were fattened for slaughter."

Ca s'Artiller

Today in Muro, one of these old houses has been transformed into a peasant museum with a fine collection of tools whose names have been forgotten (falcella, criba, rampaina, gavilanes...). It's called Ca s'Artiller. It was inaugurated in 2014 by the 79-year-old cultural activist Jordi Cloquell Noceras. "The space," he says, "is intended as a tribute to a vanished world. My parents were the last generation of farmers in the village. They worked as 'conrar,' a generic verb that encompassed many agricultural activities such as plowing, harvesting, threshing, and reaping." Cloquell is the second of four siblings. "All four of us were encouraged to study. They didn't want such hard work for us. At 19, I started working at the post office and later at a bank."

From his youth to his rural life, this resident of Muro retains an extraordinary talent for storytelling. In 2022 he published Wall, sound heritage“My parents always sang while they farmed. When I was very little and didn’t know how to do anything yet, when it was time to thresh the grain, my mother would make me stand in the middle of the threshing floor and say, ‘You have to sing because that way the harvest will be more cheerful.’ Back then, almost every farm job had its own song, its own little tune.” Whether shaking almonds or doing some other task.”

Cloquell acknowledges that, despite being hard, working the land allowed his family to be self-sufficient and not depend on anyone. “My parents were their own bosses. That wasn’t such a consumerist society as it is now, and they could live off what they grew. On Sundays, I would go with them in a cart to sell at the Santa Maria market. In the village, in case of an emergency, there was a trade for every need (blacksmith, carpenter, etc.), and the streets were full of small shops.” The man from Muro also remembers the Benditas (Blessed Ones) of his childhood very well. “They were very authentic.” It was the day when farmers proudly displayed their sheep, which they fed well so they would be at their best. They loved them even more than their children because they were more essential for the work. That's why there was no animal abuse in those days. The role of the herdsman was very important. Now they call him a farmhand.

Blessed distorted

Today, the Les Beneïdes animal parade runs from the Plaça del Convent to the Town Hall esplanade. All the television crews and photographers are waiting to capture the image of the shepherd leading a large flock of sheep, a reminder of Muro's old agricultural past. Horses, the other distinctive element of the festival, weren't as prevalent in the past, when sterile mules (the offspring of a donkey and a mare, or a horse and a jenny) were more common, as they were considered more resilient. A new protagonist in recent decades has been the companion animal, the familiar pets. "I find it ridiculous," laments Cloquell, "that people bring them to be blessed dressed in coats and in strollers. Today we take children to daycare and the elderly to nursing homes, while we buy a dog or a cat so we're not alone and we buy them food. Before, these animals ate whatever was left over."

This new trend shift began in the 1960s with the boom Tourism had a major impact on the countryside. "Many people from Muro," recalls the cultural activist, "went to work in a hotel. That was an irresistible lure, even for people who until then had emigrated to Germany to avoid being slaves to the land. Their godparents had followed the same path at the beginning of the 20th century, in their case in Sudca." Cloquell highlights an important aspect imposed by the new consumerist and capitalist society. "Muro no longer smells like it did when I was little, when herders of goats, sheep, and cattle passed by our house all day long, leaving quite a 'signature' in their wake. Now there are no animals in the village anymore. Eight years ago, I rediscovered that characteristic smell when I went to Santillana del Mar, in Cantabria, where..."

Little by little, the Benditas would become a lavish reminder of a vanished peasantry. "Now," laments the man from Muro, "they're completely distorted. They've become a pseudo-carnival. The floats with free themes reference absurd things from television, and the traditional ones poorly recreate the rural world because it's a world the younger generations no longer know." The head of Artiller shuns any romanticism of the past, but resigns himself to the signs of the times. "With so many comforts, we have a higher standard of living. Before, however, we had a higher quality of life. We've lost a lot in the name of progress. Toni Gomila denounces this very well in his monologue." To corner, dedicated to the tribal tradition of killings."