Scary Sundays

Sundays are terrifying days for small children in our community because the “day of rest” is also the “day of baths.”

In addition to their 2 daily baths and as-needed feet washings, on Sundays children must also have their hair washed and braided. Having clean and nicely braided hair is a priority – especially for children enrolled in the preschool or elementary school. People take advantage of Sunday afternoon leisure time to handle this time-consuming task.

For little girls and some little boys, the process begins with a family member yanking loose last week’s braids while the child is made to sit still. After the prolonged ‘time-out’ session, the kids are set free to play, with their hair wild and frizzed-out in crimpy, crazy, soon-to-be dust-caked poofs.

Later in the afternoon the real terror begins- bath time. In the cold weather mothers heat bath water over the kitchen fire, but when standing wet and naked in a bucket, the kids still feel the chill of the wind, as evident by their shivering and shrieking. I always find it amusing that the kids climb into the bucket so willingly. It’s as if they’ve completely forgotten the routine that’s about to be repeated. With the first cup-full of water poured down their little backs, the memory returns and the crying begins. They squirm and dance in a way that would be completely adorable if it weren’t for the accompanying screams. Moms then suds them up, scrub them down, and comb their hair out. After a few minutes the poor little guys are released from their buckets, wrapped in towels, and embraced by their loving mothers. The kids calm down, having apparently forgotten, once again, the routine. Now comes the braiding.

Most kids learn from an early age that it’s in their own best interest to holds still during the braiding process, but some still put up a pretty good fight. Their screaming and squirming is futile, however. No matter how much they resist, they’re forced to endure the pulling and twisting until they emerge with a hairstyle they’re proud to show off. They then present for approval their intricately braided patterns, brightly colored rubber bands, or beads that clank together when they shake their heads.

On a normal Sunday it is possible to walk past any given home in our community and immediately detect if the resident kids are in the process of being bathed and braided. The shrieking is a tell-tale sign. However, during the month of February children have another reason to cry on Sunday afternoons.

For reasons that neighbors are unable to explain, these are days when people walk around in masks asking for money. Children, and even a few adults find the practice absolutely horrifying. It’s not that the masks, themselves, are especially scary; they’re simple homemade tubes constructed of cardboard. The scary thing about “mascarinhas” or “little masked ones” is that their identity is completely concealed. Mascarinhas are dressed in such a way that every inch of skin is covered. Their clothes are baggy and nondescript, and their masks´ eye holes are so tiny that it’s impossible to catch a glimpse of the face within. Thus the mascarinha seems less of a “he” or “she” and much more of an “it.” In addition, and much of the reason for the children’s screams, the mascarinhas carry switches threatening to whip people that come near. They enter into people’s homes unannounced and ask for “monnnnneeeey” while inhaling. By sucking in air instead of speaking normally, their voices are completely unidentifiable and totally terrifying.

In reaction to a visit from the mascarinhas, children tremble, cry, and run to hide. The little guys track the mascarinhas’ whereabouts all day long and refuse to participate in their normal activities out of fear of encountering one in the street.

In an effort to make this terrifying tradition more relatable to the American reader, I ask you to think for a moment about how small children react to the mall Santa Clause. Now picture him wearing a mask, holding a switch, speaking in a poltergeist voice, and entering into your home. As you can imagine, the scene is not pretty. Yet, oddly enough, Cape Verdean parents find their children’s reactions to the mascarinhas to be hilarious.

With the combination of baths and horrifying masked creatures walking about, Sundays in February are truly a day of terror for children. The little guys will be happy to greet the month of March when mascarinhas retreat into hibernation and the only scheduled community tradition is Women’s Day… far less threatening.

This little girl has yet to recover from the braiding experience.

Juelma, a little girl who I secretly plan to carry back to America with me, has already grown accustomed to the braiding routine. It´s just the bathing that makes her squeal.

These guys may not look terrifying, but you wouldn´t know it by the
children´s reactions all around town.