The best views over Santiago de Compostela can be found on the wooded hill in Parque da Alameda just outside the ancient Old Town. The views attract a steady stream of visitors, but not as many as the brightly coloured statue at the entrance to the park, the Duas Marias. Ths fun looking statue is a popular photo spot, but what seems like a comedic statue to two eccentric sisters who lived their entire lives in Santiago, hides a terrible history.
Famed for their daily walks dressed in bright clothes and at times outlandish makeup, the two sisters, Maruxa and Coralia, came from a poor family dealt a terrible blow during the Spanish Civil War. The sisters, two of thirteen siblings, had three brothers who fought against Franco’s fascists in the 1930s. One was killed and the other two went into hiding when the fascists took control of Spain. That was when disaster struck the family.
Franco’s government was determined to hunt down their opponents and persecuted the sisters and their family. Their father lost his job, the family became outcasts, and Maruxa and Coralia were stripped naked and paraded in the streets. It’s said the sisters may even have been tortured and raped. This treatment went on for years until, in the mid-1940s, the brothers were captured and presumably murdered.
The damage was done, Maruxa and Coralia were broken and traumatised by the suffering they endured. By the 1950s and 60s they lived in poverty, undernourished, surviving only on the charity of their neighbours. Despite this, they promenaded at 2pm every day and earned the nickname “the two o’clocks”. Their bright clothes were viewed as a personal rebellion against the fear and silence imposed under fascism.
They died in the 1980s and their story was forgotten until a former neighbour persuaded the mayor to create the statue of the duo. It remains a reminder of the horrors visited on the Spanish population by Franco and his supporters, its joyful colours contrasting with the terrible tale they represent. The park itself is lovely, at the top of it near the Church of Santa Susana is a statue of Federico García Lorca, another victim of Franco.
The fascist government was supported by the Catholic Church in Spain, and in Santiago there is plenty of the latter on display. Most prominent of which is the 12th century cathedral reputed to be the final resting place of St. James’ bones. The cathedral is imposing inside and out, not to say a little bling, but not as imposing as the queue of the faithful and curious that wait to visit the crypt of Santiago, as he’s known in Spain.
But is this really Santiago? Did the bones of an Apostle killed in Palestine in 44 AD really turn up in a European backwater? Isn’t it a bit convenient that a hermit found them, 800 years after they were ‘lost’, just as the Catholic kingdoms of northern Spain needed a cause to rally around to take on the Moorish kingdoms to the south? Are we to believe the bones found in 1879 after being lost for a second time in 1700 are those of Santiago?
Whatever the truth, and I have a good idea of what that is, the St. James industry that has existed since his bones were ‘rediscovered’ and continues unabated until this day, is not likely to let such doubts get in the way of commerce.
Those bones did undoubtedly make Santiago de Compostela a glorious medieval city – the third most important in medieval Christendom. Perhaps we should just be content with that, because its many monasteries, churches, palaces and townhouses dating from that time make it an irresistible place to visit.
PS. That old “English” just came back to my mind. LOL.
And thank you for the story of the two Marías…
How was the beer at the pump? Saucy?