The event has no protocol, but here everyone is in uniform. About thirty peaked caps hang over the heads of the attendees, who also wear paper necklaces (some come in orange, green or multicoloured). The majority of the audience is female. People in wheelchairs are placed on the sides. The walls are decorated with pennants and posters of the 86th edition of the International Sella Descent, the emblematic canoeing competition held every summer in Asturias, whose start – and the merrymaking that accompanies it – will take place this Saturday 3 August, just 300 metres from this place.
This Wednesday, just like every week before the relegation since 2007, an event was held at the Arriondas Multipurpose Resource Centre for Senior Citizens to bring the festival closer to the residents. The vast majority of them enjoyed it for decades and now, for different reasons and despite being so close, they will follow it from a distance.
Yobana Triguero (47 years old, Avilés), social worker and director of the centre —57 residents, 11 day users and about 90 employees counting outsourced services—, introduces Juan Manuel Feliz (75 years old, Arriondas), president of the organising committee of the Descent. Applause. Feliz, who already knows how the event works, begins by asking how many people have lived in the Sella since they were children. Several hands are raised. Then, he asks if anyone knows who the herald will be for this edition.
—Vitorín! —they say from the side.
—Indeed, Victor Manuel —answers Feliz.
Seeing that current affairs are going well, he proposes a memory exercise:
—Do you remember some verses from the proclamation?
—Yes, man!
—Let’s see, how does it begin? I’ll give you the cue: Let the audience keep silent…
—…and listen to our words. By order of Don Pelayo, after measuring the waters, canoe racing is once again authorized in Arriondas… —a small chorus repeats, joined by new voices in the last words of each verse.
—You forgot one… —they say from the center of the auditorium.
—Nooooo, you can’t forget. No way, no way, no way! —another resident replies.
“The Sella is part of their life and their idiosyncrasy. They have lived it since they were children with their friends and families and they have passed on this passion from generation to generation,” explains Eva María Toral (51 years old, Gijón), social educator and sociocultural animator at the centre. She wears a brooch with the colours of the Sella – red, blue, white, green and yellow – made by a colleague at the centre and explains with a local expression to what extent the descent is embedded in people’s daily lives. “Here, when they consider something to be the best, they say ‘from here to Piragües’ (a popular way of referring to the Descent), which gives a fairly clear idea of the place that the festival occupies in their lives,” she comments.
Feliz continues sharing details of the event with the residents. He explains technical aspects of the start and some take advantage of the moment to close their eyes for a bit. The attention returns when he tells them that there will be 25 countries represented in the competition.
“Wow!” comes from the auditorium.
—They even come from Argentine Patagonia —adds Feliz.
—Mommy…! —they exclaim, halfway between surprise and a certain laziness just imagining the trip, from the front row.
The data impresses the audience and prepares the room for the climax of the meeting. Ana Eva Cavielles (53 years old, Prunales, Arriondas) is an administrator and works “in cleaning” (she emphasizes) at the center. In the 90s she won Asturian song contests. On Saturday she will be in charge of singing the Asturian anthem in front of thousands of people. She has been doing so since 2009. When she sings the last note, the test will begin. Her entrance into the room raises excited applause. She announces that she is going to sing the anthem and, innately, people in their seats rise a few centimeters. Then, a small miracle occurs. Because when the Asturian anthem is sung, when reaching the most lively part —the one of “I have to climb the tree…”—the hubbub usually acts as an enemy of the beat. Not here. The audience accompanies Ana Eva in rhythm. They finish in unison and the song concludes with merriment and proud shouts of ¡Puxa Asturias! (Long live Asturias) that emerge from different seats.
Some inmates dare to share their memories. Erudina Borbolla (91 years old, La Robellada, Onís) remembers walking five kilometres with “devilish baskets, full of breaded steaks, tortillas and fried milk. And then, at night, another five kilometres back home.” She wears a peaked cap with advertising for an energy drink that, judging by the strength it transmits, seems to be a joker. marketing. María Teresa Somoano (“almost never”, Arriondas) shares a reflection: “I think our generation did not give the Sella the importance it has today.” Argentina Sánchez (78 years old, Hueges, Parres) shows her hands to show that she worked in the fields and remembers “going down very early to get a spot by the river… and to cool the cider in the water.”
Herminio Camino (74 years old, Cuevas del Agua, Ribadesella) was left with a lasting impression on his first time at the Descent. Not so much because the race passed in front of his town, but because of what fell from the sky. “At that time, planes flew over and threw toy parachutes that came with bars of Chimbo soap. It was publicity. My grandfather got me one. I will never forget that gift.” Nor will he forget the speed with which the news of who had won arrived: “There were no mobile phones or Internet, but you found out by whistling.” Nardí Martino (59 years old, Ribadesella), who did not miss an edition as long as his health allowed, draws an image of “tractors and cars cut from the middle up, accompanying the canoes from the road. And of races to get off the river train, get to the riverbank and run back to get on again almost in motion.” Pedro González (62 years old, Cangas de Onís) is clear that he wants Kiko Vega to win, as he is from his town, and that his favorite part is “the parade and the drunkenness.”
When asked what the Sella means to them, they begin to gesticulate and wave their arms, in an attempt to grasp an overwhelming feeling: “The Piragües are part of us. It is very difficult to explain. You don’t go, they come to you. Christmas is great, it belongs to everyone, but Les Piragües are ours. The Sella is ours,” says Herminio Camino.
“This event is very important for the Committee, which is why it is the first one we do every week before the Descent. We want to bring the festival closer to those people who lived it and who today, for whatever reason, cannot physically come,” says Manuel Feliz. He was accompanied by the secretary, Félix Soto (65 years old, Santianes de Tornín, Parres), and the treasurer, Juan Carlos Sierra (66 years old, Collía, Parres).
The meeting comes to an end.
—Do you have any more questions?
—“No, everything is fine, thank you very much,” a voice from the audience answers.
The loudspeakers announce that it is time for lunch. The group wearing bullfighting hats and paper necklaces slowly disperses through the centre’s corridors. On Saturday they will watch the race on television. “We have a big screen and we don’t miss a single detail. Each person in their own environment. But on TV they also get their hair standing up, eh?”
