The Ferris Wheels in Todos Santos - 10.31.06

The jail sits at the end of our street. The jail has two cells, which today are empty, and through the two bar-covered metal doors you can see the two latrines and two rusty beds that await new inmates.

Curiously, the jail has a charming location above the central plaza. A quaint cobblestone road climbs the hill from the plaza to the jail and beyond. The road is quite steep – to the point that in the rain, when the dust on the road turns to mud, it is nearly impossible to walk uphill. Every step towards the jail is undermined by an equivalent slide towards the plaza.

In the rain, then, the inmates are entertained by their neighbors’ Sisyphean struggles. On clear days, the inmates are greeted by a delightful view of the valley, the town center and, these days, the ferris wheels.

Video: They go much faster than this, promise.

There are two ferris wheels in town for the Day of the Dead festivities. They look normal enough, but they don’t act like any ferris wheels I know. The ferris wheels I know are designed to provide patrons with a relaxing view of the surrounds. Guatemalan ferris wheels, in contrast, are built for a different purpose: speed.

Three times as fast, that’s my estimate. The ferris wheels in Todos Santos are three times as fast as any I’ve seen in America.

There is a sonic component to these wheels, starting with staccato laughs of nervous anticipation as new riders slowly take their places. Those laughs strengthen into squeals of delight as the fully loaded wheel begins to move in earnest. As the wheel finds its pace, the squeals lower into throaty bawls of concern. At top speed, the wheel is cloaked in the silence of utter despair, which is punctuated only by the hopeless wail of the two or three women who have managed to catch their breath.

Finally, after several minutes, the wheel slows and then stops. And then the wheel starts moving backward. Riders’ screams echo from the hillsides.

I can also report, based on the sworn testimony of survivors, that while riders are held in place by a safety bar, the bar is locked into place by nothing more than a bent, rusty nail.

We do not ride the ferris wheels in Todos Santos. I choose to see this as a sign of my emerging sense of prudence, rather than another notch on my belt of cowardice.