Another altar. While waiting, women and children occasionally give us shy half-smiles. They radiate acceptance with no attempt to hide their curiosity; they are obviously looking for an opportunity to connect. The braver ones shake hands with us and introduce themselves: they tell us their names and ages. We return the gesture, and they call their relatives so that we can shake hands with them as well. Their clothes are beautiful.
Meanwhile, the line is moving on. Everybody puts something down at one of the gods, and the group keeps spiraling into the inner shrines. The power in this twisting string of people is palpable. I keep praying my mantra20 all the way. A family is eating the blessed coconuts while sitting on the ground. We also start placing our flowers and bananas at various sac
