From Piñata to Postage Stamp, US Celebrates Centuries-Old Hispanic Tradition

Arica Reed, owner of Big Daddy Pinatas, assembles a piñata at her home, Friday, Sept. 8, 2023, in Mesa, Ariz. (AP)
Arica Reed, owner of Big Daddy Pinatas, assembles a piñata at her home, Friday, Sept. 8, 2023, in Mesa, Ariz. (AP)
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From Piñata to Postage Stamp, US Celebrates Centuries-Old Hispanic Tradition

Arica Reed, owner of Big Daddy Pinatas, assembles a piñata at her home, Friday, Sept. 8, 2023, in Mesa, Ariz. (AP)
Arica Reed, owner of Big Daddy Pinatas, assembles a piñata at her home, Friday, Sept. 8, 2023, in Mesa, Ariz. (AP)

The US Postal Service on Friday rolled out its latest special edition postage stamps, paying homage to a tradition with global roots that has evolved over centuries to become a universal symbol of celebration.

The release of four new stamps featuring colorful piñatas coincides with a monthlong recognition of Hispanic heritage in the US and the start of an annual festival in New Mexico where the handmade party favorites are cracked open hourly and children can learn the art of pasting together their own creations.

Piñatas are synonymous with parties, although their history is layered and can be traced to 16th century trade routes between Latin America and Asia and the efforts of Spanish missionaries to convert Indigenous communities to Christianity. It was through dance, music and the arts — including the making of piñatas — that biblical stories were spread throughout the New World.

Piñatas became a key part of celebrating Las Posadas — the festivities held each December in Mexico and other Latin American countries to mark the birth of Christ. The religious origins are evident in the classic piñata designs of the seven-point star and the burro, or donkey, said Cesáreo Moreno, chief curator at the National Museum of Mexican Art in Chicago.

“Those early missionaries really were creative in the ways in which they wanted to teach the biblical stories to the Indigenous people,” Moreno said. “Nativity scenes, piñatas, posadas — all those things really worked well. They worked so well that they became a part of the popular culture of Mexico.”

And they still are part of the Mexican and larger Hispanic communities, whether it's in Chicago, San Antonio or Los Angeles, he said.

“Culture has no borders. Wherever community gathers, they have their culture with them. They bring it with them and so the piñata is no different,” he said.

Piñatas imported from Mexico line parts of Olympic Boulevard in Los Angeles. In Nevada, Arizona and New Mexico, people have turned their kitchen tables and garages into makeshift piñata factories, turning out custom shapes for birthday parties and special events.

Inside Casa de Piñatas in Albuquerque, giant characters hang from the ceiling and crowd the walls. For more than half his life, shop owner Francisco Rodríguez has been bringing to life super heroes, dinosaurs, sea creatures and other animals with strips of old newspaper and a simple paste of flour and water.

Some customers come from El Paso, Texas, and others from as far away as Michigan.

Rodríguez stared out the window, watching traffic zip by as he waited for his work to dry. With residue still on his apron and the fans blowing, he contemplated the future of the industry, hoping the next generation will take an interest in the craft.

He said many older piñata artists have retired or closed up their shops and he’s concerned the materials needed — like newspapers — will be harder to get as more things go digital.

It's likely piñatas will keep evolving as they have over the centuries. No longer are they made from clay ollas — used for hauling water or storing food — that would make a loud pop when cracked. Gone are the shards that would litter the ground as children scrambled for the tangerines, pieces of sugar cane and candy that poured out.

The stamps were inspired by the childhood memories of graphic designer Victor Meléndez, who grew up in Mexico City and remembers spending days with cousins and other relatives making piñatas to celebrate Las Posadas. His mother also would make piñatas for birthdays.

“That’s a dear, dear memory of just fun and happiness,” he told The Associated Press as he took a break from painting a mural in Seattle. “And I wanted to show a little bit of that and pay homage to some of those traditions.”

Meléndez's artwork also is influenced by the colors of homes in Mexico — bright pinks and deep blues, yellows and oranges.

This marks the third consecutive year the US Postal Service has issued a collection of stamps dedicated to Hispanic culture. Previous collections highlighted mariachi music and Day of the Dead.

Designing the stamps was certainly a dream project for Meléndez, who is known for his murals and design work for Starbucks. He's been a longtime fan of stamp work, having collected what he described as a ton of little bits of paper just because he likes the art.

Meléndez hopes the new stamps will ignite conversations and encourage people to learn about other cultures. They might discover they have more in common, he said.

“In the end, I feel that there must be a connection and there must be some sort of mutual understanding,” he said. “That eventually leads to better relations and more people being happy without fighting.”



War Casts Shadow over Lebanon’s Ancient Baalbek

Smoke billows from the site of an Israeli airstrike on the Lebanese city of Baalbek in the Bekaa valley on September 23, 2024, behind the ancient Roman ruins and the six columns that remain standing at the Temple of Jupiter. (AFP)
Smoke billows from the site of an Israeli airstrike on the Lebanese city of Baalbek in the Bekaa valley on September 23, 2024, behind the ancient Roman ruins and the six columns that remain standing at the Temple of Jupiter. (AFP)
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War Casts Shadow over Lebanon’s Ancient Baalbek

Smoke billows from the site of an Israeli airstrike on the Lebanese city of Baalbek in the Bekaa valley on September 23, 2024, behind the ancient Roman ruins and the six columns that remain standing at the Temple of Jupiter. (AFP)
Smoke billows from the site of an Israeli airstrike on the Lebanese city of Baalbek in the Bekaa valley on September 23, 2024, behind the ancient Roman ruins and the six columns that remain standing at the Temple of Jupiter. (AFP)

Since war erupted between Israel and Hezbollah, the famed Palmyra Hotel in east Lebanon's Baalbek has been without visitors, but long-time employee Rabih Salika refuses to leave -- even as bombs drop nearby.

The hotel, which was built in 1874, once welcomed renowned guests including former French President Charles de Gaulle and American singer Nina Simone.

Overlooking a large archaeological complex encompassing the ruins of an ancient Roman town, the Palmyra has kept its doors open through several conflicts and years of economic collapse.

"This hotel hasn't closed its doors for 150 years," Salika said, explaining that it welcomed guests at the height of Lebanon's 1975-1990 civil war and during Israel's last war with Hezbollah in 2006.

The 45-year-old has worked there for more than half his life and says he will not abandon it now.

"I'm very attached to this place," he said, adding that the hotel's vast, desolate halls leave "a huge pang in my heart".

He spends his days dusting decaying furniture and antique mirrors. He clears glass shards from windows shattered by strikes.

Baalbek, known as the "City of the Sun" in ancient times, is home to one of the world's largest complex of Roman temples -- designated a World Heritage Site by UNESCO.

But the latest Israel-Hezbollah war has cast a pall over the eastern city, home to an estimated 250,000 people before the war.

Smoke billows from the site of an Israeli airstrike that targeted Lebanon's eastern city of Baalbek in the Bekaa valley on September 25, 2024, behind the ancient Roman ruins and the six columns that remain standing at the Temple of Jupiter. (AFP)

- Life at a standstill -

After a year of cross-border clashes with Hezbollah, Israel last month ramped-up strikes on the group's strongholds, including parts of Baalbek.

Only about 40 percent of Baalbek's residents remain in the city, local officials say.

On October 6, Israeli strikes fell hundreds of meters (yards) away from the Roman columns that bring tourists to the city and the Palmyra hotel.

UNESCO told AFP it was "closely following the impact of the ongoing crisis in Lebanon on the cultural heritage sites".

More than a month into the war, a handful of Baalbek's shops remain open, albeit for short periods of time.

"The market is almost always closed. It opens for one hour a day, and sometimes not at all," said Baalbek mayor Mustafa al-Shall.

Residents shop for groceries quickly in the morning, rarely venturing out after sundown.

They try "not to linger on the streets fearing an air strike could hit at any moment," he said.

Last year, nearly 70,000 tourists and 100,000 Lebanese visited Baalbek. But the city has only attracted five percent of those figures so far this year, the mayor said.

Even before the war, local authorities in Baalbek were struggling to provide public services due to a five-year economic crisis.

Now municipality employees are mainly working to clear the rubble from the streets and provide assistance to shelters housing the displaced.

A Baalbek hospital was put out of service by a recent Israeli strike, leaving only five other facilities still fully functioning, Shall said.

A cat walks at the entrance of the historical Palmyra hotel in the eastern Lebanese city of Baalbek on October 19, 2024. (AFP)

- 'No one' -

Baalbek resident Hussein al-Jammal said the war has turned his life upside down.

"The streets were full of life, the citadel was welcoming visitors, restaurants were open, and the markets were crowded," the 37-year-old social worker said.

"Now, there is no one."

His young children and his wife have fled the fighting, but he said he had a duty to stay behind and help those in need.

"I work in the humanitarian field, I cannot leave, even if everyone leaves," he said.

Only four homes in his neighborhood are still inhabited, he said, mostly by vulnerable elderly people.

"I pay them a visit every morning to see what they need," he said, but "it's hard to be away from your family".

This picture shows closed shops on an empty street in the eastern Lebanese city of Baalbek on October 19, 2024. (AFP)

Rasha al-Rifai, 45, provides psychological support to women facing gender-based violence.

But in the month since the war began, she has lost contact with many.

"Before the war... we didn't worry about anything," said Rifai, who lives with her elderly parents.

"Now everything has changed, we work remotely, we don't see anyone, most of the people I know have left."

"In the 2006 war we were displaced several times, it was a very difficult experience, we don't want this to happen again," she said.

"We will stay here as long as it is bearable."