By: Meara Donovan, BTS Cooperant (2026)
If you’re reading this, it’s likely that miércoles de chilate doesn’t ring a bell. Since my first day in Rabinal a whole 9 months ago, I’ve heard about the famously celebrated occasion. But what is it? Where does it come from? And why is it important? In this piece, I’m setting out to answer these questions, to better understand one of Rabinal’s most unique and significant traditions.
The first indicator that miércoles de chilate—which for months felt like a far-off celebration—was upon us came on May 13th. I was invited to hike up Kaj Yup (kah-hee-YOOP), a mountain whose summit is a sacred site used for ceremonies and commemorations. From toddlers who teetered with every step to old ladies donning heeled sandals and traditional skirts, a slew of people made their way up, carting food, drinks, and blankets.
We arrived to find families pitching tents and a marimba trio in full-swing, backed by the setting sun turning the sky orange as an overripe mango. This gathering in honour of the holy cross originally marked the start of the rainy season and brings together families and communities around shared Catholic and Indigenous customs. This was Rabinal’s Día de la Santa Cruz, Day of the Holy Cross, the precursor to miércoles de chilate.
Día de la Santa Cruz at Kaj Yup
Our first question, what is miércoles de chilate? It’s safe to say it’s complicated. For someone coming from Canada, there are a lot of elements to unravel; I’ve done my best to synthesize research, conversations, and lived-experience to share more about this treasure with each of you.
An obvious place to start is with the name. About two months after Easter, on the Thursday after Trinity Sunday, some Catholics observe the Feast of Corpus Christi honouring the Eucharist. Miércoles de chilate translates to Chilate Wednesday, and as you may have guessed, the holiday is celebrated on a Wednesday, specifically the one before Corpus Christi. The second half of the name, Chilate, refers to a sacred ceremonial beverage made from white-maize, symbolic of the blood and body of Christ and illustrative of the cultural and religious syncretism that has evolved in Guatemala. We’ll come back to this later.
Next, it’s helpful to have an idea of the layout of Rabinal. The town of Rabinal is divided into four zones, called zonas, each with its own patron saint. Zona 1 in the southeast, Zona 2 in the southwest, Zona 3 in the northwest, and Zona 4 in the northeast encircle the town’s main square, protected by San Pedro Apóstol, Santo Domingo de Guzmán, San Sebastián, and San Pedro Mártir respectively. These saints (or statues thereof) spend most of the year comfortably housed in cofradías—a word I’ve heard a thousand and one times.
Cofradía. Popping it into Google Translate will give you the term “brotherhood”, which does little to encompass its full essence. From the Merriam Webster dictionary, cofradías are defined as “a group or organization of Roman Catholic laymen in Mexico and Central America responsible for the material care of religious images, pilgrimages, and ceremonies”. After speaking with locals, I’ve come to understand that the cofradías are incredibly culturally significant, as not only are they a cornerstone of local identity, but a manifestation of the centuries-old cultural syncretism between the Maya cosmovision and Roman Catholicism.
Rabinal has a total of 16 cofradías, each led by a hierarchy of seven couples. The man and woman of the highest order within the cofradía are known as the qajawxeel (ka-how-SHEL) and chuchuxeel (chu-chu-SHEL). These spiritual leaders oversee local cultural and religious activities and events throughout the year. The Qajawxeeles host the four patron saints in their respective cofradías. As put by the local facebook page Mi Rabinal, “Los Qajawxeles y Chuchuxel de los 4 barrios son ejemplo de compromiso, identidad y amor por nuestra cultura.” (The Qajawxeeles and Chuchuxeeles of the 4 neighborhoods are an example of commitment, identity, and love for our culture).
Map of Rabinal’s zonas and cofradías.
On the Tuesday eve of miércoles de chilate, the chuchuxeeles stay awake all night, tirelessly preparing the intricate chilate beverage. Its complex preparation process begins by toasting grains of white maize with ash. Once toasted, the maize is thoroughly rinsed and milled into a fine dough. The result is diluted with water, then filtered with cheesecloth to produce a milky liquid. The liquid is brought to a boil, thickened, and flavoured with muk, the Achí name for a fruit similar to zapote. Cocoa beans undergo a similar toasting and milling process before being combined with cinnamon and sugar. The chocolate mixture and chilate, or atol blanco, are finally served together in a jícara or guacal, traditional cups carved from the morro tree’s fruit.
A Jícara filled with the chilate beverage. Photo credit: Fredy Tecú Osorio.
At dawn on Wednesday, the chuchuxeeles set out with the chilate, escorting the saints on their journey to the four chapels around the main church in the plaza. They walk alongside two dances, Güegüechos (way-WAY-chohs) and Costeños (kohs-TAY-nyohs). Dancers lug bread and jícaras as the saints and their processions head towards their respective destinations. Meanwhile, people wait expectantly for jícaras filled with steaming cocoa and chilate paired with a cakey sugar-topped bun. The day’s activities are just getting started.
Up next comes the desfile, a parade of ancestral dances. Schools in Rabinal rehearse for weeks, if not months, in preparation for the event. Each performance has its own masks, attire, and history. One could probably write a whole book on the masks, but as this is a blog post and not a novel, I’m going to limit myself to the most intriguing information.
Like snowflakes, no two masks are exactly the same; they are old and have been passed down and cared for generation after generation. The masks are made of wood and as I’ve been told, are rather high-maintenance. They should be regularly doused with guaro, a spirit distilled from sugar cane, to prevent them getting thirsty. If you don’t keep up with their “watering”, the masks make a racket, and anyone nearby will hear mysterious crashes, clanks, and voices all night long. I’ve heard quite a few locals attest to this, including Don Tomás, the guardian at CECBI. The masks aren’t too picky though—tequila or rum will do just fine.
Respecting and caring for the masks doesn’t end with satisfying their penchant for a drink. Days prior to their participation in miércoles de chilate, the masks must be blessed in a traditional Maya Achí fire altar ceremony. Failure to perform this ritual is said to cause the masks to stick to performers’ faces, driving them mad.
Blessing the masks. Photo credit: Fredy Tecú Osorio.
Once the masks have been blessed, they can finally shine in the desfile. The dances performed are the living embodiment of the blending of different beliefs and customs from Catholicism, the Maya cosmovision, and Maya Achí culture. While the following list is by no means comprehensive, it is these dances that were presented by students of the New Hope Foundation’s (FNE) CECBI School:
- Güegüechos or Huehuechos: The dance’s peculiar name comes from its masks’ goiter-like protuberances. Devoted to Jun Toj, the god of rain and health, performers plead that he bless their communities and crops. As mentioned, they are tasked with bringing the chilate from the cofradías to the central plaza. This dance is only performed on miércoles de chilate and Corpus Christi.
- Costeños: A dance representative of the livestock fair. A menagerie of characters–cowboys, bulls, and ranchers–dance to the marimba, paying homage to the fundamental cultural and economic role played by livestock raising since colonial times.
- Rabinal Achí: The Rabinal Achí, or Xajooj Tun, meaning dance of the sacred drum, is emblematic of Rabinal and one of Guatemala’s most ancient traditions. It combines Maya Achí dance, theatre, and oral lore to tell the story of two rival princes, Rabinal Achí and K’iche Achí, from the K’iche and the Rabinaleeb peoples. The drama presents the capture and trial of K’iche Achí and was recognized by UNESCO as Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.
- Animalitos: An upbeat dance backed up by lively marimba in which different animals (lion, raccoon, rabbit, deer, etc.) dance in honour of the patron saint of the celebration.
Masks and dances. Photo credit: Fredy Tecú Osorio.
The CECBI was the only institute to present four dances, cementing their importance as a leader for cultural preservation within the community.
The streets are lined with people young and old bearing the heat to watch the colourful and animated procession. The day is loud in the best way: loud music, loud colours, loud laughter. Firecrackers constantly interrupt the hullabaloo, peppering the air with smoke. People come from all over Guatemala and abroad to witness the festive union of cultures and traditions.
It’s no small feat to be standing under Guatemala’s June sun for twelve hours, let alone while wearing long-sleeved shirts and a mask with only two small slits for the eyes. Each performance lasted over an hour, and if the transfixed crowd and students’ smiles weren’t indication enough of the importance of this tradition, I don’t know what is.
Desfile. Photo credit: Fredy Tecú Osorio.
An exciting update:
For the first time ever, the New Hope Foundation (FNE) is now able to accept donations online via their website: Donate now
This is a big step in working towards their fundraising goals to support the construction of new classrooms so that they can continue to provide youth with quality education and meaningful opportunities. We encourage you to please donate if you’re able and to share with your network.
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