By CARLOS MARTINEZ

“Santisima Muerte, I beseech you lovingly in as much as immortal God formed you with your great power over all mortals (...) I ask of you until the last day, hour and moment in which your divine majesty commands to take me before your presence. Amen.”

DESPITE its creeping certainty, death is a concept that most of its quarry find startling at the very least. At one superstitious extreme, there are those that consider even talk of it an open invitation to its lengthening shadow. At the other, a cult has recently grown up in Mexico that regards Death as something to be cherished and prayed to for all kinds of good fortune-in life.
La Santisima Muerte (‘Saint Death’) is a death-spirit, personified as a female skeleton in a cloak, worshipped by its patrons much like any other Roman Catholic saint. However, unlike other saints, Santa Muerte is an unashamedly material icon, prayed to for money, love and vengeance.

“ It’s a saint 100 percent material,” says Alejandro Caballero, creator of an online discussion forum about Santa Muerte. “It would appear that other saints have lost their influence to Santa Muerte.”

The colored cloak of the skeletal Santa Muerte corresponds to the favors asked of her. Although there are over eight different colors, white, red and black are dominant. According to the cult, a white-cloaked Santa Muerte grants protection, luck and money, a black cloak represents power and vengeance, and a red cloak helps in love and affairs of the heart.

Not unlike the practice of upturning the image of the Catholic saint San Antonio in order to win a boyfriend or girlfriend, Santa Muerte is a ritualistic faith that demands certain disciplined, sometimes superstitious, steps for fulfillment. “ I have a friend with a business who believes in Santa Muerte,” says amateur folklorist Bryant Holman. “Everytime my friend’s business is going OK he caresses the skeleton, but whenever business fails, he turns the skeleton around so it’s facing the wall.”

A candle is lit every day by worshippers to honor Santa Muerte. As with the cloak, the color of the candle depends on the nature of the wish. Like most saints in Mexico, an altar is built to honor Santa Muerte, that is adorned with incense, candles, fresh flowers, assorted foodstuffs, tequila, beer or water in a glass, a couple of cigarettes, and one cigar each day. On waking and arriving home, believers salute Santa Muerte. On departing the house or retiring to bed, they kiss her goodbye.

Traditionally shrouded in mystery, a few years ago it was hard to find anything related to Santa Muerte. Now, however, hundreds of markets across Mexico sell Santa Muerte iconography and merchandise, and prayers and spells are found easily enough on the internet-in both Spanish and English.

One of the most famous markets of them all is El Mercado de Sonora in Mexico City-prominent for the sale of black magic, witchcraft and voodoo memorabilia. Within the market’s narrow corridors, Santa Muerte spray, incense, holy water, and explanatory pamphlets sit alongside 10-inch statues of the lady herself. “It (Santa Muerte) sells very well. It’s a very popular saint nowadays,” said one merchant at El Mercado de Sonora.

“ During the month of July alone, 1,263 people logged onto my Web site looking for information about Santa Muerte,” says Caballero. Holman is equally convinced of her rise: “Some people adore her (Santa Muerte) even more than the Virgin Mary.”
Perhaps unsurprisingly, there are no temples to Santa Muerte, who remains unrecognized by the Catholic Church. There is, however, an annual ceremony where followers can attend mass and sing her las mañanitas (happy birthday).

It is unclear when Santa Muerte entered the national conciousness, but it has been suggested that the cult first grew out of the ancient Mexican tradition of paying tribute to Mictlantechutli and Mictecacihuatl, the lords of death and shadow. Others believe that Santa Muerte, herself, appeared in a vision to one Sergio Guevara, 40 years ago in Veracruz. Guevara, for his part, became a dedicated follower of Santa Muerte, as a resut of the apparition.

Ultimately, whether she established herself hundreds or only 40 years ago, there is little doubt that over the past few years her popularity has spiralled at a startling rate. According to Holman, a precarious cat and mouse existence has made police, drug dealers and the like, among Santa Muerte’s most dedicated advocates. Professional risk, it seems, breeds familiarity.
“ It is normally them (drug dealers and police) who fear death the most and feel they need her (Santa Muerte) protection,” says Holman, before adding: “Mexico is the most superstitious country of them all. ”