I will never forget the night La Rama ambushed my quiet Guinness. There I was, in an Irish pub in Veracruz, smugly holding a pint, convinced I had escaped the chaos of Christmas outside. Then they burst in – children brandishing a glittering tree branch as if it were Excalibur, tambourines shaking like the prelude to a medieval combat charge. Their songs, performed with the wild energy that only hyper-sugar kids can summon, were a joyful enigma to me, as my Spanish at the time barely went beyond “tacos, por favor.” But the message was clear: empty your pockets or bear the shame of a barroom Scrooge.

The scene played out against a backdrop of “authentic” Irish kitsch that looked like it had been stolen from a Cracker Barrel clearance sale. It was surreal, chaotic and – somehow – utterly brilliant. Holiday cheer, I realized, needs no translation; he bursts in, shakes a tambourine and demands your attention. I raised my glass to them, finished my pint, and handed over my coins, knowing that even though I had just arrived, Veracruz and I would get along just fine.

In Veracruz, Mexico, Christmas doesn’t just happen: it parades on an ornate tree branch and sings outside your door. It is The Rama, a tradition as living as it is comforting. For eight nights, from December 16 to 24, the streets of Veracruz come alive with a charming procession of songs, lights and laughter. It’s a celebration where the simplest things – a branch, a song, a smile – become humble symbols of the holiday spirit.

Where did La Rama begin?

One of the most fascinating stories of The Rama begins in the early colonial period, when Spanish missionaries arrived in Veracruz with big dreams and bigger plans. They needed a way to convince locals that Christianity wasn’t all fire and brimstone, so they borrowed something familiar: the evergreen branch, already a symbol of life and renewal for the people indigenous. It was really a smart decision: using the residents’ beliefs to make their own speech.

In one case, they enlisted the Nahua people to organize solemn processions. Imagine it: songs, branches laden with flowers and offerings of food or small tokens, while nodding to the saints and ancient gods. THE rama visited homes, its bearers accepting gifts in exchange for prayers and blessings. A spiritual counterpart.

But, as traditions generally do, The Rama evolved. By the 19th century, solemnity had been thrown out the window like stale bread. The songs became insolent and playful, the processions more noisy and festive. Entire neighborhoods of Veracruz turned the tradition into a competition: branches became elaborate works of art and singers attempted to outdo each other with humor and charm. It was less about religion and more about community spirit, with just a pinch of rivalry.

And here we are today. The Rama continues to exist, a testament to the adaptability of culture. What began as a conversion tool has become something much richer: a celebration of creativity, connection, and the simple joy of a well-decorated branch. Sometimes traditions aren’t just kept alive; they thrive despite everything. In the 20th century, it evolved into the lively neighborhood tradition we know today: a soulful festival that combines faith, art, and just a little mischief.

If you walked around Veracruz during these festive nights, you would see groups of children and adults carrying branches adorned with everything from colorful paper and garlands to balloons and LED lights. Decorating styles can vary wildly, from rustic charm to what can only be described as an explosion of glitz.

The singers – armed with guitars, tambourines and enthusiastic voices – perform traditional verses as they go from house to house. The songs are simple but lively, often inviting residents to come and enjoy the show. A typical verse might praise the generosity of the host or humorously lament the lack of treats at the previous stop. It’s a mix of Christmas carols, storytelling, and gentle peer pressure wrapped in holiday cheer.

Verse 1:
“Hola buenas noches, you are us here
here is the rama that the prometí;
that the prometí come to sing,
but my Aguinaldo only cares about me.
(Hello, good evening, we are already here,
here is the branch that I promised you;
I promised to come and sing,
but you must give me my present.)

Verse 2:
“Naranjas and Limas,
Limas and lemons,
Plus Linda is the virgin
that all the flowers.
(Oranges and limes,
limes and lemons,
the Virgin is more beautiful
than all the flowers.)

Verse 3:
“In a cal and stadium portal,
birth of Jesus Christ
for Noche Buena.
(In a little stable of lime and sand,
Jesus Christ was born
Christmas Eve.)

Verse 4:
“Yo non quiero vino,
nor quiero cerveza,
yo lo what I want
I go to the table.
(I don’t want wine,
I don’t want beer either,
what I want
is to sit at the table.)

Verse 5:
“Zacatito verde lleno de rocío,
El que no se pat
turns cold.
(Little green grass full of dew,
those who do not cover themselves
will die of cold.)

Verse 6:
“A la media noche un gallo cantó,
and in its canto dijo,
you are the born Christ.
Christ born,
to be poderoso,
and now we go to a gracioso child.
(At midnight a rooster crowed,
and in his song he said:
Christ is already born.
Christ is born,
because He is powerful,
and now we have a lovely little boy.)

Verse 7:
“The calaca has a tooth, it has a tooth,
and death occurs twice.
If not me and mi aguinaldo, mi aguinaldo
you are the pagaran con Dios.
(The skeleton has a tooth, has a tooth,
and death has two.
If you don’t give me my gift, my gift,
you will answer God.)

Farewell (if you are given a gift):
“Ya se va la rama muy agradecida
Because this house was well received.
(The branch goes now, very grateful,
because in this house he was well received.)

Farewell (if you did not receive a gift):
“Ya se va la rama muy disconsolada
because in this house we don’t die.
(The branch now goes away, very discouraged,
because in this house, we were given nothing.)

Give them their gift and they will leave grateful. Refuse them, and the dejected goodbyes will haunt your conscience like a ghost of Christmas past. Choose wisely; your ending is up to you. What do they receive? Similar to Halloween, children are given candy, pocket change, or whatever unsuspecting adults have on them. However, it is not about monetary value. It’s about connection, the joy of giving and receiving, and the feeling that everyone – rich or poor, young or old – has something to share.

Stephen Randall has been living in Mexico since 2018 via Kentucky, and before that, Germany. He is an enthusiastic amateur chef who draws inspiration from many different cuisines, with Mexican and Mediterranean as his favorites.