A startling introduction to Santa Fe’s Zozobra tradition

The monster lurches to life, rising from a dirt berm at the foot of the Sangre de Cristos. His daunting face quakes from the surrounding flames and smoke, with his arms surging overhead. Shrieks erupt from a swarm of people—not out of fear, but exhilaration. They know, as The City Different has known for the past 100 years, that his end is near.

His name is Zozobra  (a Spanish word that roughly translates to “feelings of anxiety”), and while he plans to taunt innocent onlookers at Fort Marcy Park, the Fire Spirit will soon engulf him, restoring hope and happiness to Santa Fe for another year.

Most New Mexicans grew up with this gloomy character ingrained in our social fabric, permanently woven into northern New Mexico culture like the piñon trees rooted in our foothills. I was raised in Las Cruces, but even as a college student, I felt that Zozobra was worth the 4-hour drive from New Mexico State.

In 2018, our family hosted our first-ever exchange student, a 17-year-old named Adam Abusang. Zozobra was the perfect welcome party, as Adam had just arrived 48 hours prior from Ghana in West Africa. What better way to introduce him to New Mexican culture?

As we sauntered into Fort Marcy Park, clouds overhead turned a menacing shade of deep purple and the atmosphere was electric. Adam’s bright, excited smile told me he was ready for adventure, even after traveling nearly 7,000 miles and finding himself staring down a maniacal marionette in the heart of the desert.

Getting rid of the ‘‘glooms’’

I tried to briefly explain, as best I could, what this event is all about, which went something like this: An ugly clown-monster spends all year feeding off human tribulations. By September, the humans have had just about enough of the gloom, so we send Zozobra an invite to the Fiesta de Santa Fe to lure him to his doom. The fiesta marks Spanish conquistador Don Diego de Vargas’ 1692 reconquering of Santa Fe, following the 1680 Pueblo Revolt.

Zozobra may be a giant today, but he was far less menacing when born in 1924 as a 6-foot-tall effigy, a product of artist William “Shus” Shuster. Zozobra’s essence has always lurked in the hearts and minds of New Mexicans, deriving power from human foibles, troubles, and travails.

But it was Shuster who brought that spirit to life late one Christmas Eve in 1923 when he and the Cinco Pintores, a Santa Fe collective of 5 post–World War I artists, found themselves drowning their miseries at La Fonda on the Plaza. Shuster’s idea: Write down their troubles (or “glooms”) and release them by setting them on fire.

The bar staff didn’t take kindly to the mini bonfire on the table, but the experience tapped into something restorative that Shuster would develop into the enduring tradition of Old Man Gloom—an effigy that we, collectively, could stuff with our worries and watch go up in smoke. The first Zozobra, which featured a head designed by famed local artist and puppeteer Gustave Baumann, burned in Shuster’s backyard over Labor Day weekend in 1924.

Since 2014, Zozobra’s attire and the choice of music and entertainment have reflected different decades. The 2018 theme was a groovy 1960s Summer of Love vibe (that required an additional explanation for Adam, who wasn’t even sure who The Beatles were), so Zozobra wore a turquoise bolo tie (which required another explanation), typical of a grouchy old man of the 1960s.

A spectacle of flame and fireworks

“So, Adam, that’s pretty much it,” I said to this relative stranger who had agreed to live in my Santa Fe home for the next 12 months and might then have had serious questions about that decision.

I could see that Adam was trying to make sense of it all, despite the jet lag. In his thick Ghanian accent, he asked me to slow down as I wove him through the crowd now thick with people. I led him to the booth where, until nearly the last minute, folks can write down their glooms.

My firstborn had just left for college in Chicago, so I hastily scribbled “Parenting is hard” on a piece of paper at the tent and glanced over at Adam. His face was stretched in a wide joyful grin, so I could see that, at least in this moment, he was gloom-free. We turned to find a place to settle in and enjoy the spectacle.

A series of local bands and a beach-ball toss (another strange tradition I decided to not even try to explain) kept the crowd warm as it alternated between the beer garden and the food trucks selling green chile cheeseburgers and birria tacos. The lights dimmed. The purple sky turned black as bolts of lightning seemed to provoke Zozobra into an even more sinister expression.

We were too far back to see the “gloomies,” the group of children Zozobra “captures” to serve as his army and dance at his feet. But then a rumble that at first felt like thunder filled my chest. I soon realized this low growl was coming from Zozobra (or more accurately, the woofers of the massive speakers on the field).

Another flash from the sky lit up the field just as the Fire Spirit danced in, teasing the crowd with her torch as she swept dangerously close to Zozobra’s ghost tail.

The crowd, which numbered more than 60,000 souls, jeered “Burn him! Burn him! Burn him!” as fireworks surrounded Zozobra like a shroud. I looked over at Adam and shrugged, telling him through my body language, “This is just what we do.” Adam laughed and probably thought, “I guess I’d better get used to this.” Laser-focused on the action in front of us, he watched in anticipation as the flames licked at Zozobra’s feet.

The fireworks exploded in tandem with the thunder. The skies opened. Sheets of rain soaked the crowd, which continued its chants. The sounds of Zozobra’s misery filled the grounds as lightning filled the sky.

The crowd melted into a single organism, chanting for the fiery destruction of Zozobra, who was now fully engulfed despite buckets of rain. Bits of paper glooms, pieces of Zozobra, and sparks caught the wind and drifted up and over the crowd before the monster—along with our glooms—finally crumpled to the ground.

What's planned for the Zozobra centennial

Adam update