Easter Sunday in Sardinia

Every year we return to Oliena for Easter Sunday, the feast of s’incontru, the meeting, when the statues of the risen Christ and Mary, carried by Sardinian men and women, meet each other on the lavender carpet of the main square, and Christ bows before His mother. The ceremony is the same every year, and yet it is always new. The faces are different, the children are a year older, their last year’s costumes are given to new little ones, other boys gather to sing four-part Sardinian folk songs, the young accordionist who last year led the dance in a girl’s dress, now wears a boy’s dress… And even what is the same seems new after a year: how they relive the centuries-old tradition, with full devotion, in traditional dress and ceremony, but as a part of their modern lives, not as a tourist attraction, but as a celebration for themselves, to affirm their own identity.

There had been heavy rain in Sardinia during the previous days, and this morning it was still drizzling, so it’s no wonder that at nine in the morning there are hardly any people in the usually crowded main square. Only the descendants of the bandits are firing rifles in front of the church, the eldest son of each clan with the ancient flint.

We go to the church of the Holy Cross on the edge of the old town, whence the procession of the statue of Christ will start. For now, the church is empty, only its floor is sprinkled with lavender, and a few woman are waiting in- and outside. But soon the procession arrives from the Franciscan church, where the body of Christ spent the previous day and two nights after the deposition from the cross on Good Friday evening. The statue is carried into the church. The assistants, chatting and offering cakes, are waiting for the ten o’clock bell to ring, when the procession will start for the main square.

At the sound of the bells, the statue is raised. The flag bearers of the religious companies stand behind it, and the procession steps out of the church gate. They move slowly, stopping at every corner, waiting for news of how the other procession with the statue of Mary is progressing.

The main square is already full. The villagers, dressed in traditional costumes, stand in two lines on both sides of the path strewn with lavender branches, waiting for the two processions to enter and for the two main characters to meet. As the statue bearers see each other at the end of the two streets leading onto the square, the processions start, and the statue of Christ bows before His mother, the Sardinian men carrying it before the Sardinian women carrying Mary, amidst the deafening gunfire of the bandits.

Then the two processions, joined by the spectators, march up the main street to the parish church, where the Easter mass begins.

Only a part of the participants go into the church. Most of them stay on the church street, where all the bars are open and running at their peak. They huddle in groups, talking and drinking, and some boys practicing four-part Sardinian songs. Not as a performance for the audience: this is also part of the local identity, renewed every year.

At the end of the mass, the people in the church also come out. The accordionists rehearse in the middle of the church square, and then the round dance begins, in which the whole village participates, regardless of traditional costume. This year, another national dress appears on the square: the colorful outfits of four young women from Dubai, which look like Muslim national costumes. They clap and wave happily from the audience, but they do not join in the dance. In the intervals I hear local families coming up to them and inviting them to lunch in broken English.

This is the accordionist boy (?) who played last year as a girl

And the climax of the dance: when the villagers dance not to the accordion, but to a four-part Sardinian choir, as they did for centuries, before the arrival of the first accordion. Everyone feels the solemnity and historical depth of the moment, and at the end they applaud the singers for a long time.

Even in the day of Easter Sunday and s’incontru, in Italy the greatest sacrament is the Sunday family lunch. Being late for it is a bigger sin than being late for church. So after the choir, most of the spectators start to leave. The Dubai girls are herded home by an elderly couple dressed in traditional costume. We also head down to the beach of Cala Gonone, to eat fish at the cave of the sea cows.

El latido de la Edad de Piedra en Cerdeña

Sòrgono es un pueblo grande en las montañas de Barbagia, Cerdeña. Es, de hecho, la entrada a Barbagia. El ferrocarril de vía estrecha que lo une a Cagliari, antaño una línea minera, aún se esfuerza en subir hasta aquí. Durante siglos los alrededores han sido lugar de encuentro de los pastores de la zona. Desde aquí, el 25 de abril, día de san Marcos, parten con sus rebaños hacia los pastos de montaña para solo regresar el 29 de septiembre, día de san Miguel. Rodean el pueblo, aquí y allá, solitarias en una hondonada o en una colina e impasibles desde la Edad Media, las pequeñas capillas de los pastores. En ellas, antes de la partida de primavera y después de la llegada en otoño, se reúnen rebaños, pastores, familias y propietarios de los animales para celebrar dos solemnes misas: una pidiendo fuerza para el medio año de vida solitaria que les espera en la montaña, la otra para agradecer la ayuda recibida. Las iglesias también se abren en algunas otras ocasiones señaladas, el Lunes de Pascua, por ejemplo, cuando los pastores más jóvenes tienen su fiesta particular y asan un cordero al socaire de los muros. Buen ejemplo es esta iglesia gótica de San Mauro, a la que nos dirigimos.

Pero antes de llegar a la iglesia, a seis kilómetros del pueblo, tenemos una tarea urgentísima. Hay que llenar el tanque de la furgoneta o nos quedaremos sembrados. El Domingo de Pascua estuve buscando en vano una gasolinera abierta en Cerdeña. Hoy, lunes de Pascua, la aguja tiembla por debajo de la línea crítica. Nos quedan menos de cincuenta kilómetros. La gasolinera en Sòrgono está también cerrada. Podría comprar otro combustible con la tarjeta, pero el AdBlue que necesitamos lo venden solo en la tienda. Pregunto a dos sardos que llenan sus coches dónde podríamos ir. Discuten, mencionan tiendas «en el centro», pero luego advierten que hoy también están cerradas. Hablan un italiano difícil y lleno de titubeos, obviamente el sardo es su lengua casi única. El de más edad hace un par de llamadas. Hay suerte. «Mi tío tiene AdBlue. Vamos a Artzana. Son cuatro kilómetros. Sígueme». Frenamos la furgoneta ante un verdadero patio del rastro, como aquellos de las afueras del Budapest de mi infancia. Motores desmontados, mosaicos de baldosas por ensamblar, piezas de propósito incierto dispuestas en un enigmático círculo... El tío comienza a verter AdBlue de una damajuana de treinta litros en una jarra de vino de cinco litros y me dispongo a llenar con ella la furgoneta. «Pero si esto es vino blanco», dice Miki, y lo repite desconcertado al tío: «vino blanco». «¡Ah, también tengo!», responde alegremente. Abre un portón de hierro junto al taller y pasamos a una bodega hipermoderna con tanques de fermentación de acero. Cuando voy a pagarle la gasolina me dice que va por nuestra amistad, y que ahora lo mejor es que probemos juntos el vino. Tenemos algo de prisa, pero desde luego que sería un insulto rechazarle la invitación. Nos sirve a todos un vaso de vino blanco, luego uno de tinto, y luego aún otro de espumoso. Nos cuenta que cuida de quince mil vides en tan solo tres hectáreas, y que almacena mil cuatrocientos litros en esta bodega que vemos. «¿Y qué variedades?» «Bueno», ríe, «tengo diez de tinto, las mezclo. Y ocho de blanco». El sobrino se asoma para anunciarnos que hay una fiesta religiosa en la iglesia de los pastores de Lusurgiu, a ocho kilómetros de aquí, van a cocinar para quinientas personas, habrá baile, cordero asado y todos somos bienvenidos. Se nos hace la boca agua pero debemos huir de la tentación, uno de nosotros ha de estar en el aeropuerto de Cagliari en tres horas.

Comprobaríamos luego que no había ni una sola gasolinera, cafetería o tienda abierta de aquí al aeropuerto. Sin esta ayuda inesperada, ese día no llegábamos a Cagliari.

La iglesia de los pastores, San Mauro, se alza en una pequeña loma junto a la carretera Sòrgono-Ortueri. Una estructura maciza con sólidos contrafuertes a ambos lados, su fachada cuadrada tiene una gran ventana color rosa, similar a muchas otras iglesias góticas sardas, como la parroquial de Gavoi. La estrecha cornisa semicircular que protege el rosetón la sostienen dos ángeles más bien toscos. Sobre cada uno de los pilares que flanquean la escalera de entrada descansa un león recostado sosteniendo un escudo, probablemente de Aragón pero ya indescifrable.

El abad san Mauro, patrón de esta iglesia, fue el primer discípulo de San Benito, el fundador de la orden benedictina alrededor del año 510. Según la tradición, llevó el monacato benedictino a la Galia. La biografía que consolidó su culto, atestada de milagros, fue escrita allí, en la abadía de Glanfeuil en el Loira, en el siglo IX. Pero gozó de una especial devoción en Cerdeña, con muchas iglesias dedicadas. Como era un monje benedictino, se creyó durante tiempo que esta iglesia próxima a Sòrgono era el resto de algún antiguo monasterio de la orden. Sin embargo, no hay fuentes escritas o arqueológicas que indiquen la existencia de tal monasterio. Parece más bien que desde su construcción en 1574 –o, más probablemente, desde la presencia de una iglesia anterior– siempre haya sido una de las mencionadas iglesias de pastores.

Era, pues, un lugar de encuentro ritual de los trashumantes –del 25 de abril al 29 de septiembre, como dijimos–. Se bendecían aquí también los panes antropomórficos que los pastores traían consigo, como se lee en la entrada sobre los panes sardos. Pero además la iglesia de San Mauro tiene sus propias fiestas especiales. El 15 de enero, día de San Mauro, es Santu Maru de is dolos, san Mauro de los dolores, cuando principalmente se le pide al santo alivio para los dolores reumáticos. El Lunes de Pascua –es decir, justo cuando estábamos nosotros– es Santu Maru de is flores, la fiesta de primavera de San Mauro de las flores. Pero la mayor festividad es el último domingo de mayo, Sagra ’e Santu Maru, o Santu Maru erriccu, el día del rico san Mauro, quien trae abundante cosecha y rebaños gordos. Esta festividad se completa con una peregrinación y una feria de animales que dura seis días y a la que acuden gentes de toda la isla.

Interior de la iglesia. Lamentablemente no pude sacar fotos propias

La memoria acumulada durante siglos de celebraciones ha dejado sus huellas en los numerosos grafitis raspados –o cuidadosamente tallados– en los muros de la iglesia. La mayoría son del tipo «hic fuit», mostrando el nombre y el año del visitante, pero algunos añaden un esbozo o silueta. Hay otras imágenes que representan de manera esquemática la fachada de la iglesia, como si el peregrino entregara esa pequeña imagen a modo de ofrenda a la gran iglesia, tal como en otros lugares de mayor empaque los fundadores sostienen la maqueta de la iglesia en sus manos; o como en los nuraghi neolíticos sardos, esas torres hechas de grandes piedras, se colocaba un pequeño modelo de bronce o piedra del nuraghe con una función apotropaica, para propiciar la protección mágica.

Hemos dicho «durante siglos», pero ¿y si se tratara más bien de milenios? El pastoreo trashumante es mucho más antiguo que el cristianismo, y los pastores tienen que haber celebrado reuniones aquí durante sus ascensos y descensos de las montañas, sin duda, desde mucho antes. Pero, ¿dónde?

Sería lo obvio suponer que en el mismo lugar donde hoy está plantada la iglesia. Pero conociendo la topografía de la zona se nos ofrece una explicación aún más obvia y también más sorprendente.

A unos pocos cientos de metros de la iglesia, a la sombra de unos alcornoques, se halla el complejo megalítico Biru ’e Concas, erigido en el tercer milenio a.C. Es una de las zonas monumentales más importantes de la Cerdeña neolítica. El complejo conjunto consta de tres filas de menhires separadas entre sí por un pequeño sendero. La mayoría de estos menhires –en sardo, perdas fittas, piedras clavadas en el suelo– son piedras planas sin ningún símbolo, pero dos de ellos muestran patrones antropomórficos. Un ojo y una nariz tallados en la parte superior de uno, y un cuchillo sardo de hoja ancha al cinto del otro, tal como vemos en aquellos menhires antropomórficos tan ricamente tallados que exhibe el Museo del Menhir de Laconi.

Alrededor de estas tres filas, una serie de menhires adicionales –unos 150 en total– están de pie o tumbados en el suelo, bien aislados o formando círculos.

Estos menhires, diseminados en abundancia por toda Cerdeña, iban ligados generalmente a grandes tumbas megalíticas, que el pueblo sardo llama tombas de gigantes, tumbas de gigantes. Como los megalitos de Coddu ’Ecchiu y Li Lolghi –en las imágenes que siguen– marcaban el enterramiento de líderes destacados, jefes tribales o de aldeas, lejanos ancestros, «reyes». Las tumbas de estos ancestros estaban rodeadas de menhires que representaban a los dolientes súbditos, familiares o descendientes. Sus características antropomórficas a menudo subrayan los ojos y la nariz, dagas en la cintura para los hombres y pechos prominentes en las mujeres.

Tamuli cerca de Macomer: tres menhires masculinos y tres femeninos en fila junto a una tomba de gigantes

Es una experiencia fascinante el silencio junto a estas enormes hileras de piedras. Atestiguan una cultura de muchos milenios, sin palabra o signo alguno pero con una tenaz fuerza expresiva. Una cultura que dominó gran parte de Europa antes de los celtas y que debemos considerar como la raíz de nuestra civilización europea incluso antes de la cultura griega. Menorca, Mallorca y Cerdeña son islas privilegiadas para observarla.

Las tumbas de gigantes deben su nombre a que las cámaras funerarias, excavadas profundamente en el suelo, superan con creces la longitud del cuerpo humano. El gran tamaño se debe a que, además de lugar de descanso para los difuntos, las tumbas eran también santuarios, como demuestra la pequeña puerta inferior del menhir central. Se ha explicado desde antiguo que antes de una gran decisión o de la iniciación en la edad adulta, los sardos entraban en la tumba de un ancestro venerado y pasaban una o dos noches aislados en la cámara sin comer ni beber, solo masticando la planta alucinógena llamada sardonium, y aceptando las visiones experimentadas allí como guía. A esta costumbre ritual llamaron incubatio los autores latinos, término que luego sería adoptado por la psicología moderna.

A diferencia del continente, el cristianismo echó raíces en Cerdeña sin destruir tales lugares de culto, tumbas y menhires. Probablemente ya no se consideraban santuarios paganos, sino solo tumbas respetables y piedras conmemorativas de los ancestros que no había que eliminar, lo cual explica por qué pudieron sobrevivir por miles en la isla. El continuo culto a las filas de menhires de Biru ’e Concas se evidencia en el hecho de que los pastores trashumantes todavía celebran festividades a su alrededor, hasta el día de hoy. Con casi total seguridad, este era el lugar original de culto del ascenso y descenso de la trashumancia, que solo se movió unos pocos cientos de metros con la construcción de la primitiva iglesia de San Mauro. Una prehistoria similar se encuentra en muchas otras iglesias pastoriles de Cerdeña, construidas en las inmediaciones de lugares sagrados neolíticos para consagrar el lugar según la nueva religión, mientras se preservaba el antiguo espacio como representante de los ancestros ignotos y de la tradición.

Que la iglesia de los pastores realmente tomó el rol sagrado del antiguo conjunto monumental de las tumbas de gigantes y los menhires aún se prueba por una evidencia más. Se trata de los modestos alojamientos para peregrinos adyacentes al santuario de la iglesia y que rodean el patio. Estas habitaciones austeras hasta la severidad se llaman en sardo cumbissía (generalmente en plural, cumbissías). Como señala Massimo Pittau, un excelente investigador de la cultura neolítica sarda, no solo el nombre, sino también su función está relacionada con la incubatio. Las pequeñas habitaciones miran todas hacia la iglesia. Los peregrinos se alojan en ellas durante una o más noches para recibir, cerca del lugar sagrado, el sueño que los guiará en el camino de la vida.

De ser esto es así, y todo parece indicarlo, la iglesia de los pastores de San Mauro y sus celebraciones aún vivas hoy en día representan de manera extraordinaria un vestigio de la Edad de Piedra sarda tan relevante como la procesión de los mamuthones enmascarados que entierran el invierno en Mamoiada (aquí también con nuestras fotos).

The living Sardinian Stone Age

Sòrgono is a long village between the mountains of Barbagia in Sardinia. In fact, it is the gate of Barbagia. The narrow gauge railway from Cagliari – a former miner’s railway – also struggles up to this point. For centuries, its surroundings have been a meeting place for the region’s shepherds, who drive their flocks up to the mountain pastures from here on April 25, St. Mark’s Day, and then down from there on September 29, St. Michael’s Day. Around the village, lonely medieval shepherd’s churches stand here and there in a valley or on a hilltop. Before the spring departure and after the fall arrival, the shepherds gather at these with their flocks, family members and flock owners, to ask for divine help in a big collective Holy Mass for the lonely life that will last for half a year, and later to say thanks for the help they received. Churches are sometimes opened on other major holidays, for example, on Easter Monday, when young shepherds hold a common feast and roast sheep next to them. Such as at the Gothic San Mauro shepherd’s church, to which we are heading now.

But before we get to the church which stands six kilometers from the village, I have an urgent task. I have to fill with AdBlue in our van, otherwise it will out of fuel. On Easter Sunday I was looking in vain for an open gas station in Sardinia. By Easter Monday, the gas gauge drops below the critical line. I can only go another fifty kilometers, maximum. However, the gas station in Sòrgono is also closed. I could buy fuel with a card, but AdBlue can be bought only in the shop. I ask the two Sardinians filling up their cars where we can buy it. They discuss it, they mention shops “uptown”, but then they agree that they are also closed. They speak Italian with difficulty and awkwardly, it seems they only use Sardinian on a daily basis. The older one starts making calls in this language. “My uncle has it in Artzana, four kilometers from here. Come after me.” We follow him. We stop in front of a real jack-of-all-trades courtyard, like the ones in the outskirts of Budapest when I was a child. Disassembled engines, tile mosaics about to be assembled, parts of unknown purpose in a circle. The uncle begins to pour AdBlue from a thirty-liter demijohn into a five-liter wine jug. I take it out to fill in the van. “But this is white wine”, Miki says, and he repeats to the puzzled uncle: “vino bianco”. “I also have it!”, he replies happily. He opens a large iron door next to the workshop and invites us into a hypermodern cellar with steel fermentation tanks. In the meantime, I want to pay for the AdBlue, but he says it was out of friendship, we should try the wine instead. We are in a hurry, but it would be an insult to refuse this offer. He pours everyone white wine, then red, and then even homemade champagne. He says that he cultivates fifteen thousand vines on three hectares alone, now he has a thousand and four hundred liters in the cellar. “And which sorts?” “Well”, he laughs, “I have ten different sorts of red, I mix them together. And also eight sorts of white.” In the meantime, the nephew announces that there is a religious feast at the Lusurgiu shepherd’s church eight kilometers away, they cook for five hundred people, there is dancing, mutton roasting, and we all are welcome. We’re drooling, but we brush it off, because someone has to check in at Cagliari airport in three hours.

Then we would not find a single gas station, café or shop open until the airport. Without this unexpected help, we would not have reached Cagliari that day.

The shepherd’s church San Mauro rises on a small hill next to the Sòrgono-Ortueri road. A squat structure with strong buttresses on both sides, its square façade has a large rose window, similar to many other Sardinian Gothic churches, such as the parish church in Gavoi. The semicircular protective cornice above the rose window is supported by two clumsy angels. On each of the two railings of the steps leading up to the gate, a recumbent lion holds a coat of arms, most probably of Aragon, now illegible.

Abbot St. Maurus, the patron saint of the church, was the first disciple of St. Benedict, the founder of the Benedictine order, around 510. According to tradition, he brought Benedictine monasticism to Gaul. His biography, full of miracles, which founded his cult, was also written there, in the abbey of Glanfeuil on the Loire, in the 9th century. He was especially revered in Sardinia, many churches were dedicated to him. As he was a Benedictine monk, the church near Sòrgono dedicated to him was also long assumed to be the remains of a former monastery of this order. However, no written or archaeological sources indicate the existence of such a monastery. It seems that, since its building in 1574 – or, more likely, from the building of an earlier church standing here – it has always served as a shepherd’s church.

As I mentioned, the main function of shepherds’ churches was to serve as a ritual meeting place of shepherds transhuming – that is, marching up and down between winter and summer pastures – on April 25 and September 29. At this time, the anthropomorphic breads that the shepherds brought with them were blessed, as I presented in the post about Sardinian breads. But the church of San Mauro has also had its own special holidays. January 15, the day of St. Maurus is Santu Maru de is dolos, the feast of St. Maurus of pains, when he is mainly asked for soothing rheumatic pains. On Easter Monday – that is, when we were there – is Sant Maru de is flores, the spring festival of St. Maurus of the flowers. But the biggest holiday is the last Sunday of May, Sagra ’e Santu Maru, or Santu Maru erriccu, the day of the rich St. Maurus, who brings abundant harvest and flocks. This holiday is surrounded by a six-day pilgrimage and animal fair, to which pilgrims come from all over the island.

The interior of the church, of which I have never been able to take my own photo

The memory of the centuries-long celebrations is preserved by the numerous graffiti that have been scratched and carved into the stones of the church’s façade. Most of them are of a “hic fuit” type, showing the visitor’s name and year, and some even his schematic figure. But many pictures depict the façade of the church itself in a schematic form, as if the pilgrim would bring it as an offering to the great church, just as in other pictures the founders hold the model of the church in their hands, or as in the Neolithic Sardinian nuraghi, the towers made of large stones, there stood a small bronze or stone model of the nuraghe for magical protection.

I wrote centuries, but what if it’s more like millennia? Transhuming shepherding is much older than Christianity, and the shepherds must have held ritual meetings here during their ascents into and descents from the mountains even before that. But where?

It would be obvious to say that in the same place, on the site of the church. But knowing the topography of the area, an even more obvious and much more surprising explanation offers itself.

A few hundred meters from the church, under giant cork oaks, stands the megalithic complex Biru ’e Concas, erected in the 3rd millennium BC, one of the most important monuments of Neolithic Sardinia. The complex ensemble consists of three rows of menhirs, separated from each other by a short footpath. The majority of the menhirs – in Sardinian, perdas fittas, stones stuck in the ground – are flat stones without any symbol, but two display anthropomorphic patterns. An eye and a nose were carved on top of one, and a broad-bladed Sardinian knife around the waist on the other, just like in the richly carved anthropomorphic menhirs exhibited in the Laconi Menhir Museum.

Around the three rows, a number of additional menhirs – about 150 in total – are standing or lying on the ground, either alone or in the form of a circle.

These menhirs, of which there are many still standing all over Sardinia, were mostly associated to large megalithic tombs, which the Sardinian folk calls tomba de gigantes, tombs of giants. These graves – like the megaliths of Coddu ’Ecchiu and Li Lolghi in the pictures below – were the burial places of prominent leaders, tribal or village chiefs, ancestors, “kings”. And the graves of the ancestors were surrounded by menhirs representing the mourners or descendants. Their being human representations is often emphasized by their anthropomorphic features: eyes and noses, daggers worn on the waist by men, and bulging breasts by women.

Tamuli near Macomer: three male and three female menhirs in a row next to a tomba de gigantes

It is a fascinating experience to stand by these huge rows of stones, which bear witness to a culture of many millennia without any words or signs, but with stubborn expressive power. To a culture that dominated a large part of Europe before the Celts, and which we must consider as the root of our European civilization even before the Greek culture.

The tombas de gigantes got their name from the fact that their burial chambers deep in the ground far exceed the length of the human body. The reason is that, in addition of the resting place of the dead, the tombs also served as sanctuaries for the living, as evidenced by the small lower gate of their central menhir. As recorded by many ancient authors, before a big decision or initiation into manhood, the Sardinians entered the grave of a revered ancestor, and spent a night or two in the chamber, without eating or drinking, only munching on the hallucinogenic plant called sardonium, and accepting the visions experienced here as a guidance. This custom was called incubatio by the Latin authors, and this term was adopted by modern psychological literature as well.

Unlike in the continent, Christianity took root in Sardinia without destroying such cultic places, tombs and menhirs. They were probably no longer regarded as pagan sanctuaries, but as respectable graves and memorial stones of the ancestors, which is why they were able to survive in thousands on the island. The continuing cult of the menhir rows of Biru ’e Concas is evidenced by the fact that the transhuming shepherds still hold celebrations around them to this day. This was probably the original cult place of the ascent and descent, which only moved a few hundred meters away with the construction of the first church of San Mauro. A similar prehistory is found in many other pastoral churches in Sardinia, which were also built in the immediate vicinity of Neolithic sacred places, in order to consecrate the place according to the new religion, while preserving the old site as a representative of the ancestors and the tradition.

That the shepherd’s church really took over the sacred role of the former tomba de gigantes and menhir ensemble, is evidenced by one more proof. It is the modest pilgrim accommodations that are attached to the church’s sanctuary and surround the church’s courtyard. These puritan rooms are called in Sardinian cumbissía (mostly in the plural, cumbissías). As Massimo Pittau, an excellent researcher of the Neolithic Sardinian culture points out, not only the name, but also their function is related to incubatio. The little rooms all face the church. Pilgrims have stayed in them in order to receive dreams during one or more nights spent near the holy place that will guide them on their life’s journey.

If this is the case, then the shepherd’s church of San Mauro and its celebrations which are still alive today, are as extraordinary representatives of the Sardinian Stone Age as the procession of the mamuthones in masquerade burying the winter in Mamoiada.