The quartet is from Billings, Mont., a city of less than 90,000 people. What a pressure cooker. The temperature is above 90 degrees. I'm among the three dozen locals who have rushed in to participate in the first of two daily unveilings of God. One dangling light bulb and a dozen lit candles do little but cast shadow around the small hall.
Several priests go about their business deliberately.
Oil lamps are lit, white and orange powders are applied to the foreheads of those present. People begin to murmur as one priest raises a lamp to our faces, cupped hands passing the smoke through our hair. Two drummers with double-ended lap drums begin pummeling their instruments as they sit in the shadows. A third musician picks up an alto saxophone, and, playing like a freewheeling John Handy, raises the temperature, the sound echoing loudly off the stone walls. People press forward, a curtain is yanked back, necks crane.