Life's a blast near la frontera

As a red sun sets on a Mexican pueblo north of the Guatemalan border, the explosions are already starting.
It´s almost dark but few in Chiapa de Corzo will sleep tonight. 
This colonial town near the ugly regional capital Tuxtla Guttierez seems small for such action.
But as I overlook the settlement on the Grijalva River from my hilltop perch next to the burned-out shell of a church, I hear a now familiar whizz then volley – bang-bang-bang - from below.
A girl toddling among the religious rubble and a nearby police officer glance up, unfazed by the crack and flash of larger ballistics behind us.
We hear bands of men shouting as they start their circuit of the dusk-filled streets.
These burly locals wear a strict uniform – colorful skirts paired with flowers in their hair and plenty of lipstick.
Yes, this is modern Mexico – a place to party 'til dawn.
Armed with gourds of tequila and fireworks flying around them, they dance as if their lives depended on it for the famous "Fiesta Grande de Enero".
Music, confetti and delight fill the air during this marathon party from January 4 – 23 each year.
Well-rouged menfolk sweep women and tourists along their raucous route through plazas and cobbled lanes to honor the town's Patron Saint Sebastian, in rituals rooted in the area's Mayan history.
Joining the crowd, I come as close as I shall to a mosh-pit in a church. Revelers jig, shout and upend beers in beatific tribute in the Iglesia de San Domingo, before a fiesta at the ruined hilltop church.
After a week of partying, bleary-eyed locals change pace for this unique festival, now on the UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage List.
Revelries switch to the day and women don traditional Chiapaneca dresses. The embroidered black silks are heavy in the sun, but men bear the brunt of the heat, dressed as “Parachiccos” - in ponchos, straw helmets and wooden masks. Muffled shouts and rattling maracas sound out as thousands parade to the multicolored graveyard in the bright afternoon.
Why these annual rounds, sweating inside such uncommon garb?
“We have to do it,” shrugs Cecilia, who has danced in January since she was a little girl. “It's part of us.”
A legend from colonial times holds a clue.
Rich Spaniard Doña María de Angula, traveled here to cure her ill son. When the boy was healed by bathing in Chiapan waters everyone celebrated in the streets.
Dancing “para el chico” - “for the boy” - started the Parachicco festival still enjoyed with gusto today.