If the Halloween celebration was pure-tourist, the next day I got to witness a holiday that was pure Chapín—All Souls Day. In Guatemala, the tradition is to fly kites as a way to connect the living on earth to the souls of the departed in Heaven. It’s also traditional to visit the cemeteries. The biggest and most famous celebration of the holiday in Guatemala just happened to be in Sacatepéquez, the department where we lived in during training (and where Antigua is). There are 3 towns that have the most famous celebrations and draw the big crowds, but my small training town also had a big celebration and I had promised my host family almost in the first week of training that I would go there to celebrate it with them.
In these towns, the people take the tradition of kite-flying to another level. Secret committees of young men in the town form to create paper maché kites as tall, or taller, than the houses. These enormous kites, supported by bamboo posts, can’t actually fly. The climax is when they are lifted into standing position off the ground, a process that involves a lot of ropes, poles and coordination… and many of the biggest ones crack as soon as they’re lifted, and supposedly sometimes they fall onto the crowd. This is a shame because the secret committees spend around 8 months making the most elaborate ones. The designs are incredibly intricate and beautiful and often depict a scene related to religion or traditional Mayan life.
Almost half of our training group ended up going to my small training town rather than the larger and more famous towns for the celebration which was a nice surprise (I was expecting at most only the 3 others girls that lived there during training). And it was really good to spend some time with my first host family. They surprised me with a birthday present of blue jeans that fit me perfectly (last thing I expected from a family of mostly women who wear traditional traje). I still have no idea how they managed to pick out my size, and they were very pleased to see me wear them. I also got to meet the volunteer that came after me and who had just graduated from training (so strange to not be the new kids on the block any more). We spent the morning watching the kites being raised and the smaller ones flying. Then I had lunch with my host family and visited the cemetery with them. They prayed at the grave of the son who was killed by gang members some years past (the gang mistook him for a member of a rival gang that they were hunting). Then they sat amongst the graves and ate corn on the cob and sweet potatoes. The cemetery was full of Guatemalan families doing the same thing, only some were eating pumpkin and other things. I was the only non-Guatemalan there, and I felt privileged to have a more complete experience of the holiday than the tourists who would only see the kites.
And it was interesting to see the calm even celebratory attitude of the Guatemalans as they visited their departed loved ones. I know my host family was sad in thinking about the loss of their family member—who had died so unjustly and at such a young age—but there were many smiles and jokes as well. The point seemed to be remembrance in peace, rather than remembrance in sorrow, and a true acceptance of their death. Such attitudes are not easy for anyone, but I felt like I saw more calmness and peace than I ever have in cemetery visits in the US.
In these towns, the people take the tradition of kite-flying to another level. Secret committees of young men in the town form to create paper maché kites as tall, or taller, than the houses. These enormous kites, supported by bamboo posts, can’t actually fly. The climax is when they are lifted into standing position off the ground, a process that involves a lot of ropes, poles and coordination… and many of the biggest ones crack as soon as they’re lifted, and supposedly sometimes they fall onto the crowd. This is a shame because the secret committees spend around 8 months making the most elaborate ones. The designs are incredibly intricate and beautiful and often depict a scene related to religion or traditional Mayan life.
Almost half of our training group ended up going to my small training town rather than the larger and more famous towns for the celebration which was a nice surprise (I was expecting at most only the 3 others girls that lived there during training). And it was really good to spend some time with my first host family. They surprised me with a birthday present of blue jeans that fit me perfectly (last thing I expected from a family of mostly women who wear traditional traje). I still have no idea how they managed to pick out my size, and they were very pleased to see me wear them. I also got to meet the volunteer that came after me and who had just graduated from training (so strange to not be the new kids on the block any more). We spent the morning watching the kites being raised and the smaller ones flying. Then I had lunch with my host family and visited the cemetery with them. They prayed at the grave of the son who was killed by gang members some years past (the gang mistook him for a member of a rival gang that they were hunting). Then they sat amongst the graves and ate corn on the cob and sweet potatoes. The cemetery was full of Guatemalan families doing the same thing, only some were eating pumpkin and other things. I was the only non-Guatemalan there, and I felt privileged to have a more complete experience of the holiday than the tourists who would only see the kites.
And it was interesting to see the calm even celebratory attitude of the Guatemalans as they visited their departed loved ones. I know my host family was sad in thinking about the loss of their family member—who had died so unjustly and at such a young age—but there were many smiles and jokes as well. The point seemed to be remembrance in peace, rather than remembrance in sorrow, and a true acceptance of their death. Such attitudes are not easy for anyone, but I felt like I saw more calmness and peace than I ever have in cemetery visits in the US.
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