The Godmother (La Madrina)

In Guatemala, the school year runs roughly from mid-January until mid-October. I say roughly because everyone-- teachers, principals and students-- are kept in mystery as to the actual start and end dates until the absolute last minute because the Ministry of Education is so disorganized. For example, this year I was teaching on a Wednesday and no one could tell me if that very week or the next would be the last week of school for the year. I wasn't sure if I should say good-bye to my students or keep teaching the theme (sex-ed). (Fortunately, I did get one more week to wrap up and say good-bye properly).

As the end of the school year approached, some of the girls from my girls' group let slip to me that the graduating students had selected me to be one of their “padrinos” for the graduation. The padrinos (which literally means godparents) are usually favorite teachers that the students choose to be guests of honor at the ceremony. The padrinos in return give a small memento to all the students, sometimes make a speech and hand out the diplomas. I was very flattered to have been selected because it is a big institute with a big staff, and I only get two periods a week for my class (other teachers have 4-5 periods). I also did a farewell activity with the students on the last day of class, in which we each wrote our name on a blank piece of paper and exchanged papers to write farewell/good-luck messages for each other. They obviously don't have yearbooks, so I thought it might be an almost-substitute. I participated with the oldest, graduating grade, to whom I feel the closest. The messages I received were overwhelmingly positive and sweet. Many wrote that I was their favorite teacher. All the hard work I'd put into preparing my classes and all the struggles I've encountered as a foreigner trying to teach in this rural community suddenly felt very worth it.




I wanted to make the graduation special, and I'd been thinking of getting my own full traje (traditional outfit) for a while. I already had a traditional blouse (güipil) that I'd bought at Lake Atitlán-- white, covered with tiny stitched birds in blue and purple. I decided to buy a corte (the long colorful wrap skirt) and faja (sash) to complete the outfit. In my 15 months in my village, people had frequently asked when I would use traje. I did wear a modified version for the September 15th parade, but this time I wanted the real thing. So the president of the girls' group, and my good friend, Célida went with me on market day to help me pick out the corte. Cortes are not cheap (at least for Guatemala)-- they cost between $35-$200. We found a pretty mid-range one that is violet with darker shades of purple and black throughout. Her mother did the measurements and adjustments for me, and Célida washed and stitched details into my güipil. Another neighbor picked out a faja for me (a shiny bright pink thing that I probably wouldn't have chosen). And on graduation night, my host sister Lidia wrapped the corte around me, adjusting it several times so that it was the perfect length and the folds were crisp and centered.

The traje is not comfortable. The corte is a few yards in length and made of a very thick blend of many colored woven threads. When on, you are wearing several layers of this material (wrapped around multiple times), and even more around the waste where the wrap is folded under to adjust the length. My güipil is made out of a thick canvas material and covered in heavy embroidery. The faja, being the only thing to keep your corte up, is wrapped extremely tightly around your waste and tucked-in, restricting your breathing. I felt like I was wearing a tightly-cinched corset (although later some female students tested the tightness of it by seeing if they could fit their pinkie beneath it, which they could, unlike on their own... so Lidia went easy on me). To top off the discomfort, I wore high-heels for the first time since arriving in Guatemala, so it took some practice tottering around in all this. I kept thinking about how the woman do everything-- from tending the fields to hauling firewood to playing sports-- wearing the traje. I had a hard enough time walking a bit, sitting and standing in it.

Nonetheless, everyone thought I looked “muy linda” (lovely), and also, apparently, “muy sexy” because I have never gotten so many whistles and cat-calls as when I walked to the auditorium for the ceremony... which I privately found funny because the heavy, unrevealing outfit is not in the least “sexy” in American terms.

During the ceremony, the other three padrinos insisted that I be their representative and make the speech... which went relatively well considering how much I hate public speaking, especially in Spanish. I also helped to hand out diplomas (making sure I got my girl's group's), and posed with students for endless pictures. I had been a bit dispirited that the ceremony was scheduled on Halloween (which fell on a Saturday) because most of my volunteer friends were in costume at fun parties, but during the ceremony I forgot about it and had a good time. And I was in costume, in a way.


After the ceremony with the all-female parent directive and the director (think it's a pretty rare thing to have a female parent directive in rural Guatemala, usually it's all men. Some day hopefully we'll see one with men AND women, together.)


My girls (plus a boyfriend), and graduates.


I had invited the graduates on a hike for the following day up to the mountain as a despedida (farewell). On the top of the ridge that shoulders the town, you can see gorgeous views of the sweeping corn fields, speckled with little houses below and the surrounding hills, on either side, and there are a couple of open areas for playing soccer or other games. A good amount of students showed up (around 35) and more than half were boys (it's usually hard to get the boys to come because they're always worried it'll be a “girl thing”). We sat around and chatted for while, then I taught them Capture the Flag and we played a couple exciting rounds in the forest. It was one of the best days of my service (though I seem to be saying that more often lately). In the end, I had a great relationship with those kids, and I'm gonna miss their faces in my classes. It was an honor to be their madrina.

At the giant letters, on the mountain, with students.