It was ten o’clock on Halloween and the lights were already out. I would be asleep in mere seconds. Why? Well, for several reasons one of which is that they don’t celebrate Halloween here, but rather, All Saints Day. At 4:45 Nov. 1st, my alarm sounded. Then it sounded again ten minutes later then again…anyways the point is that I arrived at my friend, Andrea’s house a little after five a.m. where her five-year old son was anxiously awaiting our departure to…the cemetery! We gathered the flowers, tissue-paper chains we had made a few hours earlier, and some other decorations. Heading down a rocky path until we met the equally dark street, we were ironically greeted by hanging lights in the walkway to the cemetery. Vendors had long since been established, preparing food since god knows when. When they offered us an array of snakes, Andrea replied back, ‘’It’s not time to eat yet!’’
In the dark of early morning we meandered to the graves of her family members, and began to make flower arrangements using the empty paint cans that littered the cemetery as vases. We covered the graves in pine needles, carefully created flower petal crosses, and placed colorful tissue-paper chains and scraps on the graves and plants.
Needless to say, Guatemalan cemeteries are quite different from those in the U.S. as many of the dead are buried above ground in what is more or less brightly painted cement block boxes. Adding to all the color, on All Saints Day people adorn the graves with flowers, wreaths, decorations, and also often leave offerings in the forms of meals. When I mentioned how U.S. cemeteries are far more somber than those in Guatemala, Andrea’s mom, Amparo contested, “But you have grass there! That’s beautiful!”
As we rested a little bit, a few girls who are my friend Rosa’s nieces came up to greet me. I had passed by their house the evening before, and they had warmly invited me in. Their mom and dad motioned for me to join them, ‘’Meri, are you going to help us make ‘’pan de elote’’(cornbread)?’’ I hadn’t been in their house since Semana Santa (Holy Week) when I ‘’helped’’ (I’ll use the term loosely) make the special bread for Semana Santa. I came in and chatted for a while and Marcelino, Rosa’s brother and the baker, invited me to go into the kitchen to watch his daughters make Fiambre, the typical dish for Día de los Santos. Fiambre is literally composed of everything in the fridge—beats, carrots, green beans, hot dogs, beef, chicken, peas, sausage, cold cuts, dried cheese, picaya, lettuce, hard boiled eggs, etc. While I thought I was about to leave, Doña Norberta offered me a seat to chat awhile. As we discussed cultural differences between Dia de los Santos and Halloween, a bunch of people came into the house to buy bread. One of their ten daughters (who I always confuse with her sisters—they honestly look soo much alike!) invited me back into the kitchen to help with the fiambre. As I was about to help her peel and cut the beets, she asked me, ‘’Are you sure you don’t have something else to do?’’ My internal monologue went something like this, ‘’Yes, very sure. Dying of boredom in my house since Friday morning actually. This has by far been the highlight of my day.’’ Then I laughed out loud and explained how living alone can be pretty boring, something that she has never had the misfortune/opportunity to experience due to her brother and 9 other sisters.
The next day, I returned to that family’s house to buy some more pan de elote. The daughter who I had spent the evening before with was delighted and brought forth a huge dish of fiambre for me to take home. ‘’Don’t worry, Meri. It’s not that much meat—mostly vegetables. You can just eat what you want.’’
I have never seen so much meat in my life. I ate all the vegetables and tried but failed to eat the meat. I just couldn’t do it. I ended up sharing my feast with the dogs, but not before allowing the cold-cut/hotdog odor to invade my house. Happy holidays.
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