Kites caught in trees
Driving to the school the other day, I saw more than just my usual scenic route of rolling hills and small mountain homes; I saw the tail end of yet another nation wide celebration with hundreds of kites caught in trees.
I have quickly learned that in Guatemala there is always something to celebrate, November 1st being Dia De La Santo (Day of the Saint). There are many different traditions that unfold on such a day, the most interesting being the celebrations surrounding the cemeteries. On November 1st and the days leading up to it, families start to gather flowers and other decorations to take to the graves of loved ones. These are not the only people preparing. Traveling carnivals and venders start to set up different attractions and food surrounding the cemeteries. Bright lights are draped across different steeples and statues. Graves are retouched with paint, bringing back the bright turquoise and oranges that have faded.
Growing up in North America, it became quite hard to fathom why a day with passed loved ones could be such a celebration. I am fortunate enough to have never experienced a death up close and personal. I do however have distinct memories of different funerals or celebrations of life but none of them relate to the events I was witnessing in my town’s preparation for Day of the Saint.
People walked miles with food and gifts to spend time with their passed loved ones. Lining the streets were people selling kites to be flown in the afternoon. Since the Mayan times, it was believed that on this day if you were to fly a kite, you will be able to connect with your loved ones spirit. Now, this tradition for most families has become more of a fun past time and a reminder of where their loved ones are. As the sky lit up with different beautiful colours (and one or two minion or batman kites), people cheered and music played. Regardless of the kite, again this day with passed loved ones was so out of my ordinary.
I found myself asking ‘why?’
Why had my memories of honouring someone who has passed, memories with black clothes and tears differed so much from the bright colors, loud music and amusement parks? Why do I not see people in Guatemala crying as they stand by their loved one’s grave, but partying and laughing alongside each other?
The answer to my question came when I stumbled upon a recessional in the evening of November 1st. To quickly sum up yet another tradition on this day, a recessional is a large parade where the Catholic Church fill the streets with loud brass band music and around 50 people carry various large parade floats throughout the city. Witnessing these parades are a dramatic, spiritual and beautiful experience. On this gold plated float the words “La vida no se acaba solo cambia” was displayed. “Life does not end, only transforms”. Of course, this made much more sense. The reason I don’t see dark clothes and sad people is because Guatemala’s perspective of death is one of hope.
Once again, I find myself learning so much from this country. Not only should I be reminding myself that there is always a positive way of looking at things, but that as a Christian, this life is not my end and there is celebrating ahead.