El Dia de Los Muertos

EL DIA DE LOS MUERTOS I realized this community takes this day seriously when my Spanish teacher told me there would be no class today because she was going to the cemetery to take flowers to her child who died eight years ago as a baby. When I think how some people in my family give my granddaughter grief for continuing to go the grave of her six- year-old child, after five years, the difference in attitude of the two cultures is more obvious.
Hardly anyone in the calle; no one in the park. That is unprecedented. No one hundred or more people in line for the clinic at the hospital, when I go to volunteer. As a matter of fact, hardly anyone there at all. For the first time, today, I had to change two dirty diapers. I’m guessing that they were short of nurses, so that some of the staff could go to honor their dead.
After working, I passed some people in the street selling the beautifully-colored kites that are used on this day to commemorate the dead. I know there are huge ones somewhere, but these were small. I felt an urge to buy one but thought “…but I have no dead to commemorate.” Maybe I was thinking about dead children of my own, which thankfully I don’t have, but there are my parents, two of my husbands and a best friend….and a great-grandchild. Nonetheless I didn’t buy a kite because the rain clouds were heavy overhead and I could imagine them drowning in the rain.
As I walked up to the Spanish school to take their bus to Santiago Sematapeq, where I had heard they would be flying the big kites in earnest, I was surprised to find that most of the stores I know were closed for the day. A Spanish student from Germany and I chat while we wait for the bus to leave. We drive for miles out of town and into the country. We start to drive down a long winding dirt road to the town, but the police said there are no parking spaces for miles. So we get out and walk…….for miles; down one hill and up another to Santiago. There we came upon throngs of people, thousands of people milling up and down the streets. One hoard is on its way uphill to see the big kites and the other returning; Guatemalan men, women, children, and a few gringos here and there among them. All along the route people were selling everything imaginable, especially food and textiles. Everything drew my attention, especially the food since I hadn’t had anything for lunch, but our leader was moving strongly through the packed crowd, and I didn’t want to lose track of him. Finally we reached the top of the hill. There was a bandstand and a band, but as usual at these “fiestas” there was more giving away of prizes (T-shirts, hats) than music. This seemed to hold the attention of the 500 or so people assembled. We passed through that area quickly; ahead was the cemetery where the kites were.

The cemetery covers nearly five acres of this hillside. Almost every tomb, either those that are cement and above ground, or the simple mounds of mustard-colored earth, are graced with flowers; red, yellow, orange, blue and purple everywhere. A few tombs were covered completely with marigold petals. The multitude of flowers were witness to the number of visitors to the tombs this morning, and the care given to the dead. But now the graves were being walked over and trashed by the crowd assembled to see the kites. The woman I was walking with kept saying, “Lo siento; lo siento,” (I’m sorry) as she walked over them.
There were ten or so kites propped up on the perimeter fence which were at least 40 feet across…..brightly colored, with beautiful designs, traditional and modern, and covered with sayings of all kinds, mostly religious. The messages on one huge kite were about Justice; it had many drawings with sayings like “No more assassinations,” “No drug trafficking,” “No victimization.” Another adjured the readers to respect the traditions, and remember the language. These were not flown, though tears in the fabric – seen against the sky – suggested flights in the past. In the air were 20-30 small kites but at least five of the large ones 10-15’ across were flying. These heavy birds are constructed with bamboo poles crisscrossed to hold the octagonal fabric; if they didn’t make it aloft and were to come crashing down on the crowd, which they did two or three times while I was there, they could cause some damage but definitely caused a lot of excitement and laughter. The place was packed with people flying kites, eating and drinking, and watching the sky. Kids ran around with toys which buzzed and whistled. The helado (ice cream) sellers rang their bells to attract customers. These sounds added to and enriched the fabric of the day.
Red and yellow and white against the blue sky, flags flying, the sight of these enormous kites in the air could almost make you believe they could enable souls to soar aloft on their way to Heaven.