My first Honduran chrsitmas has come and gone. The 24th was the slaughtering of the cerdos, which is a noise I will never forget. The five final cries of a dying hog are not the most soothing of wake-up calls, though waking up to death can’t be expected to sound nice. Alas, that was only 1 of 5 pigs that would die in the family’s backyard that morning. The chickens were up next. I had not realized that I was living with the town butchers. But apparently my family has held this important job every Christmas since Juanito can remember. The animal’s corpse was hanging, swaying, and the blood and such draining, dropping into the sunny dust of the back yard—I only saw it for a split second, but that was enough to turn me off of meat forever, not that I was turned onto it in the first place. Our family also seasoned and roasted all the heads and legs and sides of hog for the neighbors who came one by one to pick up the cena. Besides the plethora of meat, there was more corn than normal to make the tamales and mantukas. All of this is part of the traditional Christmas meal. Today I imagined making a tamale with only broccoli and cauliflower inside with some cheese, now that would be a tasty tamale…All of the day before Christmas is spent cooking and watching futbol, so that is pretty much similar to in the states. Then around 8:30 we began to play Amigos Secretos, which involves you buying a present for your secret person who you selected by chance out of a pile of paper slips with so and so’s name on it. I selected Juanito, and little Benjamin had me. The way they played was you had to sit in a chair and be blind folded and then your secret amigo would stand before you and you had to tocale (touch them) until you guessed who it might be. This part was particularly embarrassing for me because Juanito had to basically feel me up to get his soccer ball…which, he was very happy with. Little Benjamin gave me a set of earrings, a matching hair clip, and a teeny tiny mirror. Very cute. After amigos secretos the night was pretty tranquilo. We ate some food, watched some t.v., heard some firecrackers, ok, a exuberant amount of firecrackers, and then at midnight, went to bed.
Chrsitmas day was much different than the night before. First all the family went to visit the abuela de Alicia in Bario Lempira (the one I run through to get to the aldea of Llano) and she was so sweet and cute, and I just love old people here! Their youthful bright eyes contrasting with their much lived-in skin. I had also been thinking greatly in my own grandmother and our past Christmases spent in her house. Our visit consisted of enjoying grandma’s tamales and café, admiring her nacimiento she constructed with the dancing Santa, and relaxing on the patio. Her casa reminded me of la Cumbre San Lucas. Actually, a lot of the casas I visited Christmas day were unique and beautiful in their own little ways. After Gandma’s house I went to platicar (chat) con the Chinchilla’s and while I was there chatting away with the Misses, along came the pareja (couple) that drove me to the office holiday party, (how very different this yrs than last’s). So we went from Julio’s to her house to have pastel tres leche-yeah cake! Then we drove to bario el Marazán to find Elma and her sis, Evan. From there, we went to la Pati’s in barrio el Tigre, but she was in San Pedro, so we visited with the family and ate more tamales with tang! From there we went to Elma and Evan’s tia’s (aunt’s) house, up the hill and down we went before she could try and feed us more tamales! Though while I was there Evan pointed out a young boy who had un pierna equipo y lebano lepro, which are the two deformities that can be operated on in an upcoming medical brigade I’m trying to help with. I’m trying to contact all families in my Municipio who have infants with these deformities…so it was by chance I met this young boy and now we can sign him up for the free operation in Teguc.
After we left Tia’s house we went to the nativity scene in the parque because it is tradition to steal the baby jesus on the 25th. Thus four chicas sat and schemed to steal the baby jesus as the park guard (Don Chepe) sat near by. We finally succeeded in doing so with the help of the town police officer who distracted Don Chepe… Elma took him from his mossy bed, I ran him a couple feet further and stashed him behind the wall in the parque, then Elma grabbed him and together we walked him to her amiga’s house. I returned to the scene of the crime, so not to arouse suspicion that it was I, and then Elma returned, but not after Don Chepe already pinned all four of us as potential baby Jesus robbers.
Later we took the baby to Myki’s house (daughter-in-law of the mayor), where she hid him in the room I once occupied. After the baby was stashed, we went to la casa de la Elma for cena, and as always, I love cena at her house. There’s always café, beans, tomato, and tortilla. For me, it’s perfecto. The family watched Shrek 2 en español, and I told Elma and Evan stories of skipping school, hacer falta de escuela. Yep, the cut-party story that my dad always told to my aunts at Christmas time…each family has its own traditions after all.
12.26.07
Today we cut café on Don Quijote’s (that may not be his name…) farm in La Cumbre San Lucas. I had planned to go today even before Eva Lidia and baby Katie showed up at the house. I had printed out the photo collage that I had made them for la Navidad and had wanted to deliver it, besides just wanting to go up there since it had been two weekends without a visit, two weekends is half a month, and I’ve now been here in Cabañas for just about 3 in total! Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas, next New Yrs.
I, Carmen, Netio, y Adalíd all hiked up together since Eva was going to go up anda en caballo with baby Katie. The day was beautiful, perfect really without a cloud in the sky—it sure doesn’t feel like winter here. Even at night, or in the early mornings, it feels more like camp-chilly until the sun takes hold. Adalíd was supposed to be cutting café in the la Cumbre San Juan today, but did not go, which I’m glad he stayed behind. I told him, as my father always told me, “you have your entire life to work.” I’m actually quoting my father, which is a scary thing.
Once we arrived at the house we were served almuerzo of beans, tortilla, queso, chilis y café. Then we were led to the finca where everyone in the family was already busy in the day’s work.
Cutting café was fun, and hard and above all dirty! We strapped the buckets to our waists so to have hands free to pick the mature beans off the plants and drop them in the buckets. By the end, everything part of our bodies were covered in dirt and spider web and pollen, and bugs and just outdoor stuff. The hills where the plants were were extremely steep and slick with dried dirt and so we were falling and grasping onto the tree trunks to sturdy ourselves so not to fall, even though we did. All of Eva Lidia’s sisters were in the field, they all look identical: tall, lean, and classic beauties. Perfect for the look of the 1920 flapper girls or the 1960 hippie with their big brown flower-child eyes, and pin straight long dark hair. They all wore their baseball caps and long-sleeved shirts in the fields and were crouched down skillfully picking the crop, along with their dad and nephews. We brought refresco and white plastic cups to offer the group a bit of refreshment, though lukewarm it was by the time we got there. The kids and I only picked for about an hour or so before heading back home. It was enough for me to know and understand how much work it is. How hard it would be to do that all day long, in the rain, and esp. in the cold. Today we were lucky, it was beautiful, and I’m so glad I went up and got to do that. The intimate process of everything that one consumes in a day, it is important to know, I am starting to realize that. The animals, the coffee, the bread, the tortilla, the bean—everything here that we use as fuel has a natural process, we see it from grain-to- life –to- death –to- processing –to- food –to- la merde, literally. We see everything here. People are much less reserved about many things, esp. the natural and perhaps ugly or not “clean” part of life. I’m learning about that and it is hard for me to accept much of the dirt, but I am slowly learning how to see it and not want to run from it, but know I can coexist with it and it with me.
