A Rather Authentic, Non-Traditional Thanksgiving

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I would describe my Thanksgiving yesterday as very authentic, non traditional, yet never once did I hear nor did I say Happy Thanksgiving to anyone. I was celebrating this day at a birthday party for my 75 year old host grandma in my village, which is nestled rather high up in the mountains of Guatemala.

The second youngest host brother knocked on my door at 9am and said it was time to leave, so I followed him down a small path through the corn fields to their Grandma and Grandpa´s house. Barely anyone spoke Spanish, yet stared at me in complete wonder as I walked in. I just moved to this new part of my village, one of the 21 smaller neighborhoods, and am still getting to know my neighbors. I exchanged the typical Saqarik Nan o Tat, as is of custom, to those already there (Good morning Señora o Señor in Kiche Mayan Language).

The women were busy preparing the food for the big group of people that would be there, although the rest trickled in through out the morning, for this culture time is practically irrevelant. After a few minutes, I offered to help and was sent to the kitchen... Dark, dirt floors, no windows, blackened walls of stained smoke from the fire pit in the middle where this family does all their cooking. There were about 15 women all on their knees making tomalitos, putting masa (corn meal) into the leaves of the corn then to be boiled in a big pot for about an hour. I exchanged saludos (Good Morning Señora) in their Native Tongue, speaking in their native language helps to create the first sense of trust and acceptance, or here called confianza. I had made tomalitos a couple times before and really enjoy this process. Corn has such a spiritual and strong significance in this culture, and to help be a part of this is a blessing, especially on Thanksgiving where corn was held with great significance and importance for the Native Americans, as well.

Side tangent of Corn.. November-Decemeber is the time of the corn harvest... The entire family is out working in the corn fields from sun up to sun down, tearing down the corn stalks and salvaging the cobs of corn. The corn is then shucked and the masorca (cob) is either put on the roof, oustide in the yard or hanging from their leaves to dry. Then each grain is removed, hand by hand, then soaked in water for 1-2 days, then carried to the Molino (where in a big machine you put the nixtimal, or kernals of corn, mixed wtih Cal and type of natural liquid, and out comes masa, or corn meal which then can be made into tortillas or tomalitos. However, this entire process from the cornfield to the masa process takes several weeks since many families have large amoutns of land, the majority being a giant corn field. Then the leaves are removed and kept in bundles for various reasons, one reason is what I helped with today. Before the corn leaves are used to wrap and make the tomalitos, one by one the layers of leaves must be removed and stripped, soaked and washed in water, then finally can be used to wrap the masa making a tomalito. Other reasons are for starting a fire in their wood burning stoves, food for their farm animals, or for wrapping queso de monte (campo cheese, or cheese from the highlands made from fresh cow´s milk. This culture utilizes every part of the corn plant. The stalks can be dried and used to make fences, latrines, or to burn as fuel for their stoves.

After making probably 500 tomalitos, hand by hand, the women stood up with a sense of satisfaction and pride for their ancestors, for this has been passed on generation to generation, where the girls help their moms and their moms help their moms with preparing the daily food, which always consists of tomalitos or tortillas at every meal. This is their their principle food, it nourishs their spirit and their physical bodies. We then moved outside to hand by hand sort through 30 pounds of dry rice, picking out the black ones or any foriegn objects that get mixed in with the bags of rice sold in the markets. We were in small groups gathered around huge bags of rice and buckets for sorting. Not many conversed, just focused and fully experienced the task at the hand and the overall environment we were in. Everyone was working for the common cause, not too fast nor too slow, a perfect pace exchanging a smile or simple plesentary every so often. The sun was extending its rays of support, breaking through the morning cold and providing us with the energy we needed. I could not stop thinking of how similar the Native Americans and Pilgrims were probably preparing for such a feast of grand size, for we were doing the same, but for the common goal of celebrating a 75th birthday for a member of their family, extended family, church and community member and close friend. After we finished sorting through all the rice, I saw one of the elders shucking the corn to remove the leaves then to be placed it in a big bucket of water for washing and soaking. I walked over to help her, not being able to communicate other than sharing a moment and a task that she had been doing her entire life, with such ease and comfort. Something she knew like the back of her hand, that she can do in her sleep, for this work is engrained in her fingers, and I watched and learned from an expert.

During all this there was a church service going on in the other room with a loud speaker, and after making another 500 tomalitos with the women, I was offered to go sit inside the cool, adobe block room where the church service was taking place. All was in Kiche, but I did my best to listen to the words, watch their faces, and get a sense of their daily lives, pracitices and beleifs. The men sat in chairs in a circle surrounding the room and the women and children in the middle, with a head table where several men sat. After a while, the grandkids of the birthday women came in carrying several cakes, and we were served the cake before the meal, but I was thrilled for I was starving and the cake was delicious with fresh fruit and mounds of vanilla ice cream on top! This was followed by everyone standing in a long line, with a gift if they brought one, and individually one by one, came up and gave a hug to each the birthday grandma and her husband and exchanged a few plesentaries and saludos. My host sister asked if I wanted to abrazar (hug) the Grandpa, too, so I went in line and exchanged a smile, the little kiche I knew and a hug. It was humbling to see the respect and love from each person as they gave a hug and personally spoke and gave their blessing to the birthday women. Living in a small village you become like family with everyone, and it was truly shown here today how close this family is.

However, that morning inspite of all the happiness and hard work us women did cooking and preparing for the big meal, I was saddened seeing these women, many with babies strapped on their back, sitting in the dark kitchens for hours on their knees working away, breathing in all the smoke from the fire. My primary job here in my Peace Corps Program is called Healthy Homes, and it is to teach preventative health to the community and then build and construct improved wood-burning stoves for these rural, underprivledged families. Seeing it and experiencing it first hand really hits home, especially when I was right there with them, eyes watering and constant coughs. The number one reason for deaths in Guatemala for kids under 5 is dying of respiratory diseases, caused by exactly this... the indoor air pollution from their fire pits inside their kitchens. The women are in there cooking 3 times a day, breathing it all in, typically with their kids right there with them. It is one of the hardest things I have to witness when I visit the homes of my neighbors.

Today I am having a more traditional Thanksgiving meal, cooking with some other volutneers at a friend´s house. It is lovely to have both an authentic feel Thanksgiving like I experienced yesterday, it is most likely how the Native Americans spent their morning preparing all the corn, hand by hand, as well as picking through each grain of rice as well as giving thanks to those around us as well all sat in a big group, though we were celebrating the 75th birthday of my host family´s grandma. I felt honored to be a part of it yesterday, and experience a new culture´s way of a celebration. Today will be of reminissing from my own roots and backround, cooking squash soup and roasted vegetables with some of my Peace Corps family. It is nice to have both while being so far away for so long.

Hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving, take care!
Paz y Amor, Alyssa

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Comments

[rachel]

Returned PCV
Hey Alyssa, You dont know me but I was in the Peace Corps in West Africa from 2000-2002. Im currently studying spanish in Xela and have a blog on travelblog too. I was hoping to connect with some Peace Corps peeps while I´m here. Are there any in the Xela area? I enjoyed your story of picking the corn and turning it into cornmeal, it reminds me of how my village in Cote d'Ivore (West Africa) processed rice. Any whoo. Have fun, Peace Corps is awesome I loved my time with it. Email me if you know of any PCVs in the Xela area