Bound to Tradition

Dear All,

In the past three days, I have been privy to at least 25 blogs worth of experiences but for the sake of time and energy, I have compartmentalized all of them into three themed blogs, this one being Traditions...

"Tradition 1"
Wednesday evening, as previously mentioned was the birthday of Kamari, my host family´s only daughter. She was turning five. I found out that she loved stuffed animals so I went out during the day and bought a couple of cute bears. I figured that I should put more thought into it. I "borrowed" some of her finger paint and crayons, ripped a page out of my journal, and made a birthday card in Spanish. I can't remember the last time I actually made a card (or used finger paint...) but it was really fun and worth the effort.

Unfortunately I had missed the slaughter and preparation of the chickens at 4 am that morning, but we all got a chance to taste the result. At about 630 some friends of the family came over. Segundo, Maria, Kuri, and I had decorated with balloons while Kamari was out playing. In typical birthday fashion, 5 candles were stuck in the cake and lit. We sang "Feliz Cumpleanos" and blew out the candles. This was all fine and good but for some reason felt oddly unnatural. It was as if they had learned birthday tradition from the West and adopted it here. Not that it took away from the night or celebration, I just felt as if it was forced. They seemed confused by the decorations, cake, and singing. I had definitely misjudged the present idea. Although it was modest and something she liked, presents are not given. I felt a little embarrassed, but they seemed to understand and appreciate the gesture regardless.

Then came the soup, full of all of the bits (as expected). This was more like it. All of a sudden the tension disappeared and people sat, ate, and talked. It was what they were comfortable and used to doing. I was happy that the formalities were out of the way and the "fiesta" could progress. We stayed up late (meaning 915) talking.

"Tradition 2"
Thursday was a big day for Segundo. That evening was his graduation from his Master's of Education. It had been 4 long hard years of commuting to Quito every weekend, missing his family and his only free time. Segundo dressed up in his traditional Kichwa formal outfit, reserved only for the most important days. It was comprised of a black hat, black poncho, white pants, special Kichwa sandals, and a white/brightly and elaborately colored shirt, with his hair back in a tidier than usual pony-tail. We arrived at the university in Quito. It seemed Segundo was the only indigenous graduate, as everyone else was wearing suits and dresses. Maria and I took our seats in a very ornate beautiful performance room. In the back were flags for the university and for Ecuador. The program began dryly. The MC literally read the program and a pre-formed introduction ("Section 1: Introduction and Welcome," she actually read that for each section.)

Once again, it was so awkward. It seemed to me that someone had read a book on how graduations occur in America and done a poor translation into Spanish and transition into Ecuador. The ushers stood in uniforms not quite knowing how to act or how much authority they had. All at once, everyone stood for the national anthem. It was scary, something out of Pink Floyd's "The Wall" video without emotion, expression, and perfectly communist. I thought that it was only a matter of seconds before the Ecuadorian secret police raided and arrested the one guy who didn't have his hand on his heart. Everyone may as well have been sweating and wetting themselves, they looked so nervous with every verse.

I was relieved when that ended. The boring MC introduced section 6, the musical interlude. Four nicely and regionally dressed twenty-somethings entered stage right. I was thinking, "alright, a little Ecuadorian flavor is just what this needs..." Before I could feel alleviation, the group started A Capella "Don't Worry, Be Happy." I literally laughed out loud, and drew some nasty looks. Here I am at a Ecuadorian University graduation listening to a poor English cover of Bobby McFerrin ("The lanyard seis yur rent is lant, he will have to limit it..." check the lyrics if you want to know how off that is!). They did two more covers (that were just as heinous), and left to limited applause. No one seemed to know what had just happened, let alone why...just another part of the ceremony.

Finally the graduates were announced and the MC asked for applause because they didn't know when it was appropriate. It was actually a lot of fun and I know how much it meant to Segundo and Maria. I said my congrats, we grabbed a quick bite nearby and caught the next bus back to Otavalo.

"Tradition 3"
Now you might be wondering if I am going to criticize everything they do here, but that is not the case, nor my intent. I just wish they would be themselves and stop trying to be what someone believed they should be.

Here we go. Friday morning, Segundo and I were up early. He had invited me to spend the day at his school. He explained over breakfast that today was a special day. There was a soccer tournament between all of the classes. We rushed to the bus (because of the fear Segundo instilled in me, if, heaven forbid, we are 10 minutes late). We arrived promptly at 720, just in time to sit around while the kids played for the next 2 HOURS. I shouldn't complain because this was how they did it. No stress, no schedule, no worries. Truly Ecuadorian. Eventually the principals voice came over the intercom instructing all students to change into their uniforms and line up with their classes. One girl from each class was dressed and made up with traditional Kichwa clothes and accessories. It was really gorgeous and everyone was so excited. Another hour and everyone was good to go, in uniform or costume, and in line. They paraded military-style out of the school grounds, goose-stepping through the town of Gualsaqui. Everyone was out to watch and follow to the parade grounds. I followed suit and after about 20 minutes, we reached the soccer field. So far everything was just as it was, unstructured but still flowing. Allow for a mix or soccer, no classes, and Kichwa culture on display and it worked. Organic shall we say.

At this point, all of the classes were lined up and facing a table. The principal ran up to me and ushered me over to the table. I had no idea what was going on but had no time to digest or figure it out. I sat quietly, looking around for some sort of direction and then I heard it. Over the intercom, they announced that special guest Anthony (they frustratingly translate Antonio into Anthony, excited to know the English equivalent, I think my plan has failed...) Benson as the judge of the Most Beautiful Kichwa Girl and the Best Uniform. I sat there shocked, dreading having to choose only one and possibly make everyone else cry or hate me. My process ended up becoming "choose the girl most likely to cry if she lost." There a third grade girl who looked on the verge so she got my vote. I was the ONLY judge! I chose, the winner was announced and I avoided eye contact with everyone. Then, I had to choose the best uniform. This one I didn't feel like I would hurt as many feelings so I tried to be objective.

Anyways, everyone was really grateful for my help afterwards and as thanks, I was given free lunch!! The games began after another painful rendition of the anthem, but with this small exception, this whole thing, this whole day was theirs. Away from government or institution, and pretty far from Western influence out in between farm fields, they were themselves and I loved it. Leave it to soccer to allow freedom for a community in South America.

So there you have it. Three traditions, all unique and all judged by yours truly.

A bunch of love on this Valentine's Day,
Kent