Fernando Turns 3

Saturday morning I got up and prepared to go for a run. Let me back up here, Saturday morning I was awoken at 5:30 by firecrackers and a live band serenading Fernando for this birthday. After the band left, the music stayed on at ear-drum rupturing levels, as is protocol for Guatemalan parties of any kind. (Even when grocery stores have sales they set up a wall of speakers inside the stores). As I passed the house on my way to run everyone was up and out, preparing for the party. I asked if there was much to do and, also in the normal dramatic Guatemalan fashion I was told that there was. I was promptly offered hot chocolate and birthday cake for breakfast. So much for my run. 

Cata is a strong Catholic, as such there was a small shrine set up in the center of the party. 

I mostly stayed in the kitchen. The women were making pepian, the national dish of Guatemala and I wanted to learn how to make it. Pepian is a tomato-based stew made with lots of seeds and spices. The stew has either turkey or chicken, potatoes, peas or green beans and is served over rice. Here, over the fire they are roasting the tomatoes and onion and have already de-seeded the three kinds of chilies.

Maria toasts the pumpkin seed after having toasted the sesame seeds, cinnamon bark and whole peppercorns. In the back ground women are preparing the corn leaves to make tamalitos.

Doña Ana and Doña Chuz make baskets and basketsof tamalitos (tamalitos are corn dough steamed in corn leaves, a common alternative to tortillas). When the corn leaves are young like they are now, they give the tamalitos a wonderful flavor.

Hendrick, always mischievous, carried his camera around all day as well, informing me multiple times that "This camera is from the United States.".

Fernando's piñata was sponsored by the number 3 and the color blue.

Fernando examining my gift to him: a pack of 6 race cars. I still don't know if he found them acceptable.

Outside Isabel takes out some of the broth from cooking the turkey with a giant hollowed-out gourd. They will use this broth to liquify the seeds and chilies for the pepian.

Chow time: Oscar with Fernando, who is digging into his lunch. I must be honest, I am not the biggest fan of pepian (early on in my time in Guate I had some that made me a bit sick) but this was the best batch I had tasted. I saw it from start to finish: from three live turkeys to five women working together to make it without a recipe.

After lunch the church service started. It is customary to invite all the member's of one's church to birthday parties. Cata attends a big catholic church, which means there were a lot of people and a long service. I learned early on to make my self scarce when the services are starting lest I be caught in the crowd, unable to escape the hand-clapping, repetative songs and the pastor's yelling. Instead, Ela and I had a nice, relaxing chat in the warm kitchen. 

After the church service it is then customary to feed everyone. Cata and Oscar ordered 500 tamales which arrived in crates the day before. The giant pot on the floor is highly sugared coffee which will be poured into the styrofoam cups to be delivered the the attendees by the basketful. There were something like 12 cakes that were cut and ready to be distributes as well. (Hendrick, the biggest cake monger I've met in my life, even more so than myself, threw fit after fit until his mom gave him more and more cake. At one point, he grabbed a large piece with bright pink frosting, smeared the frosting across his face and said, "I'm a clown." and walked out of the kitchen.)

The calm before the storm: Each styrofoam plate received two tamales, two slices of bread, one piece of birthday cake on a napkin and with a fork. Maria thought it was important that each be just as such. We did our best to prepare as many as possible before hand but once the service was over and it was time to serve, the storm hit. The kitchen almost instantly became a forest of bodies and a sea of noise; six or seven working around the table, all yelling what they needed, "Napkin!", "Cake!", "Tamal!", styrofoam flying in all directions, hands colliding across the table in an effort to deliver what they held. Another five or six were delivering food to the crowded room below, all the while dodging kids and navigating rain and slippery steps. As empty hands returned to the table they would instantly be filled with plates and ordered to "Go! Go! Go!". 

In what seemed a matter of minutes and as the baskets of tamales dwindled someone from below came to inform us that "Ya.", everyone had been served. All of us women looked around, as if waking up from a mid-afternoon nap and assessing the damage. Frosting smeared on nearly everything, prepared plates askew, waiting to be carried out, women sighing and laughing, brushing their dark hair from their faces with their forearms, hands stained with pastel goo. 

As the attendees said their goodbyes (another Guatemalan social practice: get your food and leave right after), we grabbed what remained of the food (which was a lot), found a seat and began to eat. Nearly everyone in the kitchen was chatting in K'iche, reviewing the day.  Elkin saw my food, approached me with a sweet grin on his face and said "Hola.". Clearly he was after my tamal. I hung out for awhile, ate my cake, watched Hendrick eat more cake and lick the cake lids clean of their smeared frosting (surely he made himself sick off it), grabbed a half-dozen of the 100 or so left over tamales and headed to the peace of my adobe room.