The Party--Oriana Turns 25!

On Friday, Oriana and I slept in a little, made some eggs and coffee for breakfast and chatted about the coming day. We arrived at work and the internet was down for no apparent reason. So, we set ourselves to cleaning up the office we work in. It serves as a storage facility of sorts for random junk, coffee that can’t be sold, and packaging supplies. That project took us about 3 hours. Then we did a few other quick things and headed off to drop extra items at our house and made our way over to Daniel’s house.

When we arrived, party planning was already underway. Rented chairs (we footed the bill for this also) were already in the house and tables were being set. Angelica, the oldest, was arranging flowers for centerpieces. I had mentioned to Maria that I wanted to sneak away to buy a cake for dessert. After all the chopping for various dishes was done, yeah, that includes more onions, Angelica and I snuck out to walk down the road to buy cakes at the good bakery. It was a bit of a hike since the closer bakery was closed. And, of course, it started to rain. So, on the way back, we had to stop a couple of times so I could wipe the water off my glasses. I was already paranoid about tripping and dropping the cake I was holding (I bought two, one wouldn’t have fed everyone).

Once we got back to the house, we hid the cakes and I dispatched a couple of the younger kids to buy candles. When I got back, Maria asked me to run over and grab Maria Elena, Filiberto’s wife, to help make tortillas and finish the cooking.

Making tortillas is really difficult, by the way. When I was here over spring break, we visited a women’s cooperative in a village called Santiago Zamora. The women there made us food and I asked if we could learn to make tortillas. The women there commented that in Guatemala, if you can’t make tortillas, you aren’t going to get married. Apparently, some of the villages create a mini-test for women before they get married. The bride-to-be is expected to make tortillas for the groom-to-be and his family. That way they know whether the bride-to-be will make a good wife or not—and more precisely, whether or not she’ll be able to feed her husband.

So, I ran over to Filiberto’s house to make sure that Maria Elena was planning to come and help. I ended up waiting and we walked over together. While I was waiting for her to finish getting ready, I chatted with her grandson, Herson, who is three years old and possibly the cutest little kid on Earth. I taught him how to do smooth and solid! (The folks on the Clark/Smith side would be proud!)

Maria Elena and I made our way back to Daniel’s house, where the other Maria was waiting for us to get started with the tortillas. Mine, not totally surprisingly, were not entirely round and there were quite a few with holes. Apparently, I’m not getting married any time soon—at least not to a Guatemalan.

A note about Guatemalan kitchens—everyone here uses wood stoves. Wood stoves produce serious amounts of heat and even more serious amounts of smoke. Women here often get eye infections because of all the smoke they have to deal with on a daily basis. While we were making tortillas, all the other pots of food were on the flame and I had to walk out of the kitchen a couple of times to rest my eyes.

Then we finished with the food preparation—and began to prep plates and silverware. We washed bowls, mugs for coffee, and spoons—enough for forty people. The female camaraderie in the kitchen brought back memories of cooking and cleaning with folks at my Grandma Julia’s old house—and more recently at my Grandma Velma’s and Aunt Cicely’s apartments.

The rain continued to come down, but so did the party guests. Who wouldn’t enjoy coming over for some free dinner? We were thirty plus folks when we started bringing out plates of food—and everyone was doing what folks with good food do—eating, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company.

Oriana was a little worried that no one would come to her party. On the contrary, I think the showing is an indication of how comfortable we’ve come to feel with families here. They treat us like family here—that is if you had family that didn’t speak your language and don’t look so much like you—but family all the same. I think we’re slightly abnormal volunteers here since we are only here for a short time, we’re trying to soak up every minute—and trying to spend our free time with the families that we know.

As folks started to finish their food, the clan of small children helped me stick candles in one of the cakes and find matches. Then, we brought the cakes out and three of the kids covered Oriana’s eyes while we tried to light all twenty-some candles. She was complaining that she couldn’t breath—what a wimp.

So, in keeping with the previous night, Byron and Guillermo were the evening’s photographers—we have lots of very crooked pictures, others are dark and you can’t discern features. But, they did an excellent job with capturing the cake, blowing out the candles, and the look on Oriana’s face when the kids let her see what was happening. Best yet, the thirty plus folks plowed through a terrible rendition of “Happy Birthday” in English, then through it in Spanish, and continued on with “Las Mañanitas.” After that, it was a roaring climax of “Ya Queremos Pastel” which means “We want cake already!”

There was enough cake for folks to get American-sized slices and some of the kids got seconds too. Everyone seemed to really have a ball. Then a bunch of the kids, Oriana, and I got up to dance. The adults (everyone over 40), thought that was hysterical and turned their seats around to jeer, laugh, and watch us.

Slowly, but surely, folks started to trickle out and eventually it was just Daniel’s kids and us dancing until 10 PM. We cleaned things up, stacked the chairs, washed what hadn’t been washed, and collected our doggie bag of food to take home (lunch and dinner the next two days).

We thanked Daniel and Maria profusely and made our way back to the house. Daniel and Maria were planning to be up at 4 AM to finish making the 400 tamales for their normal Saturday orders.

I think Oriana had a birthday worth remembering—it was certainly a good time!