T-minus Guatemala (Peace Corps Ending): La(s) Despedida(s) in Santa Clara

Sunday and Monday were despedida days. Despedir means: To say goodbye. What I love about the Spanish language is that there are verbs that sum-up an action in one word, like aprovechar, to take advantage, which take more than one word in English. And a Despedida is a send-off or a goodbye.

I couldn’t anticipate all the words that would come my way to send me off. Palabras are a big custom in Guatemala. They aren’t simply words (though that is the translation), they mean so much more. And they follow a typical script, a way of repetition and emphasis that exists like in a greeting card. I think that palabras are greeting cards in live time (as writing/sharing cards are not much the custom here). And you can’t cherish them forever because they will dissipate in the air, so you have to listen and smile. Or in this culture, you stand and listen and look very serious. Those are palabras.

Sunday was my time to send myself off. That means that it was my responsibility to buy all the cakes, rent all the tables, decorate my house and wait for people to show up. Number, unknown. I printed invitations, I hand-delivered them and I sent out reminders the day before on Whatsapp. I didn’t have to throw myself a party, but it only seemed appropriate after all this time I spent in Santa Clara and all the people I wanted to thank.

The hours leading up to the party I felt anxious: not just because hosting parties makes me anxious (because, yes it does), but because Guatemalan parties are not exactly in my wheelhouse. Did I have enough chairs, would we run out of cake? RSVP here is a NON-THING so I couldn’t know. Nor is saying, clearly, I can’t come. And it would look really bad if I didn’t have enough.

I did some uncustomary things too: I had a polaroid camera with a lot of instant film and we took pictures as recuerdos, and I set coloring book pages and colored pencils out for the little kids to distract themselves. I put fabric flowers and curly ribbons on the tables in light of center pieces and stretched ribbons across the ceiling in my bedroom and the patio. I put a sign on the wall “Adios Pazapik’ A wi” (Goodbye Curly-Head/Messy Head).

One friend arrived early, at 2:30, and I had just finished showering and getting my traje wrapped around me (thanks to my host sister). She is a friend I went to visit once in Pasajquim (an outlying village of Santa Clara, one hour’s drive away). She invited me to her house for lunch and wanted me to stay the night, but I couldn’t.. She is very generous. She brought me a beautiful, brilliant blue blouse with birds embroidered across the neck. It was so beautiful… The shirt wasn’t complete. I could get Clara to sew it for me, or I could use it as is as a tablecloth. I took her picture by it to remember.

I was filled with pride to see all the people who showed up, even though most arrived around 4. The punctual folks had to sit and wait for 45 minutes to an hour. But that is Guatemala.

We got started, and I could feel it getting hot in my living room/kitchen where about 20 people squeezed in. I thanked everyone for coming, and told them that I am so sad to go. I offered that we cut cake and share words, but that was simply not the custom. First Lic. Enrique (the school superintendent) stood up to give his words. After him, someone else raised their hands and expressed their gratitude, and I could feel people antsy for cake, but maybe that was a pressure I was putting on myself. Giving palabras is as normal as a norm can get in Santa Clara.

They presented gifts and as they finished their words, I walked over, accepted their gifts and gave them a hug. And then I did the thing that is very Guatemalan but always looks super awkward to me. You hug and then they give you more words while you are hugging. So you just stay there, stuck hugging, listening to their words until they are done. To pull away would be rude. I’ve seen it at funerals, yeah mostly funerals. Comforting words they offer during the hug. And so I did that. I gave my words while I was plasmada in a hug. It’s the little things you pick up along the way that you never realized you realized. Until you are doing it, too.

One family arrived and Doña Cecilia, who has also hosted PCVs, said: “Disculpe es que no puedo subir las gradas” and I quickly ran upstairs to grab a table and bring it down. They sat downstairs, patiently, and I felt bad because all of the action was upstairs. I asked the girls to help me cut the cake and pass it out. I was happy to see my students who came. Only one didn’t come who I had a note for.

I got many wonderful presents: woven baskets, típico colorful tortilla napkins of Santa Clara, and traje! I couldn’t believe it. I got a beautiful corte skirt, red güipil, turquoise güipil and a sky blue woven top. I was really surprised because I know that these woven clothes are expensive. I also wondered: How will these things fit into my suitcase?

We ended the party with cake and folks began to trickle out. Rachel (my site mate) was a rockstar. She followed me around like a wedding photographer and took pictures with my polaroid AND my cell phone, one in each hand. I was really happy with everyone’s excitement over their polaroids. They tried to ask me for more than one picture and I had to deny them sometimes. “It’s just that, I am wearing my shawl in that first picture and I want one without my shawl.” I chuckled and we took another.

By the end of the party, about 50 people came, cake was all over the floor and we had to get more Pepsi sometime during the soiree but I thought it all went well. Amidst the chaos, I was touched by the writing on the top of each cake: “La vamos a extrañar, Pazapik’ A Wi” “La Queremos Mucho” etc. I hardly had time to stand and take in the sweet messages on the cake, but the gesture meant so much. The despedida gift that most surprised me was homemade: a picture book. Printed images of myself with two of my students. I was so happy and when I went downstairs after everything was cleaned up, and swept, and the tables and chairs were returned, my host sister told me something that happened at the party that changed my perspective on some folks. I was surprised, but I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t understand why we were talking about them and not about the success of the afternoon and how happy I was that it went well.

The Polaroid camera was a huge hit.

I called Eunice, upset, and walked to deliver cake to some folks who couldn’t make it. I am sad to lose the friendships I have with other volunteers who are still in country. The conversation after the party stuck in my gut and I didn’t sleep well.

On Monday, I had lots of work to do. Mostly, I had cake I had to deliver to those who didn’t come to the party. Cake is a big deal, and a big gesture, because it is expensive to make here. So I made sure to bring it to the folks at different schools who could not attend. Then I kept trying to pack or run an errand to give something away, without doing the work. By the afternoon I had received most of the post-surveys but was still waiting on a few. I couldn’t give my teacher’s diplomas without them.

At 1pm, I ran to see Seño Mary and told her about what happened at the party. She could see I was upset. She and I are friends so we have that level of transparency. Still I think she was put-off by my unfiltered expression. I was just tired, and overwhelmed, and on my last week in site, I didn’t have the ganas to control it. I left without my water bottle and she ran after me to bring it to me.

I got to Barrio San Antonio and they said the activity would start at 4, but the principal told me 3pm. I told the Seño I had another activity at 4:30, but she convinced me to stay. So I walked downstairs into the computer lab to try to get work done. Profe Miguel walked in. I needed his post-test results to give him his diploma. He told me he would deliver it to my house that evening. I didn’t understand why other than he had yet to finish the assignment, but okay. At 3:30 Profe David arrived and around 3:45 we started. The principal from Paquip, a teacher from Bachillerato, Cedcom, and all the Barrio San Antonio students were present. They had prepared a program for me.

The students from Tercero presented an acrostic for me, all the words that my name means! So sweet.
This sign made me chuckle…

Profe Miguel introduced me and read my biography off of a sheet. My age, my home, what I will be doing after. He had just asked me for these in the computer lab 5 minutes before. Each grade had prepared an artistic presentation. Primero básico sang a song I actually know: “Me voy” by Julieta Venegas. “Qué lástima pero adios, yo despedido de ti y me voy.” The girls of segundo made an acrostic of my name, describing who I am. The whole program was very touching. At the end, the group formed a receiving line and each kid hugged me. One student cried a lot when she gave her words over the microphone, but I think she is just really dramatic (I mean, I am grateful for her sentiment…but we didn’t work that much together).

They gave me more traje! and lots of words. And walking all the way home, I sobbed. Everyone on the street saw and knew. But I don’t care. I have cried so many times in public this year that I think they probably call me ‘bag of water’ in K’iche’.

When I got home, I wasn’t hungry and exhausted. Tomorrow is my last full day in Santa Clara.

Profe Miguel even came to the house to give me his post-test analysis, so that he could also thank me for our time. He delivered the normal palabras, repeating the same thing at the beginning as the end, and filling the middle with well-wishes and stuffing. “Send our regards to your Mom and Dad and one day, if you ever come back to Santa Clara, you come see me and my family. Our doors are open to you. Qué Dios te acompañe..”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *