November 2 is the day of the dead (Dia
de los Muertos/Dia de los Difuntos), here in Nicaragua – and I have
to say that it's really a beautiful tradition.
*Before going into the details of the
day itself, I should first explain that here in Nicaragua, the
cemeteries are a little different than in the US. Here, the majority
of the coffins are placed in cement “bobedas” or tombs above
ground. Therefore, instead of walking over the grass that's grown
over the bodies that are 6 feet under like in the US; here, one
weaves through the giant rectangular cement enclosures to get to his
or her family's spot. Once the tombs are closed up, their
presentation depends – just like in the US – on the family's
financial situation. Many are covered in tile, and some even adorned
with cement crosses and flower pots. Most however are just painted,
and adorned by a simple plaque or stenciled letters with the persons
name and dates. This makes the cemetery a colorful corner of town,
with a variety of beautiful ornamental trees and plants that have
been planted around many of the graves. **The more extreme ends of
the spectrum differ a little – leaving the humblest graves marked
by a wooden cross placed over the mound of dirt where the body was
buried, and the wealthiest placed among family in private crypts much
resembling those found in US cemeteries.
So, before the big day, I headed up to
the cemetery with my friend to help clean off and repaint his
father's grave. We went early in the morning, a few days before, and
he and his friend got right down to machete-ing the few weeds that
had grown in around the edges of the tomb. (His father died just
less than three years ago, so they still take really good care of the
grave site.) After scrubbing the tomb with detergent and water that
we carried in a 5 gallon bucket, we ate some bananas and hung out in
the shade of a jocote tree to wait for it to dry. Then we painted
the entire tomb a bright mint green and painted around the stenciled
lettering of his father's name so they wouldn't have to re-do the
letters. It was fun getting to help, and I felt so good getting to
take part in the tradition.
The morning of the 2nd,
echoes of ladies and children selling flowers in the streets could be
heard as early as 5am (maybe earlier, but I was definitely not
conscious earlier than that haha). Most of the women headed up to
the cemetery bright and early so their loved ones' graves would pass
the whole day “afloreados,” or covered with flowers.
**I, on the other hand, had a pretty
regular morning and took advantage of a day without classes to wash
my mountains of clothes that had piled up during the rains...ugh I
fear I will never see my laundry bag empty again.**
Around 9:30am I decided to buy flowers to
put on the graves of the tombs of family members of my three closest
friends. I didn't head up the hill to the cemetery until the
afternoon and I couldn't believe the crowds of people when I got
there! Outside, all of the vendors had their tables set up so that
the people who chose to pass the entire day there (that is part of
the tradition) would have plenty of frescos and enchiladas to last
them all day. Inside, families were dressed to impress and sitting
on the tombs of their loved ones. The flowers, which ranged from
fresh cut, to paper, to plastic, were absolutely gorgeous and the
ambiance was a perfect mix of nostalgia and camaraderie. As I made my
way through the cemetery with my friends, I stopped to talk with at
least 40 of my students and their families. Everyone
was there. My friends shared memories of their loved ones with me,
and after paying our respects, we just sat on the tombs and hung out.
Some families were praying together, others drinking together,
others arranging flowers, others picnicking right there on the tombs.
It was so cool to just see everyone there taking part in such an
important tradition. As my friends told me stories about the people
who were buried in the surrounding tombs, it occurred to me that, at
least in my experience, I would never be able to do that in the US.
Cemeteries in the city are enormous and people that pass each other
in the winding roads there are all strangers. The fact that the
cemetery here only holds the bodies of people who were born and
raised in this little town makes it so much more historical. It was
so interesting to hear Cristina telling me about how so-and-so had
died, and how so-and-so helped to pay for so-and-so's tomb. So much
history in one little piece of land. It was such a cool thing to be
a part of.
*Sidenote:
for those of you who are keeping close tabs on my life here, you
should know by now that I have found some of the best friends anyone
could ever ask for here. Here's some pictures so you can place names
with faces! (I don't have any pictures of the Day of the Dead
because my camera battery doesn't work anymore!!!! AHH!)
Chillin with the bests in my house...from left to right: Juan, Cristina, Alvaro, Carlos, and yours truly <3
