velorio

in a low voice she asked, "why don't you come and start the compañerismo?" that last word snagged me. i had never heard that word it before. never knew that compañero (companion), could be found in the form of an "ism". the question rang like an invitation to a secret society or a subversive movement.

i had my reasons for not going and i had wanted to explain them to her since she had looked at me with those eyes that stay in their target, long enough to shoot their message, short enough to feign a wandering glance. for me, the velorio was an intimate event for family and friends, and i, being the new comer, didn't yet feel part of the inner circle. i wouldn’t be comfortable spending the night in a room with strangers surrounding the body of walter's dead father.

what i didn't understand was the naturalness of a velorio which shouldn't have surprised me in a land where the dead are celebrated with altars and picnics in cemeteries. the night of the velorio, the family vela or remains awake with the body while the spirit passes to the other world. friends come to accompany the family to help them stay awake with coffee, bread, and conversation. there are jokes and laughter and surprise meetings of old friends. in this, one witnesses compañerismo. it is more than the act of accompanying; it is also the spirit that unifies those who not only work together, but also live together.

a spirit that in moments of special gatherings appears attractive, but suffocating if it is the word to describe the communal movement of the teachers of casa guatemala. "it is another mafia," i explained to my argentinean friend. "they don't go to the dining hall until seño lili, the director of the school, says !vamos!" it might be that they are freshly united after a two month vacation and are eager to re-bond as a group, but this also might be what maria talked about. last year, maria was the arts and crafts teacher for the girls. maria, didn't finish the school year. she couldn't endure the asphyxia of the herd. or maybe it was because she arrived later in the school year and was never completely accepted. maybe it was because she became pregnant by a spanish volunteer. or maybe it was because she spent more evenings at the volunteers' house than the teachers' house. maybe it was because she didn't awake at five a.m. to drink hot chocolate with the others to commemorate the day of the teacher.

if compañerismo is the liberty inside a circle and the judgment outside, if it is movement in masse then my suspicion has found firm ground. however, if there is more to the image than what my cultural lense can see, i hope that the next ten months will create a broader lense.