After we had a tremendous lunch at Phil and Judy Bergen's, Phil asked each of us to share a favorite Christmas memory. It was clear to see the "cultural gap" between the North Americans and the Guatemalans who were gathered. I have become familiar with many of the Guatemalan Christmas customs, but I guess I didn't realize how "middle class" my exposure has been.
Christina, a Spanish teacher, shared that she had never celebrated Christmas until she met her husband and his family. She was a Christian, but the poverty in which she lived ruled out gift giving in even its simplest form. And, I have learned just this year, many of the evangelical and pentecostal churches in Guatemala do not emphasize the Christmas season. Christmas carols are not sung in churches, and nativity sets or advent wreaths are almost considered pagan. Many evangelical churches do not even have worship on Christmas day, because it smacks too much of Catholicism. Without worshiping together, Christmas would, indeed, be just another day off work.
Her husband's memory also took me by surprise at the same time that it broke my heart. He wept as he told us how, at the age of ten, he received his first Christmas gift. That Christmas he got a pair of shoes in which he could play "futbol" (soccer). Prior to that, he had had black shoes for school, and tennis shoes for PE, but he was not allowed to wear these to play futbol because he had to save them for school. When he received his futbol shoes, he played soccer half the night, and then slept in the shoes the remainder of the night. to see an adult man weep as he recalled this time broke my heart. I think this story had such an impact on me because I know how important futbol is to Dick's boys. And while they are far from middle class, they all seem to be able to find shoes and even the few quetzales it takes to rent a futbol field occasionally to enjoy a game or two. I honestly can't picture their lives without this sport, so it was especially poignant to hear this man's story.
The final story hit even closer to home. One of the Guatemalan women told of her first Christmas tree, which really wasn't a Christmas tree at all. She had desperately been begging for their very poor family to have a tree, and her grandfather went out and found the best one he could find. It wasn't an evergreen, though, but a branch of a thorn tree which grows wild here.
The children were so excited to have this tree, however, that they rushed to decorate it. All they had were some old metal type of pop bottle tops. These, however, were the ornaments on their tree, and they could not have been more pleased. Recalling this, our dear friend cried, remembering how poor they were, but how happy they were with what they had. I couldn't help but think of some pretty lean years when my kids were little, and remembered how important a Christmas tree was to them. We always somehow managed at least a "Charlie Brown" tree, and we always had lights and ornaments, even if they were homemade. This story more than any I have heard, has helped me realize just how profound is the poverty here in Guatemala. And how resilient are the Guatemalan people.
I am grateful to the Bergens for including me in this celebration. The food and conversation was wonderful. I am more grateful, though, for understanding a little be more about the heart of the country which I now call home. I love Guatemala today more than ever.
No comments:
Post a Comment