21 Apr 2009
Right outside New York
I come from Europe, that for the record is somewhere in the outskirts of New York city. For most people here world geography is extremelly simple. Either you live in any of the quarters of New York (and they know with astonishing accuracy their names and locations), i.e. Queens, Manhattan, Bronx, Brooklyn, etc. or you live farther or nearer away from it. In short, the world is basically New York and its outskirts. It is funny how information filters all the way from New York to this little Andean village. And how it is distorted in the meanwhile. By the way, I love the way they call New York. 'La yony'. I have no idea who was the first person to call it like that. It comes from the sticker 'I♥NY'. And it is widely used in Andean Ecuador, especially in the provinces of Cañar and Azuay. These two provinces, with a shared cañari past (group who inhabited this area when the Incas from Peru arrived), have been sending migrants to 'la yony' for over three decades. And the flow is far from over.
7 Apr 2009
Andean funerary rituals
Death is not a sad thing in the Andean cosmology. One must party to help the dead people in their journeys. Death is just another part of Life. Like nature, or energy, nothing ends, it only changes.
Last week (it seems so far ago, so many things happens to me here every single day!) I attend a funeral. The behaviour of the priest to me was unacceptable. He did not even make the effort to know the name of the dead people. Specially when he gets well paid for his services. Relatives must pay not only for the mass but also for a private car to bring the priest from the town he lives in. And he does not go up to the cemetery for the final pray. It is outrageous. The scarce dealings with the Catholic church are the most difficult part so far.
After the mass, things started going surreal. The path to the cemetery is partly destroyed after the rains of the last months. Mingas (communal work) takes place in this path quite often, but the path is still quite non-drivable. There was no way of taking the coffins up to the cemetery. They need to wait for a 4x4 car to be able to take the coffins. Nonetheless, no one was mourning at the time. There was an ice-cream vendor with his brightly coloured car and people were happily buying ice-creams. When I got into the cemetery, there were two men playing instruments. They were playing funerary hymns, however they could not help but sound as gipsy music. Quite happy in fact. Once inside the cemetery everyone sits down and start chatting to each other. It was a hot day, and people (including myself) were trying to protect from the sun with whatever piece of cloth we have. We looked like resting members of a funny circus. After a while the relatives of the dead person started going among the people offering coke, sprite, tobacco and liquor. Every one started drinking. I was encouraged by some old ladies to try the liquor. I needed to mix it with coke in order to finish it, so strong was it. It was really easy to forget where I was, with old tipsy ladies making jokes next to me and I myself holding a glass of coke with liquor.
No need to say, the cemetery was full of people!
Last week (it seems so far ago, so many things happens to me here every single day!) I attend a funeral. The behaviour of the priest to me was unacceptable. He did not even make the effort to know the name of the dead people. Specially when he gets well paid for his services. Relatives must pay not only for the mass but also for a private car to bring the priest from the town he lives in. And he does not go up to the cemetery for the final pray. It is outrageous. The scarce dealings with the Catholic church are the most difficult part so far.
After the mass, things started going surreal. The path to the cemetery is partly destroyed after the rains of the last months. Mingas (communal work) takes place in this path quite often, but the path is still quite non-drivable. There was no way of taking the coffins up to the cemetery. They need to wait for a 4x4 car to be able to take the coffins. Nonetheless, no one was mourning at the time. There was an ice-cream vendor with his brightly coloured car and people were happily buying ice-creams. When I got into the cemetery, there were two men playing instruments. They were playing funerary hymns, however they could not help but sound as gipsy music. Quite happy in fact. Once inside the cemetery everyone sits down and start chatting to each other. It was a hot day, and people (including myself) were trying to protect from the sun with whatever piece of cloth we have. We looked like resting members of a funny circus. After a while the relatives of the dead person started going among the people offering coke, sprite, tobacco and liquor. Every one started drinking. I was encouraged by some old ladies to try the liquor. I needed to mix it with coke in order to finish it, so strong was it. It was really easy to forget where I was, with old tipsy ladies making jokes next to me and I myself holding a glass of coke with liquor.
No need to say, the cemetery was full of people!
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