My first Guatemalan Christmas loomed in front of me, as I pondered how the orphanage would celebrate this special time. I had many questions about the cultural traditions and thought of my favorites in the States. Should I introduce some US traditions, or should we follow the Guatemalan ways? Perhaps a blend of the two would make this time memorable for everyone. I started asking our workers about their ideas for Christmas and learned that Guatemalans observed this time without the pomp and circumstance seen in the US. Decisions needed to be made and soon.
In 2002, Christmas displays, decorations, and the traditional items were rarely found for sale. A few stores sold artificial trees and some decorations, but it was nothing like the choices available in the States. That didn’t deter me because creative people surrounded me, and we could make what we needed.
I bought a five-foot artificial tree and some ornaments, with plans in my head flowing. My excitement increased because nobody in the orphanage had ever displayed a Christmas tree. This would be their first, and they could hardly conceal their anticipation when I set the tree in the living room.
While learning more about Guatemalan Christmas traditions, I found that the focus revolved around a church service on Christmas Eve, a feast of tamales and chuchitos, and fireworks. What, no Christmas gifts? Gift giving didn’t dominate this holiday, and perhaps the money went toward the traditional fireworks used for the festivities.
On the twenty-third, after making the necessary purchases, the cook informed me that we should start preparing the tamales and chuchitos. “Mama Carroll, it takes a long time to make each ingredient.” Having knowledge about cooking made me wonder how something so simple-looking took two days.
“Okay, I’m willing to help any way I can,” I told the cook. I didn’t realize that some of the cooking had to be done the old-fashioned way—over a fire outside. An enormous pot of corn kernels and another of rice stood boiling above the wood fires on the patio. Inside the house simmered garlic, onion, tomatoes, sesame seeds, and pumpkin seeds forming a lovely red sauce that created a mouth-watering smell. I wanted to learn how to make tamales and chuchitos, but I had to learn in person because these ladies used the “pinch of this and a handful of that” method. At the end of the day, ninety tamales snuggly wrapped in banana leaves sat in a huge pot ready to cook over the fire Christmas Eve. A repeat of this day followed on the next to make the chuchitos. Instead of singing, “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,” we would be singing “tamales and chuchitos.”
Ponche, which is a hot drink made from diced fruits, sugar, and spices, added to the delicious foods. After my first cup of this, I couldn’t get my fill, and it wasn’t even Christmas Eve. The cook indulged me by giving me a thumbs up when I went for refills.
A Guatemalan worker spread pine needles on all the floors and patio of the house. The piney scent launched me into the memories of the fresh mountain pine trees we decorated in Montana. I felt a tug in my heart as I thought of home in the states and my family. I would miss being with them. When I slowed down long enough to look at the tree, decorations, and lights, and then smell the aromas from the kitchen, I thanked the Lord for giving us the opportunity to celebrate His birthday in such a marvelous way. We had combined traditions, at the urging of my Guatemalan family, and I felt pleased to see the happiness in everyone’s eyes.
At 8:30 p.m. the feast began, and we gobbled down two days’ worth of hard work. Firecrackers sounded like continuous pistol shots all day long, but at midnight, the world exploded. Above Guatemala City, we could see fireworks from horizon to horizon. The sky lit up with colorful sparkles of light as the sound of bombs dropping echoed in the valley. Of course, we had to add our own combination of color and sound. The deafening noise and thick smoke didn’t distract from the love Guatemalans have for fireworks. A required firework in this celebration is a long rope of connected firecrackers that rapid fire from one end to the other for five to ten minutes, the longer the better. During this racket, people hug and greet one another.
When it quieted, and the smoke drifted off, we filed back into the house for the next phase of the celebration. Presents!
“Maria* why are you crying?” I inquired.
“Because I’ve never had a Christmas gift before,” she answered as she pulled off pieces of tape and carefully folded the paper for safe keeping. With moist eyes and a shy grin, she held up a journal for the year. I received a typical white top called a huipil with lovely purple embroidered flowers around the neckline. The girls had heard my hints. Everyone agreed that presents would be part of the orphanage’s tradition.
With another cup of ponche and some apple pie, we watched a drama on TV on the birth of Christ. At 3:00 a.m. my body dropped in bed. I thanked the Lord again for the family He’d given me and the love I felt as we carried out a mixture of traditions for my first Guatemalan Christmas. He put me in a unique family when I couldn’t be with my own. The loneliness I expected didn’t exist, because I lived with people who shared God’s love.
*Name has been changed.