You’ve all read the post about our trip to Aguacatan with our friends Pedro, Lucia, and their family to celebrate a first communion and baptisms. Our friend Reyna, mother of the famous Delmi, has also been trying to have her children baptized for months and months. Her first problem is that the church here in her community and in the main town, in her words, “doesn’t welcome her because she is an unwed mother.” So the baptisms couldn’t be done there. Then she wanted Jaime and me to be the godparents, but she was fairly certain the church here wouldn’t allow that either, so she had to find Guatemalan godparents. She was finally able to arrange something with the church in a town across the valley where she works weekdays, so she decided that Delmi and Nasito would be baptized during Holy Week. Then Nasito contracted rotovirus and was hospitalized, which spent all the money Reyna had saved for the baptisms. That was sort of lucky for us, as we weren’t going to be able to attend the Holy Week baptisms. But finally, all things were in order this past weekend for a second try at the baptisms. We were invited to attend, even though Reyna was apologetic about us not being their actual godparents. There was some sort of class we would have been required to take, and of course we’d have to present little diplomas at the baptism proving that we’d attended the classes. Also, in the states it’s permissible for one of the godparents to not be baptized in the church, but here that’s not ok. I’m still a little confused about all the details. Anyway, we are padrinos de corazon, or godparents in our hearts, she says.

The morning of the ceremony, we woke up to the sun shining brilliantly, a good day for baptisms, less mud to dirty things up. Reyna had seen the pictures from the previous baptisms and said, “So you’re going to wear your traje right?” Of course I would wear my traje. This trip was a short one to the church across the valley, so I wore the whole thing as-is. I wasn’t feeling fantastic, so when I was tied into the skirt I asked Lina to leave the belt a little loose for the ride. It almost fell off upon our arrival, but I caught the whole mess and Reyna cinched me in tight after that–as if she didn’t have enough work to do getting her kids ready for their big day. Here I am adding to her work, but she doesn’t look like she minds terribly.

I reflected back on the baptism in Aguacatan. We had to travel 4 hours to get there, so I wore the traje top with jeans and a fleece jacket over it. When I took my jacket off at breakfast, everyone ewwed and ahhed at the me, and these were all people we know quite well. Most of the family, including the children to be baptized, changed in the parking lot so that no one got anything wrinkled or dirty during the trip or through breakfast. One of the funniest things to happen to me that day was standing in the parking lot just on the outskirts of the Aguacatan market while Pedro’s wife Carmen tied me into my corte as a crowd of about a dozen older women in traje watched and smiled and laughed and pointed at me. I just might have been the most entertaining thing to happen to them all day.

Things were much more low-key at the second baptism in San Rafael. We climbed into the microbus with the family here, and upon arrival less than an hour later, only Delmi and Nasito were changed into their gleaming white dress and miniature suit. But much like before, Fletch and I got a lot of stares, since we aren’t known around that town and we were two giant gringos in traditional Mayan dress.

While growing up, I became accustomed to family baptisms that were relatively small, quiet affairs. Maybe one or two other babies would be baptized on the same day. Apparently this approach is too time and money intensive for the priest to population ratio. Here it seems that everyone pays a fee to the church, and there are en masse sacraments handed out. In Aguacatan there were some 200 children baptized plus Ronald’s first communion. This past Sunday there were two couples married and I20 children baptized. They do each step of the baptism ceremony in giant assembly lines. It’s actually one of the most organized processes I’ve witnessed while in Guatemala. Everyone gets in the lines they’re supposed to, and no one pushes. Impressive–maybe it’s because God Is Watching. Every candle in the air here is for a child that’s being baptized.

These events are funny. As we watched the assembly lines file past for the various stages of the ceremony I thought about how the whole day felt like an orchestration against the nature of children. First of all, the kids were woken up early, and made to travel for an hour without having eaten breakfast. This was the case for the whole family (though we definitely ate), but kids don’t deal well with these changes in routine. Then they were dressed in gleaming white clothes, which they were expected not to get dirty at least until after the ceremony. This means they’re supposed to sit still, not move, not play, not slide across the nicely tiled church floor. It is ideal that the children not cry, even though they’re forced into fancy, uncomfortable clothes and told to be still and quiet for hours at a time. It made me shake my head and laugh when they decided to give Delmi a

purple jello cup to quiet her down in the church. I mean, I was eating popcorn I’d bought on the street. Wouldn’t it make sense to give her a food that matched the color of her clothing to have a small chance at keeping her clean? In a few seconds she had purple jello dots down her dress. In the end, these kids are restless and forced over a bowl where cold water is poured over their heads and smelly oil rubbed in a cross on their forehead and/or chest. Check out the little skeptic’s eyes. She didn’t cry at all during this part, even if she didn’t readily trust that padre.

Afterwards everyone wanted to take nice, smiley dress-up pictures. The expectations are just a little unbelievable, which is why the following picture is maybe my favorite of the whole day. Look how happy these smiley children are after being cleansed of original sin! Pretty big smiles, right? Oh wait, that’s just me and Fletch smiling and laughing at the absurdity of it all. Though Nasito’s grandma Lina assures me that since his baptism he’s been a very contented happy baby, more so than he was before. Maybe the effects just took a bit of time to catch up with him? Delmi is usually a pretty happy kid, just don’t try to brush and braid her hair or you’re in for a screamfest.

As the ceremony ended, we were ushered to the house of a friend that Reyna had hired to prepare a big celebratory meal, a requirement both to celebrate events and to thank the people who stood up as godparents for the children. As we found out, the bulk of the money doesn’t go to the church, but into the clothes people feel obligated to buy for the ceremony and all the food purchased, which always includes some sort of bird. Ours was a turkey. We ate the meal in San Rafael because the godparents are from there, and it would be inconsiderate to expect them to come over to the family’s home back in the village. At the end of the meal, a giant box of sweet breads showed up and were dished out to the participants. This continued when we returned to our own village as well. The box came with us and all the sweet breads were divided in bags and delivered to the houses of family and friends to celebrate the baptisms. It was very quaint I thought, and they were hands down the best sweet bread rolls I’ve eaten here.

We are not a particularly religious pair, but going to these things always feels pretty important, and it’s fun to spend time with our friends in different settings. Sometimes I’m struck by these flashes of how much we’ll miss them when we’re gone. We’re having fun with them while there’s still time left, but there’s not much…