What A Weekend: Wedding Shenanigans

 

This weekend I had the opportunity to observe a wedding in the pueblo. Let me preface this post by saying I really, really dislike weddings. Occasionally they are happy or what have you, but unless Lady Gaga or RENT is the song that people walk down the aisle to, it’s probably not my scene. Now keeping this in mind, imagine that the bride is not a consenting adult, by that I mean that she is 15 (groom to be is 24, because it’s Guatemala, and that’s what you do here). All ethics (or lack thereof) aside, let us now proceed to story time!

Weddings here last a solid two days. First there is the day of the civil wedding, where they sign the papers etc. This day however, starts not at 8 with signatures, but at 3 am because of tamales. As with every special occasion in Guatemala the event is rung in with all the women of the family making a metric shit ton of tamales. I did not attend this part of the wedding as it was held on a Friday at 3 AM and I had very important work to do, like sleeping until 7…and my job. We will skip forward to the part where I show up (AKA party time!). I roll up around 8 A on Saturday, this is allegedly the day for non-super close family members to show up. 

Chapter I: Sexual Harassment feels like a knife to the hand

I roll up, jump into the fun, start peeling wiskiel, carrots, potatoes etc for lunch with all the elder women of the family. Everyone is sitting around the table catching up, speaking K’iche, mostly talking about me, I actually understand far more than I let on, but they assume I have no idea because my very white self. About five minutes after veggie time this random bolo (apparently he is my host mom’s cousin) comes up and starts talking to me, at me is far more accurate, but in either case he stands remarkably close, leaning over me so close that the smell of the beer on his breathe makes me gag a bit. The man rambles out the normal questions: where are you from, why are you here, how old are you, are you married, why not, do you have kids? Etc. FUN! After answering all the questions once he launches in to the same series again, I don’t answer this time, so he grabs my shoulder repeating a few of the questions, I shrug him off and explain that I am cutting things and to stop touching me, after that he runs his fingers lightly down the back of my neck. I LOVE BEING TOUCHED BY STRANGERS, it’s my favorite. I turn around once more explaining that he really should stop I have a knife and if something touches me I might think it’s a fly and swat at it…with the knife. At this point my face is burning red and I have the hate stare going on. Luckily for me all the women in the group are watching and laughing at me. The last thing the man does before he leaves; voluntarily-ish is touch one side of my neck with the back of his hand then the other side with his fingertips. The women at this point are laughing hysterically, obviously enjoying my discomfort, so I reach my hand with the knife in it back and scratch the side of my neck, coincidentally where the man’s hand is.  Suffice it to say, he left after that.

Chapter II: Bolo dog kicking man

This chapter title is pretty self-explanatory. Drunk man (bolo) at wedding starts kicking the shit out of the random dogs in attendance. It’s pretty normal here to have a gaggle of dogs at all events, they eat the leaft overs, bones, etc. At this event there were probably 10 or so dogs, all very normal, just partially starved. This bolo man, who is walking around with avocados in his hands randomly starts jumping around, doing push-ups, acting like…a very inebriated subhuman, which is remarkably accurate. After bolo finishes his last set of push-ups he jumps up, runs across the patio, reels his leg back and kicks this dog as hard as he can. The children and I gasp, stunned by this guy’s reactions. All of the other adults are up stairs helping prep stuff, so there is no one to talk to, to ask for help, or get this man kicked out, so we just watch to see what he does next. The man runs around, in big circles, does a couple Rocky punches and fist pumps, spins around, and connects with another dog this time right in the ribs. At this point no one really knows what to do, we are all yelling, telling him to leave, nothing. The guy runs down a little pseudo-alley way and corners another dog. I decide to talk to the guy and try to De-escalate the situation. As he walks up to the last dog standing he pulls his leg back, and I jump between the man and the dog. He stops his kick before it hits me, then starts making really big gestures and slurring K’iche. I ask we he is doing that, we he is hurting the dogs, his response “por puedo” because I can. This was not the answer I expected. I step closer to the guy and look down at him and ask “because you can? Why? Because you are bigger. I am bigger than you are, should I kick you?” And that is how you don’t get invited back to a wedding.

Chapter III Other Details

I left not long after the bolo incident. But before that I did get to witness another important part of the wedding tradition here. In my pueblo they have some sort of dowry, but it’s not a traditional dowry, it’s a reverse dowry. I prefer to think of it that way instead of the more accurate way, which would be a purchase price. This particular bride in all of her 15 years of glory was worth two giant pots of tamales, 4 cases of soda bottles and a batch of tamalitos. I would love to be worth all that one day, but I assume since I am no longer in my prime, and am in fact an old spinster, I will be worth only a 3 liter of off brand Cola and two tamales, sorry Mom and Dad.

The best part of the wedding, I unfortunately was not there for, so this is third hand information, but beautiful nonetheless. At the end of the ceremony there is the tradition of the parents of the bride giving their daughter to her new husband. But, as Guatemalan/Jerry Springer level drama would have it, this did not go as plan. What happened instead was the mom fainted, then the daughter threw off her veil, refusing to be given away and literally tried to bolt. Luckily her husband man held her down and they completed the ceremony. So recap: 15 year old girl taken away from fainting mother, held down by her husband nine years her senior. Now THAT is a wedding.

I was told that all of this is quite a step up from about 15 years ago, where there were still arranged marriages. Progress… or something.

I also learned how to find a good, hard working man for your daughter (because  she is obviously incapable of finding a suitable mate on her own):

Step 1:Look for strong, calloused hands, stick his hand with a needle  across the pad, if he flinches he is a pansy ass and obviously won’t be able to take care of your incompetent daughter.

Step 2: Ask if pansy ass has brothers, you have already invested time in finding a family with a good name, surely at least one brother will be a man’s man.

Step 3: Do not consult daughter. Ever.

Step 4: Repeat steps 1-3 with another dude until find a suitable match.