Rituals for the Dead

Dancing in the street the night before Day of the Dead
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We have had two experiences in Cotacachi that have offered us a very different perspective on remembering and relating to the dead than anything in the U.S. or Germany (where Frank and I are from).

The first Sunday in November is a holiday celebrated in Ecuador (and throughout Latin America) called Dia de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead. I vaguely knew of this holiday from stories I´d heard from Mexico, but did not really understand its significance or how it was celebrated.

Families gathered at the cemetery
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The night before Day of the Dead, the atmosphere in Cotacachi was very festive. There were flag banners strung over the main street, groups of dancers in costumes parading through town and seemingly spontaneous small brass bands playing on street corners--groups of maybe five to seven men (I didn´t witness any women) clustered on different corners blowing away joyfully into their trumpets and trombones. People would stop to listen, begin spontaneously dancing on the sidewalks or in the streets, then move on to the next one.

Cold beer for sale at the cemetery gates
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A huge stage was set up right in the middle of a main intersection where massive speakers would later project a band´s music at great volume late into the night.

The next day, Sunday, we went to the cemetery. For days prior, families had been working on cleaning the graves of their loved ones in preparation for this day. Many of the graves were painted with a fresh coat of white. Elaborate flower arrangements were set up over the graves, often in cut-off plastic bottles filled with water from a hand pump in the cemetery. Saint cards, wreaths, flowers and fancy fruits for decorating the graves were for sale by many vendors in town and along the road leading to the cemetery entrance.

Spruced-up grave on Day of the Dead
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The Cotacachi cemetery is divided into two sections: one containing the mestizo family graves and the other indigenous family graves. We don´t know what is behind the separation--whether it´s tradition, some kind of rule, or perhaps related to expense. At any rate, the two sections are very different, with the mestizo section containing more elaborate graves and monuments, and the indigenous side much simpler white crosses, with the names handpainted in black.

It was a very busy time with extended families gathered, many having traveled long distances, in order to visit their deceased family members´graves. The mood was not solemn though--it felt more active and festive, as family members shared and connected, and the children played. There was even a tent outside the cemetery entrance selling cold beer!

Handpainted name on cross
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What struck me most was how connecting this appeared to be for the families. It was a holiday and a ritual that not only connected the current generations of extended family as they all gathered together, but also connected all of them to the prior generations who have passed on, by visiting the gravesites and having the opportunity to remember or tell stories to the younger generations who couldn´t remember. And it felt positive, not heavy or onerous or sad.

Indigenous gravesites at Cotacachi cemetery
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It also struck me how we have no equivalent holiday in the U.S.--no day set aside for the purpose of generations past and current to know and connect with each other and to remember. I thought about how little I know about any generation in my family older than my grandparents. And how little connection any of my nieces and nephews have to that generation--how we only really know the generations we meet and interact with face-to-face, so history and memory don´t go that deep or last that long. Having a day set aside to make room for memory, storytelling, family history and connection seems healthy, wise and important.

Entrance to the cemetery in Cotacachi
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The second experience was when we were recently invited to attend a Mass for our friend Luis´brother who was killed one year ago, on December 22. We felt honored to attend this commemoration. The Mass was held in a Catholic church a few blocks from our house. Afterwards, as family members and friends congregated on the church steps, Luis told us that everyone was now going to the cemetery to visit his brother´s gravesite. Most people climbed in the back of a pick-up truck, piled in along with two huge metal cauldrons of food. We decided to walk the few blocks to the cemetery, meeting the truck there.

Wreaths for sale to decorate graves on Day of the Dead
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Upon arriving at the cemetery, the whole group walked together, several of the men lugging the cauldrons, and gathered around the grave. A family member recited a short ceremony of prayers, then they began serving and sharing the food. The cauldrons were full of homecooked mote (cooked corn) and potatoes, which were scooped into bowls and distributed to everyone gathered. Other people began arriving with more food to share--soda, fruit, bread.

Luis explained that all the people were from his village, and they share the food together as a tradition on the occasions of 1 week, 2 weeks, 1 month and 1 year after the death of a loved one (and then annually after that). We were commemorating one year after the death of Luis´brother. Another group gathered with food around a different grave were commemorating one month after the death of an old woman also from Luis´ village.

The sharing of the food is also a form of ritual. It is shared for and in the name of the deceased. For example, Luis´mother, in handing out bowls of food, would say, "Here, please eat--this is for my son."

After the gathering at the cemetery, Luis said everyone will go to his mother´s house in the village and continue to share food and be together.

It felt very honoring and connecting: honoring of the person who is gone; connecting for the family of the deceased and the whole village/community who knew him and still know the family. That it is done repeatedly--at 1 week, 2 weeks, 1 month, 1 year, and then annually after that--again reenforces the community, the connection and the memory.

We don´t have anything equivalent to it in U.S. culture. We have the day of the funeral itself, and then...nothing. Same with Day of the Dead--no similar tradition or opportunity to reenforce connections in families across generations--past generations with current and future--in a day dedicated to honoring, knowing and remembering family. All family--living and dead. I think we (in the U.S.) are at a great loss for this lack or absense. It is another way we disconnect ourselves from our history and our roots, and lose touch with what matters, and often feel empty inside.