Finados or Día de los Difuntos

In Northern California, we experience a version of Día de los Muertos that comes to us directly from Mexican traditions. This annual celebration of death includes the building of ornate altars with photos of deceased family members and ancestors, bright orange marigolds, plenty of candles, candied skulls, other edible goodies, and colorful images of death. At Cesar Chavez Language Academy, where my kids attend school, one dedicated mom rallies the school community to create a beautiful altar each year. There are also altars in Courtyard Square in Santa Rosa and the Windsor Town Green, and there are city-wide processions and vigils.

In Ecuador, the national holiday, referred to as Dia de los Difuntos or Finados is definitely important, but it is less ornate and less public than the Mexican American version. The most important part of the holiday here is that families gather. We are lucky to be living in a place where people come to gather, and over the last few days, I have seen some familiar faces that I have not seen in decades. Even though I am unquestionably an outsider, I have long been tied to this place, and it feels right to be here for this annual ritual.

Finados is celebrated over two days, November 1st and 2nd. On the first day, families spend the day together cooking and preparing a large meal, which they lay out at the end of the day for their ancestors. The morning of the second day, everyone wakes early to gobble up all that has not already been consumed by the deceased. Traditionally, the meal is eaten in the cemetery. If families eat at home, they then visit the cemetery to clean up family grave sites, tell stories, and leave flowers, fruit and candles.

This year, things were a bit off because the holiday fell mid-week. Much to the chagrin of many, school holidays and governmental closures were moved to Thursday and Friday, November 3rd and 4th. This meant many workers could not travel home to celebrate until after the usual dates passed, and families disagreed about when and how to make the holiday happen. Elderly people and those not bound to the bureaucracy, started celebrating on time, trekking to the cemetery on the outskirts of town on November 1st.. Everyone else showed up on November 3rd. Grown children resurfaced. Grandchildren held grandparents' hands as they walked down to the cemetery. Stands selling flowers, candles and fruits appeared on the side of the road.

I walked to the cemetery today with Lucia, and we stopped at several graves to admire the flowers and candles and to honor some folks we miss, namely Lucia's Abuelo (Don Feliciano), his wife Maria, and Lucia's maternal grandma, a spitfire I remember fondly, Mamita Miche, who had a very dirty mouth on her. We also stopped at a shocking number of graves of young people who have died, many of whom I knew, including both a teenager and a young mom who died of cancer, a two-year old boy who was hit by a car, and another young man who died in a freak cement accident. I am reminded of the fragility of life, particularly in low resource settings, and it felt good to take a moment to honor the dead.

I wrote a few weeks ago about one of the Finados customs, the guagua panes (breads shaped like babies) that appeared in early October. In addition, this month, there have been lots of tastes and talk of the colada morada, which accompanies the guaguas. Colada morada is a thick seasoned drink, served warm, filled with a variety of fruits, a special purple powder and small berries called mortiños. As the name implies, It is a deep purple color. It is rich and filling. Ecuadorians love it. I am not a fan, but my kids enjoy it, in small amounts.

As I often remark to my children, Ecuadorians love an excuse to party. Wednesday morning, our family watched an entertaining school-wide assembly, which included the election of the Rey Guagua Pan (King Baby Bread) and the Reina Colada Morada (Queen Purple Drink). Elementary classes danced silly skeleton dances and played some party games with balloons, flour and water, and stilts. We sat up on the roof of Lucia's apartment while the kids were kind of doing home school, taking it all in.

Then, on Wednesday evening, there was a low-key town-wide celebration at the cancha, which included an eating contest (Paul participated) to select the town Rey Guagua Pan and Reina Colada Morada, who become the ordained people to provide refreshments for next year's Finados celebration. Luckily Paul's team didn't win. Traditions remain somewhat disrupted here from the last few years of pandemic, when these things were paused, so there was some talk about whose responsibility it was. After the contest, there were vats of warm colada and guagua panes for everyone in attendance.

As someone who is involved in preserving and promoting neighborhood events and traditions back home, it is interesting to reflect on how small communities make rituals happen, year after year. First and foremost, there is history and tradition. Second, there is a shared understanding of what the ritual is and how it should be manifested. Third, there is the expectation that the community participate but that individuals are required to lead. And, finally, there is always a legacy plan, particularly for choosing the next year's leaders. I think there are some good lessons in this for me to chew on.

As a final note, happily for us, lots of kid cousins, who live scattered in the Sierra, have begun to trickle in for the next few days. Three boys showed up bright and early this morning at our front door looking for playmates and Uno cards. This means homeschooling is further disrupted, but my kids are very much part of the crew, and all day they have been playing tag and drawing and playing indoor again, as they did when we first arrived during summer break.