Culture Underestimated

By Cecilia Santos

I'm from the village of Mayatamoto. I lived with my family in a clay hut. Our hut was bigger than the others, because I lived with my extended family as well. There were uncles and aunts, and a lot of crying babies. At the head of the family there was my grandmother. D'halie was her name, which means "sweet rose." She was wise and strong-willed, never turned her back on anyone. She never gave up.

 

When I was five years old, she passed away. I can still remember the ceremony. It was beautiful. I have never understood why it was necessary to make so many preparations. There was a walk through the mountains and the two-night journey to Mangladiesha, to thank the gods for our deceased loved-one's life. The clothes we wore had much significance. The colors we wore represented the world as a whole. We wore green for the Earth. Blue, to symbolize water. Red, for fire. White, for wind.Each age group was also represented by a different color. All of this was required at the funeral. Babies wore white, young children wore blue, women and men wore red, and the elderly wore green.

 

Although I enjoyed growing up in Mayatamoto, I felt secluded from the rest of the world. At age sixteen, as my parents made all the preparations for my wedding, I realized that this wasn't the life I wanted for myself. Without notice, I left before my wedding day. I took my horse Spirit with me and gathered just a few of my belongings and ran off as far away as I could. A few days later, I came upon a group of travellers. Kindly, they took me under their wings and I was thankful.Being far from home and the beliefs and traditions of my family, I learned to appreciate the customs of the travellers and other people around my world.

 

Now, at the age of 37, I have my own home and my own family. I am a mother of three, and have an adoring husband. I live in New York City among people from all walks of life and colors of the Earth.

It's funny how fast things can change. The day I met the travellers was the beginning of my transformation. My new life. No longer am I the girl who believes in more than one god, or makes a long journey just to see a loved one go into the next life. I am now Catholic and I believe in mourning, it's the respectful thing to do. The old ways are out. They are silly, really. Yet every now and then, I find myself wondering what my life would be like if I had never left Mayatamoto.

 

When D'halie passed away, I received her journal as a gift of rememberance. She had it since childhood. On my youngest daughter's confirmation, I found a folded paper in D'halie's journal. It was a letter written from her to me. I read it, and I found it beautiful. The last line read,

"EVEN THOUGH WE ALL COME FROM DIFFERENT PLACES AND PRACTICE DIFFERENT RELIGIONS, WE ARE ALL FROM THE SAME COMMUNITY...WHICH MAKES US PEOPLE."