I received my first Father’s Day
gift this last week.
Before people infer too much I
should make it clear that I’m NOT saying that I’m a father. “Dia de Padre” passed
by about a week ago, I don’t know if it is the same day as in the States. (If
it was, happy Father’s Day Dad) The week before the day, the ladies of the
church made tacos as a fundraiser to fund a Father’s Day meal. So I was a
little confused when the day came and passed without any acknowledgement, but then
it wouldn’t be the first thing that I didn’t understand. A week later I came
back from teaching and there is a bunch of food in the kitchen. The celebration
had been postponed and was tonight apparently. I went to my room to read or
something and soon I was told that diner was ready. I ate by my self since only
my host mom was home and she seemed busy. She told me about how busy she had
been getting ready for the celebration.
Judging by the fact that I was just
fed, I assumed that the meal was a Fathers only party but I asked to be sure. When
she confirmed that it was, I stopped worrying about changing out of my falling
apart athletic shorts that are not presentable. I offered to help carry the
food over to the church since the party was supposed to have started by now. I
was assigned the 5 gal juice container and I make it all of 3 steps out the
gate before another youth helps me despite my protest. He took the container from
me and since I now was carrying nothing, I turned to go back to the house as
the gate is being locked by my host mom. “Vámonos Miguel” she insists making a head nod that says I’m to
come along. So I find myself at a Fathers only party.
Since we were only 30 min late, we
arrived before most. It wasn’t awkward at first when people were gathering since
people either know me or are interested to talk to me, but I felt underdressed.
Then the celebration officially started with some of the women, who put it
together, saying some kind words. Then they passed out some gifts that they had
gotten for the men. This is when I started to feel a little uncomfortable,
hoping that they wouldn’t give me a gift to avoid hurting my feelings. They
skipped over me while passing out the gifts and I breathed a sigh of relief. I
decided to slip out to avoid more of what I just went through. But as I stood
up to leave, wishing the Fathers a good time, I was told to sit down by Jose
(friend who lives next door). I said that I had things I could be doing and he
just kept saying “No Miguel.” So I sat down, partly to avoid a scene but mainly
because I now felt invited.
I passed on the giant plate of food,
explaining that I just ate but still got funny looks. They made sure that I
took a piece of cake though. I thought the party was kind of interesting because
it mainly consisted of being served a meal. And I thought it was funny that this
is probably how meals are the rest of the 364 days of the year. It is rare to
see men in the kitchen. As the party was winding down the pastor disappeared and
then returned with an MCC humanitarian aid box. From inside he pulled newspaper-wrapped
objects and set them in front of the guys, and I got that uncomfortable feeling
again. As he passed he set one in front of me. I have been lectured by a Honduran
about the rudeness of not accepting things, and the context of that talk was denying
a bag of chips. So I didn’t make any attempt to try to explain that I’m not a
father. I made sure to thank him, and now I have a sweet coffee mug to remember
the whole experience.
Thanks for reading
