One-Year Fiesta

Marcos and Maria have invited us to the fiesta for the first birthday of their son, Jorhan. This event is cause for great celebration in Costa Rica, Marcos tells us, as when one reaches their first year then the worry of infant death is over. He is insistent that we come.

We arrive at 4 p.m. along with dozens of other guests who walk over hills or along the road, coming from all directions. A few, like us, have brought gifts for Jorhan. We are all dressed in Sunday best.

Marcos’s father sees us right away and rushes over. He envelopes us in his strong arms, kisses my cheek and pounds Pecos’s back. He escorts us around the yard, introducing us to those we don’t know, and all the while he talks nonstop, telling us about his family and finca. We shake hands repeatedly and there are many “Mucho gustos!” all around.

Maria and Marcos have set up an altar at one side of the yard. The table is covered in white lace and fresh ferns and a nativity scene stands center. At each side there are candles and vases of huge flowers with colorful leaves and moss. A small framed photo of Jorhan is placed next to the infant Jesus. A plastic flag proclaiming “Vive Mexico!” sticks out from one of the vases. Marcos shows us each item on the table and we admire all of it.

Marcos’s uncle, Tio Tali, serves as priest, or perhaps he is a priest? He calls for the prayer and everyone gathers in the yard, either sitting on plastic chairs or standing. Little girls dressed in organdy and lace play tag with little boys dressed in their school uniforms of dark pants and white shirts. Mothers hold their babies. Men gather under nearby trees and the elderly sit on the porch.

A slender, unassuming man of nearly seventy years, Tali smiles gently and picks up his acoustic guitar. He is suddenly extremely animated, pounding out a song with deep rhythm on his guitar while singing in loud, rich tones. His entire body moves with each note as he rolls his shoulders and steps lively to his music. His guitar swings up and down as it plays to the grass, to the trees, to the sky.

When he is done, Marcos’s mother steps forward with a wooden rosary to recite a lengthy prayer. She pauses after each sentence or two, and everyone repeats what she has said. When she is done, Tali picks up his guitar again and sings “Ave Maria” solo. When the song ends, he repeats it again, this time joined by his two brothers – one on another guitar and one on accordion. For this repetition, everyone joins in, each person singing loudly.

Then it’s on to the next wooden bead on the rosary and the entire process is repeated. The rosary is passed among the women – first Marcos’s mother, then Maria’s mother, then each of Marcos’s six sisters.

Bead by bead, the prayers and music and songs follow the path of rosary. The sun sinks in the sky as the voices of the crowd and the guitars and accordion carry “Ave Maria” over and over down the mountain, surely heard great distances away. The service lasts more than an hour and a half. By the time it is over, Memo and I have learned the prayers and words to the song and join in. There is such a strong sense of family here that I am saddened that the lives of my family in the U.S. are so separate.

As soon as the service ends, older children bring out trays holding small paper cups filled with the drink that Marcos has told us is made solely for special occasions. There are several toasts to Jorhan, to his health and longevity, to his parents. The drink tastes like vanilla eggnog and it is laced strongly with liquor. Everyone has a cupful, from oldest relatives to youngest children. Jorhan is beloved by all and he is passed from person to person so that all can wish him well. He is cheerful with everyone, although shy with us.

Tali and his brothers pick up their instruments again and stand at one side of the porch to play lively tunes throughout the rest of the evening. A few people dance on the lawn, the children continue chasing around, and Marcos’s sisters bring out plates heavy with seasoned black beans, a rice mixture with chicken and vegetables, and salads of yuca and beets. Everything is delicious.

As we walk later to our finca, we can hear the music drifting over the hills, adding tranquility and depth to the dark and putting all night creatures to rest. We turn off our lights and walk by moonlight over the hills to home. 