Halloween and the Day of the Dead
Dallas Berge
The third time. The third knock on the door, the third group of costumed children (could you call these costumes?) expecting free sweets, despite the “Trick or treat?” ‘question’.
Jemima tried to be polite. “I’m sorry, we don’t celebrate Halloween here. We’re Seventh Day Adventists.” It was a lie, but it was better than losing it and telling the children, with their wide eyes and smiles, what she really thought.
Every year it was the same. This year would be different. After carefully closing the door (rather than slamming it), Jemima found a piece of paper on which she wrote ‘Sorry. We don’t celebrate Halloween here. Please do not knock. We wish you good luck in your door-to-door visits.’
It wasn’t always like this. Some years ago, Jemima had accompanied her own children, going from door to door, saying “Trick or treat?” to whoever opened the door. This was done through slightly gritted teeth, but just as Jemima had feigned excitement at seeing ‘Santa Claus’ in the local mall, and tried to interest, if not excite her children in visiting ‘Santa Claus’, she was not keen at that time to dampen their spirits with her personal disdain.
But her children were grown-ups now. There were no grandchildren yet. She hoped there would be soon, but she’d already tried to plant the idea in their heads and it hadn’t been well-received, especially by daughter Frances and her husband Joe. Frances was hell-bent on advancing in her career, (what for? wondered Jemima… isn’t being a mother the most fulfilling experience a woman could have?); son Dean meanwhile, always looked daggers at her. She had no idea Dean and Emily were having problems conceiving.
The phone rang. Who could it be? thought Jemima.
“Hello, Jemima speaking.”
“Jemima Stubbs? It’s Jenna Fairfield from Crown School of English. We were wondering if you were still interested in hosting a student?”
It had slipped Jemima’s mind that she had signed up to be a homestay parent some months ago, and anyway, why would they want her, a widow in her 50’s, to host a student anyway? They had been very nice, of course. They seemed to like her, but that was back in April, and she hadn’t heard from the school since.
“Um, yes, of course”, Jemima replied.
“Well, we have a Mexican student arriving in a few days’ time. We had a host family but they had to pull out at the last minute. She’ll be arriving on November the 4th because she has to celebrate the Mexican ‘Day of the Dead’ with her family first. Would you be available and interested in hosting a student from November 4th – November 20th?”
“I’m definitely available then…”, Jemima began, “but if you don’t mind my asking, what on earth is the ‘Day of the Dead’?”
“Ah…”, Jenna replied. “It’s an important celebration for Mexican people. Look it up online. It could be a useful topic of conversation if you choose to accept the student.”
“I would love to host this student. Will you simply send me the details or is there something else you need?”
“Nothing right now. We’ll send you the details and the contract, and if you are happy, just sign and return it.”
“This sounds good. I look forward to receiving your email and I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you, Jemima. I’m sure both you and the student, Pilar, will get along well and it will be an enriching experience for both of you. I’ll email the details to you now. Goodnight.”
The call had been quite a surprise, so Jemima didn‘t know whether she was happy or perplexed at her own response. She had been hoping for a Japanese student – she had heard they were very polite and, as she was no longer accustomed to sharing her space, could only hope the student would be considerate and respectful.
Such short notice had left Jemima with little time to prepare, but the spare bedroom was always ready for the odd visit from her children, so there was not a lot to do. Apart from finding out what on earth the ‘Day of the Dead’ might be.
What Jemima read on Google astonished her. Preparing for a visit from the deceased? Expecting to go to a graveyard to laugh and enjoy memories of them? Nothing in Jemima’s church school education had prepared her for this. To Jemima, it seemed disrespectful. Who goes to a cemetery and has a party?
Although she hadn’t yet signed the contract, it was too late to back out now. She knew she was a last-minute choice, but if she didn’t host the student, who would?
And so Jemima took a decision. Not the decision to host the student – she had already made that, but a decision to visit her father’s grave, ready to celebrate, all on her own, without sadness but in a spirit of joy. She prepared some mementos of her long-passed father, bought some marigolds from a local florist’s, and went to the grave of a man she felt she had hardly ever known.
It was a lonely vigil (was it a vigil?) yet somehow Jemima managed to recall times of laughter, and although it was not something she would normally do, she stayed all night at the cemetery. Sometimes she laughed; other times she felt wrapped in sadness, almost overwhelmed by it, as if she had donned a very heavy coat. She went home, as the sun was rising and casting a tint of pink upon the sky.
Three days later, there was a knock on the door.
“Good morning, Jemima”, said Jenna. “This is Pilar. Pilar, this is your host mother, Jemima.”
Pilar simply smiled shyly.
And Jemima knew now that every decision she had made in the last 5 days had been the right one. There would be plenty to talk about.
Can Halloween be a spiritual celebration?
Dallas Berge
Is there something else to Halloween that could be more meaningful? After all, it is possible to learn about something as a child and very much miss out on the whole, much more interesting story. Florence Nightingale, the only woman apart from Emmeline Pankhurst that I learnt about as a child, was presented to us kids as a nice kind lady who was a nurse during a war. It was only years later that I discovered she was one of the pioneers of Applied Mathematics. It was her systematic, extremely mathematical record-keeping and analysis which led to changes in the hygiene practices of hospitals. Our children may be encouraged to perform Halloween activities but they and we have every right to know more of the origins of Halloween and perhaps even create some traditions of our own.
The name is a contraction of ‘All Hallow’s Eve’; whether Halloween began as a purely Christian festival or whether its origins include Pagan beliefs, is disputed. Activities that are still practised today appear to support the latter. The trick-or-treaters who have little truck with me are actually mimicking the actions of distant forebears, who, in a tradition known in Celtic nations as ‘mumming’ or ‘guising’, would visit houses while in costume and recite verse or sing songs in exchange for food. I’d certainly be more interested in giving away sweets if the local children did either of these things, in fact if a child could recite an original poem I’d probably invite them in for dinner.
Another similar practice was the door-to-door visits of poor people (usually children), who, in exchange for ‘soul cakes’ would offer to pray for the souls of the dead. Soul cakes were then ‘offered’ to the dead. The connection to souls and the afterlife can also be seen in Mexico’s ‘Day of the Dead’ which despite its name takes place over three days, beginning on October 31st. Preparations begin in advance: in homes shrines for the dead are created and adorned with marigolds (flowers of the dead), specially-made ‘bread of the dead’ and other symbolic items, along with whatever the deceased enjoyed in life – if that was tequila, a bottle of tequila will be included. People also visit cemeteries to adorn the graves in a similar way and spend all night there.
Such remembrance lends itself to the development of a more contemplative observance of Halloween far removed from dressing up as zombies and watching horror movies. There is nothing to stop us from explaining the origins of Halloween to children and inviting them to create rituals of remembrance without losing the aspects of Halloween that appeal to them. And those who are of a Christian persuasion might wish to observe the tradition of abstaining from eating meat, if a trip to the local church might be more than children unaccustomed to church-going can tolerate without an argument first.
At the very least, while I might not be praying for souls, this year I’ll pray for a visit from poetry-reciting children who, for their efforts, will be rewarded with a pack of sausages or a few lamb chops, as the dog and I will be abstaining.
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