Put A Ring On It: An Ecuadorian Engagement Party

Did you know we have words in English to distinguish between male and female engaged persons? Because I’ll be honest, I didn’t before writing this post. All nouns in Spanish are either feminine or masculine – and while it can be an absolute pain to keep track of them (there are rules, but also many exceptions, so you either memorize a ton of vocabulary or you go by what seems right and hope for the best), it can also be really helpful at times. For example, you know if someone is talking about their female (prima) or male cousin (primo) (unless they’re talking about a group of mixed male and female cousins, but that’s another story). In Spanish, it’s clear whether they are talking about the bride-to-be (novia – also used for girlfriend, but it’s easy to distinguish based on the context) or groom-to-be (novio – see novia note). I was trying to figure out how to write my notes from this event (yes, I have to write about this for my fieldnotes and not just the fun version that winds up in my blog) and was feeling lazy at the thought of writing bride-to-be or groom-to-be every time, so I asked the omniscient Google. Lo and behold, we actually have words, too! Well, I don’t know if I can technically say they’re English since we’ve stolen them from French, but let’s not split hairs here. For reference: the bride-to-be = fiancée and the groom-to-be = fiancé. Someone who speaks French, please explain the difference in pronunciation to me, or else this distinction is a lot less helpful than I’d hoped.

So there. I hope you’ve enjoyed this brief English and Spanish (and I guess French?) lesson. You’re ever so welcome. (I can’t help it; teaching is in my blood.) Now, on to the good stuff!

Before the actual engagement event, I went to the cemetery on Thursday, 11/8, with the bride-to-be’s extended family to advise/ask permission from dead loved ones (esp. her mom) for the engagement. I wondered how exactly they were asking permission since they didn’t have a method for their mom to communicate, but nonetheless, I really appreciated the fact that they advised the important people in their lives of big events, even if they are no longer living. It was a little odd to me that the bride herself wasn’t there, but she will be missing lots of days in the market for wedding preparations, so she decided to work that day.

The actual engagement party was the night of Saturday 11/10. The bride-to-be’s extended family was waiting at her house (really, her sister’s house, but it’s where she also lives) since before 8:30pm (when I arrived). She kept running up on the roof to look for signs the fiancé’s family was on their way. I wish it weren't so blurry, but I snapped one of my favorite photos of three of the sisters waiting on the roof.

The groom-to-be’s family showed up around 10:30pm, dancing in street with the food offerings (including live animals; props to the ladies dancing with giant boxes strapped to their backs and tubs of fruit on their head) and a small band, not dissimilar to Inti Raymi celebrations. I can’t say for certain how far from the fiancée’s house they started dancing, but we could hear the band playing and the cars honking their horns from miles away. Once again, I felt badly for the neighbors who have to put up with all this noise. Some of the neighbors on the street came out to watch the dancing and seemed surprised about the event taking place, even though a large tent was set up in front of Elena’s house. I get the strong sense that people don’t warn their neighbors when they are going to have a party, but no one seems to make a fuss or call the police with noise complaints; they’re just used to it.

Luzmila’s son scouted the visiting group and reported that 8 cars and two buses were bringing the fiancé’s extended family from Iluman to Peguche (some came from as far away as Quito for the event!). (I personally only saw 5 cars and a bus, but it’s quite possible more vehicles were parked around the corner.) The fiancée thought roughly 50 people were coming from the fiancé’s family, although I couldn’t get a headcount because the group was split between inside the house and in the tent, and they were constantly moving around. As is the tradition, the fiancé’s family brought the food offerings into house: live chickens and guinea pigs tied to poles (2 poles of each); plastic tubs of fruit, beautifully arranged; boxes of bananas and bread; cases of beer and pop; plastic tubs of cooked potatoes, chicken, and guinea pigs; and sacks of raw potatoes. I was later told this tradition is specific to this region (Peguche/Iluman/Otavalo) and that other regions have different traditions for the perdida de mano. The fiancé brought a giant rabbit as a gift for the fiancée. Marisol has told me tradition dictates the groom bring a bull, or in lieu of a bull, a cow or large sheep will do as a gift for the fiancée. She seemed satisfied by the rabbit, which impressed everyone else, especially the kids who took turns holding it. It was a beautiful rabbit but bittersweet for me knowing that they’re going to eat it in the future.

An elderly woman directed the organization/presentation of the food offerings. There seemed to be a proper order in which the food should be presented/displayed. The first room inside the house was lined with chairs on either side of the wall, but was otherwise empty. I was shocked when the offerings essentially filled the room, making it difficult for the fiancé’s family members to pass! Because it’s my luck, somehow the live chickens and guinea pigs tied to poles ended up directly in front of me, and they were as unhappy about it as I was. I’ll admit I was glad I wasn’t the only one startled when the animals moved around a lot (I assume they were trying to break free), and I appreciated that most people moved back a bit, even though I had nowhere to go.

Even though they know each other, representatives of the two families (the parents and I’m not sure who else) went through introductions/greetings that were a little formal. The father of the fiancée even gave a speech welcoming everyone to the house. Because the bride’s mother died when she was quite young, her eldest sister has sort of filled the role of mother for all of her younger siblings. In fact, she serves as the confidant for their father and sort of considers herself the stand-in mom for her siblings. It’s no surprise then, that she filled the role of mother of the bride at the event. Her father seemed relieved to have her at his side. It was sweet that her husband was given a place of honor, as well. 

I really love that the focus is on bringing two families together. The event has its roots in arranged marriages of the past, which were arranged by grandparents for the grandchildren who were as young as 14! When the marrying age slowly increased, it became more common for parents to arrange marriages for their children. Arranged marriages have pretty much gone by the wayside now, but there are nods to this tradition in the perdida de mano. In theory, even though the two families already know each other, it is at this event that the parents get together and determine all of the logistics for the wedding (when and where it will be, who will be invited, and perhaps most importantly, who will be the godparents). I never actually saw this take place but it’s quite possible that they had some serious discussions during the party. For Americans, this probably seems strange and maybe even slightly painful, since for us, the focus is on the bride and groom and everything that they want. In US cultural context that values individualism, that makes a lot of sense, but in indigenous communities in Ecuador that values community, it makes sense that the event is about the joining of two families and making sure the event is beneficial for them.

Then, they took the offerings into back room (except for the live animals, which went outside) and the ladies began distributing soup (prepared ahead of time by the women of the fiancée’s family) to everyone by 11:10pm. A group of ladies had several huge pots of soup in the small room connected to the house, where the guinea pigs live. I was once again reminded that food safety standards differ drastically around the world; I’m pretty sure prepping food next to live animals is unimaginable to most Americans. Once they began serving food, the party was officially underway, and the band started playing again.

After the soup, the ladies began distributing the food the groom’s family brought, starting with drinks: pop and beer; hot yellow and reddish-purple alcoholic beverages called hervidos: made from juice and trago. Don Miguel says it's illegal (maybe because it's so strong?) but indigenous people keep drinking it because it’s tradition. Their favorite lie: it's juice, drink a little. Nope, it’s super strong alcohol mixed with juice to apparently make it more palatable. Because they prepare so much ahead of time, the hervidos are in giant jugs like what we would use to store gasoline, which is either hardcore or just asking for disaster. There was no chicha, which surprised me, but trust me when I say it was a happy surprise because just the smell of chicha is enough to make my stomach turn!

After the communal drinks came bread and fruit, followed by the cooked potatoes, chicken, and guinea pigs from the fiancé’s family. I think the bread and fruit were intended to be like party favors that you take home with you, but I ate mine because it was safe, and thankfully my friends knew not to give me food. The water in rural areas often contains bacteria and contaminants that locals can handle but will surely bring down foreigners. Speaking of the locals, they actually take medicine every 6-12 months to remove any parasites they might have from contaminated food or water. Yikes! In fact, it was from soup in Peguche that I got amoebic dysentery during my first ever research trip in 2009 (losing 10-15 pounds in one month, and forever causing my friends/collaborators to question why I’m no longer so skinny), thus paving the way to officially becoming an anthropologist. Don’t believe me? Just get any group of anthropologists/archaeologists together, and inevitably, they will start telling horror stories of being sick and/or injured while doing research. Bonus: there’s almost always a crazy story or two involving livestock. You’ve already heard some of mine. But I digress.

Then, the dancing began in earnest and lasted for hours, while others visited and talked. I may never understand how doing a two-step in a slow-moving circle for hours on end can be the life of a party, but to each her own, I guess.

I kept getting strange looks from the fiancé’s family and later learned it was because they were trying to figure out who I was. Typically, a perdida de mano is just for families, not friends, and as the only non-indigenous attendee, I stuck out like a sore thumb. The fiancé’s family assumed I must be a relative and kept asking the fiancée’s family to whom I was related – I must’ve been someone’s wife or daughter. They just couldn’t figure out how this incredibly white girl was part of the family. I’m not sure why no one asked me directly, but some of them were quite surprised to learn I spoke Spanish (if you think I’m part of the family, shouldn’t you also assume I know Spanish?), so maybe they thought they couldn’t communicate with me or were embarrassed to ask me directly. Either way, I found the idea of an imaginary husband to justify my presence rather comical. Still, it highlighted the honor of being invited and was sweet because the fiancé’s family assured me that I really was part of the family (confirmed the next morning with a gift of – you guessed it – food).

I finally went upstairs around 2 a.m. to get some rest, and the party was still going. Marisol said she was surprised I didn’t go to bed sooner, but I told her this was my first (and likely last) time to attend such an event, so it was important for me to experience as much as possible. You know, the participant part of participant observation. Also, I’m a night owl on, so this one time, it worked in my favor. Actually, it worked in my favor a lot during grad school, thank God, and so did coffee. I was surprised to see so many of the children were still awake, given that they normally get up incredibly early, usually around 5 a.m. I actually went to bed around 2:30 a.m. and I could still hear signs of the party, although it was quieter, as though it were dying down. In talking to people the following days, I found out that the party ended around 3 a.m., which was actually much earlier than I’d expected. I had been warned these events could continue until 5am!

The next morning, I heard voices and sunlight was streaming into my room, so I figured it must be mid-morning. It was around 6 a.m.! As is common here, this particular house has skylights built into every room and bedroom. No wonder they get up so early! Like Smalls in The Sandlot, I was in a pickle: I didn't want to be rude by over staying, over sleeping, or leaving too early. Since I was still exhausted, I tried to sleep some more to no avail. I decided to get up and go see who was speaking. It turned out the women of the family, who were working on redistributing the food the fiancé’s family had brought. The reason I’d heard their voices upstairs from downstairs was that they were not super happy because the potatoes, chicken, and guinea pigs had not been thoroughly cooked. This meant more work for them, as they would have to finish cooking these to make them safe to eat. It's interesting how frequently I am reminded of the differences of opinion regarding food safety standards. The food had sat out all night and turned out to not even be properly cooked in the first place, but they wouldn’t ever even consider throwing it away! Instead, they would finish cooking it and eat, even if it was a hassle. I can't say for certain where it would be stored, but I have a feeling that it would not all fit in their refrigerators. It's quite common in Ecuador, among indigenous and mestizos alike, to leave meat out all day or night and not consider it being dangerous. Someone go check on my mom, who has surely fainted from reading this.

As I mentioned above, I was officially included in the family through food gifts. The food the fiancé’s family brings gets redistributed among the fiancée’s family over the next few days, starting the following morning (hence, why the ladies were hard at work, even if still a little drunk/hungover). The sisters asked if I wanted to take some food with me, and I was in my second pickle by 7a.m. that morning! There’s a reason I’m not a morning person, y’all! It’s super rude to refuse food you’ve been offered (in Ecuador in general, but especially with indigenous people), BUT the food was for family members and since I’d already crashed the part (I mean, I’d been invited, but still), I didn’t want to take advantage of their hospitality. At first, I politely declined, saying I wasn’t part of the family but thanks for the offer. I was immediately told not to be silly by multiple sisters who insisted I was indeed part of the family (my presence at the event was evidence of that), and to let them know what exactly I wanted or they were sending me home with food at random. Well, that settled that! And so I left with shopping bag each of: fruit, bread, potatoes and chicken, and a 3L of pop. We joked that I was like Mrs. Claus, bringing home bags of gifts for my host family, with whom I earned major points for bringing the food. They were happily impressed and wanted to know when my next wedding was, so I could bring home more food! It confirmed what I already knew: food brings people together and holds special significance for family. Speaking of which, I can’t wait until I’m home and can have some of my family’s food!!