Guatemala’s Giant Kite (Barrilete) Festivals
It was mid-October when I noticed the first colorful tissue paper kites for sale on the road to Antigua. We had only been living in Guatemala for four months, but I knew that the little kites were for the November 1, All Saint’s Day, Giant Kite Festivals. I had heard about barriletes, or giant kites, for years and knew that I wanted to see them. It was an official holiday for Wayne, so the only thing left was to decide whether to attend the festival in Santiago Sacatepéquez or Sumpango, both near Antigua. Not leaving anything to chance, I spent hours poring through the internet reading about the Barrilete Festival. I even got sucked into Pinterest for a while looking at photos of giant kites. When we were asked to join some friends for the Santiago Sacatepéquez festival, the invitation settled my inner debate. Thinking that everything had been meticulously planned, the day before the festival, I took my housekeeper and her seven-year-old son to the children’s museum and lunch for his birthday. While having a simple lunch of chicken tacos, I had an allergic reaction and went into anaphylactic shock, but that is a story for another day.
Determined not to let a brief hospitalization stop me, very early the next morning, in a weakened state, I awoke early, anxious to see the giant kites. I soon found that my enthusiasm was stronger than my body. Nevertheless, we set out walking from the house at a leisurely pace through green fields and across little bridges until we reached the bottom of the hill. As I looked up the imposing steep street, I realized that the stress of the day before had taken its toll, but I was determined to see the giant kites. With Wayne’s help, and a lot of rest stops, we made our way to the top of the street, anxious to see what waited at the end.
As I walked through town, I noticed that hundreds of people were already there and vendors were set up selling all sorts of delicious smelling treats. We navigated the congested street to the entrance of the cemetery, passed the narrow gate, and made our way inside to an immediate explosion of colors. Exhausted and needing to take a break, I found myself sitting on the edge of a cement flower-covered tombstone observing small groups of people working together to raise giant kites, families gathered in remembrance, and tourists snapping photos. We probably only stayed for a couple of hours, but to me, it felt much longer. Together we made our way towards the exit, which was the same as the entrance, just as hundreds of people were trying to push through the tiny space. Not wanting to get separated, Wayne held onto me as he started looking around for an escape route to no avail. We slowly worked our way out onto the crowded street lined with food vendors and caught up with our group, who had decided to sample some street food. Concerned about eating something and having another allergic reaction, I declined, despite the enticing aromas. Finally, at Wayne’s prodding, we agreed that French fries were a safe choice. Having satisfied my hunger, we slowly made our way down the steep street and back to the house.
The following year, 2017, I knew that I wanted to attend the giant kite festival in Sumpango. Fortunately, the days before the festival were uneventful. We were able to rise early, find a parking space on the side of the road, and climb up to the top of the field. The hike to the festival site was steep, but not nearly as long or crowded as the path to the cemetery in Santiago Sacatepéquez. The giant kite festival in Sumpango is held on a soccer field at the top of a hill overlooking the cemetery below. Unlike the uneven ground and rolling hills of the Santiago Sacatepéquez cemetery, the level Sumpango soccer field made walking around the barriletes easier. Since the Sumpango festival is not inside a walled area like the Santiago Sacatepéquez festival, one could easily come and go as they please. Instead of narrow streets lined with vendors precariously deep frying a host of food inches from the path of hundreds of people in Santiago Sacatepéquez, food vendors in Sumpango were set up on one side of the field in a more organized fashion. By that time, I had overcome my fear of eating outside of my home and sampled several foods. Wayne, always more adventurous when it comes to food, soon found the elote loco, corn on the cob slathered in mayonnaise, fresh cheese crumbles, and chili powder.
As we walked through the grounds, weaving in and out of kites and people, we marveled at the huge kites and the spectrum of colors. This year, I noticed the details of the kites and their political, religious, and environmental messages. We stood mesmerized as we looked at the intricate animal-shaped kites. We observed groups of young men raise barriletes, some as tall as 40 feet. We watched with delight as a group of school children worked together to lift their little kite. We sat on the hillside just below the soccer field and watched children running and playing with tissue paper kites.
When I reflect on the giant kite festival, I realize that each one is unique, even though the kites may look similar. Santiago Sacatepéquez reminded me of family decoration days. Despite the crowds, it brought back memories of the Mathis decoration and spending time with my family. The Sumpango kite festival called to my inner child and spoke to all of my senses. When I close my eyes and think of that day, I recall the vendors who walked through the crowd enticing children with cotton candy, colorful foam animals, and coche or rubber balls. I am reminded of festival queens who paraded around in their sparkling huipiles and cortes, the traditional dress. I hear the sound of marimbas, taste granizadas (Guatemalan snow cones), and still marvel at the elaborate colorful kites.