I've never been scared of clowns, even when I was little. I can see how some kids can get a little bugged out by these off-duty alcoholics from time to time. That was never me, backpackers, not until this past Saturday. But you're going to have to wait a few minutes to hear that one. First I have a bone to pick with American consumer culture and its omnipresence in Central America. I know that half of my readers just went "ugggghhhh", but I promise I won't be that preachy. If you really want, just scroll down a few paragraphs.
This past Saturday I was supposed to go on a road trip to El Salvador with Alejandro and his father. Unfortunately, Alejandro had forgotten that his presence was needed at a piñata birthday party for his deceased friend's nephew. His friend, also the former bass player in his band, died in a car crash almost two years ago. He said that in his absence, Alejandro was kind of like a surrogate uncle for the soon to be 8-year-old. Obviously this was a good reason to miss our road trip. Instead, we took a trip of an entirely different nature.
When he asked me to go to the party, he described it as a typical Guatemalan piñata. "You're going to get some good food, meet some people, and see how we celebrate kids' birthdays here," he said. Bingo, another foree into the cultural web of the local people, I thought. I was excited. So, gift in hand and ready to go we drove to a newly developed area of the city. It was a commercial megaplex, similar to those you'd find in California, or any major suburban community in the US. There was a huge mall in the complex center, and on the periphery there was every big US retail and food chain. Let your mind run wild folks, I mean EVERY chain you could think of.
I've done a decent amount of travelling over the years and seeing exports of our consumer culture is not shocking to me anymore. The shocking thing is that here in Guatemala City its so present that in some parts of the city the American chains outnumber local businesses. Fast food is a luxury item here. Nike shoes, designer clothes, pop music, and video games put you in the "cool" category. Sound familiar people? Their vices are no different than ours. Unfortunately these are some of the things I hate about our own culture. It's downright depressing seeing this type of consumerism mimicked in a place so rich with their own traditions and deep cultural roots. It's criminal when you see how most of the population lives. The reality here is that you can go from hand-made tin houses to sucking down Whoppers and Cokes in less than ten minutes. But hey, that's the reality of consumerism and the nature of a relatively free capitalist economy.
Now, this wasn't the first time I'd been to this complex. Just one day earlier we went to Sears for a present, stopped at their version of Starbucks, and grabbed a pint at TGI Fridays, a place I never go even in my own country. The party was at Burger King, and I must say my initial reaction was priceless. Aside from the sullen-faced, shotgun-toting security guards, you could easily forget you were still in Guatemala. Same menu, same shitty music, same playroom, screaming kids, and yes, one shady clown. The theme of the party was some American cartoon that's popular, the name of which slips me at the moment.
As usual here, my entrance was met with curious stares. This doesn't bother me because most people here have only seen gringos on television. Plus, I'm pasty white, tall, and bald. As the customary introductions were being made I heard a whistle and a lot of kids laughing. The clown then ran up to me and presented me with a yellow card (the penalty marker in soccer when you commit a serious foul), followed by some Spanish statements that I couldn't understand, and even heavier laughter. I could tell by the laughter and finger pointing that this psycho had thought of a good one. What could be funnier that penalizing the gringo and making me blush in front of a full house. I took my lumps like a man but I gave him a stare that showed I meant business. He earned his paycheck with those zingers, and before I could take him outside and slug him it was cake time.
The actual piñata beating was fun. Much like in the states, the kids scrambled desperately after every hit. I traded glances with my new friend, ate a Whopper with some grape soda, and we were off. Alejandro told me that the clowns here don't make much, and that they're usually closet pedophiles. He also said that he'd most likely spend the day's paycheck on booze, and that in reality these guys are alcoholics and social outcasts. Moral of the story boys and girls, this part of Guatemalan culture is just like ours. We can either gripe about "The Great Satan's" stranglehold on developing nations, or we can have a burger and enjoy a sunny Saturday morning. I chose the latter, and I didn't regret it for a minute.
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