Every time I travel to a non-Western country, I’m always warned (by the
guidebook, program orientation, etc.) that notions of family will be very
different in the place where I’m going. Typical notes for Latin America include
the following: your family will eat meals all together. People will spend a few
hours after dinner sitting around at the table, talking, playing games, or just
watching TV together (this is called sobremesa).
Children live at home until they’re married. Families are much bigger. There
may be relatives stopping by constantly. Family members are more connected and
aware of what’s going on in each other’s lives.
Of course, these notions vary family-to-family. Some of them have been
very accurate for my Quito family, while others haven’t really been applicable.
My family often doesn’t eat together, and my brother seems to spend most of his
time in his room watching TV or practicing guitar. Not that he’s antisocial or
anything—he just seems like a typical global teenager, not quite American, but
not “traditionally” Ecuadorian either.
This past weekend, I got a little taste of my family’s size. My host
mom has two older daughters who don’t live at home, but stop buy all the time.
She’s also from a very large family (one of eleven, if I remember correctly),
and almost all of her siblings live in Quito. We went out for ice cream with an
uncle and his wife and two kids. Then we stopped at grandma’s house, where
another uncle and aunt also live (the uncle is a little off, mentally, and the
aunt just never married, so she still lives with her mom). We had coffee and
the relatives asked me a bunch of questions so I could practice my Spanish—what
I want to do with my life, what the hell my dad is doing trying to start a
business in Ghana, etc. Mom, grandma and aunt all talked about my mom’s
daughter, the problems she’s having with her husband, how they’re fighting a
lot at home.
This is probably one of those situations that cultural briefings are
designed to prepare you for. The extended-family gatherings and gossip aren’t
typical in a lot of American families. But for me, it felt like I was right
back at home. The only real difference was that everyone was speaking Spanish
and no one was actually related to me.
My family back in the US is really close. Mom has three sisters who all
live in the greater Seattle area, and between the four of them, there are seven
cousins, of which I’m the oldest (my brother is 19, I have four female cousins
who are 18, 14, 12 and 11, and Lucas, the youngest, is 7). My grandparents are
an easy two hour drive away, so they come into town a lot for family
gatherings. And I have another grandpa in Eugene, Oregon, which isn’t too far
away. Due to a lot of divorce in my grandparents’ generation, I have tons of
relatives who aren’t even technically related to me, but all of them are
family. Our Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners are often 25 people, and we have
smaller gatherings for things like high school graduations and birthdays. All
in all, it seems like at least ten of us get together once or twice a month,
and I’ve hardly ever gone a week without seeing someone from my extended family
while I’m home.
When I describe this arrangement to my friends, it sounds weird to most
of them. Not bad weird—a lot of people have told me that it sounds nice to have
relatives around all the time, exhausting as it can sometimes be. So it’s
refreshing to travel to places where extended family is normal, where you’re
weird if you don’t go visit your sisters and aunts and uncles and parents over
the weekend. I’ve learned so much more about Ecuador from talking to my
extended host family, especially the grandma. And I’m grateful that
globalization and modernity haven’t managed to completely eradicate this aspect
of non-American culture.
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