Explaining Halloween

Based on true events,story of explaining Halloween to a person from another culture.

Explaining Halloween

 

            “But, why?” Fatima asked, clearly perplexed.

            We were sitting in the coffee shop inside the Student Union, and the room was festooned with fake spider webs, orange and purple crepe paper streamers, and sparkly black-and-purple, tinsel garlands.  Tissue paper ghosts and plastic skeletons hung down from the ceiling.  Clusters of round, orange pumpkins were piled in the corners.  The air was rich with the aroma of pumpkin-spice coffee, pumpkin-spice iced lattes, and pumpkin-spice muffins.  The animatronic witch, in classic, pointy hat, and striped socks, cackled each time anyone passed through the café’s main entrance.  The usual low clamor of many quiet conversations, as students and faculty studied, chatted, flirted, and played games in the crowded room was laced with a current of excited electricity, and many students wore costumes, face paint, or absurd hats to celebrate this very American holiday.  Even I had a large, grinning jack-o-lantern appliquéd to the front of my white sweatshirt, and dangly, orange, pumpkin earrings.

            “I … it’s ….”  I stammered, at a loss for an explanation that would make sense.

            Just then, a commotion in the room turned my eyes to the huge, curved wall of windows that faced the Quad.  The denizens of the café all strained to see; Fatima and I had a table next to the window, so our view of the Quad was unobstructed.  Outside, a teacher led the children from the college’s daycare program in a parade around the Quad, their tiny feet shuffling through the fallen leaves that the wind drifted onto the concrete walks.  The glass of the window kept out the chilly October breeze that fluttered the gossamer wings of a tiny girl’s pink butterfly costume, and caused a little mummy to clutch his arms over his chest for warmth.  Behind us, there were oohs and ahhs, and scattered chuckles and giggles, as the crowd watched the little procession of thirty-some monsters, witches, rock stars, and animals parade past.

            Fatima stared at the parade.  My attention was divided between the adorable kids, in their Halloween costumes, and the shifting emotions on my friend’s face.  Her own children attended the preschool at the mosque in her neighborhood, but they were the same ages as these kids.  I saw her stare of confusion become a frown of pious disapproval, but then it changed into a gaze of wonder and awe.  As the children passed our excellent vantage point, just yards from the glass, her eyes softened, and her lips parted in appreciation of the adorable preciousness, and simple cuteness of the children in the procession.

As the children moved on around the Quad, toward the library, she turned to face me, her dark brown eyes shining with wonder and delight.

“Mashallah!” she breathed, in the reverent tone of one who has just witnessed a holy miracle.  “They are so sweet!”

I smiled, my heart echoing her pleasure and delight.

“But, why they do this?” she asked, waving her hand toward the window.  “Why do dress up like that.  What it’s for?”

Her broken English didn’t interfere with my understanding.  Many of our classmates were from Saudi Arabia, as she was, and I was used to the unusual wording that came from non-native speakers of the oddly contrary language that is English.

“Today’s Halloween,” I replied.  “They’re having a party in the daycare today.”

“Yes, fine, party,” she said, a tinge of dismissive impatience in her voice, “But why Halloween?  We do not have this in my country.”

I understood her confusion.

“Well, I guess it’s sort of an American thing,” I conceded.  “The kids dress up for trick-or-treat.  They go around and get candy from people.  Most people have candy ready for kids to come to their house t’night.”

She looked thoughtful.  A wrinkle created her brow below the edge of her blue-and-yellow pattered hijab, which covered her long, curly, black hair.  Her eyes looked troubled, a shadow extinguishing the sparkle of moments ago.

“Yes, I know trick-or-treat.  My neighbor tells me to buy candy.  My husband, he say no.  We no be part of this.  Is not our belief.”  She paused, drew a breath, and raised her eyes to meet mine.  “My sister, help me understand.  What is Halloween?”

Fatima and I were both graduate students in the linguistics department.  We were both student teachers.  I understood her desire to understand the culture in which she was now living.  Admittedly, Halloween was a little harder to explain than most American customs we had discussed in many similar conversations.  I knew I had to try.  I had to explain the religion of Halloween, not just the fun and games of it.

“Okay, see if this helps,” I began, drawing a deep breath, and taking a long sip of pumpkin-spice hot chocolate.  “For most people, Halloween is just about dressing up in scary or silly costumes, and going door to door to get candy.  These days, that’s about all it is, besides parties and scary movies.  Halloween’s fun.  But your husband’s right.  Halloween’s not your belief, ’cause it used to be a Christian thing.”

She watched and listened attentively.  She sipped her coffee, and nodded impatiently, when I paused.  “I see.  What else?”

“Well, it used to be a holiday in the Catholic Church …”

“Catholic?” she interrupted, tilting her head to one side, like a curious little bird.

“Oh, um, Catholic is what all Christians used to be, before the Protestants broke away b’cause of disagreements.”  I searched my mind for a comparison, and saw a mental lightbulb flash on as I found one I hoped would work.  “It’s like in Islam,” I began, watching her face carefully, “when the Sunni and Shia became two parts of the same religion.  Both Islam, with the same basic beliefs, but different.  That’s how Catholics and Protestants are.  Two parts of one religion, Christianity, with most of the same beliefs, but different.”

She nodded thoughtfully.  “Nam, yes, that makes sense.  Go on.”

“Okay, so the Catholics have a feast day, still today, that’s All Saints Day.  We celebrate it tomorrow.  I’ll go to Mass in the evening, after classes, for it.  It’s to celebrate all the souls that have died and gone to Heaven.  The ones who are already in Heaven with God.  The next day, All Souls Day, is for all the people who died, the ones who didn’t go to Heaven yet.”

I felt very warm, and there were beads if perspiration on my forehead, at my throat, and behind my ears.  We were talking quietly, but I sensed people at nearby tables, many of them International students, as well as some of the Campus Christian Club, crowding the cluster of sofas nearby, listening to my explanation.  I knew I shouldn’t be nervous, but my pulse was racing.

Fatima clearly saw my distress, because she reached out and placed a slim, brown hand over my much paler one.  She smiled encouragingly.

“Tell me more.  Why they dress up?”

I smiled and nodded my appreciation, took a steadying breath, and began again.

“The costumes aren’t religious, at least not anymore.  A long time ago, some people thought wearing scary costumes for Halloween would confuse spirits and monsters who came into the world on that night, and the costumes would keep people safe.  That’s why they carved faces in pumpkins, too, and put candles inside: to scare off evil spirits.”

Fatima shuddered at the mention of evil spirits.  I remembered that, like many Muslims, she was very superstitious.

“The kids want to make the pumpkins,” she said, frowning, “but my husband say is a waste to play with food.”

I nodded.  “Yeah, he’s right,” I conceded.  “Pumpkins can be food, but it’s a tradition.”

“Tradition is important,” she agreed, nodding gravely.

“So, the costumes sort of became something for kids, when people stopped being so afraid of real monsters and spirits, and the jack-o-lanterns turned into Halloween decorations.  Adults dress up and have fun parties, but it’s mostly about the candy now,”

“Okay, yes, candy,” she responded.  “Why go ask strangers for candy?”

“That’s a really good question,” I replied.  “I don’t actually know.  We went trick-or-treating when I was a kid, and got tons of candy.  Cookies and apples, too.  My mom went when she was a kid, but her mom didn’t.  It wasn’t a thing then.”

“Is like teaching kids to …,” she hesitated, searched for a word, “to beg?”

I nodded.

“Poor people beg for money.  Why the kids’ parents don’t give them candy, if they want?”

I shrugged.  “They could, but most of the fun is going out to get it from all the houses you can get to.  There’s nothing special about just buying the kids candy.”

“So, getting it from people is fun?”

“Yeah, it’s the best part.”

Fatima stared at me, armed with more information than before, but still clearly perplexed.

“It is strange tradition,” she said, squeezing my hand.  “It is not what we believe,”

We both finished our drinks in silence.  A cultural impasse had been reached.

The witch in the doorway cackled.  The hum of conversation flowed around us.  Outside the window, the Halloween wind swirled the red, orange, gold, and brown fallen leaves into a tiny dervish that raced across the concrete walk, and subsided in the yellowed grass.

We sat in companionable silence.  Christian and Muslim.  Catholic and Sunni.  American and Arab.  Students.  Teachers.  Mons.  Sisters.  Friends, despite differences of culture and belief.  We both smiled over our loosely clasped fingers, white and brown.  We were content.

Author's Note

Ignore typos and grammar. Not meant to start religious or political arguments. That said, initial reactions and constructive literary criticism appreciated. Based on true events.

Reviews

[Karen Redburn]

As always your imagery is stunning. I felt all those orange and black breezes blowing throughout the story. Cultural differences are every where, but you show in this story how we can have our difference and yet still be civil with each other. I enjoyed the read and have been in similar situations myself. Cheers and happy Sunday, Debbie!

[Debbie Barry]

Good morning, and Happy Sunday, Karen! Thank you! I'm really pleased that you enjoyed this. I'm glad you got that from it, as I hoped I put that message into it.

As with many of my stories, this is a patch-work of truth. I had almost exactly yjat conversation with a friend from Saudi Arabia, but it was a male friend, who has two adorable sons with his lovely wife. The friend in the story is based very closely on my best friend from that country, who, with her very wonderful husband, had two children then, and has three now. I had a similar conversation with her about St. Patrick's Day; her daughter was in kindergarten, and had to study and celebrate our pseudo-religious holidays in school, and got confused by them.

I appreciate you saying you've been in similar situations. It's good to remember that the need for cultural understanding is widespread.

I'm off to start a busy Advent day. (((hugs))) Thanks for the lovely review!

[Karen Redburn]

Hi Debbie, happy Tuesday. It's been a few busy days here, but I am back and looking forward to reading more from my favorite writers!

Yes the message was a good one. We can learn a little and leave a little if it, no need to argue or fight.

I hope you enjoyed the advent activities and your always most welcome, my friend. (((hugs)))

[Debbie Barry]

Happy Tuesday, Karen! Thank you, yes, the weekend's activities were generally good. I've yet to blog about Saturday's birthday party for my mother-in-law, but there's a piece, rather different than usual, from Sunday, in Stories. (((hugs))

[Samuel Dickens]

This is just wonderful. So very interesting, informative and heartwarming. I can picture you sitting there with her and the others gathered round. You did a great job of explaining it to her, too. I'm afraid I'd have been at a loss in that situation.

[Debbie Barry]

Thank you, Samuel! I'm really glad you enjoyed it. Explaining it wasn't easy, but cultural interpretation was one of the things I did, when I was teaching ESL.

Have a wonderful Sunday!