Fátima Reyes, Grade 11
UWC Costa Rica
September 15th, 1821, five of the seven Central American countries, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica, all gained their Independence. As a Guatemalan, this day has always been an opportunity to reflect on my country's history… from the comfort of my couch while watching Netflix and enjoying my school-free day. Although parades around the country are organized, school bands march, and speeches are given, I was never a part of any of these activities. September 15th wasn't presented to me as day to display patriotism or get involved with my community, but rather an extension of my weekend. Thankfully, I got to experience my Independence in a radically different way: abroad.
One of UWC Costa Rica's first major events was the September 15th parade. For the first time in the school year, we all got dressed in our national costumes, took out our flags, and exposed ourselves to our host city, Santa Ana, as the culturally diverse and united community that we are. We walked for several streets under the harsh sun, marching to the beat of several school bands, waving at the joyful pedestrians, and taking pictures. Millions of pictures. Our proud flags filled the sky with life while our varied costumes painted the streets with every color of the rainbow. We laughed and chatted, ice-creams melting on our hands as, for the first time, we realized our diverse group identity and rejoiced in us being a part of something greater than ourselves.
I woke up extremely excited that day. I got dressed in an all-wool, white with a blue neck men's traditional Guatemalan shirt and ran to the amphitheater, where I found my peers already tying flags to their poles and finishing up their costumes' details. Seeing my flag waving so beautifully drew a big smile on my face, as did spotting my co-year wearing an actual women's Guatemalan dress. We walked all together to the school's gate as teachers reminded us to behave, people waved flags, and we tirelessly took pictures and videos of each other. I helped carry a big sign that read "Centroamérica Unida" (United Central America) as I jokingly debated with my Mexican second year whether Guatemala was ever a part of Mexico (for the record, no, we weren't).
Despite having a sore foot, being constantly dehydrated, and eventually lagging in the group, I enjoyed myself like I never had on Independence Day. Music roused from everywhere on the street. Costa Ricans stopped to cheer for us or inquire about our countries. Once in a while, one of us would be spotted by a fellow compatriot in the crowd, and the happiness produced by the little accident was uncontrollable. Everywhere I turned to, there were pure expressions of joy. Joy from being acknowledged by our host city, joy from finding a bit of shade to sit under, joy from learning to dance from young Costa Rican girls, joy from being photographed with your roommate -she, looking so beautiful in her yukata and you, trying your best to look decent in your traditionally male shirt. Above all, I felt joy from discovering that Independence Day could be celebrated in such a grand and fun way.
After a morning of walking around Santa Ana, we wrapped up our parade at the local Catholic Church, just a block away from the school. We stopped to refresh ourselves, eat some local delicacies, and take even more group pictures. As we were grouping ourselves to take the final picture with both first and second years together, little raindrops hit our heads. Amid guffaws and screams, with flags turned into improvised umbrellas, we all ran like crazy in a failed attempt to shelter ourselves from the tropical rainy season. When we finally hit the protective amphitheater, we were soaking wet and laughing harder than ever before. It was one of those precious little moments in which time seems to freeze, and you understand yourself as a part of a greater, living human unit. Sitting in the amphitheater as the sky dissolved into endless supplies of water and everyone around me embraced the moment, I had an epiphany. It was at that moment, at the end of my first-ever Independence Day, that I realized I was now home.
One of UWC Costa Rica's first major events was the September 15th parade. For the first time in the school year, we all got dressed in our national costumes, took out our flags, and exposed ourselves to our host city, Santa Ana, as the culturally diverse and united community that we are. We walked for several streets under the harsh sun, marching to the beat of several school bands, waving at the joyful pedestrians, and taking pictures. Millions of pictures. Our proud flags filled the sky with life while our varied costumes painted the streets with every color of the rainbow. We laughed and chatted, ice-creams melting on our hands as, for the first time, we realized our diverse group identity and rejoiced in us being a part of something greater than ourselves.
I woke up extremely excited that day. I got dressed in an all-wool, white with a blue neck men's traditional Guatemalan shirt and ran to the amphitheater, where I found my peers already tying flags to their poles and finishing up their costumes' details. Seeing my flag waving so beautifully drew a big smile on my face, as did spotting my co-year wearing an actual women's Guatemalan dress. We walked all together to the school's gate as teachers reminded us to behave, people waved flags, and we tirelessly took pictures and videos of each other. I helped carry a big sign that read "Centroamérica Unida" (United Central America) as I jokingly debated with my Mexican second year whether Guatemala was ever a part of Mexico (for the record, no, we weren't).
Despite having a sore foot, being constantly dehydrated, and eventually lagging in the group, I enjoyed myself like I never had on Independence Day. Music roused from everywhere on the street. Costa Ricans stopped to cheer for us or inquire about our countries. Once in a while, one of us would be spotted by a fellow compatriot in the crowd, and the happiness produced by the little accident was uncontrollable. Everywhere I turned to, there were pure expressions of joy. Joy from being acknowledged by our host city, joy from finding a bit of shade to sit under, joy from learning to dance from young Costa Rican girls, joy from being photographed with your roommate -she, looking so beautiful in her yukata and you, trying your best to look decent in your traditionally male shirt. Above all, I felt joy from discovering that Independence Day could be celebrated in such a grand and fun way.
After a morning of walking around Santa Ana, we wrapped up our parade at the local Catholic Church, just a block away from the school. We stopped to refresh ourselves, eat some local delicacies, and take even more group pictures. As we were grouping ourselves to take the final picture with both first and second years together, little raindrops hit our heads. Amid guffaws and screams, with flags turned into improvised umbrellas, we all ran like crazy in a failed attempt to shelter ourselves from the tropical rainy season. When we finally hit the protective amphitheater, we were soaking wet and laughing harder than ever before. It was one of those precious little moments in which time seems to freeze, and you understand yourself as a part of a greater, living human unit. Sitting in the amphitheater as the sky dissolved into endless supplies of water and everyone around me embraced the moment, I had an epiphany. It was at that moment, at the end of my first-ever Independence Day, that I realized I was now home.
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