Kyle Hepp

November 30, 2008

Warning: Long post ahead, but I think it’s worth reading.

We shot a double wedding pro-bono for our nana, Mila’s two daughters two weekends ago. I’ve been wanting to blog about it, literally, since we arrived on the scene. The first thing I thought as soon as the festivities got underway was, “Oh my gosh, this is so cool, I can’t wait to write about it!”

But then, as started to write the post in my head, like crazy people tend to do, I realized, words really cannot do the feeling I had at that wedding justice. I knew it didn’t matter how much I went over this post, I would probably never get it exactly right. So I mentally erased everything I had “written,” and now what you’re getting is straight up word-vomit.

We headed out to Mila’s house in the evening. She got a grant a few years ago to build a small house on a plot of land that she owns in Los Noviciados, a rural and not well-off area. So S. had never been to her new house and didn’t have a clue where it was. She gave us directions out past the airport and then told us to wait at the first colegio we saw — she would call at 7pm to double check that we had arrived and then send her son out on foot to come get us. 7pm came and went pretty darn quickly so we started getting nervous at about 20 to 8. The wedding was scheduled to start at 8pm, and while we knew this was Chile, meaning it probably wouldn’t started until at least 8:30pm, we didn’t know how much further we had to drive to get to her house or anything. We couldn’t call because Mila doesn’t have a phone. Finally we called the one comunal phone and waited forever while someone ran through town to try and find Mila and bring her back to talk to us. She had completely forgotten to call us. But, even once we got in touch with her, her directions went a little something like this, “It’s just a little further. You know, just keep going straight, way straight, and then when you come to a little bump in the road….yeah, don’t turn there, pass that…and then you’re going to come to a speed bump, ok wait, maybe it’s the third speed bump…umm, don’t turn there either. Just keep going. And then right around the corner is my house. Don’t worry, you’ll see, there’s a tent outside.”

“Just a little further,” ended up being at least another 20 minutes driving. Mila’s idea of right around the corner is seriously skewed. That might be because her house is so far away that if we hadn’t gotten lost it would have taken us 45 minutes — driving. She gets to Santiago every day by first riding a bike, then hitchhiking, then taking a bus and then the metro. I didn’t ask how long that takes her but I would assume at least 2 hours. Go ahead, ask me if the woman has every taken a sick day.

Getting back to the wedding — as soon as we pulled up a group of old men standing outside the house stared a little bit in confusion at the foreigners pulling up in their neighborhood (S. and I were with another friend who came along to shoot with us who’s also an extranjero living in Chile). But, Mila came out and greeted us and everything clicked into place.

“AAAH! She’s la Kyle!!! You’re la Kyle? [to nobody in particular] Does she speak Spanish?”

Once it was established that yes, I am the infamous la Kyle, from where Mila works, and that yes, I do speak Spanish, the family/friends/neighbors received us with open arms. They already knew so much about me and my life that we skipped right past that awkward stage of, “You’re a Gringa so I’m not sure if I should treat you differently.” I was already part of the community.

In case you’re wondering why S. wasn’t the one being reacted to, since he’s the one Mila’s known for the past 15 years, I think there’s a few reasons for this. Mila loves S. to death. When he’s not around she refers to him affectionately as, “Mi ninito,” listens raptly when I talk about him, and then tells me how “lindo,” he is. But, she’s afraid of men. When S. or S.’s dad come around, she clams up instantly. I can’t tell if this, in part is due to her religion. Mila is an evangelical Christian, and extremely conservative, so I would guess that she probably believes in women honoring and respecting the men, although she’s never said as much to me. And secondly, she’s told me that she’s lived through some pretty horrific experiences with her own dad.

Anyways, we arrived and started getting our gear ready. At no point in time did anybody warn us to be careful with our cameras or not leave anything unattended because it might get stolen. And to be honest with you, this was the first time that I can remember, since I’ve lived in Chile, that I completely let my guard down. Not once did I look over my shoulder to see if anyone was running up behind, not once did I go back into the room where we left our extra equipment to make sure it was still there. I could tell we were safe because, like I said, at that moment, we were part of the community.

Before we got started shooting, I asked to use the bathroom. Mila’s son Mitchel took me out back. The day of the wedding, they had constructed a particle-board type shelter and installed a toilet and sink. Mitchel was so thrilled about this luxury that I take for granted every single day of my life…not only that, that Mila sees me taking for granted every single day. Well, not literally, she doesn’t sit there and watch me pee or anything, but you know what I mean.

The cement around the base of the sink was still wet and after I came out three more neighbors went back in to hammer away and put on the finishing touches. While they were doing that, there were at least 15 women running about putting silverware and plates at the long tables that had been set up for the reception. 5 others were going back and forth between the two brides, sharing makeup and a curling iron, trying to get them ready. And there must have been an army of people cooking, because they just kept bringing over more and more food to store until the party got started. Others were decorating the getaway car, and some were hanging up white balloons and ribbons outside the house. Keep in mind Mila’s house, which has 4 tiny bedrooms, is maybe 60 square meters. With this many people everywhere, it was chaotic, but nobody was pulling their hair out. The brides were relaxed and happy and just kept screaming not to let any men see them. The atmosphere was festive.

Finally, around 9:00pm, the brides emerged from their respective rooms and got in a car to be driven to the church which was about a mile away. Almost everyone else walked, following behind. Outside the church on a dusty field, a pick up game of soccer was being played. The physical building looked more like a house than a place of worship, but inside the place was packed. The pastor was in the middle of a sermon, which seemingly stopped for the brides to walk down the aisle and quickly get married. There were so many people we could barely move to get photos! The actual marriage part lasted maybe 10 minutes and then the bride, groom and the 100 or so people who had came to bear witness all walked out, and the sermon continued on for the people who were already in the church.

As the newlyweds got into their white cars and started to drive away they began honking. The huge crowd of people was standing outside cheering them on, when a cloud of dust rose up. We could hear the horses hooves before we actually saw the huasos (Chilean cowboys). The huasos arrived, rode up in front of the two bridal cars and begin making their horses rear up, jump and neigh loudly. It was seriously one of the coolest things I have ever seen. Chills rose up on my arms as they began to gallop away and as I looked at S. he said, “Tengo escalofrios.”

Before the party really got underway, we went over to Mila to inform her that we had to hit the road. Her face got very serious and for a split second I thought she was mad at us. But, then she burst into tears and hugged me burying her face in my shoulder. Note: Mila is the most stoic person on the face of the planet. She does not show emotions, good or bad, nor does she voice her feelings. She’s basically the female version of my husband. (Total joke, playing off of male stereotypes, S. is actually surprisingly expressive if you know him well. Mila is not). She told us how happy she was that we came and that she loves us. My soul fell off the stairs we were standing on and died of shock, then came back to life at that very moment.

Mila is so well-respected in her community. You can tell that people look up to her, and that this wedding not only was a big deal because girls from the neighborhood were getting married, but because they were Mila’s daughters. It was interesting to see her in a different light, outside of her role as the nana (that’s maid for you non-Chilean speaking readers).

But, the funniest thing that I could not get out of my head all night long, was how comfortable I felt. In a little village, where saying no gringa has gone before is probably a safe bet, I should have been more conspicuous than ever. But in Los Noviciados, the only blond girl within miles, with my giant camera hanging around my neck, I felt so much more at home than I EVER do walking down the streets of Santiago. Nobody stared, nobody treated me like a stupid tourist, and not one single man so much as looked at me disrepectfully. It would not be any sort of an exaggeration to say that this one big group singlehandledly restored my faith in the Chilean people.