I woke up. My mom and my aunts were already bustling around in the kitchen and living room. Luckily, I had taken a shower the night before so I wouldn’t have to take one early in the morning. Still, I had a long morning and day ahead of me- one my family and I had been preparing for in the last few weeks.

For the last fifteen years, Ecuadorian-Americans in East Hampton, New York have put in tremendous efforts to following traditions as carefully as they once were in their distant motherland. They try to imitate such rituals the way they and their ancestors did. Of course, with time and the great distance celebrations themselves have morphed into more “Americanized” ones.                                                        

In Ecuador, one of the most celebrated and honored religion-based tradition is “La Pasada del NiñoViajero,” celebrated around Christmas time. El NiñoViajero symbolizes Baby Jesus. Christmas would mark his birthday. A grand and well-prepared parade, or pasada, would be held in which the Baby Jesus would lead the head of the parade followed by his supporters all dressed up in traditional Ecuadorian clothes (different types of clothes often symbolized different regions of Ecuador and their customs). Some people would be dressed in religious garments, Mary and the Three Kings are among the most popular choices.  

East Hampton's Ecuadorian-American Community came together on a fateful day fifteen years ago to plan. They wanted their kids to know how it felt to part of such a tradition. To learn and dress as they once did in their childhood many years ago. To acknowledge the culture that they often forget about. To experience a community coming together for one cause. And lastly, to know that there is a sense of fun hidden behind their lessons and in the culture they belong to. They worked hard and didn't take no for an answer, they were granted permission, and I can only imagine the well-deserved sense of pride they must’ve held on their faces.

Nowadays the preparation starts in mid-to-late November. El NiñoViajero used to be brought all the way from Ecuador to East Hampton by airplane. The same one used in Ecuador would be the one we used here. But as the years went on and the community became more established they decided to have a replica made, that way commuting for the celebration would be more comfortable.

Upon his arrival, our community welcomes him with open arms. What happens from there on until the day of the parade and church ceremony might seem strange to outsiders but to me, someone who has experienced it from the age of seven months, it is nothing of the sort. El NiñoViajero is given to a family who volunteers to provide him with a home for anywhere between a day and three days and on the last day at night, family and other participants gather at that families home to pray a special rosary, anyone is welcome.

After the rosary, the hosting family has dinner prepared for everyone who came. It has become part of the tradition though if a family hasn’t prepared food, it won't change much, no one expects it or takes it for granted. Anything ranging from dinner to coffee and tea with tamales or empanadas is among the most popular choices. The family of whose turn it is to host El NiñoViajero next is present and at the end of the night will take him to their home and share it until it is another family's turn.

In the end, the entire community gets to experience him on a personal level. For many it is an experience in which they never imagined to have outside of Ecuador, some haven't seen him in over a decade, and it is a heartwarming and bittersweet experience, as they won't see him again after the celebrations are over until the next year.

I can't remember a year where my family hasn't hosted him, because it hasn't happened. Before, when my parents didn't have kids or their own home they simply hosted him more modestly, but as time went on and they put more and more effort into making him comfortable.

As for my account in the tradition itself, it stems back to my mother’s side of the family. The full title of the “saint” is “El Niño Viajero de San Joaquín”- which translates to “The traveling baby Jesus of San Joaquin,” a town in Cuenca. My mother was born and raised there, hence, the fact that she has celebrated such a tradition since the day she was born. On the other hand, my father never partook in the tradition until he met my mother here in East Hampton. His family had never even heard about it- he was born is Chunchi and raised in Quito both long hours away from Cuenca.  But he saw the importance embedded within the tradition and what it teaches and stands for- he wanted his children to part of it. He and my mother have built a strong and caring family out of a combination of tradition and new ideas alike.

I look forward to the days that we have him at our house- our Christmas tree is up and decorated as is a designated table where he is to rest on. Candles and flowers are bought to honor him, and on the first day, we get him we usually pray for a short five to ten minutes as a family. Although my family isn't extremely religious, the one thing they aim to celebrate every year and partake in is this specific celebration. They never lack.

Leading up to the big day- which included a parade and church service- my father had to get his costume specially made and brought from Ecuador. I had previously purchased mine while on a trip to Ecuador in late February in sixth grade. It was a beautiful handmade skirt, known as a “pollera.” I personally picked the color, black, as it was trending. There are hand sewn jewels on the bottom rim of the skirt and a custom made blouse accompanied the skirt

The morning of, I had to get dressed in the pollera and blouse. I wore stockings to protect my legs from the frigid air. I accompanied my outfit with black Ralph Lauren flats, an ironic choice but they were the most "closed" shoes I owned that were still considered “flats.”

One of the most critical points of the entire look was the makeup. Usually, there was dramatic eye and lip colors to complement the equally unique costume being worn. But the single-handedly most vital piece of the look was bright red cheeks. They were meant to symbolize native-born Ecuadorian girls who were always out in the blazing sun. I, of course, did not have naturally red cheeks (I live in New York!). Blush did the job.

Within hours the community who was part of the parade was gathered at the local Chase Bank in East Hampton. It was pouring by now, most people were waiting at the church not wanting to get soaked. My parents, however, wanted to stay and gave us, my brothers and I, the choice to be dropped off at the church. My older brothers took the opportunity and my younger brother and I stayed.

I walked through town with the community of Ecuadorians, a band in the back, and Baby Jesus leading us in the front. With my younger cousin at hand, we walked proudly with our heads up. I wouldn't find until later that a picture of us was in a local newspaper. We laughed and talked as we walked. Slowly but steadily we got to our location. Wet and cold, but we still arrived at The Holy Trinity.

I took a moment to realize what I had just done. I was not forced to dress up or walk in this parade or partake in the celebration. I chose to. Anytime before that, I had always assumed I did it because I had to because my parents wanted me to. But no, I did it for myself. One day, I would want my kids to experience what I did that day. To choose for themselves what culture means to them. My parents made their decision, I made mine, and the next generation is free to make theirs.