Hazing at its Finest

by Rachel Alexander 

Typically, I have been very tolerant of the Chilean culture and find most, if not all of it, fascinating, exhilarating, and community-seeking. However, there is one thing I CANNOT handle: el mechoneo.

During January and February, our group had classes at our partner school, Universidad de Alberto Hurtado. January and February are part of Chile's summer months, so we did not see any other students during those two months of studying. They were long, lonely days of only hearing the whirring noise of the janitorial staff vacuuming the carpets outside of our classrooms. We yearned for the coming of March and the new school year for Chileans so we would not be alone any more.

Fast forward to two weeks ago and the university was busting at the seems with students. Walking into the university on our first Monday for classes, I experienced one of my major moments of culture shock: SO MANY YOUNG CHILEANS. They all so seemed so cool and suave, wearing the latest Chilean trends, flocking in groups to converse, and speaking Spanish at a million miles a minute. I felt like I was back on my first day of classes at Lipscomb University. But this time, instead of no one noticing me because I was nothing but a freshman, it seemed like everyone in the common area of the university had their eye on me since I looked especially American.

As if this moment of culture shock was not enough, Chile decided to pile it on after I got out of classes and was heading to the subway to go back to the apartments. As I walked into the subway, I smelled this awful, nose-curling odor that almost knocked me off my feet. The source of the smell? Two college-age, Chilean girls whose jeans had been ripped up, their shirts cropped to expose their stomachs, their bodies painted with Chilean words (which were not the most kind), their feet without shoes, and their hair covered in eggs, flour, and some unidentifiable substances. They literally reeked.

At first, I thought that what I had just seen would be a one-time experience for me. I was so wrong. Over the course of the next couple of days, I saw more and more college-age students who looked like they had gone through the wringer and back. The worst was seeing guys whose jeans had been cut into crude skirts, their shirts ripped off, and their backs painted with male genitalia.

These students congregated near busy public places, such as the metro stations, bus stations, and major street corners, asking passersby for spare change. I was still so confused as to what was going on, especially when they started asking me for money, some of the guys pleading with sweet pet names. After some discussions with students and professors at our university and then some personal research, I found out that these observations of mine were examples of hazing at its finest.

This hazing tradition is called el mechoneo. It occurs at most of the major universities in Santiago. (I was relieved to hear el mechoneo is not allowed at our university). It is a rite of passage that has been going on for decades. Second-year students prey on first-year students and subject them to a few days of "fun-spirited" abuse. They will pull first-year students out of class and take them to a place such as a public park. There, they take their phones and shoes, rip their clothes, and cover them in eggs, flour, paint, mud, and other foul substances. The first-year students then have to hit the streets of Santiago to get donations to bring back to the second-year students. Usually, they have to bring the second-year students an average of $10,000 pesos to get their shoes and phones back. (That is the equivalent of about $21 U.S. dollars.) When the occasional person is usually only throwing $100 pesos their way, this can take all day and, just a reminder, without shoes. Finally, the hazing is over and they can go back home until the next round of hazing begins.

Even though this is a self-perpetuating tradition that has been going on in the universities for decades, I think it needs to go. Some may argue that it unifies the freshman class, preparing them for the long, four years of studies that they have ahead. However, I believe that there are more constructive and less humiliating means to bring a group of people together and I hope Chile can find one that fits in well with its culture. Until then, I am steering clear of those poor Chilean boys who bat their eyes at me in hopes that I will throw a couple pesos their way.