The devastation of the hurricane

Over 100 people died over the last few days during Hurricane Agatha, mostly from mudslides and thousands have had to evacuate their homes. Guatemala experienced more rain in 12 hours than it has since 1949. I just got off of the phone with Ann, Avivara’s Associate Director for Volunteer Training and Teacher Development. She informed me that the schools in the area are shut down for the next week. She walked with Gary (Executive Director) around their town of San Pedro Las Huertas. The torrential rains caused a lot of mudslides and water damage to homes. The roads in many areas are impassable. Ann also informed me that a large chunk of a volcano in the area slid down the mountainside. From here in Antigua, where everything is cement, it is not evident that many villages in Guatemala are in crisis mode.

Ann told me that she would keep me informed about what is going on with the schools. One of her main jobs is to visit schools to bring supplies, work with teachers, and teach lessons. With the conditions of the roads and the conditions of schools and homes in different villages still somewhat unknown, Ann will have to stay in contact with the schools and adjust her schedule accordingly.

This hurricane is one more reminder that places with less resources and infrastructure suffer much more devastation during natural disasters.

For more info about the devastation from Hurricane Agatha click here

Hurricane Agatha... and I thought it rained a lot in Seattle

It has been a constant downpour for 3 days of torrential rain! I just walked to the Botagona(the grocery store here) with my Italian and Korean friends and the roads were like small rivers. In the city, everything is cement and there is nowhere for the water to flow. My house mom, Teresa, is constantly mopping up the house since it is partially outside, but the rain just keeps coming. The lights are flickering right now and the power has gone off several times today. The water is also coming through the cement walls in my room! I can’t imagine how some families without adequate houses deal with this kind of weather. Oh! The electricity is off again.

Although we felt prepared to walk to the store with our rain jackets and umbrellas, 5 minutes into the walk we were soaked from head to toe. I just heard we are experiencing a hurricane. No wonder we didn't see others outside!

Click here for more info about Hurricane Agatha

Picaya is exploding!

One of the volcanoes here, Picaya, started erupting around 7:00 pm and hasn't stopped since. I'm not very close to it (I think it's about an hour away) and not in harm's way, but families nearby are being evacuated and the airport is closed. The volcano eruption is associated with the earthquake I felt earlier.

Mayan village visit with Global Visionaries

On Tuesday I accompanied 3 Guatemaltecos,(what Guatemalans call themselves) Mario, Aurelio, and Caesar from the organization Global Visionaries, on an adventure to discover whether a village at the top of a mountain had the proper infrastructure to educate the children in their community. Before we drove up the mountain, we had to get permission from armed guards standing at an elaborate entrance for Finca Filadelfia, a enormous private coffee plantation, to use their private road to access the village. Once a guard questioned us and radioed to someone, he granted us access. I thought it was a little strange that the only way to access this community was though the coffee farm. We proceeded to drive straight up the mountain. The car teetered back and forth in 4-wheel drive as we climbed. I looked out over the edge. It was a long way down, but gorgeously green with an amazing view around every turn.

We finally arrived at a gate and realized we would have to walk the rest of the way to the village. The village was nestled in a bit of a canyon on the other side of the gate. Mario, one of the staff members, broke his leg in a car accident a few weeks back and somehow managed to descend the steep dirt path to the village on his crutches. From the road, we could see smoke rising from several tin roofs. I imagine women were busy making tortillas and the morning breakfast. We could see what looked like a school from a distance, but we were unsure.

Once we approached the structure, Mario and Aurelio, stuck their heads in. The elders were having a meeting. Within minutes I think half of the town was standing on the cement porch outside the door, staring at us. The village had a very authentic Indigenous appearance (or what I thought appeared to be). I felt like I could go back in time 200 years and little would look different from how it was at that moment. One mother stood close to hear our conversation. She wore a beautiful Mayan skirt and had a large wrap of cloth around her midsection with her baby bundled inside. She nursed her baby and nodded her head at the same time to let us know she was listening. She was missing a few teeth and looked a little rough, but I found her beautiful, maybe not in the standard way we (Americans) think of beauty, but because she represented the living of life (not the main women in this picture).

I wondered several times what they did in this village when someone is sick. One child had an abnormally large belly, which I believe happens from malnutrition (amongst other things). One child stared at me with his crossed eyes. I remember being cross-eyed when I was young, but my parents were able to take me to get glasses. They don’t have that luxury here. I’m sure to him I was pretty unique looking with my light skin, non-brown eyes, and freckled face.

Mario did an excellent job of explaining that Global Visionaries is an organization that builds schools. He asked the only teacher there about the village. Mario got interrupted a few times by an older man that Mario said had already had his “morning Irish coffee (which isn’t rare to find.)” The teacher told us that there were 13 families in the village. The structure we were standing outside of had 2 classrooms. They didn’t need any more classrooms, but they had no bathrooms for the students. The village also had only one source for water, from a nearby river, and no electricity.

Mario told the teacher that if Global Visionaries was to take on a project within the community, they would need the community’s support with the project. I could feel the energy rise as several community members nodded their heads and stepped closer to Mario. After our chat and a few pages full of notes, we thanked the village for their time and they thanked us too and we headed back up the dirt road. If Global Visionaries can’t build bathrooms for the community, they will pass this project on to another NGO in Guatemala.

Just felt an earthquake!

A few moments ago I was working on my computer and I felt the ground start to tremble. It lasted about 15 seconds. The locals say they are somewhat regular here with all of the volcanic activity. Whoa!

My first day teaching

I was a little nervous about teaching today. Marvin, one of the teachers at El Yalu, picked me up at 6:30 a.m. on the dot in his motorcycle (graciously volunteering to do so for the school). On the way to the school, the steep hills of checkered green farmland (all tended by hand) created a calming effect. Muy tranquilo! one would say here. Even at this early hour, the sides of the roads were busy with people on a mission to get to one place or another, usually with some indication of where they were going… women carrying corn to the mill or water jugs on their heads for home, men with machetes and garden tools setting off for the fields. Even the cows and horses were busy clearing out the plants along the sides of the roads.

We drove through some impoverished small villages before arriving at the school El Yalu. Ninety-two percent of people live in poverty here and 24 percent in extreme poverty. It always amazes me to see this schools tucked away on hilltops, which seem to be located so far away from anything. It makes me think, “Where do all of these kids come from?” El Yalu has over 350 students. Once we arrived at El Yalu, Marvin filled me in on what I was doing for the day after he helped a student through a small classroom window to unlock the door to his classroom. Apparently, it was somehow locked from the inside the day before. We laughed about it and I teased him that it was part of his daily routine. Marvin likes to smile and laughs a lot and seems to have a lot of energy (I’m glad he’s a teacher). Marvin told me that I’d be teaching English to 6 classes today from grades 2 through 6 for about 45 minutes each with 30 plus students in each. Every time I talked to someone about what I’d be doing at El Yalu, the number of classes, length in each class, etc. always changed. At first I thought in my head, “Whoa, that’s a lot for my first day,” but I also knew it meant meeting more kids, which I was excited about.

I met the directors and many of the teachers before class. Most of the women at El Yalu have beautiful Mayan skirts and blouses, including the director. I am very fascinated by them. I felt a little bit at a loss because there were so many things I wanted to ask the teachers and chat with them about, but my Spanish can be a little limiting. They were very welcoming and friendly, which put me at ease.

The first class of the day was a bit of a test run. I started by introducing myself and asking the students about their languages (Kaqchikel and Spanish). I told them that I was a Spanish student and they were now English students so we were going to learn together. We practiced common phrases and everyone learned how to introduce themselves in English. I used my hands quite a bit and made a lot of gestures using body language. For all I know, I left with the students thinking I was teaching American sign language (I hope not!). We did a lot of things chorally and wrapped it all up with classroom vocab. The students did an excellent job pronouncing English words and I played a fun game to check for understanding of their new vocabulary at the end.

At lunch a teacher taught me how to say hello and goodbye in Kaqchikel. It’s a Mayan dialect and very difficult for any outsider, to say the least. The language has a lot of clicks and throat sounds. Hi is utz a wach. Goodbye is Keri’k’a. The ‘ represents a click with the back of the throat.

My last class of the day seemed the most interesting. A pig was squealing on one side of the building. I was teaching sixth grade so the students already had the giggles. For many of the classes, the teachers left so I was alone with the students. I kind of like that because it gives me a little more freedom to be goofy and animated when teaching in order to raise the energy and enthusiasm in the classroom. About 10 younger kids came to the door and watched the 2nd half of the lesson (kids here are always peaking their heads into places to see what’s going on). At the end of class quite a few students said thank you and goodbye in English. Students tend to be a little reserved and shy here so I know that took courage. Next time I will have to say goodbye to them in Kaqchikel.

I get to teach English at El Yalu? Wow!

Ann and Gustavo (staff at Avivara) asked me if I wanted to teach English 2 days a week at El Yalu, one of the schools we visited this week. The school has a government mandate to teach English, yet there is no one in the town that speaks English! The education system never seems to make sense here. I will be riding in on the back of one of the teacher’s motorcycles to make it to class because it is in a pretty isolated area a good distance from Antigua. It was quite sweet for the teacher to volunteer to pick me up. Gustavo and Ann have explained to me that teachers spend a lot of money buying supplies for students and traveling long distances to teach at these schools. They make very little money to begin with and must have a hard time getting by.

I will work with students for about 3 hours and then I will teach a class to the 11 teachers for about 2 hours. I think it will be quite a challenge because I am use to having materials to work with and I will be operating so much in Spanish. Plus, Spanish is a second language in the community. A Mayan language called Kaqchikel is the community's first language. I think it will be a challenge, but also an adventure. Gary (Executive Director of Avivara) gave me a great lesson on what to teach. He has done it several times before and had some excellent advice. I start on Tuesday. Stay tuned to see how it goes!

Details about the school I’ll be working at from the Avivara website (and for other school profiles of Avivara click here):

El Yalu
Student Enrollment: 364 (Pre-school-6th)
Number of Faculty: 11
Community Characteristics: Predominantly Kaqchikel Mayan community; Spanish is a second language; lacking potable water system
Primary Occupations in the Community: Campesino; small farm and finca laborers
Primary Products: Corn, other vegetables
Municipality & Department: Sumpango, Sacatepequez
Latitude & Longitude: 14º 41′ 49.92″ N, 90º 44′ 42.83″ W
Poverty Statistics: 68% living in poverty, 24% living in extreme poverty (total-92%)
Improvement Grant Focus: Classroom desks and chairs, student supplies, teaching supplies
Additional Needs: Building repairs, upgraded water system
School-to-School Partner: St. Monica School, Mercer Island WA

A picture of a school tells a thousand words

Today I waited for our driver, Dario, to pull up at my home stay to take us to yet another school outside of Antigua to distribute school supplies. I watched several people walk by pulling goats and brightly dressed women with baskets on their heads. After awhile, I called Ann, who assured me that everything was okay, Dario was just on “Guatemalan time.” An hour later I saw a truck with dust in its tracks and I knew it was Dario. I jumped in the back of the truck and we were off. We took a different route today than we have for the other school visits, leading us down and out of the mountains. The vegetation became more tropical in a matter of minutes as we descended in altitude. One of the first things I noticed was that the temperature got warmer and there were a lot more insects! I saw a few green beetles buzz past us and I was shocked with how big they were. I made sure not to stick my head too far out of the back of the truck while we were going fast to avoid a head on collision with a flying specimen. It was extremely lush and green. Ann and I talked about how much we love driving through Guatemala in the back of the truck. There’s never a dull moment back there.

We came across an area where garbage was lining the streets and cars were stopped. I looked off to my right and saw a pickup truck upside down (it had been carrying the garbage). I hope no one was hurt. I notice here people pass each other around blind corners and do other dangerous things while driving quite frequently. The roads are never particularly safe, either, and accidents on the road seem to be a part of life here.

Ann told me about a section of road that has a river running through it. During the rainy season, once it starts to rain, people must get across the road or else they are stuck on one side. I couldn’t quite believe it until I saw it. We drove the truck through it. Ann said one time an entire bus was swept away with the current when it tried to pass!

The truck stopped next to an old looking barn. I was a bit confused and wondered if Dario was having truck issues (not unusual). I think I might have said, “What are we doing?” Ann told me that we were here and she pointed to the school, which was the barn of a building. The school had this structure for several grades and then one small building for another class (which a group from Avivara built). The teachers were really friendly and, of course, so were the kids. Ann gave the teachers supplies. Each teacher received a book for teaching all of the subjects. One teacher, Roberto, eagerly explained to me how the book was arranged. I could tell he was very pleased. Gustavo gave his normal speech to the teachers about how important their work is and how much we appreciate the hard work and sacrifice they put in day in and day out to make sure that these children receive an education. He also talked about how the supplies had come from donors in the U.S. that cared very much about supporting education for youth in Guatemala. It is so disheartening for me to see the schools in these conditions, but it warms my heart to meet teachers like these and to watch Ann and Gustavo show support for what these teachers are doing. The positivity and encouragement is quite amazing and I know it makes a difference.

We walked from the school through the village. Ann showed me a mural a community had painted in their town square about their history. Here’s a very simplistic explanation of the mural: In the early 80’s the town’s members started to “disappear.” If they asked about their loved ones, then they would “disappear” too. One day the government soldiers came in and burned their houses and tortured and killed many of the men, women, and children in the village. Everyone remaining in the village had to flee to Mexico where they lived as a community together for 10 years. In 1996 with the Peace Accords, the town was given land to move back to, which is where they painted the mural. Today the town has a commune and works together to support each other. I’ve only read about towns like this one in history books. I can’t imagine the pain and suffering these communities went through! I also think it is sad that most Americans know little about Guatemalan’s history and the U.S.’s role in it.

On my way back I saw a lady with a big box of chickens on her head! How she balanced them, I have no idea! That was just one of the pictures that stuck with me. This reminds me of a story that Gary told me when we were talking about the practice and skill it takes for women to carry things on their heads. He said that he gave a desk to a woman one time. She turned the desk upside down and put it on her head. Then she put her sack on top of the desk, all the while carrying her baby on her back. Gary saw her walk down the street balancing that desk and thought, “only in Guatemala.”

Food or school. Why not both?

Once again at 7 am I jumped in the back of the truck and we headed out to 3 schools this time. The first school was up a dirt road that did not look drivable, but we made it to the school. Farmland surrounded the school and it was quite beautiful to see it at the top of the hill through the morning mist. This school had the most impoverished kids I will probably be seeing in any school around here. Several kids had no shoes and wore dirty clothes. My heart really felt for them because who knows what their lives will entail. Our point of visiting this school this morning was to see if the Avivara breakfast program was working. Last year Avivara donations supplied money for food in the morning and students who came to school would get breakfast. Here 49 percent of children suffer from chronic malnutrition. Last year the program was a success, but this year students were getting breakfast and then leaving.

Gustavo and Ann described to me that once a child knows basic math and reading skills, families often have them sell things or work to earn money for the family rather than continue their education. This school had 2 classrooms and ages from about 4 to 12. We waited to see how many students would come. I had fun with the kids pointing to a poster and asking them what the colors were. One teacher didn't show up while we were there which Gustavo and Ann were a bit concerned about. Hopefully he came after we left.

The second school was a breath of fresh air because this school did a great job keeping their students educated with fun projects. The director (like a principal) of the school was amazing! Although the educating is going well, I noticed that the classrooms are made of that thin metal that is used for roofs everywhere here and they have no lights inside so the rooms are very dark.

The third school that we visited we had to walk to because it was too steep for the truck. The school had a big Global Visionaries logo on the side. I thought this was awesome because I have done some work for that small organization in Seattle and they do have one office in Guatemala. What a small world! This school had a big ditch (a construction zone) below it and students entered the classroom on a bit of a cliff. There was no railing and it looked so dangerous! The teachers really appreciated the supplies and several invited us into their classrooms to greet their students and see their artwork. I introduced myself to the students. Apparently my name is really strange here because no one can get it right! I have to repeat my name about 4 times and then I feel like saying “call me whatever.”

Gustavo walked me through the neighborhood there. It consisted of the poor of the poor. It smelt like garbage (which was everywhere) and most people lived in tin houses with dirt floors. Despite this, I heard music blasting out of just about every other house. I told Sergio about this later. He said that people will starve to death, but they won’t go without their stereo for music. I'm glad that Gustavo walked me through that community. It was a good learning experience. Many thoughts ran through my head about life.

One more interesting story: The other day I was at a restaurant by myself. A man asked me how old I was so I told him that I was 26. He told me I looked like I was 15. I first thought, “Did I hear him right?” Then I thought, “That’s strange, I don’t look that young nor do I really want to.” Yesterday a male teacher asked me how old I was. I told him that I was 26. He told me that I was supposed to say “I’m 15.” It’s what women say here. Then I had to laugh to myself. I guess people grow up, get married, and have kids at such a young age here. According to Guatemalans now I’m probably way over the hill!

Two public schools in Guatemala

This morning I jumped in the back of a pickup with Ann around 7:30 a.m. It was filled with school supplies for 2 separate schools. I wasn’t sure what to expect for the day. Ann and I held tightly onto the sides of that old small pickup truck for about 40 minutes while it belched black smoke and at times barely seemed to make it over the hills. The scenery around Southern Guatemala is quite dramatic. It looks a bit like the land from Jurassic Park, with plush, green vegetation and mountainous terrain everywhere.

While sitting in the back of that truck, I feel like I could have taken a thousand photos for the cover of National Geographic. I saw young boys carrying sticks on their backs 3 times the length of their own bodies, women making tortillas over a fire in their open kitchen with their babies draped in cloth along their backs, large ox-like looking cattle (I don’t know their proper name) with huge horns tied up to the sides of buildings. Men were riding horses and pulling along pack horses with several feet of branches piled on their backs. Small trucks passed us (we were going quite slow) loaded with passengers, the “carpool of Central America.” The poverty was also quite striking. Huge landsides were covered with garbage. I saw a lot of houses with dirt floors and tin roves. Small children ran around outside in their native Indigenous clothes with no shoes on, looking like they hadn’t had a bath in awhile. The further we got from Antigua, the more blank stares I got from people while I sat in the back of the pickup. I don’t know if that was because they were not use to seeing gringos or if people there just don’t smile to greet each other (I think it’s the former).

We finally arrived at our first school. Ann had filled me in a little bit about the school. It was an elementary school with 9 teachers and I think, about 300 children. I wondered where so many children came from considering we were so far removed from a local village. The teachers were very warm and inviting. Almost all of the female teachers wore beautiful Mayan clothes, but the men did not. There are only a few villages within Guatemala where men still wear their native clothes all of the time. Most wear traditional clothes, if at all, only during special events. In this particular school, students are taught in Kaqchikel, their native tongue, and in Spanish.

Gustavo rallied the teachers and then introduced me to everyone. I introduced myself and described why I was there and my background. I was a little nervous to speak to all of the teachers in Spanish, but it seemed to go well. A few teachers, one in particular, thanked Ann and Gustavo and Avivara for the supplies. Ann later told me that it is an art form in Guatemala to be able to thank someone using articulate words. We got to visit the classrooms. One sixth grade classroom managed to fit about 25 students into such a tiny room, the desks had to be moved in order for students to get out. I wouldn’t believe a class could fit in there unless I saw it with my own eyes! The classrooms had VERY little supplies. Two new buildings were being built by the government, but the projects had been abandoned with the buildings three-fourths of the way finished quite awhile ago. What a shame! They would be so useful. The teachers were happy with their supplies. We said our goodbyes to the kids, who loved hugging us and holding our hands and we were on our way to the next school.

The next school was much bigger, but next to an area that looked even more impoverished. We walked around and I introduced myself with Gustavo to some students in the classroom, they were all divided with boys on one side and girls on the other. I recently learned that only 39% of Mayan women between 15 and 64 are literate. Many girls stay at home to help their mother and in their culture many believe that school is not the place for girls. The school had a fresh coat of paint and a beautiful mural that Ann and painted with students a few months ago. Until recently, the students had to bring buckets of water up for the school to use. This year they had tapped into a water source nearby for water, but that was “temporarily (that could be forever in Guatemalan time)” broken. All of the students brushed their teeth in a tub, which was good and bad. Brushing the teeth- good. Tub of unsanitary water- bad.

When the teachers were rallied Gustavo had me introduce myself again. He really likes to put me on the spot! I introduced myself and explained while I was there, finishing with stating that I was learning Spanish too. They all clapped when I finished and said that I already knew Spanish, which I thought was very sweet! I understood just about the entire dialog that Gustavo had with the teachers, which makes me feel so good about the progression of my Spanish. It’s so amazing what a little immersion can do.

Ann told me many stories of her adventures in Guatemala on our way back in the truck. I wish I could remember them all! One particularly poignant story that she told me was about a boy that they gave a scholarship to. He is 17 and in the sixth grade. Ann says that he is really smart. The boy has several brothers and sisters. Their mother abandoned them years ago and their father died not too long ago. The boy, although he loved school, wanted to work to earn money for his siblings. His siblings told him that he is the gifted one and must attend school. Now he works during the week and goes to school on the weekend in the city. It’s such a different world here! Kids have to grow up so fast. I recently read that the average years of schooling are 5.7 for Ladinos (those of mixed Mayan and Spanish decent) and only 2.5 for those of Indigenous decent. Children start working at a young age here rather than attending school.

This whole week, other than Friday, which Gustavo says is “cerveza day,” we will be visiting schools. I feel so lucky to get this insiders’ view of the state of education in Guatemala!

Time for a doctor's visit

This morning I went with Sergio to the doctor. Gary and Ann told me about a good private hospital to go to. I expected to enter something that looked like a hospital when we arrived. Instead the entire place looked a bit like a Guatemalan hotel. The walls were yellow stucco and the floors had a beautiful tile design. We went to the front desk and were directed to a doctor upstairs. I felt glad that Sergio was with me because I might not understand everything. I met with one doctor who checked my blood pressure and felt my stomach. I told him my symptoms as best I could in Spanish. Then he sent me to the lab. After that Sergio and I waited for the lab results. Once I received the lab results, which I didn’t really understand, we were sent to another doctor in the “emergency” room downstairs, which was really just one room with traces of medical equipment. The doctor made Sergio wait outside. He spoke really fast Spanish and barely took a breath, but luckily I got what he was saying. I have a high white blood cell count because I have a bacterial infection. I had to pay close to 1,000 Quetzals or the equivalent of $120 for the visit and the antibiotics. They wrote out several different receipts, all on carbon paper. I did pay more because it was a private hospital, but even half that would be nearly impossible for someone who makes about $3 a day.
Sergio gave me a ride home on his motorcycle because I was too tired to continue our “Spanish class”. I laid on the cold tile floor in my bedroom and napped for awhile. My energy has been so low that even getting off the floor sounded like a chore. I kept thinking about how truly lucky I am to have all of the amenities I do in the U.S. and to have family and friends near. I thought a lot about Scott and how much I missed him. I also thought about my mommy and how she would take care of me right now. Also, I kept picturing the average family here that lives so basically. What do they do when they are sick? Would they get antibiotics for their children? Can they?
Right now I am in the comfort of Gary and Ann’s home. It’s MUCH cooler than Teresa’s and they have TV (many channels in English)! I feel much better already and I feel so grateful for that! It’s always when you’ve just had a bout with sickness that you thank God for your health. Thanks, God. I’ll spend the next two days on Skype and then I’ll be off to two small Indigenous towns with Ann and Gustavo to give out school supplies. I can’t wait. Stay tuned for more adventures with Tara (now that I’m kickin’ this thing!)

The beginning of "the week of hell"

I met Sergio in the morning at Central Park and we did our normal routine. I started to feel achy throughout my body, but I attributed it to “the big climb” on Catenango. I told Sergio several times that I felt very tired and my energy level was low even though I had gone to bed early the night before. After our Spanish lesson, I bought Sergio some lunch at a very American bagel and coffee café to bribe him to give me a ride to Avivara on his motorcycle. I remember feeling cold chills and oh so achy as we traveled over the cobblestone and obnoxious speed bumps, just about every 200 feet. While working with Gary on our website updates, I started to shiver and my lips turned purple at the edges (always happens to me when I’m freezing), but my skin was hot. Not long after, I was on the “chicken bus” back to my home stay.
It’s now Thursday and I’ve spent almost all of my time either in my bed or in the bathroom since Monday when I left Gary’s. It is not fun to share a bathroom with 5 other people with these kinds of symptoms! I did go with Sergio yesterday to get antibiotics and a lot of Gatorade. Other than being on a natural weight loss plan (just kidding about that), this sickness has been horrible. I have no energy, except to make it to the bathroom before my pants explode, which got me going pretty fast a few times, I must admit. I haven’t even had the urge to journal until now (although there were only a few things I could journal about and I don’t think people want details). As I laid in my overly hot room these past few days, I have thought a lot about everyone at home and how much I love my friends and family and the city of Seattle. I feel especially lonely now. Tomorrow I will go to a hospital here in the city to see what they can do for me.

An Odd Way of Celebrating Mother's Day

Sergio told me a few days ago that there would be a procession in the streets on Sunday. I wasn’t sure who it was for and within seconds (we were on his motorcycle at the time) my brain moved on to other things like my Spanish and the busy 4-way intersection we were going through. Around 3 pm I heard the faint sounds of drums in the distance and instantly Sergio’s words flashed back. I was really curious to see what this procession was about. I grabbed my keys and camera and ran down the stairs and out the door. As the drums got louder, I found myself scurrying faster down the old cobblestone streets of Antigua in my dusty flip flops. I could see people standing in Central Park at the end of the street.
When I arrived there I was literally in owe (I think my mouth might have been hanging open). There was a procession of hundreds of people on the street right in front of me. I saw women wearing all black with black lace veils walking West down an avenida. Then men in black cloaks. The drum sound filled the air about every two seconds while the rest of the space was filled with this eerie silence. Men (priests maybe?) in purple cloaks swung incense that created a grey cloud in the air behind them. Out of the cloud came a huge replica of the Virgin Mary standing on a rectangular platform with angels, looking down at the people. I would guess 50 men were holding the replica at the base. It reminded me of a float during a parade in the states, only it was carried by men. They would take a step forward, one to the side, and then forward again. The “float” tipped back and forth and Mary’s cap swayed in the wind, giving her a life-like presence. I’ve never seen anything like this in the U.S! A crowd in black uniforms and a brass band followed. After several minutes of drum beats and silence, the band broke into a somber wail with their trumpets. I recorded moments of what I’d witnessed with my handy camcorder feature on my camera and then took several shots, many obscured by all of the people passing by. The tone of the evening was too somber and eerie for me. As they droned on down the street, I slipped away to find dinner at my home stay.
Around 6:30 pm, I told David I would meet up with him to visit a local bar with live flamenco guitar. As I headed out, back down the cobblestone streets, that same drum beat became apparent. Several hours later, the procession was still going, except that now the float was lit up with lights, creating quite a dramatic scene. I am so fascinated with this culture’s dedication to the Catholic religion. I found David and tried to show him the procession. He told me in his quirky English accent, “I've already seen several processions. Once you’ve seen one, you’ve bloody seen them all. Let’s take a jaunt to the bar (maybe not the exact words, I’m trying to sound English).”
After listening to a few songs at a brightly-colored café-by-day-bar-by-night kind of place, we met up with another group of extranjeros that accompanied our group to La Esquina (means corner in Spanish and it’s on the corner, go figure). One of them, Jeff, a man living in Texas but from Scotland, told me about a nonprofit he is starting for homeless here. He also told me about his trips to Africa. He said in Africa he had to have armed guards with him all of the time. People were really aggressive. Once a boy tried to steal his bag and one of his armed guards ran after the boy. Jeff doesn’t know what happened to the boy. He said that people don’t need much of a reason, if one at all, to shoot someone else there. It’s common to find bodies face down on the side of the road. Jeff said he would never go back. Maybe to Africa, but not to the country he had visited. His story stuck with me as we walked to La Esquina. I can’t imagine having to live in that kind of fear. I thought this place was bad, but Jeff gave me a new perspective.
We salsa danced for a bit and I started to feel off so David walked me home.

The Climb of My Life

My alarm blasted at 3:30 a.m. this morning. I had already been lying with my eyes open for quite some time, paranoid that my alarm wouldn’t go off. I gathered all of my stuff and the Spanish speaking tour driver picked me up at exactly 4 am and then we picked David up. It was still dark out as we drove up a bumpy dirt road. The moon and stars were bright and the car jumbled us around like candy in a piñata up a windy road. I could tell the road has to be constantly rebuilt from washouts. I don’t know if there is access up here during the rainy season. We past some small towns and finally made it to our destination. I really had NO IDEA what I was in for.
We were introduced to our guia (tour guide). The first thing that I noticed was the large machete in his hand. He stuck the machete in his pants and said, “Mi nombre es Peachy.” Peachy had a thick black mustache and wore a beanie, and an old sweatshirt. Before we left, our driver told us that we would have to look him up on Peachy’s cell phone when we needed to be picked up because Peachy could not read. At that moment I felt like we were a bit vulnerable given that we were in only God knows where, in the dark, with “Mr. machete man.”
Immediately we started our assent up the mountain with our head lamps on. With almost every step our feet sunk under a loose mixture of dirt and sand, which made it more difficult to climb. We passed several small farms growing corn and other crops on the sloping mountain side. I remember wondering how people got the crops down once harvested. The sky began to lighten as we walked and the sun casted beautiful shadows through the giant trees and vines around us.
After about an hour and a half of hiking at a severe incline I asked Peachy how much longer until we reached the top. I was already starting to breathe hard and my legs were feeling the burn. He said 3 or 4 more hours. Peachy told us that few tourists hike this because it is so strenuous and few do it in a day. I felt like it was as if I had been asked to do a little run that turned out to be a marathon. It was a Saturday, the most popular day for tourist activities and we didn’t see anyone climbing that day other than ourselves. After a short break, I sucked it up and we started to climb again. As we climbed and the altitude changed, so did the landscape. We went from farmland, to jungle, to cloud forest, to sparse trees, to nothing but ash and rocks at the top.
David and I saw a base camp and thought we saw the top about a mile in sight. We celebrated by jumping in the air and saying, “We are almost there. We are almost there!” My legs were pretty shot and my breathing was heavy. After our little celebration, Peachy said that that was not the top, we still have a few hours to go. I really questioned whether I could do it, but we pushed on.
The incline got even more steep. The weather had gone from warm to extremely chilly. The wind was whipping hard and it reminded me of waiting on the chairlift at the top of a mountain. We past the timber line at around 12,500 feet and the landscape started to resemble the moon with only rocks and dark sandy ash covering the ground. It looked like we were on the top of the world. We could see the tops of about 5 volcanoes, all sitting slightly below our altitude.
The last part of the journey, David and I stopped about every 30 feet because we were breathing hard from the altitude change and our legs had no energy left. Peachy, around 50 years old I’d say, made everything look effortless. To keep us moving he would walk ahead of us. A few times he looked like he was napping on the trail. As soon as we met up with him he would take off again. Once Peachy was at the crater of Catenanga he called for us hurry. We saw some big plumes of smoke coming from a nearby volcano (Fuego, I think). It took every ounce of my strength to run towards Peachy to get a better view. I saw the volcano explode, but didn’t get my camera out in time. Plumes of smoke and ash went into the air and then slowly drifted away like big clouds. It was AMAZING! We literally were on top of everything. There was a dark grey crater at the very top and some vents around it releasing hot air. We could walk all the way around the crater and see each of the volcanoes.
David wanted us to wait at the top for a few minutes to see if there was any more volcano activity from a nearby volcano (our volcano was considered dormant). I wrapped myself up and laid down in an area shielded from the wind. I closed my eyes for about 2 minutes and when I opened them we were in the middle of a cloud with almost no visibility. I was in awe of mother nature. That’s when we decided it was time to head back down the mountain.
Since the ground was so sloped and very sandy-like, the easiest way to get down was to do a gallop down the mountain side and let each foot slide in the sand several feet and then pray that you didn’t slip. Peachy could clear a mountainside this way in a matter of minutes. It was amazing to watch. The decent was thrilling and I could really put into perspective how much we had climbed in elevation. About 6,000 feet in all. Towards the end I fell several times and got a little scratched up, but we did a gallop for about two hours down the mountain at a pretty quick pace.
Once we made it back to the farm area, I saw how people harvested their land. Several people were carrying huge loads on their back. Peachy said they were from the nearby town and didn’t speak Spanish, but a Mayan dialect. As we past we would nod our heads to each other. There were little kids too, probably 7 or 8 years old with a pile of logs on their backs. The towns use wood to do all of their cooking. I really wanted to take a picture because I saw several guys riding bareback with machetes and families with HUGE loads on their backs dressed in Mayan attire, but I didn’t want to be “that tourist” that pulls out my camera and flashes the camera it in their faces so instead I took a mental picture.
Peachy took his machete and cut down a tree (while he was waiting for us) and then threw it on his back to bring home to his family. He told us his story along the way and once we got down to wait for our pickup after we had found our driver’s name on his phone. Peachy has two wives and 7 kids. I guess it is normal in the smaller towns for men to have more than one wife. He was missing part of his thumb which he had accidently cut off during his sleep (because he often sleeps in the brush with his machete). To meet us he had walked for over an hour in the dark from his town. We gave him a tip of 50 Quetzals, which is about $6 in U.S. dollars. Many people only make $1-$2 per day so he seemed pretty happy. As we drove off in the tour van, I saw him throw the large log on his back and march down a trail. Once we started our drive back, the majestic Catenanga came into view. We had hiked for over 8 hours, about 17 miles, and had ascended 6,000 feet. I know my body will remind me of that tomorrow. What a day! The climb of my life!

The Mayan Man

Sergio and I sipped coffee at my homestay house while we did a lot of bookwork with the verbs. I felt like my head was going to explode at the end. Then he drove me around on his motorcycle. It only starts if he turns it on and then we run along side of it until it gets going. We had “liquados” or fruit shakes in the market for the equivalent to $1 U.S. each. We read the Guatemalan paper, which is full of murders and people missing on just about every page. It’s a good reminder of the country that I am in.
After lunch, I went to Avivara, on the right bus. I did get off on an earlier stop and had to walk all the way through town and past where my bus was parked. I had wanted to make it to the right place this time and the bus driver told me to get off there, so I did. We both shrugged our shoulders when we saw each other because we both knew I had gotten off the bus too early.
I helped the kids at the afterschool center. At the end Gustavo had me stand up and try to say all of the students names in the class. This, I thought, was asking a bit much considering that the kids change every day, I work in Ann’s classroom most of the time, and many of the students go by several names like Juan Jose Carlos. Sometimes people call him Juan, sometimes Jose, sometimes Juan Jose Carlos. Yikes! Of course, I only knew about half of the students’ names so I had to read a book in Spanish to the kids. I told them that I was learning to read in Spanish just like them because I’m sure I said a few things a bit funny, but I think relating to them in this way helped.
Later on I met a guy in the park sitting on the bench next to me. I would guess that he was a few years younger than me, but he had led a rough life. He definitely had “working hands” and I knew he spent a lot of time doing hard labor. He had several gold teeth and looked very Mayan. I always thought that people of Mayan decent looked kind of Asian. Apparently, they are decedents of the Mongolians, hence their almond eyes. He asked me if he could read a few things in English to me because he is trying to learn English. The pamphlet that he had to learn English had several phrases with bad English grammar like “Her father go to store yesterday.” He would try to read the phrases and then I would repeat them. He seemed very pleased with himself and I knew that he had practiced these phrases quite a bit. His first language was Ketchikan, one of 22 Mayan languages spoken in Guatemala. It has a lot of clicks and deep throat sounds. He told me some things in his language and I tried to repeat them, but they were sounds I’ve never heard before. I feel like experiences like this give me a lot of insight about people who have lives so different from my own.
During the evening I arranged, through a tour company, for my English friend David and I to climb the tallest mountain here, Catenango. David is an English guy in his late 30’s with a pretty strong English accent. His accent is exactly the same in Spanish as it is in English. He calls learning Spanish “his new passion in his life” and I think it's great that he has found a new passion in life. Anyways, David really wanted to climb Acatanengo because he has done the others. Without looking much into it, I signed us up at the local tour agency.

Getting lost and dancing the night away

Sergio and I went to the San Francisco ruins today, a church and monastery built in the 1500s. The ruins were quite extensive and it was absolutely beautiful! We went there first thing in the morning so the sun was just starting to reflect off of the large pieces of the once elaborately-carved columns and fountains. The church of San Francisco dedicated much of its time and resources to help people with disabilities. We walked through the museum. It was full of prosthetic limbs and stories of individuals helped long ago by the church. There were also bones of saints buried in a section of the church that was still standing. As we walked around, my imagination ran wild. I recreated the San Francisco church as it once was and imaged people with prosthetic limbs walking out of the church doors. Sergio and I sat at a stone table surrounded by ruins and studied Spanish there. Every time I looked up I would think “wow!”

After lunch I got on the “chicken bus” to go to San Pedro Las Huertes to work with Avivara. By the time the bus reaches my stop it is filled with people. The buses are refurbished (and by that I simply mean colorfully painted) old school buses from the U.S. People sit 3 to a bench on the bus and the isles are packed with people standing. Oftentimes kids are hanging off the side and back of the bus. My friend said he saw a bus the other day with people getting a ride on the top! How they held on, I have no idea. Here, I don’t think they have the concept of “personal space.”
After waiting awhile on a packed bus, I realized that I was on the wrong bus. It was a bus to San Pedro… something else, not ‘San Pedro Las Huertes. Once the bus made its final stop I got off of it for a few minutes to see where I was at. Some kids from behind a building started throwing rocks at me. One hit me in the arm and left a bit of a sting. That’s when I decided that I better get back on the bus. In Antigua, tourists are normal, but it these smaller towns, I stick out like a sore thumb. I don’t think those kids would throw rocks at people from the community, but I was different and so probably an easy target.
After waiting for 40 minutes for the right bus, I decided to walk back to my house and work on things for Avivara from there instead.
That night I went out to salsa dance with several of my friends that I’ve met. They are people from all over the world and most of them are here to learn Spanish and several are working with nonprofits. At first there were only a few couples lighting up the dance floor. A live band jazzed while a man in a suit and white hat belted Spanish love songs. There were a few women in particular that where amazing. While watching them, I thought “I want to dance like that.” I ended up dancing most of the night and picked up a lot of moves. I signed up to have lessons with a private instructor. While I’m here I might as well learn to Salsa really well. I’ve always wanted to. My instructor is some short Latino guy with a pony tail. He is kind of cheesy and I forget his name (something really Latino), but he is a good dancer so it should be fun.

Some Guatemalan Culture

Yesterday Sergio and I went to a coffee farm. At the coffee farm I learned all about how coffee is grown, harvested, and roasted. It takes about 5 tubs of the coffee bean (it starts out as a red berry) to make 40 cups of coffee. The process from ground to cup is quite long! There are about 5 different types of coffee grown in Guatemala. The type depends upon what climate the coffee is grown in. Apparently the shade grown coffee from the mountains is the best although I think the source of my information may have had a little bias. I told several people at first about coffee and its importance to Seattle and how Starbucks was first founded in Seattle. Then I thought about it and really, there are no Starbucks in Guatemala. No wonder no one thought that was interesting! There was also a museum about the houses of the indigenous that grow coffee in different climates. In warm climates the houses are made out of bamboo with palm roofs. In the “colder climates,” which aren’t necessarily cold by our standards, the houses are made out of adobe (clay, mud, and grass). The similarity between all of the houses are that they are usually about the size of one American room with one window and a door. The whole family lives and cooks in that place.

This reminds me; I learned the other day that women here tend to dye early from lung cancer and other related lung diseases because they spend a good majority of their lives cooking food in a poorly ventilated area over a fire. There are quite a few organizations that have been installing stoves for families so that they aren’t inhaling smoke all of the time. Such an easy thing to do that really changes lives… hearing that makes me happier.

There was a section of the museum that was dedicated to music from all around Guatemala (how exactly this relates to coffee I don’t know.) It was really interesting to see the instruments the indigenous have used for centuries and what instruments were introduced into the culture from the Europeans. As I type this, I can hear someone playing the flute from my window. How ironic. Flutes are popular here, but I know now they were introduced by the Spaniards. Most of the indigenous instruments were made from some sort of dried fruit and animal skin such as drums, wooden xylophones, tambourines, and a few others I can’t even begin to describe.

I was so happy that I understood just about everything the tour guides told me. My Spanish is making vast improvements every day. It is so much mental work to speak 4 hours with Sergio in the mornings that I often feel exhausted when I am done. This morning I went with Sergio to a rooftop restaurant for some fresh fruit and coffee. I can literally say that this is the most beautiful place I’ve ever eaten a meal. It was a 360 degree view of volcanoes, church ruins, trees, house tops. I can’t wait to take Scott here when he comes! We talked about more philosophical things today which reminded me that my Spanish is really coming along. I also showed him pictures on my computer of my family and friends. I described the city of Seattle to him and showed him some postcards I purchased at the airport too. He will know me so well when we are done. I think I’ll have made a great friend!

Yesterday I also worked with students at the afterschool learning center. They are so smart and funny. At the end of the day while students are having their snack we now have this ritual where the kids ask me questions in Spanish about my life and I answer in Spanish. I don’t always answer correctly, but it makes for a good laugh sometimes (at least the kids think it’s pretty funny). Then they point to things and ask me how to say them in English. The kids always have “recurso” which is a snack that is healthy and often fortified with protein because they often don’t get enough nutrients at home. Yesterday I walked with Gary to a street where an indigenous women was selling fruit. Moments later I found myself cutting a handful of mangos for “recurso.”

El Mercado

My weekend has been pretty laid back. I worked on my Spanish and some school work. I found a little restaurant with a balcony and the clouds cleared for just enough time for me to see the tops of the volcanoes. Apparently lava flows from several of them. I saw one let off big plumes of smoke on my second day here. After eating at the restaurant, I asked for the check (in Spanish, of course). I wasn’t sure whether to leave the tip on the table or give it to the waitress and I couldn’t remember the name for tip (now I know it’s propina). After some gestures she took the money. I don’t think they would want me to leave it on the table. People can’t be trusted with money sitting out in Guatemala.

One interesting thing about this town (and most in Guatemala) is that there are a lot of precautions taken to protect people and property. Every big truck carrying supplies has two armed guards. The Coca Cola truck usually has more. All of the banks have armed guards. Every window has bars and all houses are behind walls. I wonder what goes on behind all of the walls because so much of the town is behind walls. The small stores all have metal bars so that there is only a space to pass purchased items through.

After haggling for a towel and some fruit at the Market, I sat in the “el parquet central” and watched the indigenous women with their brightly colored clothes carry big baskets on their heads from place to place. While some men played Andean music, I chatted with a man in Spanish about the town who was sitting in the park.
The market has every kind of fruit and vegetable I can think of plus a lot I have never tried before. It’s an outside market that is a bit rough on the edges, lots of tarps and tin roofs. Despite the poor construction, it is a place that fills the senses. There are all types of aromas from the food that people are selling. As I walked through, there were small indigenous girls yelling out whatever it was they were selling. There was a guy trying to sell electronics who had a mic hooked up to an old stereo, just to name a few. Even near the bus stop people were yelling out the names of the cities the buses were traveling to. It was explained to me that many people are illiterate and can’t even recognize the name of their own town in words. The colors at the market are brilliant. There are all sorts of brightly colored materials and the fruit and vegetables are spread out along either sides of the market in brilliant reds, greens, oranges, yellows, etc.