I just arrived in San Salvador.
I was in Antigua yesterday, but it wasn’t very exciting. It was much too touristy, and basically just consisted of pretty pictures and shopping. I also wasn’t feeling well, so I spent much of the day just relaxing.
Great final moment in Guatemala: The man at the border control told me my Spanish was really good. I guess I succeeded on my mission in Guate. then.
I didn’t want to leave Guatemala though.
Also, I forgot to mention something Fidel, one of the Guatemalan trip organizers, said as we were saying goodbye. He said that someone can cut down the branches, pick the fruit, and even chop the trunk of a tree down. But they can't remove the roots, and the roots will re-flourish and continue to grow. Life will always continue.
I still don’t feel well, so I’m going to go to sleep early.
And it’s really hot here.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
"Work With Your Heart"
February 21st, 2009. 3:18 PM
This is my final day in Guatemala. We just drove about 4.5 hours to the city of Antigua. I spent some time wondering around, looked at the beautiful churches, and bought some nice sandals since it’s going to be incredibly hot in El Salvador, and the only sandals I have with me are my breaking Old Navy flip flops. Antigua is a colonial city, and it’s one of the most well off cities in Guatemala today. It’s very beautiful, but also much too touristy for my liking. After being in places like Xela and Cantel, this just doesn’t do it for me. It really kind of just reminds me of Florida.
Let me get to the exciting (and sad) events from the past week! Saying good-bye to Xela was not easy, but I think that makes it even better because I really feel like I made strong connections there.
Last Friday was our last day of formal class. In the evening we had graduation at PLQ. They have a dinner and little celebration every week for the students that are finishing their studies. Then on Saturday morning I had to say good-bye to Yolanda (my host mama). She is the sweetest woman, and I’m so grateful that I had the opportunity to spend three weeks living with her. She told me that whenever I returned it was still my house, and made me promise to come for lunch the day that we were returning to Xela after our week in the rural villages.
After leaving Xela we drove to Santa Anita La Union, a small coffee finca closer to the coast. It is a community of ex-guerillas who came together after the war, managed to get their hands on same land, had their wives and children return from seeking refugee in Mexico, and started growing coffee and bananas to make a living. We heard from one man about their history and their struggles to compete with large coffee plantations. Their finca is completely organic, and they sell their coffee fair trade in the United States. We watched a documentary, which I had previously watched part of online. I really recommend watching it if you get a chance. It’s only about fifty minutes long, and it explains a lot of the history and the struggle of this community and of Guatemala. The film is called “Voice of a Mountain,” and can be watched online at: http://www.voiceofamountain.com/en/film.
Anyway, the area of Santa Anita was beautiful, and very calming after three weeks in the city. We went on a hike through a rainforest to a waterfall. We saw their bananas and their coffee growing. A man that walked with us also showed me this flower that, if you touch it, springs closed to protect its seeds inside. Nature never ceases to amaze me. Everything about it is so incredible. It just works, and it’s all balanced. I also saw my first rain in Guatemala. More like my first pouring rain actually. It’s not the rainy season, so it’s rare to see such heavy rain, but it’s needed, so it was good. The smells of rain and roasting coffee beans come to mind when I think back on my day on the finca.
On Sunday, our group divided into two and half went to the Mountain School which was located near Santa Anita, while I (and the other half), went to the community of Pachaj, located in Cantel, about fifteen minutes away from Xela. I’m so glad I chose to go to Pachaj, and I thoroughly enjoyed my week there. We stayed with families in groups of two’s and three’s. I lived with two other girls, and I absolutely loved my family. I got the opportunity to stay with Hermando, the Mayan priest who performed our ceremony the week before. His wife is gorgeous and so sweet, and his mom lived with us as well. She only spoke in Quiche, one of the indigenous Mayan languages, so I learned a little bit of the language, and tried to communicate as best as I could. She was adorable though and was always giggling. The children. They were my favorite part. I had a sister that was 15, Claudia, 13 year old Jorge, 11 year old Raul, 3 year old Dulce Maria, and 2 year old Hermando Junior. They were such a sweet family. The dynamic they had was incredible. Each child had so much responsibility, and they all took care/looked after one another. I really enjoyed spending time talking to Claudia and learning about her life and her role in the house. I found out about halfway through the week that the three older children have a different father. He had gone away to the United States to send back money to his family, but met someone else and never returned.
Speaking of family members going away to earn money to be sent back, one of our afternoon activities was visiting a local elementary school to see how the system is run and what the children are learning. We went into several different classes at different levels of learning. In each class we had the opportunity to ask questions, sing songs, and basically do whatever we wanted. The one thing that sticks out of my mind, maybe the most from the entire week, is when the question was asked about the children having family members in the United States. In each class, at least 2/3 of the students raised their hands, many of them saying it was their fathers who were away, others had uncles away. It just really changes my perspective on the illegal immigrants in the U.S. It breaks my heart that these families are being torn apart because they have to be, because they need to make this money to survive.
Back to my family for a second. One night we spent about two hours talking about ghosts, spirits, and scary stories. The spiritual realm has such a strong belief in these communities here. The most famous story they told is about the llorena, or the weeper. It’s a story about a woman whose father killed her child because he had impregnated her, and the woman was in such distress that she killed herself. Now the woman runs around crying for her lost child. The myth is that if you see her, you die. If you hear her and it sounds close, she is actually far, and vice versa. They also told me of their mom’s aunt who fell off a cliff in the mountains and died. Their mother was out in the fields, and she saw her aunt’s ghost and ran. I don’t know, it was interesting to me the belief in these stories and the connection with the spiritual realm.
My house was very modest, but also quite sufficient. The kitchen was the main gathering room, and food was cooked on an open fire in the corner. There were about three other rooms which served as bedrooms for all the members of the family. There was also a small enclosure for their three cows and one for their two pigs. The toilet was just a hole in the ground outside, with only three walls around it, so it was quite easy to see in. The shower was similar to my shower in Nicaragua last year. Just a little closet type thing where you simply use a bucket of water to bathe. It makes so much more sense and uses so much less water. I bucket bathed at night by candle light on the first night. It’s such a neat experience, and really makes me think about the luxuries we have in life that we simply take for granted.
Throughout the week we had class in the morning. My house was a 25 minute-ish walk to where we had our classes. The walk was beautiful though, because I was surrounded by mountains. The roads were all dirt roads, which gave the experience an authentic feel, but also angered me because of how much the government boasts about building up infrastructure. Anyway, it was really sad working with Ailsa for the last week. She’s a great woman, and I’m so happy that she has been my teacher for the past four weeks. We learned past and future tense all in four days, which was kind of rushed and my head is still kind of jumbled with it all. I need to keep studying!
Our afternoon activities were really interesting, and I enjoyed them all. We had a cooking class, where we learned to cook envueltos, which happened to be my favorite food that Yolanda had made for me, so I was quite happy to learn how to make it. We went to a hot springs that was designed for actual bathing, which was good because many people in my group did not bucket bathe once the entire week, so they smelled. We went to a glass blowing cooperative, which was a very cool thing to see. I got to blow the glass, but I blew too hard and made it fly off of the tube…Oops.
We also worked one afternoon with Hermando’s environmentalism project. He is a full-time volunteer for his project called Chicomendes, named after a man who was an environmentalist himself. The project aims to educate people about the environment and its importance, to plant trees in the surrounding mountains, and to fight against the governments wishes for the privatization of water. The project has planted 80,000 trees in the past year. We helped gather seeds for more trees. It was tiring work, because we picked hundreds and hundreds of seeds off of tree branches. It was also very rewarding, and I’m glad I could be a part of the project. I am really inspired by Hermando, and I would really like to continue to help his project thrive and succeed.
On the final day of class we played basketball against our teachers. I really miss playing games like that…being competitive and active. It was so fun and energizing, although we lost pretty badly. Oh well.
Overall, it was an incredible week. I was really inspired by a lot of things that went on around me. It frustrates me that people have so much ignorance to communities such as this one. Being a rural community while others are building up around you doesn’t mean that you don’t have the brains to do it. These people I met in Pachaj are some of the most creative and innovative, but they chose to live life a certain way, and value family and life more than material possessions. I think it’s a good thing, and I feel like they understand what life is about. I wish I could live so connected to everything around me. It was also weird for me to think about the fact that I got to come, experience what their lives were like, and then leave, and (eventually) return to mine. I’ve also been thinking about how weird it is that we see so many people every day…and will probably never see most of them again. I’ll never know their stories, and that kind of makes me sad. …but now I’m way off topic.
I also wish it were possible to raise a family the way families are in this community. The families are so close and so loving. The children grow up quickly and are responsible, yet they still have time to be kids and play with one another. In the U.S., I think we let people be adolescents for too long. I mean, people never really have to grow up. We have most things given to us. The children have to grow up here. They need to help their families survive. That’s such a responsibility. I don’t know…
I will certainly remember my time in Pachaj for a long time to come. The final night we had a bonfire to say good-bye and to wrap up the week. Two things my host daddy said really stuck with me:
“We need to break the chains that separate the world. And we need to unite.”
“Remember to work with your heart, and you’ll get better results.”
On Friday, we returned to Xela for the day. I ran around doing some errands/going places that I hadn’t been to in all my time there. Then I went back to Mama Yoli’s house for lunch. She was so happy to see me, and it made me feel really good. I realized what a good connection we had really made, but it also made me miss her all over again because I knew I would really have to leave after that. She did convince me to come eat one last pancake with her for breakfast the next morning, so before we departed from Xela, I woke up at six to go eat and see her one last time. I miss her, and I wish I could have lived with her longer.
Alright well tomorrow I’m off to El Salvador!
This is my final day in Guatemala. We just drove about 4.5 hours to the city of Antigua. I spent some time wondering around, looked at the beautiful churches, and bought some nice sandals since it’s going to be incredibly hot in El Salvador, and the only sandals I have with me are my breaking Old Navy flip flops. Antigua is a colonial city, and it’s one of the most well off cities in Guatemala today. It’s very beautiful, but also much too touristy for my liking. After being in places like Xela and Cantel, this just doesn’t do it for me. It really kind of just reminds me of Florida.
Let me get to the exciting (and sad) events from the past week! Saying good-bye to Xela was not easy, but I think that makes it even better because I really feel like I made strong connections there.
Last Friday was our last day of formal class. In the evening we had graduation at PLQ. They have a dinner and little celebration every week for the students that are finishing their studies. Then on Saturday morning I had to say good-bye to Yolanda (my host mama). She is the sweetest woman, and I’m so grateful that I had the opportunity to spend three weeks living with her. She told me that whenever I returned it was still my house, and made me promise to come for lunch the day that we were returning to Xela after our week in the rural villages.
After leaving Xela we drove to Santa Anita La Union, a small coffee finca closer to the coast. It is a community of ex-guerillas who came together after the war, managed to get their hands on same land, had their wives and children return from seeking refugee in Mexico, and started growing coffee and bananas to make a living. We heard from one man about their history and their struggles to compete with large coffee plantations. Their finca is completely organic, and they sell their coffee fair trade in the United States. We watched a documentary, which I had previously watched part of online. I really recommend watching it if you get a chance. It’s only about fifty minutes long, and it explains a lot of the history and the struggle of this community and of Guatemala. The film is called “Voice of a Mountain,” and can be watched online at: http://www.voiceofamountain.com/en/film.
Anyway, the area of Santa Anita was beautiful, and very calming after three weeks in the city. We went on a hike through a rainforest to a waterfall. We saw their bananas and their coffee growing. A man that walked with us also showed me this flower that, if you touch it, springs closed to protect its seeds inside. Nature never ceases to amaze me. Everything about it is so incredible. It just works, and it’s all balanced. I also saw my first rain in Guatemala. More like my first pouring rain actually. It’s not the rainy season, so it’s rare to see such heavy rain, but it’s needed, so it was good. The smells of rain and roasting coffee beans come to mind when I think back on my day on the finca.
On Sunday, our group divided into two and half went to the Mountain School which was located near Santa Anita, while I (and the other half), went to the community of Pachaj, located in Cantel, about fifteen minutes away from Xela. I’m so glad I chose to go to Pachaj, and I thoroughly enjoyed my week there. We stayed with families in groups of two’s and three’s. I lived with two other girls, and I absolutely loved my family. I got the opportunity to stay with Hermando, the Mayan priest who performed our ceremony the week before. His wife is gorgeous and so sweet, and his mom lived with us as well. She only spoke in Quiche, one of the indigenous Mayan languages, so I learned a little bit of the language, and tried to communicate as best as I could. She was adorable though and was always giggling. The children. They were my favorite part. I had a sister that was 15, Claudia, 13 year old Jorge, 11 year old Raul, 3 year old Dulce Maria, and 2 year old Hermando Junior. They were such a sweet family. The dynamic they had was incredible. Each child had so much responsibility, and they all took care/looked after one another. I really enjoyed spending time talking to Claudia and learning about her life and her role in the house. I found out about halfway through the week that the three older children have a different father. He had gone away to the United States to send back money to his family, but met someone else and never returned.
Speaking of family members going away to earn money to be sent back, one of our afternoon activities was visiting a local elementary school to see how the system is run and what the children are learning. We went into several different classes at different levels of learning. In each class we had the opportunity to ask questions, sing songs, and basically do whatever we wanted. The one thing that sticks out of my mind, maybe the most from the entire week, is when the question was asked about the children having family members in the United States. In each class, at least 2/3 of the students raised their hands, many of them saying it was their fathers who were away, others had uncles away. It just really changes my perspective on the illegal immigrants in the U.S. It breaks my heart that these families are being torn apart because they have to be, because they need to make this money to survive.
Back to my family for a second. One night we spent about two hours talking about ghosts, spirits, and scary stories. The spiritual realm has such a strong belief in these communities here. The most famous story they told is about the llorena, or the weeper. It’s a story about a woman whose father killed her child because he had impregnated her, and the woman was in such distress that she killed herself. Now the woman runs around crying for her lost child. The myth is that if you see her, you die. If you hear her and it sounds close, she is actually far, and vice versa. They also told me of their mom’s aunt who fell off a cliff in the mountains and died. Their mother was out in the fields, and she saw her aunt’s ghost and ran. I don’t know, it was interesting to me the belief in these stories and the connection with the spiritual realm.
My house was very modest, but also quite sufficient. The kitchen was the main gathering room, and food was cooked on an open fire in the corner. There were about three other rooms which served as bedrooms for all the members of the family. There was also a small enclosure for their three cows and one for their two pigs. The toilet was just a hole in the ground outside, with only three walls around it, so it was quite easy to see in. The shower was similar to my shower in Nicaragua last year. Just a little closet type thing where you simply use a bucket of water to bathe. It makes so much more sense and uses so much less water. I bucket bathed at night by candle light on the first night. It’s such a neat experience, and really makes me think about the luxuries we have in life that we simply take for granted.
Throughout the week we had class in the morning. My house was a 25 minute-ish walk to where we had our classes. The walk was beautiful though, because I was surrounded by mountains. The roads were all dirt roads, which gave the experience an authentic feel, but also angered me because of how much the government boasts about building up infrastructure. Anyway, it was really sad working with Ailsa for the last week. She’s a great woman, and I’m so happy that she has been my teacher for the past four weeks. We learned past and future tense all in four days, which was kind of rushed and my head is still kind of jumbled with it all. I need to keep studying!
Our afternoon activities were really interesting, and I enjoyed them all. We had a cooking class, where we learned to cook envueltos, which happened to be my favorite food that Yolanda had made for me, so I was quite happy to learn how to make it. We went to a hot springs that was designed for actual bathing, which was good because many people in my group did not bucket bathe once the entire week, so they smelled. We went to a glass blowing cooperative, which was a very cool thing to see. I got to blow the glass, but I blew too hard and made it fly off of the tube…Oops.
We also worked one afternoon with Hermando’s environmentalism project. He is a full-time volunteer for his project called Chicomendes, named after a man who was an environmentalist himself. The project aims to educate people about the environment and its importance, to plant trees in the surrounding mountains, and to fight against the governments wishes for the privatization of water. The project has planted 80,000 trees in the past year. We helped gather seeds for more trees. It was tiring work, because we picked hundreds and hundreds of seeds off of tree branches. It was also very rewarding, and I’m glad I could be a part of the project. I am really inspired by Hermando, and I would really like to continue to help his project thrive and succeed.
On the final day of class we played basketball against our teachers. I really miss playing games like that…being competitive and active. It was so fun and energizing, although we lost pretty badly. Oh well.
Overall, it was an incredible week. I was really inspired by a lot of things that went on around me. It frustrates me that people have so much ignorance to communities such as this one. Being a rural community while others are building up around you doesn’t mean that you don’t have the brains to do it. These people I met in Pachaj are some of the most creative and innovative, but they chose to live life a certain way, and value family and life more than material possessions. I think it’s a good thing, and I feel like they understand what life is about. I wish I could live so connected to everything around me. It was also weird for me to think about the fact that I got to come, experience what their lives were like, and then leave, and (eventually) return to mine. I’ve also been thinking about how weird it is that we see so many people every day…and will probably never see most of them again. I’ll never know their stories, and that kind of makes me sad. …but now I’m way off topic.
I also wish it were possible to raise a family the way families are in this community. The families are so close and so loving. The children grow up quickly and are responsible, yet they still have time to be kids and play with one another. In the U.S., I think we let people be adolescents for too long. I mean, people never really have to grow up. We have most things given to us. The children have to grow up here. They need to help their families survive. That’s such a responsibility. I don’t know…
I will certainly remember my time in Pachaj for a long time to come. The final night we had a bonfire to say good-bye and to wrap up the week. Two things my host daddy said really stuck with me:
“We need to break the chains that separate the world. And we need to unite.”
“Remember to work with your heart, and you’ll get better results.”
On Friday, we returned to Xela for the day. I ran around doing some errands/going places that I hadn’t been to in all my time there. Then I went back to Mama Yoli’s house for lunch. She was so happy to see me, and it made me feel really good. I realized what a good connection we had really made, but it also made me miss her all over again because I knew I would really have to leave after that. She did convince me to come eat one last pancake with her for breakfast the next morning, so before we departed from Xela, I woke up at six to go eat and see her one last time. I miss her, and I wish I could have lived with her longer.
Alright well tomorrow I’m off to El Salvador!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Mayan Traditions, Class, and Hot Springs.
February 11, 2009. 11:15 de la noche.
So I just wanted to update on the last two days, because they have been jam-packed. Yesterday I really enjoyed my class a lot. I was all there, not daydreaming about anything or thinking about other things. I was present with my teacher, and it really does make the experience better for both of us. I love how, when doing practice exercises, answering questions, etc., we launch into huge conversations that just go from one thing to the other. For example, we were doing a worksheet that asked me if I remembered my first boyfriend. I said yes, and she asked me at what age. From there we talked about trends in ages of first relationships in both the United States and in Guatemala. Then we talked about sex in relationships, and young people having sex before they receive any sex education. From there we talked about abortion and how it is illegal in Guatemala because it is against the church. 99.5% of people in Guatemala are religious in some sense. There are also seven women for every one man in Guatemala, which is attributed to the losses that occurred during the times of violence here. I don’t know, I just really feel like I learn a lot from Ailsa, and I’m so thankful that she happened to be my teacher for these past three weeks.
After school, we drove and then hiked up a mountain to attend a traditional Mayan ceremony. It is really beautiful, and I really respect the Mayan people and traditions. I feel like they have something right. The man leading the ceremony told us that a Mayan person has not an ounce of hatred in his heart. They are so connected to nature and the world around them…it’s the kind of thing I’ve always aspired to have…that connectedness. It really frustrates me that these traditions are disappearing. It makes me angry at the Church, but then, so many people hold onto the church to help them continue through the hardships in their lives. Anyway, it’s also interesting to note that the Mayans believe in one G-d. I have a lot of notes on Mayan traditions, so I’ll review those and add to this. To prepare for the ceremony the man made the Mayan cross, which symbolizes balance, on the ground with sugar. He then placed different items such as chocolate, candies, limes, a type of plant, and some spices in such ways that resembled the balance and the cardinal directions. The ceremony had different parts…first the part to give an offering and ask to be cleansed from any wrongs you committed, then to thank the Creator for everything you have, and finally to ask for things you want to achieve in the future. After that, we were all cleansed with sage and a Quiche prayer. The entire ceremony was done in Quiche, the local Mayan language. It was a very moving experience, and I really felt more peaceful and calm afterward. I think it’s one of three of the most spiritual moments I have ever had. The first was in the sweat lodge with Gabe, the second was davening in Kol Rina, and this is the third. Beautiful.
Today was an alright day of class. I kind of felt like it dragged a bit, but it’s okay. Towards the end, we looked at some photos I have on my computer, because my teacher loves to see what my life is like. I came across my Nicaragua photos from last spring, and I was very surprised at Ailsa’s reaction. She kept repeating how sad it was that these people were so poor, that they had to live the way they live. I guess I didn’t expect someone with so little herself to have that much compassion to these people that maybe have even less. People never stop surprising me.
Afterward, we went to Fuentes Georginas, which are hot springs at the top of a mountain. It was beautiful, and it was completely in the clouds. It’s a cool feeling up there among the clouds. It’s weird to look down from that high up and be above where the birds are flying. It’s so beautiful though. This country just unfolds more and more beauty for me to see everyday. I love it. The water was so hot, but I think it’s what I needed to relax (I also found out today that Hebrew U. never received my final paper for one of my classes, which I KNOW I turned in, so it was quite frustrating).
After the hot springs I went to a forum on Palestine-Israel, dismantling myths. It was put on by the Committee in Solidarity with the Palestinian People. I tried to go in with an open mind, but the propaganda that’s thrown at a room full of people just makes me nauseas. They had photos from Gaza, although it’s hard for me to trust any photos that I’m shown, since I know how much they are changed for propaganda, etc. They also had a photo of the Israeli flag fade into a flag just like it, except with a swastika. The conversation was all in very fast Spanish, but I tried to follow it as much as I possibly could. They talked about Hamas, and how it was democratically elected, and now people are trying to bring it down, and they compared it to the ten years of democracy in Guatemala in’44-’54 before it was brought down. I have to disagree with the democratic nature of Hamas’ election, because I think it was more a plea for something new than anything else. People were tired of the corruption of the PLO and wanted a change, and Hamas was there offering help and charity work, so they won. I think most people that voted for Hamas don’t even really like Hamas. The men said that Hamas is legitimate in it’s terrorism because it’s a resistance movement against the Israeli occupation, so what else are they supposed to do? They also then mentioned that they themselves are definitely not Hamas supporters.
I don’t know…I guess it just kind of scares me that this kind of thing is going on in Central America. I’m all about learning facts and figures, but when it’s a one-sided, propaganda-oriented event, it kind of makes me sick. But I guess I was expecting to feel this way. What I wasn’t expecting was the respect I felt for the three Muslim men that spoke to the crowd. I felt almost proud of them for telling their stories and sharing their opinions with so much passion.
I’m just really conflicted.
And I’m going to sleep.
<3
So I just wanted to update on the last two days, because they have been jam-packed. Yesterday I really enjoyed my class a lot. I was all there, not daydreaming about anything or thinking about other things. I was present with my teacher, and it really does make the experience better for both of us. I love how, when doing practice exercises, answering questions, etc., we launch into huge conversations that just go from one thing to the other. For example, we were doing a worksheet that asked me if I remembered my first boyfriend. I said yes, and she asked me at what age. From there we talked about trends in ages of first relationships in both the United States and in Guatemala. Then we talked about sex in relationships, and young people having sex before they receive any sex education. From there we talked about abortion and how it is illegal in Guatemala because it is against the church. 99.5% of people in Guatemala are religious in some sense. There are also seven women for every one man in Guatemala, which is attributed to the losses that occurred during the times of violence here. I don’t know, I just really feel like I learn a lot from Ailsa, and I’m so thankful that she happened to be my teacher for these past three weeks.
After school, we drove and then hiked up a mountain to attend a traditional Mayan ceremony. It is really beautiful, and I really respect the Mayan people and traditions. I feel like they have something right. The man leading the ceremony told us that a Mayan person has not an ounce of hatred in his heart. They are so connected to nature and the world around them…it’s the kind of thing I’ve always aspired to have…that connectedness. It really frustrates me that these traditions are disappearing. It makes me angry at the Church, but then, so many people hold onto the church to help them continue through the hardships in their lives. Anyway, it’s also interesting to note that the Mayans believe in one G-d. I have a lot of notes on Mayan traditions, so I’ll review those and add to this. To prepare for the ceremony the man made the Mayan cross, which symbolizes balance, on the ground with sugar. He then placed different items such as chocolate, candies, limes, a type of plant, and some spices in such ways that resembled the balance and the cardinal directions. The ceremony had different parts…first the part to give an offering and ask to be cleansed from any wrongs you committed, then to thank the Creator for everything you have, and finally to ask for things you want to achieve in the future. After that, we were all cleansed with sage and a Quiche prayer. The entire ceremony was done in Quiche, the local Mayan language. It was a very moving experience, and I really felt more peaceful and calm afterward. I think it’s one of three of the most spiritual moments I have ever had. The first was in the sweat lodge with Gabe, the second was davening in Kol Rina, and this is the third. Beautiful.
Today was an alright day of class. I kind of felt like it dragged a bit, but it’s okay. Towards the end, we looked at some photos I have on my computer, because my teacher loves to see what my life is like. I came across my Nicaragua photos from last spring, and I was very surprised at Ailsa’s reaction. She kept repeating how sad it was that these people were so poor, that they had to live the way they live. I guess I didn’t expect someone with so little herself to have that much compassion to these people that maybe have even less. People never stop surprising me.
Afterward, we went to Fuentes Georginas, which are hot springs at the top of a mountain. It was beautiful, and it was completely in the clouds. It’s a cool feeling up there among the clouds. It’s weird to look down from that high up and be above where the birds are flying. It’s so beautiful though. This country just unfolds more and more beauty for me to see everyday. I love it. The water was so hot, but I think it’s what I needed to relax (I also found out today that Hebrew U. never received my final paper for one of my classes, which I KNOW I turned in, so it was quite frustrating).
After the hot springs I went to a forum on Palestine-Israel, dismantling myths. It was put on by the Committee in Solidarity with the Palestinian People. I tried to go in with an open mind, but the propaganda that’s thrown at a room full of people just makes me nauseas. They had photos from Gaza, although it’s hard for me to trust any photos that I’m shown, since I know how much they are changed for propaganda, etc. They also had a photo of the Israeli flag fade into a flag just like it, except with a swastika. The conversation was all in very fast Spanish, but I tried to follow it as much as I possibly could. They talked about Hamas, and how it was democratically elected, and now people are trying to bring it down, and they compared it to the ten years of democracy in Guatemala in’44-’54 before it was brought down. I have to disagree with the democratic nature of Hamas’ election, because I think it was more a plea for something new than anything else. People were tired of the corruption of the PLO and wanted a change, and Hamas was there offering help and charity work, so they won. I think most people that voted for Hamas don’t even really like Hamas. The men said that Hamas is legitimate in it’s terrorism because it’s a resistance movement against the Israeli occupation, so what else are they supposed to do? They also then mentioned that they themselves are definitely not Hamas supporters.
I don’t know…I guess it just kind of scares me that this kind of thing is going on in Central America. I’m all about learning facts and figures, but when it’s a one-sided, propaganda-oriented event, it kind of makes me sick. But I guess I was expecting to feel this way. What I wasn’t expecting was the respect I felt for the three Muslim men that spoke to the crowd. I felt almost proud of them for telling their stories and sharing their opinions with so much passion.
I’m just really conflicted.
And I’m going to sleep.
<3
"In the Conflict of Some, Others Were Paying the Price."
February 9, 2009. 7:40 PM
Oy vey. So much has gone on in the past few days. I really need to get one this writing thing, but I find myself saying that a lot on every trip I go on. It’s so hard to keep up. This is going to be very sporadic and stream of conscious-y, but I think it will work.
We watch a movie every week in Spanish class, and then have an oral exam on it the next day. Last weeks movie was one of the best, but most horrific movies I have ever seen. It is called Voces Inocentes, and it is the story of the civil war that lasted twelve years in El Salvador. It is told through the eyes of an eleven year old boy who held a lot of responsibility and had a lot of love within him. Watching the movie, and realizing that it was a reality to so many people, is a scary thing to see. I find this over and over again here. Hearing from real people about events that seem unimaginable, but they’ve experienced them. It is real. The boy in the movie watches as people die around him, as he fights for his family, his love, and his life. The movie also points out that, just like here in Guatemala, the United States gave money, weapons, and training to the El Salvadoran army who was committing awful acts of murder and using tactics of forced recruitment to boys of age twelve. Most people in America don’t know that the U.S. involves itself in such things as it claims to fight for freedom and democracy. We don’t know because we don’t need to know. We are privileged, and what America does around the world doesn’t really affect us very much at all. We stand proud in America, and then wonder why others look down upon us. It’s strange to think that while all this was going on no that long ago, no one knew that it was occurring. It makes me wonder what is going on now that we don’t know about at all. I don’t know. I just don’t think this world makes a lot of sense. But then, have I ever thought that it has?
So the day after the movie, during my oral exam, Rosario, one of the three teachers there for the exam decided to lighten the mood, so instead of discussing the movie as thoroughly as we could have, we switched the topic to jokes in Spanish. They started as innocently as what does one tomato say to the other? Ketchup! Or Is a pig or a wolf more clean? A pig because when you ask it when it showered last it says “Hoy, Hoy, Hoy! (Today, Today, Today!)” but then Milton pulled out the dirty jokes, which were quite amusing as well. And I was excited to be able to understand all the jokes in Spanish! Then the professors explained how much they enjoy a good life. Life here can be rough and upsetting sometimes, they said, but the joy of laughter is one that everyone should remember that they hold inside of them. I think it’s a good lesson to hold onto. Remember to laugh.
I learned even more about my teacher. She was really upset after watching the movie because she has a son that is 11 years old, who, like the boy in the movie, is the man of the house. It was upsetting to see her remember when she heard the gun shots in the early ‘80s, when the reality I watched on the television screen could have been hers or any of the other many local people I’ve met on this trip. Also, she is one of 18 children. Yes, 18. She grew up in a farm and rode the horses from her house to the fields every morning at 3 am with her father. She didn’t enjoy waking up, but she did enjoy the time spent with her father and the work they did in the fields. She did this until 1980-82, when they had to leave the mountains because the brutality of the war was becoming too much, and they heard the army every night. Also, her father went to the hospital last Monday. She couldn’t go with him because she had to work to keep supporting her four children. It turns out he has blocked arteries in his heart, but they cannot afford surgery. He is taking a pill for Q300 each (about $40), which they can’t really afford either. I just feel awful hearing something like that. It makes me just want to give them the money, but at the same time, free gifts are not the way to sustainable living. But if they are the way to living then isn’t it worth it? I pray that he makes a fast recovery with these pills. I know Ailsa doesn’t need more bad news in her life.
I have noticed one thing about this country. Aside from the humor to keep things lighter, this place is more colorful than any other place I’ve seen in my travels. The cemeteries are all beautiful, which is an interesting twist and change from our dreary American ones. Shops and homes and brightly colored. It’s true that colors affect moods, and sometimes when I just take in all the colors, I just can’t help but smile, and breathe deeply.
This past weekend was our free weekend in Guatemala. To see everything I wanted to see I’d need a free two months, so this wasn’t exactly perfect. We went to Lake Atitlan to the city of Panajachel. To get there (and back) we took chicken buses, which were probably one of the scariest experiences of my life. Swerving up and down winding mountain roads in an extremely overcrowded bus is not my idea of fun. When I say overcrowded, I mean 4 people in a seat that holds 2, throughout the entire bus. They get so full that the man collecting money rides holding onto the back of the bus and climbs on top of it to reach the front door while we are still moving. It’s some scary stuff. On the way back we took a microbus for part of it that was meant to hold probably 12 people. We had 33 people inside of it at one point. Oy. Anyway, it was very touristy in that city, but the lake was absolutely gorgeous. It is surrounded by mountains and volcanoes. When Joe described it to us before we went he said that, “It completely took him,” and I can see why/how that would be so. I took a boat with Jeremy, Chelsea, and Alana to another village on the lake called San Marcos. It was much less touristy and kind of an escape from civilization, which was really nice and relaxing. You can rent a furnished room there for 800Q a month (about $100). I would love to do that one day.
I have really gotten annoyed with my group on several occasions. These are not the type of people I would have expected to be drawn to a trip of this nature. I feel like a lot of times, people forget that we’re not in America. On this kind of trip, you can’t forget that. You can’t loose perspective, and you can’t forget that you’re looking at everything from a different perspective than the people who live here. We are living completely different lives, yet we can connect, and we can befriend. As long as you’re not rude. Some people in my group have yelled at people as they approach to sell things, or have gotten annoyed with people taking to long to serve food. I think it’s all part of the experience. It’s all part of the story, and it’s what we are here to take in. We should be here to appreciate it, not devalue it.
I’ve been thinking a lot. About life, and about what I want. I realized that as a child I wanted to be an artist, and I always wanted to own my own store. It’s interesting that those childhood dreams are actually what I’ve decided that I really want. My ideal, dream job would be owning a café where I would have a workshop and sell my art and jewelry. It would also be a used book store, and I’d have games and a movie viewing room. It would be kosher, and closed on Shabbat. There would be a corner for children, so when I have kids, I continue to work and still watch them. I would have local artists/musicians, workshops, and activities throughout the week. I think it’s perfect.
I met a man at the lake who does the most incredible jewelry, which I would have bought all of if I had more that $7 total with me. He uses a scroll saw type thing to carve out and remove parts of coins and then leaves beautiful designs, etc. in them. It’s a brilliant idea, and one I want to try ASAP. I did buy a charm he made from a 100 Yen coin. It’s the same type of coin I have taped into my wallet…one with flowers. It’s really beautiful.
Oh, so in Spanish class, I learned the story of the Quetzal, the bird that is such a huge symbol here in Guate. It’s a symbol of freedom, because the bird can’t survive when confined to small areas. The story goes as follows: There was a boy who lived in a small village in the mountains. When he was born, he was giving the hummingbird as a symbol of good luck. All of the people in the village liked him a lot. On his birthday, he was to become a man. An elder came out from under a tree and made a prophecy that Quetzal would live forever, from generation to generation. Everyone was so happy, except for the chief’s son, who was the same age as Quetzal. Soon after the birthday, the chief died and the elders voted Quetzal to be the new chief. The chief’s son had feared this, and had to do something about it. He decided Quetzal must have some kind of protecting charm that protects him from all harm. That night he went to his bedroom and checked around his neck for a charm, but found nothing. As he was leaving he saw a hummingbird flower at the top of his bed. He knew instantly that it was what he was looking for, and took it. The next day, Quetzal was walking through the forest when a hummingbird landed upon his shoulder and warned him of danger from a man seeking his death. Quetzal questioned him, but got no response. Seconds later, an arrow came whizzing through the air and hit Quetzal in the chest. He fell to the ground and closed his eyes expecting to die. Instead his body began to turn into a beautiful bird. His feathers were the color of the grass around him, and his chest feathers were red from the blood that was there. His tail was painted with beautiful colors by the afternoon sun. And in this way, Quetzal has lived on among the people, and in this way, he will always live.
The name Chichicastenango (the city I went to last last weekend) is for the flower Chichicaste. It’s a flower that grows out of the rocks in the mountain sides. It has a beautiful purple flower, which is very, very poisonous. It is also a very durable plant that is impossible to get rid of.
I have been feeling sick the past couple of days, but knock on wood, I am feeling much better today. For the first time in my life I felt what it was like to not have an appetite. It was kind of nice not having to eat/spend money to eat, but I suppose that’s not healthy either.
I have really been selective in the photos I take here. When I went to Nicaragua and Lesotho previously, I took a lot of pictures of the people, and especially the children, without even knowing all of them very well. I realized how weird that is, and how creeped out I would be if some stranger ran up to my children and took pictures of them (that’s also bad here because of children being kidnapped to be sold for adoption purposes). I just feel, too, like it really is a type of exploitation. These are their lives, and it’s not my place to ooh and ahh at their fortunes/misfortunes.
Today I heard an amazing lecture from a civilian man about his experiences during the time of the violence here in Guate. It was interesting that he was more passionate than both the ex-Guerilla or the man in the army. I am getting a bit tired, so I am just going to jot down some quotes of his, and I’ll talk more about it later.
“in the conflict of some, others were paying the price”
“couldn’t imagine taking up arms, pointing a gun at someone and saying ‘You die because you are the enemy of someone.’”
“A society that has experienced conflict is not a society that is emotionally free.”
“I cannot easily applaud the heroes of war, or just point my finger and say they were the bad in war. Even less, I can’t forget the civilians during the time of war”
“Can’t imagine thinking that because we think differently, and because I think better than you, I have the right to kill you.”
“Life and Freedom are the two most essential human rights. Politics and religion should come after.”
When tempted to take a side in a conflict, take time to consider distinct implications that come out of conflict. It is not black and white, there are many tones, implications, things that come up from below. Don’t romanticize ideologically, because it makes us loose perspective.
“It’s easy to be on the left when you haven’t paid any personal price.”
It really made me think. And I’m still processing at all.
Alright, I’m going to go. Only 4 more days left in Xela, and all of those days are jam-packed with things to do. Hopefully I’ll write again before the week is through.
<3
Oy vey. So much has gone on in the past few days. I really need to get one this writing thing, but I find myself saying that a lot on every trip I go on. It’s so hard to keep up. This is going to be very sporadic and stream of conscious-y, but I think it will work.
We watch a movie every week in Spanish class, and then have an oral exam on it the next day. Last weeks movie was one of the best, but most horrific movies I have ever seen. It is called Voces Inocentes, and it is the story of the civil war that lasted twelve years in El Salvador. It is told through the eyes of an eleven year old boy who held a lot of responsibility and had a lot of love within him. Watching the movie, and realizing that it was a reality to so many people, is a scary thing to see. I find this over and over again here. Hearing from real people about events that seem unimaginable, but they’ve experienced them. It is real. The boy in the movie watches as people die around him, as he fights for his family, his love, and his life. The movie also points out that, just like here in Guatemala, the United States gave money, weapons, and training to the El Salvadoran army who was committing awful acts of murder and using tactics of forced recruitment to boys of age twelve. Most people in America don’t know that the U.S. involves itself in such things as it claims to fight for freedom and democracy. We don’t know because we don’t need to know. We are privileged, and what America does around the world doesn’t really affect us very much at all. We stand proud in America, and then wonder why others look down upon us. It’s strange to think that while all this was going on no that long ago, no one knew that it was occurring. It makes me wonder what is going on now that we don’t know about at all. I don’t know. I just don’t think this world makes a lot of sense. But then, have I ever thought that it has?
So the day after the movie, during my oral exam, Rosario, one of the three teachers there for the exam decided to lighten the mood, so instead of discussing the movie as thoroughly as we could have, we switched the topic to jokes in Spanish. They started as innocently as what does one tomato say to the other? Ketchup! Or Is a pig or a wolf more clean? A pig because when you ask it when it showered last it says “Hoy, Hoy, Hoy! (Today, Today, Today!)” but then Milton pulled out the dirty jokes, which were quite amusing as well. And I was excited to be able to understand all the jokes in Spanish! Then the professors explained how much they enjoy a good life. Life here can be rough and upsetting sometimes, they said, but the joy of laughter is one that everyone should remember that they hold inside of them. I think it’s a good lesson to hold onto. Remember to laugh.
I learned even more about my teacher. She was really upset after watching the movie because she has a son that is 11 years old, who, like the boy in the movie, is the man of the house. It was upsetting to see her remember when she heard the gun shots in the early ‘80s, when the reality I watched on the television screen could have been hers or any of the other many local people I’ve met on this trip. Also, she is one of 18 children. Yes, 18. She grew up in a farm and rode the horses from her house to the fields every morning at 3 am with her father. She didn’t enjoy waking up, but she did enjoy the time spent with her father and the work they did in the fields. She did this until 1980-82, when they had to leave the mountains because the brutality of the war was becoming too much, and they heard the army every night. Also, her father went to the hospital last Monday. She couldn’t go with him because she had to work to keep supporting her four children. It turns out he has blocked arteries in his heart, but they cannot afford surgery. He is taking a pill for Q300 each (about $40), which they can’t really afford either. I just feel awful hearing something like that. It makes me just want to give them the money, but at the same time, free gifts are not the way to sustainable living. But if they are the way to living then isn’t it worth it? I pray that he makes a fast recovery with these pills. I know Ailsa doesn’t need more bad news in her life.
I have noticed one thing about this country. Aside from the humor to keep things lighter, this place is more colorful than any other place I’ve seen in my travels. The cemeteries are all beautiful, which is an interesting twist and change from our dreary American ones. Shops and homes and brightly colored. It’s true that colors affect moods, and sometimes when I just take in all the colors, I just can’t help but smile, and breathe deeply.
This past weekend was our free weekend in Guatemala. To see everything I wanted to see I’d need a free two months, so this wasn’t exactly perfect. We went to Lake Atitlan to the city of Panajachel. To get there (and back) we took chicken buses, which were probably one of the scariest experiences of my life. Swerving up and down winding mountain roads in an extremely overcrowded bus is not my idea of fun. When I say overcrowded, I mean 4 people in a seat that holds 2, throughout the entire bus. They get so full that the man collecting money rides holding onto the back of the bus and climbs on top of it to reach the front door while we are still moving. It’s some scary stuff. On the way back we took a microbus for part of it that was meant to hold probably 12 people. We had 33 people inside of it at one point. Oy. Anyway, it was very touristy in that city, but the lake was absolutely gorgeous. It is surrounded by mountains and volcanoes. When Joe described it to us before we went he said that, “It completely took him,” and I can see why/how that would be so. I took a boat with Jeremy, Chelsea, and Alana to another village on the lake called San Marcos. It was much less touristy and kind of an escape from civilization, which was really nice and relaxing. You can rent a furnished room there for 800Q a month (about $100). I would love to do that one day.
I have really gotten annoyed with my group on several occasions. These are not the type of people I would have expected to be drawn to a trip of this nature. I feel like a lot of times, people forget that we’re not in America. On this kind of trip, you can’t forget that. You can’t loose perspective, and you can’t forget that you’re looking at everything from a different perspective than the people who live here. We are living completely different lives, yet we can connect, and we can befriend. As long as you’re not rude. Some people in my group have yelled at people as they approach to sell things, or have gotten annoyed with people taking to long to serve food. I think it’s all part of the experience. It’s all part of the story, and it’s what we are here to take in. We should be here to appreciate it, not devalue it.
I’ve been thinking a lot. About life, and about what I want. I realized that as a child I wanted to be an artist, and I always wanted to own my own store. It’s interesting that those childhood dreams are actually what I’ve decided that I really want. My ideal, dream job would be owning a café where I would have a workshop and sell my art and jewelry. It would also be a used book store, and I’d have games and a movie viewing room. It would be kosher, and closed on Shabbat. There would be a corner for children, so when I have kids, I continue to work and still watch them. I would have local artists/musicians, workshops, and activities throughout the week. I think it’s perfect.
I met a man at the lake who does the most incredible jewelry, which I would have bought all of if I had more that $7 total with me. He uses a scroll saw type thing to carve out and remove parts of coins and then leaves beautiful designs, etc. in them. It’s a brilliant idea, and one I want to try ASAP. I did buy a charm he made from a 100 Yen coin. It’s the same type of coin I have taped into my wallet…one with flowers. It’s really beautiful.
Oh, so in Spanish class, I learned the story of the Quetzal, the bird that is such a huge symbol here in Guate. It’s a symbol of freedom, because the bird can’t survive when confined to small areas. The story goes as follows: There was a boy who lived in a small village in the mountains. When he was born, he was giving the hummingbird as a symbol of good luck. All of the people in the village liked him a lot. On his birthday, he was to become a man. An elder came out from under a tree and made a prophecy that Quetzal would live forever, from generation to generation. Everyone was so happy, except for the chief’s son, who was the same age as Quetzal. Soon after the birthday, the chief died and the elders voted Quetzal to be the new chief. The chief’s son had feared this, and had to do something about it. He decided Quetzal must have some kind of protecting charm that protects him from all harm. That night he went to his bedroom and checked around his neck for a charm, but found nothing. As he was leaving he saw a hummingbird flower at the top of his bed. He knew instantly that it was what he was looking for, and took it. The next day, Quetzal was walking through the forest when a hummingbird landed upon his shoulder and warned him of danger from a man seeking his death. Quetzal questioned him, but got no response. Seconds later, an arrow came whizzing through the air and hit Quetzal in the chest. He fell to the ground and closed his eyes expecting to die. Instead his body began to turn into a beautiful bird. His feathers were the color of the grass around him, and his chest feathers were red from the blood that was there. His tail was painted with beautiful colors by the afternoon sun. And in this way, Quetzal has lived on among the people, and in this way, he will always live.
The name Chichicastenango (the city I went to last last weekend) is for the flower Chichicaste. It’s a flower that grows out of the rocks in the mountain sides. It has a beautiful purple flower, which is very, very poisonous. It is also a very durable plant that is impossible to get rid of.
I have been feeling sick the past couple of days, but knock on wood, I am feeling much better today. For the first time in my life I felt what it was like to not have an appetite. It was kind of nice not having to eat/spend money to eat, but I suppose that’s not healthy either.
I have really been selective in the photos I take here. When I went to Nicaragua and Lesotho previously, I took a lot of pictures of the people, and especially the children, without even knowing all of them very well. I realized how weird that is, and how creeped out I would be if some stranger ran up to my children and took pictures of them (that’s also bad here because of children being kidnapped to be sold for adoption purposes). I just feel, too, like it really is a type of exploitation. These are their lives, and it’s not my place to ooh and ahh at their fortunes/misfortunes.
Today I heard an amazing lecture from a civilian man about his experiences during the time of the violence here in Guate. It was interesting that he was more passionate than both the ex-Guerilla or the man in the army. I am getting a bit tired, so I am just going to jot down some quotes of his, and I’ll talk more about it later.
“in the conflict of some, others were paying the price”
“couldn’t imagine taking up arms, pointing a gun at someone and saying ‘You die because you are the enemy of someone.’”
“A society that has experienced conflict is not a society that is emotionally free.”
“I cannot easily applaud the heroes of war, or just point my finger and say they were the bad in war. Even less, I can’t forget the civilians during the time of war”
“Can’t imagine thinking that because we think differently, and because I think better than you, I have the right to kill you.”
“Life and Freedom are the two most essential human rights. Politics and religion should come after.”
When tempted to take a side in a conflict, take time to consider distinct implications that come out of conflict. It is not black and white, there are many tones, implications, things that come up from below. Don’t romanticize ideologically, because it makes us loose perspective.
“It’s easy to be on the left when you haven’t paid any personal price.”
It really made me think. And I’m still processing at all.
Alright, I’m going to go. Only 4 more days left in Xela, and all of those days are jam-packed with things to do. Hopefully I’ll write again before the week is through.
<3
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
More Time in Xela.
February 3rd, 2009. Approximately 9:21 PM
Phew. So, I’m really not writing a lot (surprise, surprise). I think about writing every night, but by the end of the days, I’m so exhausted that I just want to shower and sleep. Using the brain power to try to understand the Espanol that is all around me really does wear me out. Usually I’m running around all day too, with little time to rest. I would say a typical day here in Xela consists of me waking up at around 7 de la manana (in the morning), forcing myself to emerge from under my warm blankets to face the cold (because nights/mornings get to below 30 degrees, and we have no heating), and walking the three steps to the right of my door to get to the kitchen. There, my host mama makes me a pancake, which I eat with fresh, homemade strawberry jam, and banana mush. Then I finish getting ready and head to the school. School is from eight until one de la tarde (in the afternoon). Then I usually hop online for a few to check my e-mails, and then I head home to have lunch with my mama and all the neighbors/teachers that she cooks for every day. After that I either rush to my weaving school to continue my scarf or head to a lecture or activity with my program or just with the school. Then comes dinner, and then whatever activity is going on for the night. Basically, my point is, it’s a jam-packed day with no time to rest.
So what’s been going on these past couple of days? A lot.
In Spanish I am learning a lot, but I’m also at the point where I’ve got all the easy stuff done, and now I feel like I’m not moving as fast through it all. I wish I could just understand everything right away (but I did get a 100% on my first written exam! And I actually found our oral exam/discussion to be quite interesting. We discussed politics and the realities of Guatemala). I’m still enjoying my classes though, and I really do like my teacher. I am going to the village of Cantel in two weeks to spend a week in the 100% indigenous village, and my teacher now is going to come up there to continue to teach me, rather than me starting with another one. That made me happy to hear. She is so open with me, and I feel like I know so much about her already. I love when we just talk about life, especially since she speaks no english, so when I understand her stories it's even more exciting. The other day I was doing a worksheet where I was asked to respond to the questions. One of them was “Do you know how to dance the Merengue?” I said no, but wanted to make a bit of conversation, so I asked my teacher if she knew how. Little did I know what the question would lead to. She started telling me how she was not allowed to dance, wear make-up, get her ears pierced, or cut her hair when she was younger because of her religion (Catholicism) and because of this regions machismo. Then she started telling me about the time she did cut her hair. A male friend of hers called her cell phone while she was with her ex-husband. Her husband freaked out and started beating her and hitting her with his belt. She was pregnant at the time, and he left after beating her. Feeling like she needed to be freed, she went and got her hair cut. When her husband returned to her two weeks later to see that she had cut her beautiful hair, he beat her again and then left for good. She is now a single mother of four, but I respect her so much for being so strong and for working so hard to take care of her children. She teaches me in the morning, and then she has another student from two to seven. What a long day!
I am really enjoying my weaving. I love trying to speak with the women that work there, and I love to watch their children run around being children as I weave. It just feels normal, and it’s so relaxing and calming. I am about 1/3 of the way done with the third and final step of the process. I’m very excited to see how it turns out, and very proud that I took the initiative to actually proceed with this activity even while all my friends here decided they didn’t have enough time.
“If you have a crisis, you have an opportunity as well.”
That was said during our lecture today from a man in the business field in Guatemala. He had a very interesting perspective, and mainly focused on the fact that tourism and bringing foreign-owned businesses into the country are things that can push Guatemala to success. Education was also a key part to his lecture. But most of it didn’t sit well with me, because I feel like with tourism comes such a fake surface, and makes the culture just something to come and see rather than something that people live. I also don’t like the idea of importing foreign ideas to a place that doesn’t necessarily have them yet. I think a lot of America’s and the world’s ideas are good, but at the same time, so many of them are corrupt. It’s like taking a child’s innocence. I’d rather Guatemala kept it. Also, I don’t like the idea of foreign-owned business because undoubtedly that leads to exploitation, although he said that America isn’t really the problem country here in that regard. He said they have had a lot of trouble with Korean companies coming, hiring people, having them produce product, and then declaring bankruptcy/leaving without paying their former employees. I can’t believe stuff like that happens. I mean, I guess I can, but I wish so much that humans would be humane and not always focus on money and business advances.
I also got to hear from an ex-Guerilla. It’s so strange to have someone sit before you who is an ex-Guerilla. I think it’s just because I’ve read so much about them that they have become so foreign, almost inhuman maybe? I’m not sure. It was very interesting and heartbreaking to hear his perspective though. I really found it interesting that the reason our speaker joined the Guerilla forces was because of his parents and family, which was the same reason that our army official had joined the army. Just two different experiences. Two different lives. I wonder what each would be like if their families hadn’t influenced them. If they had been born in a different class, with a different status. Anyway, the Guerilla talked about the bloodbath that was Guatemala and his experiences trying to succeed and survive. I really appreciate the opportunity to see the contrast of the perspectives of these men on extreme opposites of the spectrum during the war years. It’s a unique opportunity, and I think it’s really good to try to actually understand today’s reality by looking at these perspectives.
Hmmm. This past weekend we left Xela to go to Chichicastenango. It’s such a beautiful city, and the drive there through the mountains was incredible. We were literally driving through clouds and the top of the mountains. I wanted to get out so I could “walk on the clouds,” just because I thought it would be cool to say that I’ve done it. On the way there, there was a lot of beauty, but also a lot of evidence of the poverty and the awful realities of this country. For instance, there were drunk men asleep in the ditches at the sides of the roads (along with in the roads of Chichi), and I just prayed that they be safe from cars that could so easily slip into the gutter while coming around a bend. I can’t even imagine a life where I would drink so much that I would just fall over on the side of the road and sleep for hours. I really wonder what each of their true stories are…where they come from, what their background is, how they ended up where they are, and if there are people that know them and care that this is where they are now. Seeing the bodies lying on the road makes them look eerily dead. It kept bringing me back to Israel when I saw the man lying on the pavement after falling out of the building. So overall, seeing that was just hard for me all around.
There were also so many children around Chichi trying to sell things and working all day to do so. It really made me think about my childhood and how easy and happy it was. These children should be playing, learning, and using their imaginations, not asking white people who come through the town to buy the painting necklaces and woven stuffed animals that they have made so that they can help to feed their families. What a responsibility. We have no idea how lucky we are. Or are we? What’s better? A life with a lot of material but no sense of appreciation and no love? Or the opposite? It’s hard to say. I wonder whose life is more “full.”
We went to a woman’s cooperative about 20 minutes from the city. It was a little village that was massacred during the war times. People were tied together and burned inside of the churches and the schools. The women at the cooperative had lost their husbands and started this project with the help of the evangelical Methodist church on May 6, 1988 (my day of birth). They really do make some beautiful pieces, and I ended up spending more money than I had planned to there, but I did get some amazing things, and I felt like I was supporting a good thing, so it’s alright. I also went to church on Sunday morning, which was a very interesting experience. Since a lot of the population in Chichi only speaks Quiche, the indigenous language spoken by the Mayan descendants, the service was held in both Spanish and Quiche. Also, outside of the church their were people doing Mayan ceremonies, and many many people selling flowers to be used as offerings and gifts. Sunday is also market day, and it was incredible to literally see the entire city transformed into a market. There were thousands of stands and so many nice things to purchase.
It was nice to take a break from Xela, but at the same time it was so nice to get back here. I like having a home base, and my own space in my room (even if I don’t really spend much time in it).
When we were in Chichi my group met four guys. Two from France, one from California, and one from ISRAEL! I didn’t hang out with them the night they met because I was on the phone with my love, but then they came to Xela the same day we came back, and I hung out with them that night. They are probably some of the nicest, most intelligent, and chill guys I’ve met in awhile. It’s really nice to hang out with them, and I really seem to connect with the Israeli, although I feel so comfortable with all of them.
Last night we all went out, and then Heylal, the Israeli, asked if we wanted him to walk us home. We said no cause we were a group of 5 girls, and I didn’t want him to have to walk all the way back alone, but it turns out we should have said yes. It was just so quiet and eery and scary walking, and Chels and I live closest to the school so we walked the other girls home to their houses, and then walked back just us. Then Jessica got locked out of her house and ended up walking all the way back to mine to sleep. It was just really stressful, and I’m not doing that again.
Also, Guatemalans like to set of fireworks, but they echo in my courtyard, and really really sound like gunshots. I thought I was escaping that tension of hearing noises that could possibly be gunshots when I left Israel. Oh well.
Okay well I’m going to jump in the shower, then talk to Abby, then perhaps watch an episode of the Office, cause I’m just feeling it right now.
Con Amor,
Leah
Phew. So, I’m really not writing a lot (surprise, surprise). I think about writing every night, but by the end of the days, I’m so exhausted that I just want to shower and sleep. Using the brain power to try to understand the Espanol that is all around me really does wear me out. Usually I’m running around all day too, with little time to rest. I would say a typical day here in Xela consists of me waking up at around 7 de la manana (in the morning), forcing myself to emerge from under my warm blankets to face the cold (because nights/mornings get to below 30 degrees, and we have no heating), and walking the three steps to the right of my door to get to the kitchen. There, my host mama makes me a pancake, which I eat with fresh, homemade strawberry jam, and banana mush. Then I finish getting ready and head to the school. School is from eight until one de la tarde (in the afternoon). Then I usually hop online for a few to check my e-mails, and then I head home to have lunch with my mama and all the neighbors/teachers that she cooks for every day. After that I either rush to my weaving school to continue my scarf or head to a lecture or activity with my program or just with the school. Then comes dinner, and then whatever activity is going on for the night. Basically, my point is, it’s a jam-packed day with no time to rest.
So what’s been going on these past couple of days? A lot.
In Spanish I am learning a lot, but I’m also at the point where I’ve got all the easy stuff done, and now I feel like I’m not moving as fast through it all. I wish I could just understand everything right away (but I did get a 100% on my first written exam! And I actually found our oral exam/discussion to be quite interesting. We discussed politics and the realities of Guatemala). I’m still enjoying my classes though, and I really do like my teacher. I am going to the village of Cantel in two weeks to spend a week in the 100% indigenous village, and my teacher now is going to come up there to continue to teach me, rather than me starting with another one. That made me happy to hear. She is so open with me, and I feel like I know so much about her already. I love when we just talk about life, especially since she speaks no english, so when I understand her stories it's even more exciting. The other day I was doing a worksheet where I was asked to respond to the questions. One of them was “Do you know how to dance the Merengue?” I said no, but wanted to make a bit of conversation, so I asked my teacher if she knew how. Little did I know what the question would lead to. She started telling me how she was not allowed to dance, wear make-up, get her ears pierced, or cut her hair when she was younger because of her religion (Catholicism) and because of this regions machismo. Then she started telling me about the time she did cut her hair. A male friend of hers called her cell phone while she was with her ex-husband. Her husband freaked out and started beating her and hitting her with his belt. She was pregnant at the time, and he left after beating her. Feeling like she needed to be freed, she went and got her hair cut. When her husband returned to her two weeks later to see that she had cut her beautiful hair, he beat her again and then left for good. She is now a single mother of four, but I respect her so much for being so strong and for working so hard to take care of her children. She teaches me in the morning, and then she has another student from two to seven. What a long day!
I am really enjoying my weaving. I love trying to speak with the women that work there, and I love to watch their children run around being children as I weave. It just feels normal, and it’s so relaxing and calming. I am about 1/3 of the way done with the third and final step of the process. I’m very excited to see how it turns out, and very proud that I took the initiative to actually proceed with this activity even while all my friends here decided they didn’t have enough time.
“If you have a crisis, you have an opportunity as well.”
That was said during our lecture today from a man in the business field in Guatemala. He had a very interesting perspective, and mainly focused on the fact that tourism and bringing foreign-owned businesses into the country are things that can push Guatemala to success. Education was also a key part to his lecture. But most of it didn’t sit well with me, because I feel like with tourism comes such a fake surface, and makes the culture just something to come and see rather than something that people live. I also don’t like the idea of importing foreign ideas to a place that doesn’t necessarily have them yet. I think a lot of America’s and the world’s ideas are good, but at the same time, so many of them are corrupt. It’s like taking a child’s innocence. I’d rather Guatemala kept it. Also, I don’t like the idea of foreign-owned business because undoubtedly that leads to exploitation, although he said that America isn’t really the problem country here in that regard. He said they have had a lot of trouble with Korean companies coming, hiring people, having them produce product, and then declaring bankruptcy/leaving without paying their former employees. I can’t believe stuff like that happens. I mean, I guess I can, but I wish so much that humans would be humane and not always focus on money and business advances.
I also got to hear from an ex-Guerilla. It’s so strange to have someone sit before you who is an ex-Guerilla. I think it’s just because I’ve read so much about them that they have become so foreign, almost inhuman maybe? I’m not sure. It was very interesting and heartbreaking to hear his perspective though. I really found it interesting that the reason our speaker joined the Guerilla forces was because of his parents and family, which was the same reason that our army official had joined the army. Just two different experiences. Two different lives. I wonder what each would be like if their families hadn’t influenced them. If they had been born in a different class, with a different status. Anyway, the Guerilla talked about the bloodbath that was Guatemala and his experiences trying to succeed and survive. I really appreciate the opportunity to see the contrast of the perspectives of these men on extreme opposites of the spectrum during the war years. It’s a unique opportunity, and I think it’s really good to try to actually understand today’s reality by looking at these perspectives.
Hmmm. This past weekend we left Xela to go to Chichicastenango. It’s such a beautiful city, and the drive there through the mountains was incredible. We were literally driving through clouds and the top of the mountains. I wanted to get out so I could “walk on the clouds,” just because I thought it would be cool to say that I’ve done it. On the way there, there was a lot of beauty, but also a lot of evidence of the poverty and the awful realities of this country. For instance, there were drunk men asleep in the ditches at the sides of the roads (along with in the roads of Chichi), and I just prayed that they be safe from cars that could so easily slip into the gutter while coming around a bend. I can’t even imagine a life where I would drink so much that I would just fall over on the side of the road and sleep for hours. I really wonder what each of their true stories are…where they come from, what their background is, how they ended up where they are, and if there are people that know them and care that this is where they are now. Seeing the bodies lying on the road makes them look eerily dead. It kept bringing me back to Israel when I saw the man lying on the pavement after falling out of the building. So overall, seeing that was just hard for me all around.
There were also so many children around Chichi trying to sell things and working all day to do so. It really made me think about my childhood and how easy and happy it was. These children should be playing, learning, and using their imaginations, not asking white people who come through the town to buy the painting necklaces and woven stuffed animals that they have made so that they can help to feed their families. What a responsibility. We have no idea how lucky we are. Or are we? What’s better? A life with a lot of material but no sense of appreciation and no love? Or the opposite? It’s hard to say. I wonder whose life is more “full.”
We went to a woman’s cooperative about 20 minutes from the city. It was a little village that was massacred during the war times. People were tied together and burned inside of the churches and the schools. The women at the cooperative had lost their husbands and started this project with the help of the evangelical Methodist church on May 6, 1988 (my day of birth). They really do make some beautiful pieces, and I ended up spending more money than I had planned to there, but I did get some amazing things, and I felt like I was supporting a good thing, so it’s alright. I also went to church on Sunday morning, which was a very interesting experience. Since a lot of the population in Chichi only speaks Quiche, the indigenous language spoken by the Mayan descendants, the service was held in both Spanish and Quiche. Also, outside of the church their were people doing Mayan ceremonies, and many many people selling flowers to be used as offerings and gifts. Sunday is also market day, and it was incredible to literally see the entire city transformed into a market. There were thousands of stands and so many nice things to purchase.
It was nice to take a break from Xela, but at the same time it was so nice to get back here. I like having a home base, and my own space in my room (even if I don’t really spend much time in it).
When we were in Chichi my group met four guys. Two from France, one from California, and one from ISRAEL! I didn’t hang out with them the night they met because I was on the phone with my love, but then they came to Xela the same day we came back, and I hung out with them that night. They are probably some of the nicest, most intelligent, and chill guys I’ve met in awhile. It’s really nice to hang out with them, and I really seem to connect with the Israeli, although I feel so comfortable with all of them.
Last night we all went out, and then Heylal, the Israeli, asked if we wanted him to walk us home. We said no cause we were a group of 5 girls, and I didn’t want him to have to walk all the way back alone, but it turns out we should have said yes. It was just so quiet and eery and scary walking, and Chels and I live closest to the school so we walked the other girls home to their houses, and then walked back just us. Then Jessica got locked out of her house and ended up walking all the way back to mine to sleep. It was just really stressful, and I’m not doing that again.
Also, Guatemalans like to set of fireworks, but they echo in my courtyard, and really really sound like gunshots. I thought I was escaping that tension of hearing noises that could possibly be gunshots when I left Israel. Oh well.
Okay well I’m going to jump in the shower, then talk to Abby, then perhaps watch an episode of the Office, cause I’m just feeling it right now.
Con Amor,
Leah
January 26th, 2009.
So, Xela. It’s been good to me so far, and I’ve been learning a lot, both in the context of our group dynamic and of Guatemala. We had several days where we stayed in a hotel, continuing our orientation. We did an educational biography, which forced me to examine the moments in my life which really taught me lessons and helped form my values I have today, which was very interesting.
Okay, so this is now two days later. I am having a lot of trouble keeping up to date on this journaling thing, as I have only written about a page, and I’ve been here nearly two weeks. I guess I’m not going to do a play by play in here…more just a how I’m feeling, and I’ll jot down the important events too.
First, “We are too few to be distant. Everything unites us, Nothing separates us.” I like this quote a lot. It reminds me of Kao Fela Rea Tsoana, which is We Are All The Same, in Sesotho. The quote is from The Motorcycle Diaries, which I just watched in ESPANOL!
I have been in class now for three days studying Spanish. I’m not usually one to become proud of myself, but I have been smiling nonstop, and I think it’s because of my success so far with the language. By no means am I understanding everything of course, but it is still going very well, and I can communicate what I need to communicate. I really love my teacher. She is very set on us being friends, not just student and teacher, which is great since I have to see her five hours a day, five days a week. I love that the classes are one on one, and we have some freedom in the speed and depth of our studies. We can also go off on tangents talking about life, love, hate, fear, etc. in Guatemala, which is probably more of a lesson to me than anything I have encountered in a while.
I also love my host mama. I was a bit disappointed at first because my family consists of only my mama. I really wanted kids, and I’m honestly still a little jealous of my friends here that have children in their host families, but I am also surprised at how my jealousy is not taking me over and sort of ruining my time. I guess, honestly, I do tend to be a jealous person, and I am glad that I seem to be working on that, and having a great time anyway. Also, my home is the lowest class home I’ve seen so far. It’s pretty run down, and consists of my bedroom, my mama’s bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom (which all have doors only leading to an outdoor courtyard). My mama also runs a little convenience store, and she gives me gum every day. She is an amazing cook (I had a wonderful bean and egg dish today! Mmmm.), and has the most contagious and joyous laugh I have ever heard.
I met her son, who is older, the other day. For some reason, I was able to understand and speak with him very easily. We connected very well, and I felt so blessed to be able to have such a human connection. I went with him to the cemetery to visit and buy flowers for his papa (my mama’s late husband). We strolled through the cemetery and took some photos, but I really enjoyed every minute of it. He’s an artist, and I can’t wait to see some of his paintings.
Another exciting thing I’ve been doing here is learning to weave. I mean, I guess I’ve only gone once for real, and I haven’t actually started weaving, but I’m still very excited about it. I’ve been going by myself, which I was scared to do at first, but since none of my friends wanted to do it, and I was passionate about it, I decided it was important to try. I really love doing things in my travels that challenge myself...who I am, what I believe, as well as what I think I am able to do. Anyway, I really love attempting to speak with the women at the cooperative (who are indigenous widows who lost their husbands during the times of violence and terror here), and I’ve been using muscles in my hands making my spools of thread that I really didn’t even know I had.
Hmmm. I guess I’ve been really conflicted. Like, I just watched the Motorcycle Diaries, which is about Che, the guerilla, the revolutionary. In my terrorism class in Israel, we discussed and watched movies which portrayed Che as a revolutionary, yes, but also a man who killed without problem. He also failed in every revolution he tried to begin. Yet he is an icon here (and around the world). He’s a hero. But I don’t know if I agree with his ideals. Then again, I heard a lecture from a man that has been in the Guatemalan army for 26 years today. The army here…has done some atrocious things. The only question I wanted to ask this man was how many people have you killed in your lifetime…during the scorched earth policy? But then I challeneged myself and asked, why do I feel the need to know that? It’s not going to change the fact it happen. It’s not going to make me or anyone feel better about it. And it’s only going to make me look down upon this man who is willing to share his stories and experiences with us. I don’t have the right to do that. I don’t think I have the right to say what’s right. What side would I have been on in this conflict? Who knows. Anyway, I don’t really know, but I think my point was that…I have been viewing Che so negatively, yet here he is viewed by most (not the army) so positively…and what can you expect when guerillas were perhaps the symbols of change and of strength to these people who had nothing. Who were being slaughtered so that they had even less. Oy va voy.
Another topic really quickly before I’m off to do homework.
I am very happy here (Knock on wood). It’s so so different from my time in Israel, and although I really do miss Israel (and Hebrew! Ah! I hope I don’t forget it), I think this change is really good for me. I was becoming very tense, and very hopeless in Israel I think. Not that this place isn’t hopeless at times. But there is an overall sense of joy around me. People are so kind, and people always seem to be smiling and laughing. I feel more free here. I don’t really know why. I feel ambitious here. I feel motivated here. I crave knowledge and learning here. I feel like me here.
And I like it.
אל תשכח את התקוה
Don't Forget the Hope.
So, Xela. It’s been good to me so far, and I’ve been learning a lot, both in the context of our group dynamic and of Guatemala. We had several days where we stayed in a hotel, continuing our orientation. We did an educational biography, which forced me to examine the moments in my life which really taught me lessons and helped form my values I have today, which was very interesting.
Okay, so this is now two days later. I am having a lot of trouble keeping up to date on this journaling thing, as I have only written about a page, and I’ve been here nearly two weeks. I guess I’m not going to do a play by play in here…more just a how I’m feeling, and I’ll jot down the important events too.
First, “We are too few to be distant. Everything unites us, Nothing separates us.” I like this quote a lot. It reminds me of Kao Fela Rea Tsoana, which is We Are All The Same, in Sesotho. The quote is from The Motorcycle Diaries, which I just watched in ESPANOL!
I have been in class now for three days studying Spanish. I’m not usually one to become proud of myself, but I have been smiling nonstop, and I think it’s because of my success so far with the language. By no means am I understanding everything of course, but it is still going very well, and I can communicate what I need to communicate. I really love my teacher. She is very set on us being friends, not just student and teacher, which is great since I have to see her five hours a day, five days a week. I love that the classes are one on one, and we have some freedom in the speed and depth of our studies. We can also go off on tangents talking about life, love, hate, fear, etc. in Guatemala, which is probably more of a lesson to me than anything I have encountered in a while.
I also love my host mama. I was a bit disappointed at first because my family consists of only my mama. I really wanted kids, and I’m honestly still a little jealous of my friends here that have children in their host families, but I am also surprised at how my jealousy is not taking me over and sort of ruining my time. I guess, honestly, I do tend to be a jealous person, and I am glad that I seem to be working on that, and having a great time anyway. Also, my home is the lowest class home I’ve seen so far. It’s pretty run down, and consists of my bedroom, my mama’s bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom (which all have doors only leading to an outdoor courtyard). My mama also runs a little convenience store, and she gives me gum every day. She is an amazing cook (I had a wonderful bean and egg dish today! Mmmm.), and has the most contagious and joyous laugh I have ever heard.
I met her son, who is older, the other day. For some reason, I was able to understand and speak with him very easily. We connected very well, and I felt so blessed to be able to have such a human connection. I went with him to the cemetery to visit and buy flowers for his papa (my mama’s late husband). We strolled through the cemetery and took some photos, but I really enjoyed every minute of it. He’s an artist, and I can’t wait to see some of his paintings.
Another exciting thing I’ve been doing here is learning to weave. I mean, I guess I’ve only gone once for real, and I haven’t actually started weaving, but I’m still very excited about it. I’ve been going by myself, which I was scared to do at first, but since none of my friends wanted to do it, and I was passionate about it, I decided it was important to try. I really love doing things in my travels that challenge myself...who I am, what I believe, as well as what I think I am able to do. Anyway, I really love attempting to speak with the women at the cooperative (who are indigenous widows who lost their husbands during the times of violence and terror here), and I’ve been using muscles in my hands making my spools of thread that I really didn’t even know I had.
Hmmm. I guess I’ve been really conflicted. Like, I just watched the Motorcycle Diaries, which is about Che, the guerilla, the revolutionary. In my terrorism class in Israel, we discussed and watched movies which portrayed Che as a revolutionary, yes, but also a man who killed without problem. He also failed in every revolution he tried to begin. Yet he is an icon here (and around the world). He’s a hero. But I don’t know if I agree with his ideals. Then again, I heard a lecture from a man that has been in the Guatemalan army for 26 years today. The army here…has done some atrocious things. The only question I wanted to ask this man was how many people have you killed in your lifetime…during the scorched earth policy? But then I challeneged myself and asked, why do I feel the need to know that? It’s not going to change the fact it happen. It’s not going to make me or anyone feel better about it. And it’s only going to make me look down upon this man who is willing to share his stories and experiences with us. I don’t have the right to do that. I don’t think I have the right to say what’s right. What side would I have been on in this conflict? Who knows. Anyway, I don’t really know, but I think my point was that…I have been viewing Che so negatively, yet here he is viewed by most (not the army) so positively…and what can you expect when guerillas were perhaps the symbols of change and of strength to these people who had nothing. Who were being slaughtered so that they had even less. Oy va voy.
Another topic really quickly before I’m off to do homework.
I am very happy here (Knock on wood). It’s so so different from my time in Israel, and although I really do miss Israel (and Hebrew! Ah! I hope I don’t forget it), I think this change is really good for me. I was becoming very tense, and very hopeless in Israel I think. Not that this place isn’t hopeless at times. But there is an overall sense of joy around me. People are so kind, and people always seem to be smiling and laughing. I feel more free here. I don’t really know why. I feel ambitious here. I feel motivated here. I crave knowledge and learning here. I feel like me here.
And I like it.
אל תשכח את התקוה
Don't Forget the Hope.
The Beginnings.
This entry is from January 24th, 2009. At approximately 5:32 P.M.
I’m not really sure how I want to write these entries, but I really do want to document my time here in Central America. I’ve now been here for nearly a week. I arrived on Monday, and it is now Saturday. I met a very interesting man on the plane into Guatemala City. He was very helpful, and runs a project called Mason’s on a Mission. (REMEMBER to look them up online). We stayed in a guest house in Guatemala City, but the city is very dangerous so we weren’t able to wander and explore as much as I would have liked. We went on a walk together to the center square which was interesting, because the three powers in the country had buildings/structures there: the army, the government, and the church. We saw the first evangelical presbyterian church in Guatemala, which was built by the government in order to break up the monopoly that the Catholic church had over the country. We also took a tour to the city dump, where people live next to and work in. Children used to work in the dump to bring in money for their families until a fire in the dump caused minors to be banned from working there. A woman opened a school in the dump for these children, and we went to her to hear the incredible story. It’s really beautiful to see someone living here with so little herself, but so willing to do as much as possible to make positive changes among her own people.
Directly from the dump, we drove up to the hills above the city where the more wealthy people live. It was an appalling contrast, but very interesting to see one extreme and then the other consecutively. We went into the mall, which was built because it’s a place for the more wealthy to have a safe haven from the crime in the city below. It was almost disgusting though, looking at the prices and seeing that people were actually able to purchase things from there. There was also a large store (called Hiper Paiz until August when the chain will have the name Wal-Mart), which is owned by Wal-Mart, and resembles one exactly.
We learned some of the history of Guatemala, which is incredibly appalling. We heard from Victor and from Fidel (our Guatemalan coordinator) about the years of war and the realities of this country today. Guatemala was at war for a period of 36 years. 36 years. Yet the people still go on today. Women’s pregnant stomachs were cut open, babies removed and killed, husbands heads presented after. It's simply unimaginable, and this only ended 13 years prior to me being here. Children swung by their feet, with their heads knocked into trees. But the people continue to live. They must look to the future I suppose. How else are you able to continue? I just feel like my life is so simple and so easy. I’ve never experienced these enormous horrors (thank G-d), and it’s incredibly difficult to even imagine this being a reality.
After two days in Guat. City, we traveled five hours into the highlands to the second largest city in the country, Quezaltenango, also known as Xela. And that's where I am now.
A bed of questions that aren’t asked.
I’m not really sure how I want to write these entries, but I really do want to document my time here in Central America. I’ve now been here for nearly a week. I arrived on Monday, and it is now Saturday. I met a very interesting man on the plane into Guatemala City. He was very helpful, and runs a project called Mason’s on a Mission. (REMEMBER to look them up online). We stayed in a guest house in Guatemala City, but the city is very dangerous so we weren’t able to wander and explore as much as I would have liked. We went on a walk together to the center square which was interesting, because the three powers in the country had buildings/structures there: the army, the government, and the church. We saw the first evangelical presbyterian church in Guatemala, which was built by the government in order to break up the monopoly that the Catholic church had over the country. We also took a tour to the city dump, where people live next to and work in. Children used to work in the dump to bring in money for their families until a fire in the dump caused minors to be banned from working there. A woman opened a school in the dump for these children, and we went to her to hear the incredible story. It’s really beautiful to see someone living here with so little herself, but so willing to do as much as possible to make positive changes among her own people.
Directly from the dump, we drove up to the hills above the city where the more wealthy people live. It was an appalling contrast, but very interesting to see one extreme and then the other consecutively. We went into the mall, which was built because it’s a place for the more wealthy to have a safe haven from the crime in the city below. It was almost disgusting though, looking at the prices and seeing that people were actually able to purchase things from there. There was also a large store (called Hiper Paiz until August when the chain will have the name Wal-Mart), which is owned by Wal-Mart, and resembles one exactly.
We learned some of the history of Guatemala, which is incredibly appalling. We heard from Victor and from Fidel (our Guatemalan coordinator) about the years of war and the realities of this country today. Guatemala was at war for a period of 36 years. 36 years. Yet the people still go on today. Women’s pregnant stomachs were cut open, babies removed and killed, husbands heads presented after. It's simply unimaginable, and this only ended 13 years prior to me being here. Children swung by their feet, with their heads knocked into trees. But the people continue to live. They must look to the future I suppose. How else are you able to continue? I just feel like my life is so simple and so easy. I’ve never experienced these enormous horrors (thank G-d), and it’s incredibly difficult to even imagine this being a reality.
After two days in Guat. City, we traveled five hours into the highlands to the second largest city in the country, Quezaltenango, also known as Xela. And that's where I am now.
A bed of questions that aren’t asked.
So, I've been writing entries journal-style into my computer just to save time because it's much easier to get a lot of thoughts out while typing rather than writing by hand. I decided to put the entries up, and will continue to add entries, mostly because I'm afraid my computer will fail, and I'll loose all my writing, but also because I want to share what I'm experiencing and thinking.
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