Photos of Agatha in my Town

Here are some pictures of my street when it rains for a prolonged period of time and also of the bridge leading into our town after Agatha.

Agatha, etc.

If there is one thing that I keep learning time and time again here its “go.” This should be the most basic principle of Peace Corps. If you are invited somewhere go. No matter what. Even if it is a half-invitation and you feel awkward and out of place. Go. Even if you are not invited. Go.

This evening there was a press conference in the Muni about the status of my town and the surrounding aldeas after Tropical Storm Agatha (I finally figured out that that was why it was raining so much). Laura and I found out about it after going to the Muni repeatedly and to different offices to ask what we could do to help the victims of the storm. Everyone kept telling us that the situation was under control and they would let us know if they needed anything. Finally they told us to come to the press conference where there would be more information. Laura lives far away and didn’t want to walk home in the dark, so she opted to watch the press conference online (our Muni might not be able to get potable water to those affected by the storm, but they are very high tech in the communication department). Although I dreaded going alone, I live close and had no excuse not to go.

When I got there I felt very tall, very white, and very out of place. But the more I randomly show up at the Muni (city hall), the more people get used to seeing me. I have never seen a press conference like this one. Well, I don’t think I have ever seen a press conference period, so I don’t actually have much to compare it to. Anyway, as soon as the mayor started talking, all of the radio reporters (no local TV here) started talking loudly on their cell phones and then proceeded to shove their phones in the mayor’s face while he talked. It would have been very distracting for me, but I guess he’s used to it.

I’m not quite sure what kind of news is arriving in the US about the situation here, but Guatemala is currently recovering from two natural disasters that occurred last week. The first is the eruption of the volcano Pacaya, which I climbed a few months ago and almost got forever lost on. This eruption affected the areas surrounding the volcano and the capital city, which was covered in volcanic sand. Then the rains came and complicated matters for those affected by the volcano and for other areas of the country. In Florida, where I come from, a tropical storm is no big deal. You prepare for a hurricane, then roll your eyes when it downgrades to a tropical storm. However here in Guatemala, two days straight of rain can have a big impact. Houses are not built as well, and many are built of mud bricks. Water entered everyone’s house to some extent, and some houses in more rural areas were washed away. Roads flooded, cracked, and were blocked by landslides and trees. The town where I live has two entrances; the back one was blocked by landslides, and a river running under the main entrance flooded and eroded the land under the highway. The market on Sunday was nearly empty, and prices have shot up in the past few days. By now, everything has mostly normalized in the urban area, but they say it will take a few months to repair the main entrance. So for now, to leave town you have to walk between buses on either side of the river.

School has been canceled by Presidential decree all week in the entire country; today Laura and I went to a directors’ meeting where they discussed for over a half hour if they were going to obey this Presidential decree or not. I can’t really imagine either of these things happening in the US.

Since we aren’t working we have been looking, rather unsuccessfully, for ways to help. When no one needed us for manual labor, we assumed that at least we could donate food, clothes, or water to the affected communities. But no one seems to know where such items would be collected or how they would be distributed. We got a lot of blank stares and answers to questions we hadn’t asked when we went to ask in the Muni what supplies were needed. To me it is utterly incomprehensible that they don’t have a donation center and truck to bring supplies to communities that don’t have food or water and whose possessions were all swept away in the storm. I have talked to many people here who want to help, but have no outlet. For me it is as simple as putting a big box in city hall and announcing on the radio what kinds of donations they need. When we asked today what was needed, we were told that they were still investigating needs and didn’t know. I found this all very frustrating. I know that the Muni is working hard to help communities, but I guess I just feel powerless and useless to help with such basic needs so close to me…

…Which brings me back to where we started: the press conference, and the value of going. I didn’t learn much at the conference about community needs or outlets for donations, but you don’t always get what you came for. Instead, I was introduced to the head of another NGO working in Patzún who also works with the Escuelas Saludables program, and will be an interesting contact in the future. I was also finally asked to help. It is very interesting the human reaction of wanting to contribute or act in a time of crisis. I am not convinced that it is purely unselfish, but de todos modos, Laura and I will finally be able to pitch in in some way. Added bonus to leaving my house this evening- I ran into my favorite aunt and got to have atoll with her and her husband. It really is the little things that make you happy.

I realize that in talking about what is happening here, I may have come off hard on the relief effort. I know that they are working hard and are dedicated, but practices that seem to me such natural reactions to a crisis, I have not seen implemented as a priority here. I must remind myself to step back and not judge or criticize based on my personal perceptions and expectations. All in all, it has at least been interesting to see the institutional and cultural differences in disaster response.

Exciting Updates from the Life of a Peace Corps Volunteer

It’s raining. It has been for a while now. We are on stand-fast because it is raining so much. That’s Peace Corps terms for happy weekend; don’t leave your site. A volcano erupted Thursday, covering the capital with black sand and not so much as a peep from Peace Corps, but it rains without stopping for a day or so and we are on lock-down. So much for my plans for a haircut.

The rain makes me feel extremely lazy, which is a bad thing because we are only one month in to a five month rainy season. The rain also makes the water muddy. I get water at my house every other day, and the past few days my pila has been brown. Four days ago we didn’t even fill it up the water was so dirty, today it was a translucent light brown. I just made sure to dry my dishes really well. Apparently this is normal for the first month of rainy season as the rain water is washing up all of the dirt…or something like that. I guess that explains mal de mayo (aka excessive stomach issues in the month of May).

So for now I am rained in. Tonight I took advantage of this situation to watch gross amounts of West Wing and make home-made pesto. If I come away with only one thing from Peace Corps it will be cooking skills, aka “the importance of a blender as a cooking implement.” I haven’t been able to find basil in the market, and was giving up hope when my landlady gave me a tour of our garden and I discovered a GIANT basil bush right outside my back door. We also have parsley, mint, eucalyptus, and various fruits. When it is not raining at night (rarely), the fireflies come out and I feel as if I live in an enchanted garden.

Another exciting thing to update you all about is my trip to the dentist. I’m sure it isn’t just my mother who has been worried about my tooth that was chipped in the line of duty while accompanying my site-mate to the hospital. I was a little nervous about getting my tooth fixed here because I have seen how most people come out after a trip to the dentist. But after more experienced volunteers assured me that I would emerge from the experience without any extraneous gold adornments in my mouth, I sucked it up and made the appointment. Everything went smoothly until the end when she let me hold the mirror to see how I liked my newly repaired tooth. All I can say is thank god for that mirror; otherwise I would have come out like some character from Twilight. From there it went something like a hair cutting appointment: a little shorter, a little off the back, oh my gosh too short! Etc. I was a bit nervous when the dentist answered her cell phone while drilling down my tooth and the assistant failed to register the panic in my facial expression, but I came out alive, and those who have gotten bored by now and stopped reading will never know the difference.

So as you can see, life here is pretty exciting. And, if I haven’t made it clear enough already, it continues to rain. Maybe I should look into getting a boat instead of a bicycle.

A Long Blog for a Long Week

This week was a week of highs and lows.

Let’s start with a high:
Laura and I finally figured out how to become celebrities over night. I’ll admit- it was a stroke of genius. I’ll also admit that it wasn’t our idea. This week was feria in our town, which is a town fair every municipality celebrates in honor of their patron saint. On the Tuesday before feria, the department of education planned a big parade for all of the schools, and seeing how Laura and I work within the municipal office of education, our supervisor invited us to walk with his secretaries. On the big day, Laura and I arrived at the rendezvous point ready to go. Now when I think of walking in a parade, I think practically about my attire- jeans and tennis shoes. But we were instructed to look our finest, so I bumped it up to a skirt and flats. I’m glad I did, because when we lined up to start marching we found ourselves right behind the feria’s beauty queens. They certainly did not share my concept of practicality, as they arrived ready to walk the route in what my host mom termed “tacones (heels) de table dancing.” How she knew that word in English I don’t really want to know. The beauty queens, in turn, came right after the Mayor and City Council. And this is how Laura and I found ourselves almost at the head of the parade. Turns out I wasn’t exactly born for parade walking. The marshal in charge of our line kept reprimanding me for either walking too fast or getting distracted by taking pictures and not walking at all. I also managed to trip more than all of the women in heels. Our supervisor, however, seemed happy, walking along with his harem of women.

Another high:
Corn-on-the-cob-on-a-stick, and…
The muni hired a marimba band to play for feria that is renowned throughout all of Guatemala- the Conejos Internacionales. Rough translation: The International Bunnies. In their powder blue suits they were quite impressive. One of them even tried to pick up one of my friends using the seductive “bunny ears” symbol, which basically looks like a peace sign when you pulse the two fingers to resemble rabbit ears. I know. I can’t believe it didn’t work. There were also fireworks, which were quite impressive for Guatemala.

This brings me to my first low: Close Calls during Feria.
The last fireworks were beautiful. They exploded right above our heads like a proverbial umbrella, and the sparks appeared to be raining down on us. But then there was one that didn’t burn out. As it got closer and closer, my sense of panic increased. But this is a “close call” section, so you will al be relived to know that the flaming piece of whatever fireworks are made of fell on the tin roof of the stage, and we were only showered with a few sparks.

The next close call begins with what was an insane idea anyway- riding the Ferris wheel. Laura’s host sister managed to convince me that I wouldn’t die or pee my pants, so I got inline with her and bought a ticket. As we neared the front of the line, the Ferris wheel stopped turning. I didn’t really think much of it until they got out the wrenches to try to repair the tractor. Yes, the tractor. The Ferris wheel was run by an honest to god tractor. When they put the tractor in reverse, the Ferris wheel went backwards. And fast. Instead of calling it the “Rueda de Chicago” they should call it the “Rueda de Muerto.” When that tractor broke down I was out of that line in a flash. If that broke, how do we know other more crucial parts of the monstrous ride wouldn’t break? Not a chance I was willing to take. Not to mention that I was about 5 people away from being stuck on the top of a very tall Ferris wheel for an indefinite amount of time. Here is another idea to ponder… Ferris wheels in a lightening storm??

We’ll go ahead and sandwich the lows in the middle of this extremely long blog entry. Low # 2: Injuries sustained by Laura and me while defending our site-mate’s honor (well, what’s left of it after the whole town watched him dancing to the music of the International Bunnies).
Some may tell you that it was a refrigerator that ruined the actual day of Feria for Laura and I, sending Laura to the hospital with a bump on her head and causing me to return from accompanying her minus part of a tooth, but we stand by our story and Colin’s honor. Please don’t worry, Laura is fine, I got to go shopping at a huge supermarket in Guate City, and thanks to Peace Corps, I have great dental insurance.

Mixed high and low: Taking my host-grandmother to the airport.
This Tuesday, the day finally came when my host-grandmother was to depart for the US. She went to visit her daughter who she hadn’t seen in fourteen years. She packed all kinds of Guatemalan food to take to her daughter, and we had multiple send off parties. When the time came to take her to the airport, we all piled into two cars to drive to Guate. Guatemalans have an art of fitting an infinite number of people into a finite amount of space, and we fit maybe 15 people into two cars. At the airport, the send off party numbered over 20, and it was both a joyous and sad occasion. Abuela hasn’t ever really traveled anywhere, and it was obvious that her kids and grandkids would miss her greatly, even though she will be back in three weeks. If any of you see a woman wandering around Los Angeles in traditional Guatemalan dress, that’s my abuela!

Final high of the week: A school visit.
This one is not quite as glamorous as the others, but we had a really wonderful school visit on Wednesday. The school we visited had about 20 students and is located in a small village about 20 minutes by car out of town. The road to get there winds through the mountains and overlooks deep ravines. Electricity in this school was once run by solar energy, but the solar panels donated by some NGO have long since been stolen, probably to sell for scrap metal. About 10 parents from the community came to meet us, and then gave us a tour of their village. It turns out that these few parents represented a majority of the families in the community. They proudly took us to see all of their houses, some of which were perched on a hill looking out over the mountains, and others which were located down winding paths through the woods. I was impressed with the openness and hospitality that these people shared with strangers in their community. I was also happy to see all of the students and teachers brush their teeth after snack, even though the school has never worked with the Healthy Schools program!

Mother’s Day: A cultural comparison.

Today here in Guatemala we are celebrating Mother’s Day. Or, at least some people are. Some schools celebrated on Friday, on Saturday I went to a Mother’s Day dinner and on Sunday, a Mother’s Day lunch. But today, May 10th, is the official holiday. After learning a bit about how this special day is celebrated here and comparing certain aspects with our traditions in the US, I have begun to ponder if we really love and appreciate our mothers enough back home.
In a decidedly practical American fashion, we in the US have opted to celebrate Mother’s Day every year on a Sunday. This way the festivities do not interrupt work or school. Both the economy and the education system forge ahead, unimpeded, perhaps even somewhat enhanced, by our recognition of these special women in our lives. Here on the other-hand, when Mother’s Day falls on a Monday, all mothers get the day off work. This means that all of the mothers who are teachers cancel classes all day, while at the same time most schools have some sort of celebration that they invite all of the children’s mothers to. I haven’t quite worked out the logistics of all this, but what a better way to show mom you love her than giving her the day off work and a show at school. The only potential problem I can see is that “sons” or “daughters” might mysteriously appear once a year to allow “mommy” a day off of work.
A day off of work is all well and good, but these moms can forget about their sleep-in and breakfast in bed. Here it is also deemed appropriate to show your mother how much you love her by waking her up at 5:30 am with a stream of fire-crackers and loudspeaker announcements to let her know just how special she is. I don’t know about your mothers, but it seems to me that my mother would consider this a form of torture, and not the highest form of appreciation. So what says “I love you” more to you, 4 days of celebratory meals and performances and a day off of work, or a fire-cracker free sleep-in?

Fat and Happy in Guatemala

When the bus drops me off at the entrance to the community I think I am entering Neverland. The fog is so thick that it looks like I am going to walk off the end of the world in the next 10 feet. As I wind my way up the dirt road, out of the fog appears a fence post, then a horse tethered to it, the blurry edges of fields planted with vegetables, and finally a small school. The kids here are talkative, and the teachers engaged. Recess is extended as we digress in our conversation about the Healthy Schools Program to discuss new immigration laws in the US and my disloyalty to my country in my World Cup top picks.

Walking down from the school later that morning, the fog has cleared and the landscape unfolds before me like a green patchwork quilt on a lumpy bed. The mountain breeze feels familiar, like it knows me, although I can’t be sure from where. Is it the breeze that filled my sails on chilly days on the James River? Or is it the wind that whipped my hair around on Lake Michigan’s beaches? Either way it gives me a feeling of nostalgia that I can’t quite place. The mud-brick homes I pass are the kind that 6 months ago I had imagined myself living in in Peace Corps. Not that I am complaining about the painted cement walls that I am so lucky to have. It is 12:30, so when I greet a woman with a “Buenos Dias” and then quickly correct myself after consulting my watch, she laughs and stops to chat with me. I think how lucky I am to have this job, and how much I love walking.

It is a good thing that I am doing so much walking. Everyone seems to want to feed me here. This wouldn’t be a bad thing, except that all of the veggies I bought at the market over the last two weeks are going bad. And my host-aunt is continually forcing bread from her bakery on me. Today she entreated, “Just take one piece to make a bean sandwich for tomorrow’s morning snack.” “I don’t have any beans.” I replied pragmatically. “Ham?” she pondered. “No… but I do have jam.” “Perfect. A jam sandwich. I don’t want you getting sick from not eating.” Ha. That should be the least of her worries.

The moral of these stories is that I may be getting fat, but at least I am happy.