In all of my time leading up to Peace Corps Guatemala, I pictured rural life to the extreme. Think “Peace Corps” and you probably imagine a mud hut without electricity. Well, it turns out, it’s not quite that intense, but in some ways it’s close.
In training, during one of our “Cultural Sessions,” our trainer discussed with us the shortage of potable water here in Guatemala (just like in every third world country; we Americans take for granted the availability of water), and reminded us to use it sparingly. Somewhat jokingly, but with a hint of sincerity, I asked if it would be okay and/or necessary to bathe in rivers at times. My fellow trainees got a kick out of this. Some of them even gave me the nickname “Rio” (River), and named a little creek on the way to their town after me. The trainer responded with something to the effect of, “No, there’ll be enough water to bathe.” Well as it turns out, he was wrong.
Saturday I woke up, went for a run, then headed to the main house for breakfast, not knowing what the plan for the day was. We had discussed a possible trip to El Estor, a town along Lago (Lake) de Izabal near the Caribbean coast, to visit the grandfather of the family perhaps one last time. The option of an excursion to the river had also been thrown out. However, at breakfast, Claudia (my sister) told me that because the water came today, we were going to do laundry instead. (When the water comes on the weekend, we drop everything to do laundry.) So we didn’t travel. But then the water stopped falling. (We use verb caerse, which means to fall, to talk about the water coming or not.) I was hiking up to the main house when Claudia told me:
“We’re going to go to the river to wash. The water stopped falling.”
“To wash clothes or bodies?”
“Both.”
I couldn’t turn down a trip to the river, but how could I wash my clothes in the river without feeling like I was violating the environment and everything I stand for? And how could I tell them that they were contaminating the river, without implying that their lifestyle is destructive, especially when they have no other option? I thought about washing my clothes at the house and just going to the river to swim, but then using their limited water to wash my clothes didn’t seem right either. So I went and I washed, while it ate away at my conscience.
It was quite a production. We brought boards, set up rock piles to place them on, and went to work. Each female age 11 and up had her own board or rock to wash on. Luis, age 10, helped for a little while, until he started crying. I washed with Angela, age 11, in the middle of the river on some rocks. We were making small talk, and she commented on the fact that I didn’t have too many clothes to wash, while she had to wash all of hers as while as those of her little sisters. I said that I would help her, except that she probably wouldn’t be satisfied with my wash job because I don’t like to use very much soap, especially in the river because I don’t want to contaminate it more than I have to. She told me not to worry, because there’s no one downstream from us. I pointed out all the little fish swimming around our legs. “Oh, don’t worry, they don’t care. They eat the soap.” Right, okay. Probably not the best time for an environmental education lesson. Better when we step a little bit outside of the problem so that it doesn’t look like I’m pointing fingers.
Even with the moral qualms, it was a fun day nonetheless. It’s a nice deep river to swim in, and we brought a tasty picnic lunch. The highlight of the day though, was when the family that was already there finished their lunch and came down to the river to bathe. The men were decked out in Speedos, while the women wore shorts and t-shirts. For some reason swimsuits aren’t acceptable for women, yet men can wear next-to-nothing. I don’t understand.
The first woman broke out her little package of shampoo and lathered up. Later I saw her brushing her teeth with river water. My favorite (note my tone of sarcasm), however, was the man in the black and neon green Speedo who lathered up his whole body, then proceeded to reach into his Speedo and scrub hard. Yeah, you heard me right. It was quite traumatic.
After this family cleared out, and while I was still waiting for the rest of the women in my family to finish washing, I took my turn to bathe. Now don’t worry, at least for this I brought my Dr. Bronner’s organic soap so that I wasn’t a completely terrible, hypocritical person. After I discreetly bathed, I went around the area and picked up all the trash. Sadly, I don’t know how much good this did because they just burn it later. There’s a landfill around, but it’s not sanitary, and I don’t think many people use it.
Later I texted my friend who gave me the nickname “Rio” to let him know that I lived up to the name. He responded with, “Audrey, you don’t know how happy this makes me. I just may call you later to follow up on this.”
Continuing with the theme of mud huts, I’m searching for a home right now. Currently, I live in San Agustin in my own house but in a family compound. I don’t have a bathroom. I have to hike up the hill to use theirs, and considering how much I hydrate, it has become quite the inconvenience. San Agustin is also a Q3 microbus ride to San Fernando where I work. That’s Q6 per day; Q30 per week. It adds up. And it’s just a pain. So I’m going to move to San Fernando once my required 3 months of living with a family is up. It’s also got a bit more going on – a bit more lively.
My friend Juan offered his family’s extra house to me. He talked it up a fair amount, and I had my heart set on it. Then we went to look at it…
Problem #1: It’s made of wood, which isn’t quite safe here. With the cracks between the wood, ladrones (thieves) can just pry it right open and steal my stuff and/or me. Also, snakes can enter. I’m not afraid of snakes, except that they tend to be poisonous here.
Problem #2: It doesn’t have a fence, thus even less safe. As well, my future dog will escape, and my future garden will be eaten by the countless roaming chickens, pigs and dogs.
Problem #3: The two rooms that we were able to enter have dirt floors; supposedly, the others have something more solid, but that is yet to be seen.
Problem #4: NO BATHROOM. It has a latrine in the middle of the yard and a pila, where I would have to bathe basically in public. Granted, he said they would build a bathroom, but then I would have to commit to this house on the assumption that the bathroom would be decent.
Many of these problems are fixable, but why not just find a house that’s already up to Peace Corps security standards and that I can live in comfortably for 2 years? It’s not that I feel I’m above the living standard of the people in this community, but I need someplace safe, and there are options of decent houses. I don’t have to live with a latrine in my backyard. So the mayor and others that work in the Municipality are going to help me find a concrete block house with bars on the windows and a metal door with a dead bolt. I told them my 4 requirements:
My own house – I don’t want to share with a family or another individual. We Americans are accustomed to living alone, just as long as there are neighbors close by for interaction and to watch out for me and my stuff. As well, I need some space and privacy for when friends come to visit.
A kitchen – I’m planning on becoming a master chef with all this free time I’ll have in the next two years. Plus I’m tired of greasy eggs and beans.
A bathroom – with the problems I’ve had up to this point, it’s a necessity, and I’m tired of sharing a bathroom with the family.
A yard – I need space for my future garden and dog.
I don’t think that’s too much to ask. I’ll keep you updated on how the house hunt goes!
p.s. Send me some emails, or at least leave some comments on my blog. It gets a little lonely here! Miss you all! Come visit!
21 April 2008
14 April 2008
The President and Gallo Beer Dancers
Right now, as I write this blog, this is the first time I’ve actually been cold in my site. I didn’t realize it was possible. It’s pouring and super windy. No sun anywhere. I love it! It’s like I’m back in Oregon.
The roofs here are made of lamina, so when it rains, the noise is intense. Last Monday night, I experienced the first storm here. I could barely sleep it was so loud! It rained all night long, with thunder and flashes of lightning throughout the night. Even though I don’t have windows, my houses stayed dry inside! I wasn’t sure if in the morning I’d be able to go for my usual run, because I assumed that the road would be a mud pit, but surprisingly, the ground wasn’t very wet. But it was wet and muddy enough that when I took a “shower” (i.e. dumped water over my head with a bucket), the mud from my shower shoes clogged the drain!
(Momentary break to go stand in the rain. BRB :) )
We just finished eating lunch, and it was amazing. My host mom, Doña Edna, made flour tortillas (we usually have corn) and put beef, lettuce and salsa inside. I ate three. As I finished, the rain started to come, so Angela (my 11-year-old “niece”) and I ran outside to collect all the laundry we had just washed. We had spent nearly two hours washing our clothes in the pila, then the wind came and threw our clean, wet laundry onto the dirt. Luckily, we salvaged most of it and moved it under the roof. That was the batch of clothes that we hung up at the main house, but the clothes that we have down at my house are getting completely re-soaked, but I’m not going to hike down the muddy, slippery trail to my house right now…I don’t need to make more dirty laundry by falling on my ass! The laundry can dry later.
As I said, lunch was amazing. During my three months of training I had become so antsy to have my own house and cook my own food, but now I’m having second thoughts. I am extremely tired of the greasy eggs, beans and tortillas that we have for breakfast and dinner and miss a lot of my normal food. But lunches are typically pretty good. The only problem is that I’ll be working a 20 minute microbus ride away from where I’m living, which will be a bit much of a trip to make daily, especially since it costs Q3 (about 40 cents) each way. I think I’ll bring sandwiches for lunch and buy some fruit and yogurt, and the days that lunch is going to be really good, I’ll come home for that! So anyway, the problem is that I need to figure out what I’m going to eat and thus what I’m going to pay the family for. And I also am not sure where I want to live after my first three required months here. I love this family and I’ve got my own little house, but it might be kind of nice to live in San Fernando, where the office is, because then I’ll be closer to more amenities, like the market and the internet. Who knows? I’ll figure it all out in time, but for now, I’m content.
The other day I wrote an email to some friends and in it I had no idea what to write. As I told them, right now, pretty much everything in my life makes for a good story, so I have no idea where to begin! But I’ll give it a shot anyway. It’ll probably turn out to be pretty long.
Inauguration of Computers
Last Sunday, I went to an event with Don Rudy at a local primary school. The school had just received 16 computers from the Ministry of Education and were celebrating. When we showed up the band was in full swing with little kids dancing in the grass. Those of us “authorities,” as they called us, sat in the shade and waited for it to begin. I checked out the new technology room. Each computer had two or three red crosses on the back. A man explained to me that at midnight they had a culto and blessed each computer with the blood of a chicken. When it was time, they paraded us across the school yard to sit in the shade on the other side where the stage was. We sang the national hymn, which is ridiculously long, then Don Rudy, the indigenous queen of the town, the superintendent, and some others spoke. There were even a few singers. To end the day, they fed us authorities (and only us). We ate the traditional food of the area: soup, which is pretty gross. In this country it is pretty much required to provide food at any event or meeting, so I get a lot of free meals.
The caves are private property, although I don’t think that an individual should be allowed to own this natural wonder, but when they parceled out the land, I don’t think it was known that they existed. Or they didn’t care. So being private property, it could make ecotourism development a little difficult, but it if the owner is really gung-ho, it could speed the process up. Within the next few months I’ll meet with the owner and see where his interests lie.
While we were at the caves, we ran into Felipe, a gringo who has a little resort hotel in Las Conchas and does various hiking/backpacking tours in the area. One of his tours is to the caves. I started a conversation with him, wanting to know a bit about the caves and what he does in them. It turned into a very frustrating speech. Basically, he told me that he doesn’t want me working there because he wants it all for himself. And he wouldn’t let me get a word in. I realize that he supports the locals a bit with his tourism, but what I’m here for is to capacitate the locals to be able to have their own tourism, if they want it. Capacity building and sustainable development – that’s what the Peace Corps is all about. He told me, though, that he sees the Peace Corps as a cheerleader for two years, and when the volunteer leaves, the people revert to their old ways. Yes, I realize that this can happen. Not all volunteers are effective. Not all communities are receptive. But I’m going to try. My vision is to form the community into an association, so all benefit, not just the owner of the property, especially since the trail goes through the property of multiple families. They could have community tourism, where tourists stay with a local family, or start a little hotel, because there’s really no lodging in the area. We could train guides, and even register the caves as a park. Granted, they have to want all of this, but either way, I don’t care what Felipe wants. He told me he gets riled up about it because it’s his life; I told him it’s going to be my life for the next two years, and it’s the locals’ lives forever. So he can shove it. But I will try to stay on his good side, because it won’t help anything if we brawl, especially since he has a relationship with the owners.
Don Rudy and Doña Telma
The mayor and his wife have taken me in as one of their daughters, more or less, which I was originally really excited about, but now it can be a little annoying and frustrating. And it’s strange, I have my work relationship with Don Rudy, and my relationship as his “daughter” and the mixture of the two is complicated. In my last blog, I wrote how I got in trouble with Don Rudy for not being punctual – approximately two minutes late. Well, since then he has been over a half hour late multiple times. I guess my time isn’t important, only his. He also doesn’t like to advise me of things in advance. I like to have at least a little bit of a plan. For example, on Monday night, I still didn’t know if or when I was leaving for the capital on Tuesday. He just told me to bring my bag to the muni at 8am, and he’d call me. It turns out he had a driver for me from Chahal to Coban then put me on a bus to the capital. So it all worked out.
I went to the capital for an event with UNICEF that Don Rudy had been invited to: El Segundo Encuentro de la Primera Infancia, a two-day discussion about the importance of the first six years of a child’s life. It was a pretty big deal: the president and his wife came and spoke, and I even got to shake the first lady’s hand, and some say she’s the real brains behind the whole government.
I went with Doña Telma, who drove me crazy by the end of the week. The best way I can think to describe her is that she has an opinion about everything and no conversation she ever has is calm. I told her about the friends I made that took me swimming in the river. She told me that three of the girls are great, but one of them, Silvia, I guess isn’t. The rumor is that she’s cheating on her husband. But it’s just a rumor in my book, and she’s really nice. Doña Telma, however, told me that if Silvia invites me to go somewhere again, that I need to tell her no. There is no way that I’m turning down the possibility to have friends. No way.
To not draw out this story too much, because it’s probably more interesting to me than to all of you, the gist of it is that she continuously gossiped about her daughter-in-law, her own children, and whomever else, and proceeded to tell me what to do. She left half way through the UNICEF event to go tell her son that he needs to put his wife in her place, and then just never returned. Luckily, her daughter called to offer me a ride. Then, the second day, she decided we just wouldn’t go, we had heard everything they had to say, and we could get a ride with her nephew back to Coban in the afternoon instead of taking a bus. Although later, she was bummed that we didn’t get our diplomas. And what would we do with them, I ask? Saber (who knows). After waiting all day (I would’ve had enough time to go to the UNICEF thing, but at least I got an hour run in), we finally piled in the truck to head to Coban. She brought a ridiculous amount of things and the truck was really crowded, so she said to me, “Adriana, maybe it would be better if you stayed here tonight and took a bus in the morning.” I about smacked her, but before I could, her nephews told her no. The whole 4 hour ride to Coban, she was gossiping up a storm and I about screamed and jumped out the window. There are plenty more ridiculous stories pertaining to Doña Telma, but I will leave it at this, because I’m over it. If nothing else, I’ve learned how she is.
Creepy Co-Workers and Gallo Beer Dancers
Friday I spent in Coban. I waited for Don Rudy for about 45 minutes, then accompanied him to the CODEDE meeting, which is a meeting of all the mayors in the department of Alta Verapaz, the governor, and various other important people. Afterwards I was on my own for the afternoon. I registered for the half-marathon, chopped off all my hair, and bought some necessities. Around 5pm we were going to head back to Chahal. We had a private micro because a bunch of guys who work in the muni were in Coban for a training. Most of them are really nice, but it’s going to be a challenge working with literally all men. There’s one who won’t give me the time of day; doesn’t even say “Buenos dias” in the morning. There are two that are relatively young, married, with kids, but hit on me all the time. I was standing with Santiago, and he told me that I was beautiful before, but now with my new haircut I’m “divine.” Then he bought some red roses, luckily for his wife and not for me. Ted (another volunteer) and I were talking about how much more difficult the Peace Corps is for a female than for a male. It’s so true. Women have to work extremely hard to gain the respect of their male co-workers. Men come in and immediately are respected and looked up to. Even just with dynamics in the town, men become celebrities. Life is going to be a challenge, but I’m up to it.
Just before leaving Coban, I found out that a couple of my friends were in town – Kelly and Ted, so I decided to stay another night. When I told Don Rudy, he initially told me no. When he realized it was the weekend, he said I could, but wasn’t too happy about it, and said that he would call Flavio, my program director, to let him know. This is going to be a problem if Don Rudy calls Flavio every time I leave my site. It’s nice that he wants to make sure I’m safe, but it’s not his responsibility. I will have to fix this somehow.
Friday night was fun. Ted, Kelly, her boyfriend and I ate delicious Cuban food and then had some beers at a bar. The beer was good, and on tap, which is rare. The best part, though, was when the Gallo dancers and their pimp showed up. (Gallo = rooster and is the national beer.) They were all decked out in Gallo clothes and the three girls danced for us while their 5’ pimped shouted “cintura” (waist) into the microphone. The next day, we saw the four of them, in matching outfits of another product, eating in the mall with sunglasses on like they were movie stars.
Overall, I’m really glad I’m here, but as an RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer) described it to me before I left, “it’s a wild ride.” I could not describe it better myself. It’s incredible how quickly I go from my highest high to my lowest low, or anywhere in between. Sometimes I become nostalgic for the normalcy of life at home, in Yellowstone, or at Willamette: doing a workout with the team and taking an ice bath afterward; going for a hike with my buddies then gorging ourselves at Helen’s or the Merry Piglets and sitting around the campfire; playing fetch with my dogs and my dad; traveling with ease in my own car; going grocery shopping. And I especially miss my friends and family. Sometimes I feel like I’m missing out on life, but this is only two years, and they will go by in a blink of an eye. This has been and will continue to be a life-changing experience. Even though I miss plenty of things back at home, I remember that when I was back in the States, I would get bored and was ready to move on. One never remembers the negatives, only the positives. It’s like in a race, afterwards I never remember how painful it was, I only remember either how good it felt, or I chastise myself for not running faster, thinking that I wasn’t in pain and could’ve tried harder. I love my life here, and with time, as I start to feel more and more at home and figure out my work better, I’ll begin to feel like I have a normal life.
p.s. I tried to put pictures up, but the connection is too slow. I'll try again soon... but try checking out my facebook album, hopefully the new ones ended up there: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2025202&l=4a88f&id=27500355
The roofs here are made of lamina, so when it rains, the noise is intense. Last Monday night, I experienced the first storm here. I could barely sleep it was so loud! It rained all night long, with thunder and flashes of lightning throughout the night. Even though I don’t have windows, my houses stayed dry inside! I wasn’t sure if in the morning I’d be able to go for my usual run, because I assumed that the road would be a mud pit, but surprisingly, the ground wasn’t very wet. But it was wet and muddy enough that when I took a “shower” (i.e. dumped water over my head with a bucket), the mud from my shower shoes clogged the drain!
(Momentary break to go stand in the rain. BRB :) )
We just finished eating lunch, and it was amazing. My host mom, Doña Edna, made flour tortillas (we usually have corn) and put beef, lettuce and salsa inside. I ate three. As I finished, the rain started to come, so Angela (my 11-year-old “niece”) and I ran outside to collect all the laundry we had just washed. We had spent nearly two hours washing our clothes in the pila, then the wind came and threw our clean, wet laundry onto the dirt. Luckily, we salvaged most of it and moved it under the roof. That was the batch of clothes that we hung up at the main house, but the clothes that we have down at my house are getting completely re-soaked, but I’m not going to hike down the muddy, slippery trail to my house right now…I don’t need to make more dirty laundry by falling on my ass! The laundry can dry later.
As I said, lunch was amazing. During my three months of training I had become so antsy to have my own house and cook my own food, but now I’m having second thoughts. I am extremely tired of the greasy eggs, beans and tortillas that we have for breakfast and dinner and miss a lot of my normal food. But lunches are typically pretty good. The only problem is that I’ll be working a 20 minute microbus ride away from where I’m living, which will be a bit much of a trip to make daily, especially since it costs Q3 (about 40 cents) each way. I think I’ll bring sandwiches for lunch and buy some fruit and yogurt, and the days that lunch is going to be really good, I’ll come home for that! So anyway, the problem is that I need to figure out what I’m going to eat and thus what I’m going to pay the family for. And I also am not sure where I want to live after my first three required months here. I love this family and I’ve got my own little house, but it might be kind of nice to live in San Fernando, where the office is, because then I’ll be closer to more amenities, like the market and the internet. Who knows? I’ll figure it all out in time, but for now, I’m content.
The other day I wrote an email to some friends and in it I had no idea what to write. As I told them, right now, pretty much everything in my life makes for a good story, so I have no idea where to begin! But I’ll give it a shot anyway. It’ll probably turn out to be pretty long.
Inauguration of Computers
Last Sunday, I went to an event with Don Rudy at a local primary school. The school had just received 16 computers from the Ministry of Education and were celebrating. When we showed up the band was in full swing with little kids dancing in the grass. Those of us “authorities,” as they called us, sat in the shade and waited for it to begin. I checked out the new technology room. Each computer had two or three red crosses on the back. A man explained to me that at midnight they had a culto and blessed each computer with the blood of a chicken. When it was time, they paraded us across the school yard to sit in the shade on the other side where the stage was. We sang the national hymn, which is ridiculously long, then Don Rudy, the indigenous queen of the town, the superintendent, and some others spoke. There were even a few singers. To end the day, they fed us authorities (and only us). We ate the traditional food of the area: soup, which is pretty gross. In this country it is pretty much required to provide food at any event or meeting, so I get a lot of free meals.
(Don Rudy and the sacred computer)
Las Cuevas de Setzol
On Monday I finally visited my other site, The Caves (Cuevas) of Setzol. I went with Vilda, my 21-year-old host sister, and my counterpart, Heimer. Vilda is a pre-primary school teacher, but only in the mornings, so is going to come with me in the afternoons sometimes. Luckily, Heimer found us a vehicle of the muni that we could take. It didn’t have brakes, but those aren’t necessary.
The community of Setzol isn’t too far away. We parked the car there and walked 20 or 30 minutes through various private fields of cows and corn, which used to be forests, to get to the caves. When I saw them I was stunned. They are spectacular. The pictures do not do them justice at all. They appear out of no where and are huge. The temperature drops a good 15 degrees as you step inside, which is refreshing beyond description. El Rio Chiyu, the same river that makes Las Conchas, runs inside of these caves. I had no idea it was going to be so big… I had pictured a cave that we have to crawl through with a stream inside, and thus I did not bring a swimsuit. Next time. Supposedly there are about 10 caves. We only had time to see two of them, but they were incredible nonetheless. If any of you come to visit me, I’ll take you camping inside the caves if you’d like.
The caves are private property, although I don’t think that an individual should be allowed to own this natural wonder, but when they parceled out the land, I don’t think it was known that they existed. Or they didn’t care. So being private property, it could make ecotourism development a little difficult, but it if the owner is really gung-ho, it could speed the process up. Within the next few months I’ll meet with the owner and see where his interests lie.
While we were at the caves, we ran into Felipe, a gringo who has a little resort hotel in Las Conchas and does various hiking/backpacking tours in the area. One of his tours is to the caves. I started a conversation with him, wanting to know a bit about the caves and what he does in them. It turned into a very frustrating speech. Basically, he told me that he doesn’t want me working there because he wants it all for himself. And he wouldn’t let me get a word in. I realize that he supports the locals a bit with his tourism, but what I’m here for is to capacitate the locals to be able to have their own tourism, if they want it. Capacity building and sustainable development – that’s what the Peace Corps is all about. He told me, though, that he sees the Peace Corps as a cheerleader for two years, and when the volunteer leaves, the people revert to their old ways. Yes, I realize that this can happen. Not all volunteers are effective. Not all communities are receptive. But I’m going to try. My vision is to form the community into an association, so all benefit, not just the owner of the property, especially since the trail goes through the property of multiple families. They could have community tourism, where tourists stay with a local family, or start a little hotel, because there’s really no lodging in the area. We could train guides, and even register the caves as a park. Granted, they have to want all of this, but either way, I don’t care what Felipe wants. He told me he gets riled up about it because it’s his life; I told him it’s going to be my life for the next two years, and it’s the locals’ lives forever. So he can shove it. But I will try to stay on his good side, because it won’t help anything if we brawl, especially since he has a relationship with the owners.
Don Rudy and Doña Telma
The mayor and his wife have taken me in as one of their daughters, more or less, which I was originally really excited about, but now it can be a little annoying and frustrating. And it’s strange, I have my work relationship with Don Rudy, and my relationship as his “daughter” and the mixture of the two is complicated. In my last blog, I wrote how I got in trouble with Don Rudy for not being punctual – approximately two minutes late. Well, since then he has been over a half hour late multiple times. I guess my time isn’t important, only his. He also doesn’t like to advise me of things in advance. I like to have at least a little bit of a plan. For example, on Monday night, I still didn’t know if or when I was leaving for the capital on Tuesday. He just told me to bring my bag to the muni at 8am, and he’d call me. It turns out he had a driver for me from Chahal to Coban then put me on a bus to the capital. So it all worked out.
I went to the capital for an event with UNICEF that Don Rudy had been invited to: El Segundo Encuentro de la Primera Infancia, a two-day discussion about the importance of the first six years of a child’s life. It was a pretty big deal: the president and his wife came and spoke, and I even got to shake the first lady’s hand, and some say she’s the real brains behind the whole government.
I went with Doña Telma, who drove me crazy by the end of the week. The best way I can think to describe her is that she has an opinion about everything and no conversation she ever has is calm. I told her about the friends I made that took me swimming in the river. She told me that three of the girls are great, but one of them, Silvia, I guess isn’t. The rumor is that she’s cheating on her husband. But it’s just a rumor in my book, and she’s really nice. Doña Telma, however, told me that if Silvia invites me to go somewhere again, that I need to tell her no. There is no way that I’m turning down the possibility to have friends. No way.
To not draw out this story too much, because it’s probably more interesting to me than to all of you, the gist of it is that she continuously gossiped about her daughter-in-law, her own children, and whomever else, and proceeded to tell me what to do. She left half way through the UNICEF event to go tell her son that he needs to put his wife in her place, and then just never returned. Luckily, her daughter called to offer me a ride. Then, the second day, she decided we just wouldn’t go, we had heard everything they had to say, and we could get a ride with her nephew back to Coban in the afternoon instead of taking a bus. Although later, she was bummed that we didn’t get our diplomas. And what would we do with them, I ask? Saber (who knows). After waiting all day (I would’ve had enough time to go to the UNICEF thing, but at least I got an hour run in), we finally piled in the truck to head to Coban. She brought a ridiculous amount of things and the truck was really crowded, so she said to me, “Adriana, maybe it would be better if you stayed here tonight and took a bus in the morning.” I about smacked her, but before I could, her nephews told her no. The whole 4 hour ride to Coban, she was gossiping up a storm and I about screamed and jumped out the window. There are plenty more ridiculous stories pertaining to Doña Telma, but I will leave it at this, because I’m over it. If nothing else, I’ve learned how she is.
Creepy Co-Workers and Gallo Beer Dancers
Friday I spent in Coban. I waited for Don Rudy for about 45 minutes, then accompanied him to the CODEDE meeting, which is a meeting of all the mayors in the department of Alta Verapaz, the governor, and various other important people. Afterwards I was on my own for the afternoon. I registered for the half-marathon, chopped off all my hair, and bought some necessities. Around 5pm we were going to head back to Chahal. We had a private micro because a bunch of guys who work in the muni were in Coban for a training. Most of them are really nice, but it’s going to be a challenge working with literally all men. There’s one who won’t give me the time of day; doesn’t even say “Buenos dias” in the morning. There are two that are relatively young, married, with kids, but hit on me all the time. I was standing with Santiago, and he told me that I was beautiful before, but now with my new haircut I’m “divine.” Then he bought some red roses, luckily for his wife and not for me. Ted (another volunteer) and I were talking about how much more difficult the Peace Corps is for a female than for a male. It’s so true. Women have to work extremely hard to gain the respect of their male co-workers. Men come in and immediately are respected and looked up to. Even just with dynamics in the town, men become celebrities. Life is going to be a challenge, but I’m up to it.
Just before leaving Coban, I found out that a couple of my friends were in town – Kelly and Ted, so I decided to stay another night. When I told Don Rudy, he initially told me no. When he realized it was the weekend, he said I could, but wasn’t too happy about it, and said that he would call Flavio, my program director, to let him know. This is going to be a problem if Don Rudy calls Flavio every time I leave my site. It’s nice that he wants to make sure I’m safe, but it’s not his responsibility. I will have to fix this somehow.
Friday night was fun. Ted, Kelly, her boyfriend and I ate delicious Cuban food and then had some beers at a bar. The beer was good, and on tap, which is rare. The best part, though, was when the Gallo dancers and their pimp showed up. (Gallo = rooster and is the national beer.) They were all decked out in Gallo clothes and the three girls danced for us while their 5’ pimped shouted “cintura” (waist) into the microphone. The next day, we saw the four of them, in matching outfits of another product, eating in the mall with sunglasses on like they were movie stars.
Overall, I’m really glad I’m here, but as an RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer) described it to me before I left, “it’s a wild ride.” I could not describe it better myself. It’s incredible how quickly I go from my highest high to my lowest low, or anywhere in between. Sometimes I become nostalgic for the normalcy of life at home, in Yellowstone, or at Willamette: doing a workout with the team and taking an ice bath afterward; going for a hike with my buddies then gorging ourselves at Helen’s or the Merry Piglets and sitting around the campfire; playing fetch with my dogs and my dad; traveling with ease in my own car; going grocery shopping. And I especially miss my friends and family. Sometimes I feel like I’m missing out on life, but this is only two years, and they will go by in a blink of an eye. This has been and will continue to be a life-changing experience. Even though I miss plenty of things back at home, I remember that when I was back in the States, I would get bored and was ready to move on. One never remembers the negatives, only the positives. It’s like in a race, afterwards I never remember how painful it was, I only remember either how good it felt, or I chastise myself for not running faster, thinking that I wasn’t in pain and could’ve tried harder. I love my life here, and with time, as I start to feel more and more at home and figure out my work better, I’ll begin to feel like I have a normal life.
p.s. I tried to put pictures up, but the connection is too slow. I'll try again soon... but try checking out my facebook album, hopefully the new ones ended up there: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2025202&l=4a88f&id=27500355
04 April 2008
A Big Big Change
(The ecotourism gang)
But let’s back up a few days. Thursday was Swear-In at the Ambassador’s house in the capital. It was huge and gorgeous with a gigantic lawn, a pool and a tennis court. And to top it all off, you can flush the toilet paper! I can barely even imagine that! So that was awesome. We all got dressed up in the “business casual” that Headquarters had insisted that we needed and got to shake hands or do the Guatemalan kiss on the cheek with Ambassador Durham. Then celebrations were had in Antigua over the weekend.
(With the ambassador; officially a volunteer!)
Saturday morning I parted ways with my friends, nearly all of whom will not be close enough for just a day trip. The group of us going to Alta Verapaz shared a microbus ride with a tour agency to Coban, then I headed out on my own to the far reaches of the country.
The driver dropped me off close to the mayor (Don Rudy)’s house since I was going to be staying with him until I found a more permanent home. He happens to live right by the only cantina (bar) in town, and thus my reception in town was from some bolos (drunkards) who asked me various somewhat rude questions in English, and when I didn’t respond yelled, “Kiss my ass mother fucker!” So the first thing I did in my site was cry a little bit. But don’t you fret, I got over it quickly. I knocked on the door of Don Rudy’s house. We relaxed in some hammocks and chatted, then he brought me to a Mayan ceremony mixed with some Catholicism to bless the children and the crops of a little aldea (village). It was really interesting and I felt very honored to be invited to it, but after traveling for 10 hours and being out the night before, I kept on falling asleep. But they gave us coffee…luckily I got the first cup because they reused the cups for everyone! Afterwards (at 1am) they served us dinner – chicken soup; once again, lucky to be served first.
Sunday, Don Rudy brought me to Las Conchas with some others from the muni (all men). We sat around, they shot the shit (I tried, but it’s a little difficult 1. being female, 2. not being a native speaker, and 3. not knowing the local gossip), we ate lunch, and then we went swimming. There’s a waterfall about 20 feet high that you can jump off of, and I wanted to do it, but each time I tried, Santiago, due to his machismo, wouldn’t let me. It’s because he was scared to do it and didn’t want me going first and showing him up. He never went, but by the time he finally let me go, I had waited so long because of him, that I had psyched myself out! Damn Guatemalan machismo. Next time.
Don Rudy also brought me to the house/lodge (Oasis Chiyu – its got a website) of a gringo that lives out at Las Conchas. We chatted for a bit and we’ll probably work together on some ecotourism things since he does tours and trekking trips and whatnot. It also may be a great place to stay when all of you come visit me!
Monday I found a home. I’m living in a family compound with a wonderful family. I get my own little house (the daughter it belongs to lives in the States now) but I eat with the family. Eventually I’ll get some gas for my stove and cook for myself, but for now, while I’m figuring things out and getting to know them, I’ll share meals with them too. There are plenty of little grandkids running around, which is wonderful yet a bit annoying. Two of the daughters are about my age and love to run and play sports, so it’s going to be perfect! The only problem is that I don’t have a bathroom in my house, which when I’m sick, as I was this week, it doesn’t work out too well. Their house is only 25 meters away, but I have to climb up a little hill, and in the middle of the night when I’m in a hurry, problems arise!
As I mentioned, I was sick this week… I think one of the juices I drank at a restaurant (or even in my own house) was made with tap water. For multiple days I had terrible diarrhea and was vomiting. But I am better now (let’s hope, because it was coming and going) and my family now makes special juice for me with pure water! This bout of sickness though, made me quite homesick for awhile and a little jealous of other volunteers who have site mates. But I’m over that now and am loving Chahal.
As far as work goes, I don’t have much yet. I’m mainly just formulating ideas. It’s a little frustrating working at the muni instead of with an association because ecotourism isn’t the muni’s only focus, so I haven’t received a lot of time from the mayor. But in the long run, this may be positive, because I can work more independently. However, right now, I’d like some time with the mayor to sit down and hash out what ideas he has so I can get some direction and share with him my ideas, but he doesn’t have time for me. Plus, he’s very strict as he’s ex-military (he was a colonel during the war in a very intense part of the fighting). On Wednesday, he was going to pick me up by the soccer field to bring me into town to work. We agreed on 7am. I was feeling really sick and thus was running a few minutes behind. I arrived at the field and he wasn’t there, so I walked up to his house to look for him. Not home. I called him:
“Hola, ¿dònde està?”
“I’m in the muni. You weren’t there so I left.”
“I was only 2 minutes late.”
“Well 7:02 isn’t 7:00. See you in the muni.”
Damn. I was expecting la hora chapina (Guatemalan time i.e. late). He at least could’ve called to say he was leaving, because I ended up missing other opportunities for rides and had to wait a half hour. Oh well, now I know. And I did mention better communication to him, on my part as well, when I saw him.
That day I helped out at a medical mission from the states that was doing surgical consultation, so I got to speak in English for the day and ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich! It was amazing, especially with my upset stomach. At the end of the day, I asked for a ride home with the locals that work in the clinic, and I hit the jackpot. They took me swimming in the river and now I have a new group of friends! Que suerte.
I’m sure there’s much much more to share, but as I am dying of heat right now and really need to pee, I’m going to leave it at this. I hope you all are well, and feel free to leave comments or email me! I love hearing from you all.
p.s. I'll share pictures soon, but first I need to take some!
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