Pineapple Jam

One of my new projects is to support/work with the newly established Oficina de la Mujer (Office of the Woman). As women have found out that I will be helping, a lot have been asking for projects. Our first one was this week with the women’s association in San Jose. Ana, the woman in charge of the office, and I went to this community to teach them to make jam. We were given a ride in the ambulance (a dilapidated Jeep more or less) and told that when we want a ride home, we can hike a few minutes to find a signal to call. As we will see later, that didn’t work out so well.

We worked with 16 women, teaching them the whole process of making jam. The community grows pineapple, so that was a very cheap jam to make (and delicious). We cut up the pineapple while we boiled the jars, then started cooking the fruit. However, we encountered a little problem. For water to boil the jars in, the women had to walk about 15 minutes to the river to carry it back (they don’t have water in the town, or electricity for that matter). We had started boiling the first bit of water they brought back, but it wasn’t enough to cover all of the jars, so they went to get more. Obviously, though, it took them at least a half hour to bring it. When we added the cold water to the boiling water and hot jars, a few of the jars shattered. All the women freaked out and from that point didn’t think we should boil the jars. We got past that though. Overall, it went pretty well, and I really enjoyed meeting the women and getting to know the community.

We finished up around 1 p.m. While the jam was boiling in the jars, Ana and I went in search of a cell signal. Two little kids led us up a nearby hill. After about 5 minutes up there, I had enough signal for just a second to send a text message to the ambulance driver. However, the signal never came back to see if he could even come pick us up.

(Ana searching for a signal. I love the combination of Indigenous woman with a cell phone.)

We went back to the jam room where we chatted some more and took pictures with the finished product. While we were there, a microbus came and left to take people to San Fernando. Nobody bothered to tell us that it was leaving. Thus, we went in search of a signal again in a different location. No luck. Ana was getting very frustrated, but I have learned to just roll with it. I was relaxed, calm. It’s a beautiful place, no rush for me to leave.

Since we couldn’t find a signal and had no idea if or when we would get back to San Fernando, Ana and I went to the house of one of the women for eggs and tortillas. I was expecting a couple eggs, some beans and a plate full of tortillas. I received one hard-boiled egg and one tortilla. However, when the chicken stole half of my tortilla right off my lap, I did get a second one. I knew that the poverty was extreme here, but this was the first time I had really experienced it to this extent. And as a sidenote, when we walked into her house, we were greeted by the grandmother sitting in a hammock, topless, stoking the fire.

After we ate, I took a little cat nap in the hammock while the women chatted in Q’eqchi’. Around 3 p.m. we headed back to where the road passes to try our luck. We had perfect timing. Just as we found some nice shade to wait in, the ambulance pulled up to take us home.

(The community, San Jose)

I think this may become a weekly activity, heading out to communities to teach the women’s groups various things. Most people really don’t understand why I’m here, though. At the end of the afternoon, Ana was talking with them about what we (I) could teach them. All of the ideas were cooking-related. They want to learn to cook different foods (more than just eggs). I’m more than willing to do this, but I would also like to throw some environment in there, since that is my role here. I told her, yes, we can do that, but I would also like to teach them something about the environment, for example, how to make a compost pile (rather than just burning all of their organic waste). She translated that to them and that my job is planting vegetables. A little frustrating – that’s just my hobby – but I will teach them to plant a vegetable garden, considering their diets are highly lacking in the necessary vitamins and nutrients. But really, Ana is one of the people I talk to most, and she has no clue what I’m doing here! It happens a lot. For example, last Friday, I told another coworker in the muni that I was going to San Agustin that day to teach a class. She said something to the effect of, “Oh you’re going to go teach English?” “No,” I told her. Then I asked her what my job is here, trying to spark an idea in her. She was stumped. No clue. I finally had to tell her that my job is ecotourism, i.e. related to the environmental, and thus I would be teaching environmental education, and that my job in Chahal is not to teach English. She didn’t really seem that interested.

It’s a struggle, at all levels. The people I’m trying to help don’t want help in the area that I want to help in. And the people I need help from to do my job (a.k.a. the mayor), don’t put much interest in what I’m doing. Poco a poco (little by little). That’s the theme here with everything. Poco a poco I will become accustomed to life here; poco a poco I will learn Q’eqchi’; poco a poco I will start realizing projects.

My Garden

Yesterday I finished my garden! I was a little exhausted after nearly 7 hours straight of working in it, but it was well worth it. I began digging up the dirt last week, and at the beginning of this week I started planting. Before I even finished, those quick little radishes had already sprouted! In my cute little garden, I’ve got carrot, radish, cilantro, summer squash, cucumber, watermelon and acelga (not sure the English word, but some sort of leafy green) in the dirt trying to grow up to be big and strong to fill my tummy. To finish off the garden, I fenced it in to keep the stray chickens, dogs and pigs out, which was a lot more work than I had expected. After dinner, I watered it, not sure if the rains would come, but don’t you fret, they came. However, the tropical storm that is beating up the country has missed us. But I imagine that sometime during the rainy season, we will be inundated (literally). I just hope my garden is on high enough ground!

(The first part of my garden. It's much bigger now though and everything has sprouted!)

I’m very proud of my little garden – it’s my first. I’ve helped my parents some in the past, but this is the first time I’ve had my very own. I had a little help from the neighbor kids in stretching out the fencing, and just for some company. But I put in all the labor. It makes me quite happy, and it’s something to do that’s more worthwhile than watching TV. I’m reading Edward Abbey’s “Desert Solitaire” right now, and it could not be more perfect. He writes about reveling in the solitude and taking time to appreciate nature. I think that pretty much sums up my life right now. I decided that if I could talk with anyone, dead or alive, I would want to talk with Edward Abbey. I’d like to get converse with him, rather than just read his written word. However, this may be just because I’m reading his book right now; I’m sure it will change with the next good book I read!

(Not part of my garden, but beautiful flowers across the street that only bloom for a couple days each year, right after the first rain!)

And a little sidenote: I gave my first environmental education classes on Friday and loved it! It was pretty basic to start with: drawing pictures of what is in the environment, but that's just to get the ball rolling. I started out with an ice breaker of the human knot, which the kids got a kick out of. It's a fun secondary project, and I'm now doing something!

The Feria, continued

The rain ruined the feria. Torrential rains began on Thursday (tropical storm Alma) which caused them to cancel the rodeo, which was going to be the highlight of the week. But, even with the rains, basketball was not cancelled – kinda like track: rain or shine. Now you’re probably thinking that we were playing on an indoor court. Silly, silly you. The game was outside, with puddles all over the court. Basketballs don’t bounce very well in a couple inches of water, in case you were wondering. Also, Guatemalan women don’t know how to play basketball, yet they like to yell at me what I should be doing. They shoot the ball from their chest, play like maniacs and think it’s necessary that we cover our man even in the backcourt. Plus, the refs don’t know how to call the game right. Luckily, I can cuss in English and nobody can understand me. For example, when I went up for a shot and was clearly fouled, yet the ref gave the ball to them, I screamed, “Are you fucking kidding me?” Perhaps that wasn’t appropriate, but no one understood me and it calmed me down so that I didn’t knock someone over. I get a little competitive at times, in case you didn’t know.

We won our first game easily: they only scored one basket, yet the women I played with continued to backcourt press and take advantage of fast breaks. I eventually told the coach that we needed to play nicer.

The team was from Livingston, a mainly black town on the Caribbean coast which you can only reach by boat. I think I may go there this month with a new friend that I made in town yesterday. After the game we watched them perform some of their traditional folk dances. Later that evening, there was another dance. More creepy old men, more fighting, and thus me going home early. One of the creepy old men is a middle-aged Cuban doctor that will be living here in Chahal for two years as well. At first I thought, “Great, another foreigner to make friends with.” Plus he offered to cook Cuban food for my friend and I. Yeah, too bad he doesn’t just want to be friends with me. I’ve heard he’s been asking around if I have a boyfriend and if I go out alone at night. Maybe next time I see him I’ll tell him how much he reminds me of my father, see what he thinks of that! Yuck! (But don’t worry Dad, he really doesn’t remind me of you at all, I just want to get him away from me!)

Friday and Saturday were similar to Thursday: rain, basketball and dances. Except we lost these two games. I think I’m ready for a break from basketball. I skipped the dance on Friday, and Saturday was nothing special. Saturday morning, though, there was a procession for the patron Saint Fernando (who the feria is for). I dressed up in Indigenous dress for it. It was really fun having my friends dress me up in their clothes. There were about 4 women putting me together!

Sunday, though, was the highlight. There was a road race from San Fernando to San Agustin and back. I won. I was also the only female, but I beat a few of the guys also. I started out slow because I wasn’t exactly ready for another race yet. All the men took off, but eventually I reeled a few back in. I only picked it up the last few kilometers because I caught up to this guy that I really wanted to beat. Yet now I’m receiving texts from him about how much he loves me. Fantastic.

They say it was 14 km; I ran it in 1:08:52. They gave me a huge trophy and 100 Quetzales ($12). It was really fun. There was a big crowd at the finish and they had me give a speech! Everyone was so shocked that a girl was able to complete the race. One of my new projects is going to be starting a running/sports-in-general group with local girls. Hopefully I can get some of them ready to race in August in the next feria.

(Yup, that's a big-ass trophy in my hands!)
After the feria, life went back to normal, more or less. The rains have relinquished a bit, which is strange, because the rest of the country is getting beaten down by the storms. In time I’m sure it will happen to us too. One thing a bit abnormal, though, was the murder. On Saturday of the feria, a man died who had been shot in the neck two weeks prior while out at the bar in San Agustin (the town I used to live in). He had been in the hospital and in the end didn’t make it. No one really seems to know what the argument was about. Perhaps gang related. The man that died, plus another that was shot, are half brothers of my counterpart. The deceased also was the husband of one of my host sisters back in San Agustin. I never actually met him though, although I lived with the family. It’s quite sad for the families, yet at the same time, he was a drunk, didn’t work, and was somewhat abusive to his wife and five daughters. Not to sound too harsh, but perhaps, in the long run, it was for the better? But we won’t get into that now. And not too worry, this is a very rare occurrence here in Chahal, plus I don’t pass my time at the bars, so I’m not around where the problems are more likely to arise. Actually, I feel really safe here, and very content. I’ve been in site without leaving for a few weeks now, and honestly, have been immensely happier. Traveling four hours to hang out in Coban with other volunteers is just ridiculous. Yes, occasionally I’ll do it, but the less I go, the more I’ll appreciate each trip.