Discrimination

After a funny last entry, here’s a more serious one, but it’s good. So read it!

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Discrimination of all forms is rampant in Guatemala: racism, classism, sexism and based on religion and sexual orientation. After growing up in Oregon, where it doesn’t exist as much, or at least where I was blind to it because I’m white, living in Guatemala is quite an awakening and can be very trying at times.

Being a woman in Guatemala has been quite difficult in all aspects of my life (and from talking with others, it is true for the majority of female PCVs).

· Safety – I’m very accustomed to being independent, going where I want when I want, but here that causes me problems.
· Being respected professionally – I’m typically the only woman in meetings and other work settings. Thankfully, I have had luck with gaining the respect of most of the men I work with, but of course there are still those that don’t respect me, for example, when they spread nasty rumors about me in the office. Or when I try to talk about a project and the man interrupts me to tell me how beautiful I am.
· Social scene – At home I have lots of male friends, but sadly, I have few real friends who are Guatemalan males. Nearly all have something else in mind and friendships just don’t exist. Female friends are tough to come by because they are too busy taking care of their families and doing chores. I also cannot be seen drinking in my town; I would appear disreputable. But men can.
· General respect – A day does not pass when I don’t receive some sort of whistle, cat call or comment while walking down the street, riding my bike, running or just being. Yesterday in the park some middle school students started whistling and making comments and I retorted, “Necesitan aprender a respetar.” (You need to learn to respect.) Which just made it worse, but I get tired of it.

Obviously it’s hard for a young woman from the States to try to acclimate to this machista culture and be happy and successful, but for the most part I have managed. I’ve really learned to appreciate the equality that we have gained at home. But just imagine what the women here go through. Maybe it’s not as hard for them because they have never experienced true respect and equality, but that’s no reason to say that it’s okay. People always ask me if I’ll just find a man here and stay in Guatemala. I really don’t think so, and a big reason is all that I just mentioned, and due to the phrase I hate most, “tengo que pedir permiso.” Translation (language and context): I have to ask my husband for permission to _(fill in the blank)_ (go get ice cream with you, take a class at the university, go to a dance, go on a trip, buy something, etc.). There’s a big difference between asking permission and informing/coming to a mutual decision. I hope that one day these women, or at least their children, will be lucky enough to experience the equality that we take for granted in the United States.

Now let’s take this to the next level, one that I cannot empathize with but that nevertheless causes me pain when I hear/see it. Racism. Here the racism mainly comes from the ladinos (non-indigenous) and is against the indigenous people. (While there is reverse discrimination, I wouldn’t consider that as much of a problem, more so, a form of protection and retaliation.) Yesterday I had a long conversation about this with an amazing woman that I have been so lucky to meet: Martha, an indigenous woman who works as a forestry technician and is studying to be an environmental engineer. I’ve always thought she was pretty amazing, but even more so now after hearing the story of her childhood.

She was raised in a village of the town of Salcaja which is very close to the city of Xela. Salcaja was founded by the Spaniards in the 16th century. Most likely, they displaced (violently) the locals that had lived in those fertile lands for generations. As is all too common in this hemisphere, the European settlers took over the land and made it theirs while turning the indigenous people into slave laborers or at least banishing them to less productive soils. In the time of Martha’s grandfather (1950s or ‘60s), they were forced to do labor for the municipality without being paid and if they refused, there would be punishment. The story she related to me was that in preparation for the town’s feria, the mayor would order all of the indigenous men to go to the mountain and bring wood down to build the rodeo grounds (carrying it on their back with a rope tied to around their forehead for extra support). When they turned it in, they weren’t thanked, simply told to come back in 8 days and take it down. They weren’t even allowed to attend the rodeo.

When Martha grew up in the 1980s, she felt a definite divide between the town and the village. At school she and her indigenous peers were mistreated verbally and physically. Martha never learned Quiche (key-che), her family’s native language, because it was a way for her parents to protect her and her siblings – one less reason to be discriminated against. Discrimination destroys language, culture and heritage, not to mention hopes, dreams and self-esteem. But Martha and her family fought to overcome this. As I mentioned, she is working professionally in a traditionally male-dominated field. Her brother is studying in Cuba to become a doctor. Her sister is about to graduate as an agricultural engineer. Her father is a respected principal of a school. But it was not without cost. Her family is isolated from the rest of the community, be it ladino or indigenous, because of their resolve to succeed.

Racism is not only a problem of the past in Guatemala. It continues today: just five years ago the mayor of Salcaja commented on the proposal of paving the road beyond the town (where the ladinos live) into the village (where the indigenous live): “Only barefoot indios walk out there, so why would we bother?” Statements like that are clearly racist and I have little hope that the people who think like that will one day change. To me, what’s worse is when people make racist comments that they don’t even understand to be discriminatory. I heard a coworker advise a friend that she should not send her children to a certain school because only indigenous kids matriculate there. These are people who have become so accustomed to inequality, that they think their level of treatment of indigenous people is fair. Equal. I suppose that’s the problem; they are consciously seeing the difference and trying to force what they can of “equal” treatment. True equality will only come when it is not forced; when people no longer see the differences and just see another human being. The only reason to define heritage would be to take pride in culture.

My conversation with Martha changed my perspective. I thought that coming from Alta Verapaz, which is years, perhaps decades, behind Quetzaltenango in development, that out here there would be less discrimination, and until yesterday, I thought that I had been proven right with what I had witnessed. But I was wrong. The discrimination is simply manifested differently. It’s less common to hear the outright racist comments, for example. Yet they still surface. Most of all, though, because I’m not indigenous, I cannot feel/see/experience all the racism that does occur. I suppose that’s a lesson that we need to learn in the States. Those of us who are not in the minority cannot say that discrimination is no longer a problem. What do we know? You have to listen to those who are forced to suffer through it to know the truth.

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Thank you for reading this and I hope you will take some time to think about your own encounters (whichever side or simply as a witness) with discrimination, appreciate what others have to go through, start discussions about it and try to add your grain of sand to the fight for equality.

To saludar or not to saludar?

Whenever I take Patita for a hike on the mountain after work, I always come across jovenes making out. It's always the same couple and it's always awkward. In Guatemala, and probably most latin countries where it's typical that kids live with their parents until they marry, it's common that they go to the woods, a park, the street, or a corn field to escape the watchful eyes of their padres.

My dilemma has been that I don't know what the proper protocal is when I pass them. Do I say "buenas tardes" or do I act like they're not there? In most situations it's pretty rude if you don't saludar someone that you pass, but in this situation I feel like I'm invading their bedroom.

One time, when I got caught in a rainstorm, they made a comment to me as I came back down about how wet I got. Other than that, we have't conversed... until today. As I passed, the guy initiated a conversation! We talked about my dog, he wanted to buy her, then he asked me if there's less dust in the States. Minus the Dust Bowl, I'm pretty sure the answer is yes. (There's a lot of dust in Guatemala.)

So there you have it, in case you ever encounter this situation, it seems to be appropriate to say hello to the jovenes making out in the woods.

s'mores

I love having visitors because they always give me a new perspective on my experience in Guatemala.

This weekend, I saw Lori again, but in my site this time. To have someone visit who hasn't been living here for a year and a half reminds me that maybe life isn't as easy or as "normal" as I have grown accustommed to thinking. Or at least you have to learn to roll with the punches.

The plan was that we'd go learn to moler queso (final step in making fresh cheese -- grinding it on a rock) with a friend of mine; get the pizza dough ready for dinner (some other PCVs were coming over); go to a youth group campfire/marshmallow roasting activity; make the pizza. While we did go to moler queso, on the walk home it started pouring which soaked my blankets that I had hung out to air. Thus leaving us short on night-time warmth for the group. Next, when we went to buy flour, the power went out indefinitely. Thus no baking pizza in my toaster oven. (Also no showering -- electrically-heated shower -- and I hadn't, and still haven't, showered for a few days.) I also recently lost my headlamp; my normal flashlight is almost dead; and my candles suck. We came home to make some tea. Gas tank empty. No way to cook food. Stores closed by this time. We made the dough anyway, just in case, then prepared for the marshmallow-roasting extravaganza. It started raining. S'mores = cancelled. The outlook for the night became: sit in the dark and eat carrots and apples. And to top it off, my friends coming out specifically for these activities were almost here; too late for them to turn around. But we just laughed and laughed. I hadn't laughed that hard in a long time. It felt good. It also felt good to remind myself that things go wrong here, a lot, and you just have to deal with it. Why get frustrated? Why not just laugh?

In the end, we got lucky. My neighbor agreed to let us use her gas oven to bake the pizzas and take some firewood to make a bonfire on my patio. Then the power came on! So it was actually a spectacular night. Delicious home-made pizza, s'mores and good company. Plus, the neighbor boys experienced their first s'mores ever!

I never know what to expect with each day presented to me here, but I know that with a positive attitude, it always turns out okay.

Queso Fresco

Even though I have nearly 8 months of service left, I still find myself contemplating what I will miss when I leave (subjunctive) Guatemala. Here's one: people coming to my house to sell me things. I guess I realize we have door-to-door salesmen in the States, but not as much as we used to, and they're not selling products that you really want. What do they sell? Vaccuum cleaners? Knives? No thank you. I'm talking about really useful things, and things you didn't even realize you wanted/needed.

Yesterday I was relaxing in my hammock after a long day at work. Didn't expect to interact with anyone else for the rest of the day, except for maybe the neighbor kids. But here comes a woman selling cheese (fresh, homemade cheese from her own cows, probably made that morning) at Q12 ($1.50) per pound! Well shit, Q2 cheaper than every other place in town. How could I not buy it? Plus, I didn't even have to leave my house. And it's delicious.


So that is something I will miss: Guatemalan-style door-to-door salesmen. And Sija's queso fresco. I've almost finished the pound. Maybe I should've bought two?



Other things that I will miss:

- Saying "buenos dias" and "buenas tardes" to people I don't know and receiving a very warm reply back.

- The market, and haggling there... my sister tells me you don't haggle at farmer's markets in the States. Strange.

- Walking to work and coming home for lunch.

- The beauty.

- Spanish.

- The "ease" of transport on chicken buses.



Things that I perhaps won't miss:

- The "ease" of tranpsort on chicken buses.

- Bolos (drunks) wandering the streets at any time of day, or even showing up at meetings. For example, at my meeting with the city council and my Peace Corps program director today, the inspector from the health center showed up drunk. Seriously dude?

- Washing my spinach (and other veggies) with bleach then having to dry it completely.

- Not being respected because I'm a woman.

- Being alone.

- The running situation.



I still have 7 1/2 months left, though, plus all my post-PC traveling through the rest of Latin America. So really, no need to worry; I have plenty of time to soak up all of the good stuff and get really really tired of the bad stuff!

Tire gardens and being happy

When I first moved to Sija, I thought that I would never be able to stay a full week without leaving. I was lonely and comparing it to Chahal, where I would go swimming in the river, have lunch with the family, go out to someone's finca, etc, and didn't see those options in Sija. Those don't necessarily exist here (I will not be swimming in the sewage that is Rio Samala), but I've found other diversions. I've made more acquaintances in town and have taken on projects of my own like expanding my cooking repertoire, building a tire garden, and milking a cow for the first time. (I've decided to make my own little "bucket list" and start checking off things I've never done before. Sometimes it's not even something on my list until after I do it and realize that it should've been on there.) Even without being able to run this month, I've been happy. I stayed here in site all of July (except a couple day trips to Xela for lunch) and was overall content. There are always moments of despair, but I've learned that those pass quickly and thus don't dwell on them.

The tire garden has been so much fun and rewarding. I'm like my dad: I love to putter, so this project has been fantastic for that. I needed something beyond just reading good books in my hammock. Many Peace Corps volunteers make these in their schools or with women's groups, but I had never personally seen one made before, so I didn't know what to expect. I got a little extra help from this website http://wuvie.net/tireplanter.htm. It's hardwork but simple. Find the most dilapidated tires that you can. Trace circles on one wall with a crayon or chalk. Then take a large, sharp knife an cut around the inside halves of the circles. Next is the hardest part: turning the tire inside out. I don't even know how to explain how I did it, but it requires knees, elbows, feet and finesse. To finish up, wash, paint, let dry, lay cardboard in the bottom, throw in your dirt and plant your seed! Hopefully you're not like me and have to hike up the mountain and carry the dirt back down!

What I didn't expect was that this project that I was doing alone, at my house, would attract so much interest. As you can see, my patio is visible from the street, so everyone who walked by paused to inquire about what I was doing. My neighbors even came over and made their own.
I took advantage of the "teaching moments" with those interested and talked about reusing trash, the importance of eating vegetables, the negative impacts of pesticides, and whatever else was relevant. Now I plan to do some tire garden workshops through the library and implement it in some schools as well. When I get done here, Sija won't have any tires laying around!

I was tempted to stay in site this past weekend to finish planting, but I decided that it was time for a little escape. I met up with Lori (a friend from college) and some Peace Corps friends at Lago de Atitlan for a relaxing couple days at one of the most beautiful lakes in the world. However much I like being in site, I can't deny that this trip was much needed, and so much more fun than anything I would have done in Sija!

And some exciting news to finish of this entry: I'm coming home for Christmas!! My parents surprised me on Friday night with the news that they'll pay for my ticket home! I used to think I was too tough to go home during my two years, but then I realized I was being selfish. My family has supported me so much and is constantly there for me; if I have the means to go home and spend some time with them, I should. So if you're in Oregon over Christmas, hopefully I'll be seeing you!