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
