I'm Superwoman. Street food cannot harm me.

Yesterday, after a lovely hike to Laguna Chicabal, I got back to my site craving street food. A woman I know sells pupusas (corn tortillas filled with cheese and/or chicharon (fried pig skin)) but only on Saturdays, so I was stoked. Sadly, though, no one brought her chicharon, so she didn't make them. I would've been more than pleased with just cheese pupusas (actually, preferrable), but she didn't make those either.

Instead she made empanadas: cheese, apple and some milk thing. I went for cheesy and was told it'd be 5 minutes. To kill time, Patita and I strolled through the park (where she pooped, how embarrassing!). When we came back, she was still making them, so we chatted about the murders reported in the newspaper while I waited. I got less and less excited about my empanada as I waited, though.

She and her children who were helping her were coughing and wiping their noses. Then she said to someone, "Como me esta afectando la fiebre." Translation: "This fever is really affecting me." Crap, I thought, I am for sure getting sick from this. Last time I had pupusas (in another town) I ended up with amoebas. But I don't learn. At this point it was too late to cancel my order so I cringed as I continued watching them make my food. When it was served to me, I ate it. It would've been rude otherwise. Food is a very sensitive subject in this country.

Turns out, it was pretty delicious and I just thought about that as I ate it.

I was fully expecting to be throwing up with diarrhea today, but *knock on wood* I am feeling healthy, and, typically, food-borne illnesses hit within 24 hours (I should know). Thus, I am superwoman. On another note, the neighbor boys call me "superchica" because I can turn tires inside out.

Feliz cumple Guate!!

Sitting here on my balcony watching the lightning flash while the sun sets over the distant mountains is the perfect end to a wonderfully fulfilling holiday weekend. And Sija is refreshingly tranquil after spending the past day and a half in Xela for the culmination of Guatemala’s Independence Day weekend.

I’ve been needing a little escape from life in my site recently. With the pressure of getting projects started and finished at the same time as my Close of Service date draws nearer (now just 6 ½ months left!) and strains that still linger from integrating into a new site, the break was quite welcome. It started with an 80s Prom Party with other PCVs on Friday night. I love dressing up in ridiculous costumes, plus it was great to see some friends I hadn’t seen for awhile.

Saturday morning Judy and I set off to the beach, but not to just any old sunny, warm, tourist-magnet. We went to Theo’s site (Hawaii) where he lives beach-front in a small village and works in the nearby turtle rescue center/hatchery and on mangrove restoration projects. The long trip (8 hours when we expected 6) was well worth it.

Saturday evening we enjoyed a barefoot walk down the beach to a potluck at Theo's park. I was only expecting food, but we were lucky to see and hold newly-hatched sea turtles. Once they woke up, we released them onto the beach and watched them race into the ocean. (Turtles don’t wake up until about an hour after they hatch.) We released around 40, but the survival rate is only 1 out of 1000! As the waves swept up the little tortugas, I felt scared for them. What a journey they are embarking on! We also helped dig nests in the hatchery and bury the newly collected eggs so that they will be more protected than just on the beach.

Theo and I woke up before sunrise the next morning to take the kayaks into the mangrove forest. We weaved our way through the narrow paths for about 30 minutes then popped out into a beautiful lagoon. We were rewarded for our early-rising with great bird watching, including the spotting of two different parrot species! (Pictures below: kayaking through the path of the mangroves; entering the lagoon; the lagoon; and, if you look closely, parrots on the branch)

Later in the day we played in the ocean, battling the huge waves. While Theo took Judy kayaking in the evening, I spent some quality one-on-one time with the sea. The ocean is something that truly amazes and inspires me every time I visit it. Sitting on the beach watching the sunset over the breaking waves is as close as I get to church.

(Beachfront-cemetery)

Monday morning we woke up early (4 a.m.) so that we could catch the direct bus out of Hawaii; rather than having to take six buses and a boat, it dropped the number to just three buses. Although I didn’t want the trip to be so short, I also wanted to spend Monday night in Xela. September 15th marks the independence of all of Central America and is Xela’s feria (because it was its own country for two years), so it was the place to be last night. Parades, street food, a concert, dancing, good friends. It was the best night out I’ve had in a long time; perhaps the best I’ve had in Guatemala.

Parades: Guatemalans love their desfiles. We tried to cross one during a gap in order to get into the park and were very much hated for that.

Street food: We discovered the best street food Guatemala has to offer: crepes on a stick filled with NUTELLA (a rare delicacy) and pulled pork/guacamole sandwiches.

Concert: Malacates, an awesome Guatemalan rock band, played for free. We were lucky to squeeze into a good spot in the crowd. It might have been the best concert I’ve ever been to (although I haven’t been to many).

Dancing: Discos promised to be open until 6 a.m. to celebrate the nation’s birth, thus Sarah and I were determined to keep on dancing until the sun rose, something I rarely do. There was such an energy the whole night that I didn’t even feel the time pass. Although by the time I climbed into my bed at six, my legs were feeling all the dancing that I had put them through!

I decided that I am leaving no regrets here and am committed to fully experiencing everything these last six months have to offer, be it dancing until dawn, traveling to places I haven’t yet been to, or forcing myself to have the awkward interactions with people in my town so that I can feel better integrated. I’ve done a good job thus far, but the last six months are like the kick at the end of a race: I may tire myself out, but that’s better than the regrets of squandering my experience.

This morning we rolled out of bed after three hours of sleep to watch the big parade then check out the feria. The feria was a lot like going to a county fair, but much more crowded, crazy and disorderly. I rode a ride called “The Inverter” which was definitely a bit sketchy but worth the thrill. Then we had just enough time to get some 3 for Q10 tacos and another Nutella-filled crepe-on-a-stick before we jumped onto our respective buses to head back to our sites.

Although I am clearly counting down the months until my Peace Corps adventure ends, that doesn’t mean that I’m ready to be done. In a lot of ways, yes, I am longing to move on: I miss home – family, friends and the lifestyle; I’ve become restless, ready for a new adventure; and I miss my experience that I had in Chahal so much that it still makes it tough to want to be in Sija sometimes. But I also realized this weekend how much I will truly miss this country and the experiences that I have here. I came to this realization on my bus ride home from the beach. It was a typical trip: driving that could kill; brief friendships made with fellow passengers; questionable food from vendors; bus repairs; delays for parades on the highway. But as the bus sped madly down the coastal highway with an amazing view of the cordillera of volcanoes (I think I saw nine volcanoes in a 3 hour period), I realized how much I truly love my life here. Despite whatever hardships may arise, there is no question that I will miss Guatemala when I leave here. The countdown is fun, but trust me, I will not just be killing time while I flip the next seven pages on my calendar.

A novel idea for trash and a request

1After nearly two years of living in Guatemala as a Peace Corps volunteer, I've learned that I prefer social and environmental work over construction projects. That said, I've also seen the environmental damage trash causes in this part of the world. Here in San Carlos Sija, we burn our trash or throw it into a ravine. Neither option is good.

But finding an alternative for the trash is challenging. Recycling is largely restricted to the capital due to transport issues. I would love to establish a sanitary landfill, but it is extremely costly and requires teaching people to use it correctly and setting up and maintaining a trash collection system. Out of 334 municipalities in Guatemala, there are just one or two that have sanitary landfills. Some have trash collection, but then after collection simply throw it in a ravine, the river, or off the side of the road.

There is a solution that combines the need for both environmental projects and infrastructure projects: building with plastic bottles full of inorganic trash. It is something that has been implemented in various places throughout Guatemala. The idea was born with the NGO Pura Vida (http://www.puravidaatitlan.org/english.html), who named the bottles “eco-ladrillos” (eco-bricks).

I have personally participated in some of these construction projects and can tell you it clearly works. Last year, a PCV built a two-room school house with her community in Uspantan, el Quiche. I traveled to her site to learn about and help in the construction process. Wood is used for the frame, then the bottles are placed between chicken wire, and three layers of cement is spread on both sides of the wall to protect the bottles; the roof is corrugated tin. (See attached photo.) In the end, the school cost around $4,500 whereas the typical school out of concrete blocks costs approximately $18,750. (You can see the complete process in photos at http://picasaweb.google.com/sarahscott8/BottleSchoolInGuatemala.)

With these projects, there is the obvious benefit of cleaning up the community. Also, this style of construction meets needs with less expense and gets community members, from school children to grandparents, involved in the building process. I truly believe that in the proceeding years, we will see many more of these projects implemented, thus cleaning up the environment and saving money to be able to carry out more projects of a more diverse nature.

But for the people to truly believe it here, they need to see it. So before I finish my Peace Corps tenure in April, I want to implement this project in my site so that it will serve as an example to the rest of Sija and surrounding communities that trash construction can be done.

The community that we selected to work with was the one that showed the most dedication and commitment. The teachers of Las Cerezas approached me and my counterpart with their need: a fourth classroom to complement their three rooms in order to better serve the six grades. Since we talked with them four weeks ago, the community has filled more than 1000 bottles and is searching for more trash in other communities because “se acabó la basura” (there’s no more trash). We’ve estimated that they need about 3000 more bottles to build the classroom that they need. They also have committed to donating their time for all the labor involved in construction. The teachers have written a solicitation to a large cement company looking for their assistance. Thus, what we are asking for is help in buying the remaining materials. (The photo below is of where we will build the room.)

I would prefer not to ask for money from friends and family because it is not as sustainable as the community learning to solicit their own funds, but in this case I see an exception. Please consider donating to this project. Even a small contribution will go a long way. Approximately $1.75 will build one square foot of wall for the classroom, with a total cost for the room at $2830.

If you have any questions, just let me know! Thank you for taking the time to read this and hopefully support our project. If you decide to donate, you can send checks to:

Friends of Guatemala ● P.O. Box 33018 ● Washington, D.C. 20033

*IMPORTANT* Make sure to put on the memo line of the check: “Audrey Squires – Cat. II”, otherwise your donation will go to the general scholarship fund.

Thanks for your support and if you know anyone else that may be interested in contributing, please forward my request. It means a lot to me and to the community. We hope to start building in November!

First harvest!

Today I pulled up my first radish and ate it! It was a little small; I will wait longer for the rest of them, but I had to try it! mmmm organic home-grown radish... This is the first time I've ever eaten something that I've grown! Completely MY work: building the garden, carrying the sil from the mountain, and planting the seeds. Quite a lovely feeling being so connected with the earth.

Adventures left to be had in Guate

Now having dipped under 7 months to go, I'm realizing that I have quite the bucket list of places to explore before I finish my service. I like to make lists, so here's a fun one:

September:

• Kayaking in mangrove forests on the Pacific Coast
• Independence Day feria in Xela
• Camping in the jungle of Peten/Alta Verapaz

October:

• Climb a volcano

November:

• Backpacking trip in the Cuchumutanes mountains and drunken horse races in Todos Santos
• Climb Volcan Tajumulco (highest point in Central America)
• 5-day jungle trek to newly uncovered Mayan ruins -- The Mirador

December:

• Climb Volcan Tacana
• Sija's Feria
• Home!!

January:

• Belize to check out large cat population dynamic research

No vacation time allowed in the last three months. But that's fine. Some in-site time will do me good, and I can still do some weekend trips to get everything checked off. I think these last 7 months will fly by. After spending my first year and a half as a "site rat" I think it's okay that I get out and explore a bit before I move on from the "land of the eternal spring." But don't worry, I'll still be workin' my butt off!

Jealous? :)

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.