Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It is my favorite holiday because it is like Christmas, but without all the stuff. I particularly like Thanksgiving when my family holds it at our house because I enjoy cooking all the foods, the smells, and I do not have to travel. I love Christmas lights, music, and movies, but feel frustrated at the consumerism of Christmas and the stress it seems to bring to our lives, when really Advent is a time of remembering Jesus and his words, but we forget his words guarding us against the temptations of materialism. So, I love Thanksgiving best of all because it is a day to be grateful for what we have, and with the thanks to remember all those who do not have as much as us, and our responsiblility to others in the world. Thanksgiving is a day to be with our family and friends and to be grateful for their presence in our lives.
So, I was not sure what Thanksgiving would be like thousands of miles from home and without any of my friends. Two years ago I spent Thanksgiving in Northern Ireland, vising my friend Olivia who was studying there. My roommate, Keatin, and I spent Thanksgiving 2007 with Olivia and made a big Thanksgiving feast for her friends there. Even though I was away from family, I had two of my closest friends with me. Well, my Thanksgiving was slightly weird, but overall very entertaining and fun.
It started about a week before when I met Elvia´s secret boyfriend who spent two years in the United States and was very excited to have a Thanksgiving dinner. He said if we cooked the food, he would buy the turkey and wine. I said, sure, I have helped my mom before and can figure it out. Which I did, but with many bumps along the road.
First, because the boyfriend is secret, the Thanksgiving would have to be secret. It would just be Elvia, myself, the boyfriend (refered to as frijol, or bean), and if another YAV wanted to come in. Well I live a good bit away from everyone else, and most everyone else was doing something with their families. So it was going to be just us three. Then we inivited some Italian volunteers in the Casadiocesana to join us, but they were going to be at a meeting on the coast that day and not returning until Friday. Again, we would be three eating everything by ourselves.
Second, I asked my mom to email the instructions to everything I needed to make, but looking at the list I was not sure I would be able to obtain everything, especially the lard needed to make pie crust, my most favorite thing to make. Also, pumpkins do not exist in Guatemala, but Marsha told us we could make a pie out of a squash found here in Guatemala. I was also unable to find evaporated milk for the pie, it is only found in larger chain stores in big cities. See, I do not live in a touristy area, which is often great for me. I am not harrassed by vendors as much, and people do not jack up the prices as much. They do a little, but I am willing to pay a small gringa tax. But the problem is, there are not many imported foods found in San Marcos. Well Elvia and I spent an entire evening going from store to store and vendor to vendor looking for everything. We eventually found everything needed except lard and evaporated milk, but I was able to substitue lard with fake butter out of vegtable oils and made my cup of powereded milk thicker. The pie turned out very well in the end.
Third, the turkey was 8 pounds, so Fanny Farmer said to cook it 15 min for each pound, So, 2 hours would be needed for the Turkey, and I would give it 3 just to be safe. Well, Wednesday afternoon I was asked to go to Chichicastenago with Elvia´s sister to help her buy things for the store. I had already said I would go with her when the date was some mysterious day in the future. Well, now I was unable to say no because the Thanksgiving was secret and I did not have another excuse. See, I am a terrible liar in English, so I am that much worse in Spanish when I am only able to speak directly. Well, I asked when we would be back and she said around 3. Plently of time to get the turkey dressed and in the oven to eat around 7 or 8.
Chichicastengo was very interesting. It is a huge market (Thursday is markety day) full of Guatemalans and tourists. The strangest thing was walking through the market and hearing English. In Chichi a Catholic priest wrote the first translation of the Popol Vuh, the sacred text of the Mayans. I went to the church that serves as a Catholic church but also has aspects of Mayan worship. Judy told me a story about when she was studying in Chichi and a little boy asked if she wanted a tour of the church and she said sure. Along the aisle of the sancuary there are stone tables set along the floor where people light candles and burn incense for different things. The little boy was telling her about all these ancient customs the Mayans have and that each stone was to pray for a different thing. Well he got to one and said, "this stone, ancient ancient mayan custom, is to pray for your car when in breaks down." I thought that was funny and we laughed about that for a little while.
Going to Chichi and coming back we encountered various road blocks and traffic jams, so I ended up getting home at 530. Uh, oh. Well, if the turkey goes in by 6 it should be done by 8, a normal eating time for dinner here. I run home, make the stuffing and put the turkey in the oven. Then Elvia and I make the rest of food and Francesca, one of the Italians, calls and says she can come after all. Perfect, we have a lot of food that Eliva and I don´t want to be eating until Christmas. Everything is going great, but the turkey is not cooking very fast. See, ovens here are all gas, and don´t have heats on them, and Elvia´s is an older model that does not get very hot. Well, the turkey took 5 hours to cook. We did not eat our Thanksgiving meal until 11 at night. Everyone was good natured, and I blamed it on my mom (sorry mom!). We had fun talking and by 10 I almost feel asleep watcing Knotting Hill in spanish before we went and ate.
Overall it was a wonderful day full of different friends and different experiences. It was a day I will always be grateful for and I will always remember the first Thanksgiving meal I cooked in Guatemala in a fake oven.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Buffets are dangerous in Guatemala
Right now many students are graduating from what we would call high school. The guatemalan school year ends on the last day of October, but the graduates continue a bit longer because they have to finish practicals. Students also graduate essentially with a major, either in computers, secretary work, teacher, mechanic, and others. Right now we have 4 girls studying different things in our office helping out for their practicals. They are pretty hilarous, I forgot what it was like to be 18 years old and almost ready to graduate high school. Apparently I am fascinating, which is great for me because they force me to talk.
Today Elvia and I went to a lunch for some dude who graduated. I did not understand her connection to thim, but eh, details are not important here. We went to a chinese food resturant and they had a buffet set up for everyone invited. Buffets are dangerous in Guatemala. People were almost pushing others out of the way to get to the line, and then they would pile multiple plates full of food to pass to their other family members. If families consisted of 4 people, this would not be a problem, but they are 10 people so the line moved way slower than it would have if everyone just went up themselves. Then the plates were piled soooo high. Imagine a comical movie where fat people are at a buffet, like the Nutty Professors. That is what the plates looked like, I´m not kidding. I was made fun of for having a full plate but not overflowing. And they ate everything on their plate. I don´t know how they did it. Except they all did admit they felt a little sick afterwords. And now Elvia and I have another dinner we have to go to later tonight for her school mate that is also graduating. Generally when we eat a big lunch we don´t eat dinner, so I will probably be able to eat a little, but I am interested to see how much Elivia will eat at dinner.
Today Elvia and I went to a lunch for some dude who graduated. I did not understand her connection to thim, but eh, details are not important here. We went to a chinese food resturant and they had a buffet set up for everyone invited. Buffets are dangerous in Guatemala. People were almost pushing others out of the way to get to the line, and then they would pile multiple plates full of food to pass to their other family members. If families consisted of 4 people, this would not be a problem, but they are 10 people so the line moved way slower than it would have if everyone just went up themselves. Then the plates were piled soooo high. Imagine a comical movie where fat people are at a buffet, like the Nutty Professors. That is what the plates looked like, I´m not kidding. I was made fun of for having a full plate but not overflowing. And they ate everything on their plate. I don´t know how they did it. Except they all did admit they felt a little sick afterwords. And now Elvia and I have another dinner we have to go to later tonight for her school mate that is also graduating. Generally when we eat a big lunch we don´t eat dinner, so I will probably be able to eat a little, but I am interested to see how much Elivia will eat at dinner.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Las 24 horas, Michael Jackson, and boots with the fur
I live across the street from a 24 hour pharmacy and a comedor, which is a type of restaurant where they don´t have a menu, they just make a few different plates and tell you what they have for the day. The 24 hour pharmacy is not open 24 hours. It opens at about 9 in the morning, although it varies from day to day and closes around 10 pm. I think they are allowed to call themselves a 24 hour pharmacy because they don´t close at 6 pm. Sometimes they are open on Sundays, sometimes not, and I am not sure if they stay open for holidays.
The comedor plays music everyday incredibly loud. They have about 7 songs that they play on repeat, every single day. There are two English songs included in the loop, one by Michael Jackson and the song about boots with the fur. They start playing the music at about 7 in the morning and stop around 7 in the evening. The other day Terri went over and asked them to turn down the music, which they did, but I can still hear it from my room in the front of the house, closest to the comedor.
Gloria, Elvia's aunt, lives across the street from us also. Her balcony/courtyard/greenhouse faces into my bedroom window. Often they will scream things at me or Elvia will come to my window and have an entire conversation with someone in her family that lives across the street. Basically, spending an hour reading in my room turns into an adventure of Michael Jackson, boots with the fur, and numerous conversations screamed across the street.
The comedor plays music everyday incredibly loud. They have about 7 songs that they play on repeat, every single day. There are two English songs included in the loop, one by Michael Jackson and the song about boots with the fur. They start playing the music at about 7 in the morning and stop around 7 in the evening. The other day Terri went over and asked them to turn down the music, which they did, but I can still hear it from my room in the front of the house, closest to the comedor.
Gloria, Elvia's aunt, lives across the street from us also. Her balcony/courtyard/greenhouse faces into my bedroom window. Often they will scream things at me or Elvia will come to my window and have an entire conversation with someone in her family that lives across the street. Basically, spending an hour reading in my room turns into an adventure of Michael Jackson, boots with the fur, and numerous conversations screamed across the street.
Dia de los Muertos
For the Day of the Dead I woke up early and went with Elvia, her aunt Gloria, and her cousin Leonardo to decorate the grave of Gloria´s husband, Victor. He died when Gloria was 23 years old, had a two year old son, Victor, and was three months pregnant with Leonardo. I did not take my camera because I did not want to be the gringo in the graveyard taking pictures. The graveyard was beautiful with all the people and the various types of flowers and colors. After we left the graveyard we tried to buy chochitos, which is a type of food that I can´t really describe, but deliciously wonderful. Unfortunately, the women selling chochitos were sold out by the time we left the graveyard. We then walked to the house of the family of Victor and spent some time visiting. Elvia and I then drove to Santa Teresa with her grandmother and cousin, Elvira and her daughter Malleli. Most of Elvia´s family is buried in Santa Teresa, but her family had already decorated the graves. We just decorated the grave of Elvia´s great-grandmother. I love Elvia´s mother, Witcha. She gives wonderful hugs and is always smiling and trying to tell me to sit down and rest and eat and drink tea. We ate tortillas of elote, instead of maize.
We went back to Gloria´s house around 12 or 1 pm where they were preparing fiambre, the traditional meal of the Day of the Dead. Fiambre is basically a mix a various different types of foods, meats and vegetables all mixed together. I did not hate fiambre, but I did not like it either. I don´t really like beets, and a large part of the meal was beets and this disgusting vegetable that is incredibly bitter and horrible. I am not really sure why anyone would like it; the bitter taste cannot be covered. My family talks really fast, mumbles, and use slang. I tend to spend a lot of time not fully understanding what is happening, but understanding enough. That afternoon was so chaotic and full of people coming and going I was really confused, but it was a fun afternoon full of new experiences and new foods.
We went back to Gloria´s house around 12 or 1 pm where they were preparing fiambre, the traditional meal of the Day of the Dead. Fiambre is basically a mix a various different types of foods, meats and vegetables all mixed together. I did not hate fiambre, but I did not like it either. I don´t really like beets, and a large part of the meal was beets and this disgusting vegetable that is incredibly bitter and horrible. I am not really sure why anyone would like it; the bitter taste cannot be covered. My family talks really fast, mumbles, and use slang. I tend to spend a lot of time not fully understanding what is happening, but understanding enough. That afternoon was so chaotic and full of people coming and going I was really confused, but it was a fun afternoon full of new experiences and new foods.
Mi Cumpleaños
I was nervous about spending my birthday in Guatemala, and it being so close to my arrival in San Marcos. My birthday´s have never been a huge deal, but they have always been a special day when people tell me they are glad I was born. It is a day to make you feel special and important. Needless to say, I was not sure what my birthday would be like here, and if it would even feel like my birthday. My birthday fell on a Thursday this year, and Wednesday night Elvia asked me if I wanted to go to a concert with her, her two cousins that live across the street, and Prado, the Spanish women who is working with her aunt for the next year. The concert was in the central park of San Pedro, San Marco´s twin city. The concert was free and put on by Gallo, the national beer of Guatemala. I had been sick and Wednesday was the first day I started to feel better. Everyone kept trying to feed me liters of beer and told me I was sick because I did not drink enough beer and tequila to kill the bacteria and parasites. There were two bands that played, and are apparently pretty famous and I recognized a few of the songs from the radio. It reminded of the concerts I went to in high school with everyone jumping around, the mash pits, and throwing of beer and water into the crowds. The concert ended past midnight and everyone wished me a happy birthday with hugs. Everyone, with the exception of myself and the driver were quite drunks from the liters of beer.
The next morning Elvia and Terri left the house before I woke up because they went to buy tamales and cake. Elvia´s family that lives across the street, Prado, and Judy (the American nun who works with us) came over for breakfast. Tamales and cake are the breakfast of choice for birthdays in Guatemala. Everyone who went to the concert the night before was fairly hungover, but I felt great and it was the first day I actually felt like eating. Elvia and I went into the office really late, but our arrival time into the office varies from day to day based on how quickly we get moving in the morning. Judy then came and picked me up and we went into the market of San Pedro to buy the items we needed for my birthday lunch, which was just a stir fry of vegetables and rice, but exactly what I wanted, with of course, icecream. While it was not a traditional birthday, it still felt like a special day.
The next morning Elvia and Terri left the house before I woke up because they went to buy tamales and cake. Elvia´s family that lives across the street, Prado, and Judy (the American nun who works with us) came over for breakfast. Tamales and cake are the breakfast of choice for birthdays in Guatemala. Everyone who went to the concert the night before was fairly hungover, but I felt great and it was the first day I actually felt like eating. Elvia and I went into the office really late, but our arrival time into the office varies from day to day based on how quickly we get moving in the morning. Judy then came and picked me up and we went into the market of San Pedro to buy the items we needed for my birthday lunch, which was just a stir fry of vegetables and rice, but exactly what I wanted, with of course, icecream. While it was not a traditional birthday, it still felt like a special day.
Living in Guatemala
I am living in many different worlds. First, I live in the United States and am still connected to the culture there. Second, I live in the human rights sector of Guatemala of highly educated and intellectual Guatemalans and foreign activists. Third, I live in a world poverty and injustice. Fourthly, I live in the world of popular Guatemalan/Latin American culture.
Pastoral de la Mujer (women) is one pastoral within the entire Catholic diocese of San Marcos. Within the Casadicosisana there is a Pastoral de Salud (health), Pastoral de la Tierra (earth), Pastoral de Educacíon, among others, including the Recovery of the Historical Memory (REMI). REMI conducted interviews of the survivors of the civil war, the guerrillas, and the civil patrols, and the army. REMI then created a comprehensive evaluation on what happened during the war, and how Guatemala needs to move forward, while respecting the memory of the war. Today, REMI is still active in ensuring the historical memory of the war is preserved, although I am still learning about how they function. While I am don´t always understand the intricacies of intelligent conversations, I generally understand the gist of each conversation and am exposed to many different ideas.
As part of my work, we go out into smaller communities and work with women who have not been exposed to ideas of women´s rights. During my first community visit to Tectitan, a newer community, Elvia and I played an icebreaker with the women of the community. In the icebreaker all the women had to stand up and introduce themselves while saying one thing they had to offer the community. I struck that most of the women offered material items they have, such as their homes. Very few women offered their skills, probably because they don´t realize that they have skills that can benefit others. The first project I was given was to create a Microsoft Excel spreadsheet and insert all the data for a new education project in Tajumulco, (one of the parochials in San Marcos). The project is providing funding for girls to either stay in school, or start school for the first time. The ages ranged from 13-24 and most of the girls could not read or write. Then when I visited Tajumulco, Eliva and I ate breakfast with the women who helps cook and clean for the parochial. She was telling us that her small income of 200 quetzales supports her 3 children and parents. Her oldest daughter is 13 and does not go to school because she can´t afford the costs of the uniform, books, and school supplies. Plus the daughter helps her with her work. Then during the meeting with the women, Elvia taught the women about the different types of violence (physical, psychological, sexual, inter-familiar, and paternal). While they women have probably been exposed to all these types of violence, either directly or indirectly, they did not know how to explain the different types. It has been interesting to compare these newer communities to the older community of San Jose, which Pastoral de la Mujer has been working with for 9 years. The women in that community are outspoken and most of the women participate in the conversations that happen and have strong opinions that they are not afraid to share.
Elvia´s parents, sister, and one brother, live in a small puebo called Santa Teresa. Her family there still wears the indigenous traje, don´t have indoor plumbing, and keep chickens, pigs, and have one cow and one horse. There was day when we spent the morning and afternoon with her family in Santa Teresa because it was her other sister (who lives in San Marcos and also works with Pastoral de la Mujer), Terri´s, birthday. We spent the day talking with her family and playing with Elvia´s nieces and nephews. I found I have a great party trick, I can do a backbend and all the children crawl under my bridge and never get tired, even though I do! We went home that evening to eat and then get ready to go to the discotecca. Elvia is an independent and educated woman. She is 33 years old, unmarried, has been working for Pastoral de la Mujer for 9 years, and is currently studying human rights in the university in Xela. We often go out at night with her friends, in fact my first night in San Marcos we went to a bar and took tequila shots.
I am being exposed to many different aspects of Guatemalan culture, and I think it will help me learn how to keep my feet in the world of the center and the world of the marginalized.
Pastoral de la Mujer (women) is one pastoral within the entire Catholic diocese of San Marcos. Within the Casadicosisana there is a Pastoral de Salud (health), Pastoral de la Tierra (earth), Pastoral de Educacíon, among others, including the Recovery of the Historical Memory (REMI). REMI conducted interviews of the survivors of the civil war, the guerrillas, and the civil patrols, and the army. REMI then created a comprehensive evaluation on what happened during the war, and how Guatemala needs to move forward, while respecting the memory of the war. Today, REMI is still active in ensuring the historical memory of the war is preserved, although I am still learning about how they function. While I am don´t always understand the intricacies of intelligent conversations, I generally understand the gist of each conversation and am exposed to many different ideas.
As part of my work, we go out into smaller communities and work with women who have not been exposed to ideas of women´s rights. During my first community visit to Tectitan, a newer community, Elvia and I played an icebreaker with the women of the community. In the icebreaker all the women had to stand up and introduce themselves while saying one thing they had to offer the community. I struck that most of the women offered material items they have, such as their homes. Very few women offered their skills, probably because they don´t realize that they have skills that can benefit others. The first project I was given was to create a Microsoft Excel spreadsheet and insert all the data for a new education project in Tajumulco, (one of the parochials in San Marcos). The project is providing funding for girls to either stay in school, or start school for the first time. The ages ranged from 13-24 and most of the girls could not read or write. Then when I visited Tajumulco, Eliva and I ate breakfast with the women who helps cook and clean for the parochial. She was telling us that her small income of 200 quetzales supports her 3 children and parents. Her oldest daughter is 13 and does not go to school because she can´t afford the costs of the uniform, books, and school supplies. Plus the daughter helps her with her work. Then during the meeting with the women, Elvia taught the women about the different types of violence (physical, psychological, sexual, inter-familiar, and paternal). While they women have probably been exposed to all these types of violence, either directly or indirectly, they did not know how to explain the different types. It has been interesting to compare these newer communities to the older community of San Jose, which Pastoral de la Mujer has been working with for 9 years. The women in that community are outspoken and most of the women participate in the conversations that happen and have strong opinions that they are not afraid to share.
Elvia´s parents, sister, and one brother, live in a small puebo called Santa Teresa. Her family there still wears the indigenous traje, don´t have indoor plumbing, and keep chickens, pigs, and have one cow and one horse. There was day when we spent the morning and afternoon with her family in Santa Teresa because it was her other sister (who lives in San Marcos and also works with Pastoral de la Mujer), Terri´s, birthday. We spent the day talking with her family and playing with Elvia´s nieces and nephews. I found I have a great party trick, I can do a backbend and all the children crawl under my bridge and never get tired, even though I do! We went home that evening to eat and then get ready to go to the discotecca. Elvia is an independent and educated woman. She is 33 years old, unmarried, has been working for Pastoral de la Mujer for 9 years, and is currently studying human rights in the university in Xela. We often go out at night with her friends, in fact my first night in San Marcos we went to a bar and took tequila shots.
I am being exposed to many different aspects of Guatemalan culture, and I think it will help me learn how to keep my feet in the world of the center and the world of the marginalized.
Machetes fix everything
On October 12, I arrived in San Marcos where I will be spending the next 10 months. I am living with a single woman, who has been working with Pastoral de la Mujer for 10 years and is currently studying in the university in Xela for human rights. My living situation is very different from the other YAVs because I am not living with a family, and I am also living with an incredibly modern woman. It makes it more difficult to form community because I don´t have a built in community like people who live with families. I have to create my community myself, which has been a difficult, but important challenge for me. Creating community is not really something I have ever had to do; community has always been created around me. I have never been very good and small talk and don´t particularly enjoy it. Having to make small talk in Spanish has been challenging, but in a good way. I find it is the challenging and uncomfortable things in my life that are the best experiences and most fulfilling.
I explained a little about Pastoral de la Mujer in a previous post, and I am still learning about how they function. San Marcos is a huge department, and there are various Pastoral de la Mujer´s within the department, all connected, but doing different things and with their own programs. My Pastoral works within the mountains and Aldeas of San Marcos, while the other two groups are located on the coast. I arrived in San Marcos on a Monday, and Wednesday I went on my first community visit to Tectitan. Tectitan is actually in the region of Huehuetenago, but the parochial is connected with the dioces of San Marcos. I have known that I would be traveling around the department to visit communities, but I never really thought about how I would be traveling. Well, we travel by caminoeta. I wrote a blog post about the caminoeta´s a while back, so I won´t describe the experience again. Elvia and I traveled for 3 hours in a caminoeta up through the mountains. In order to get to Tectitan we had to go up one side of the highest mountain, Taculmuco, in Central America, and the travel down the other side. We drove up through the clouds and eventually were above the clouds, before we traveled back down. It was incredibly beautiful. After we got of the caminoeta we then had to take a taxi for half hour to Tectitan, which does not have a caminoeta stop. There were four adults crammed into the back seat and two adults and a baby crammed into the front seat, and then the driver.
Once we got to Tectitan we arrived at the house of Padre Jose, who is the main padre of the parochial. Elvia had told me we would be going to a hot water pool, so I was prepared with my bathing suit. Shortly after we arrived Padre Jose came with another guy who works for the parochial and we got in his car to travel to the hot water pools. I assumed that the hot water pool would be fairly close to Tectitan, especially because we headed out at 7 pm at night. The pools were an hour and half away down a dirt road through cornfields and we stayed at the pool until 11 pm. I was tired before we got to the pools, and actually feel asleep for a short period of time before my dinner came at 10 pm. When we left I quickly feel asleep in the car, despite my head bumping against the glass window. At some point I feel the car stopping and Padre Jose asking Elvia for a flashlight. Then I hear this horrible grinding noise coming from the car. I wake myself up and we drive the car a little ways further up the road. So now the car is stopped in the middle of cornfields and Padre Jose disappears into the cornfields and comes back with an old man with a flashlight and a machete, which I assume was to help fix the car. Rural Guatemalans use machete´s for everything, and never leave home without one. I have to admit I was very glad to be stranded at midnight in the middle of a cornfield with head Padre of the parochial because he knows everyone. They take the front left wheel off the car and are talking rapidly. I am tired and barely follow the conversation, more interested in the millions of stars I can see in the sky, but Elvia goes and picks something up off the dirt road, and then it is placed somewhere in the car, the wheel is put back on and we continue on our way. I don´t know if what Elvia picked up was part of the car or not, but it looked like a piece of cornhusk. Overall, it was a wonderful adventure.
I explained a little about Pastoral de la Mujer in a previous post, and I am still learning about how they function. San Marcos is a huge department, and there are various Pastoral de la Mujer´s within the department, all connected, but doing different things and with their own programs. My Pastoral works within the mountains and Aldeas of San Marcos, while the other two groups are located on the coast. I arrived in San Marcos on a Monday, and Wednesday I went on my first community visit to Tectitan. Tectitan is actually in the region of Huehuetenago, but the parochial is connected with the dioces of San Marcos. I have known that I would be traveling around the department to visit communities, but I never really thought about how I would be traveling. Well, we travel by caminoeta. I wrote a blog post about the caminoeta´s a while back, so I won´t describe the experience again. Elvia and I traveled for 3 hours in a caminoeta up through the mountains. In order to get to Tectitan we had to go up one side of the highest mountain, Taculmuco, in Central America, and the travel down the other side. We drove up through the clouds and eventually were above the clouds, before we traveled back down. It was incredibly beautiful. After we got of the caminoeta we then had to take a taxi for half hour to Tectitan, which does not have a caminoeta stop. There were four adults crammed into the back seat and two adults and a baby crammed into the front seat, and then the driver.
Once we got to Tectitan we arrived at the house of Padre Jose, who is the main padre of the parochial. Elvia had told me we would be going to a hot water pool, so I was prepared with my bathing suit. Shortly after we arrived Padre Jose came with another guy who works for the parochial and we got in his car to travel to the hot water pools. I assumed that the hot water pool would be fairly close to Tectitan, especially because we headed out at 7 pm at night. The pools were an hour and half away down a dirt road through cornfields and we stayed at the pool until 11 pm. I was tired before we got to the pools, and actually feel asleep for a short period of time before my dinner came at 10 pm. When we left I quickly feel asleep in the car, despite my head bumping against the glass window. At some point I feel the car stopping and Padre Jose asking Elvia for a flashlight. Then I hear this horrible grinding noise coming from the car. I wake myself up and we drive the car a little ways further up the road. So now the car is stopped in the middle of cornfields and Padre Jose disappears into the cornfields and comes back with an old man with a flashlight and a machete, which I assume was to help fix the car. Rural Guatemalans use machete´s for everything, and never leave home without one. I have to admit I was very glad to be stranded at midnight in the middle of a cornfield with head Padre of the parochial because he knows everyone. They take the front left wheel off the car and are talking rapidly. I am tired and barely follow the conversation, more interested in the millions of stars I can see in the sky, but Elvia goes and picks something up off the dirt road, and then it is placed somewhere in the car, the wheel is put back on and we continue on our way. I don´t know if what Elvia picked up was part of the car or not, but it looked like a piece of cornhusk. Overall, it was a wonderful adventure.
Corn juice, quesdilla, and a very scary dog
After we left Antigua, we spent one week in a rural language school outside of Xela in a small Caserìo called Pajac. Our group of YAVs was the first group the language school taught outside of the city. Tito, the head of the language school had trouble finding enough families willing to host students, so I ended up living with Emily for the week. Emily and I lived with an incredible nice Quiche family. There was a husband and wife, their two sons, the husband´s mother, sister, and grandmother. We only learned a little of their story, but the grandmother´s husband died when she was two months pregnant with the mother. The grandmother moved back to Pajac after she gave birth, where her family resided. The mother has 3 daughters and 1 son. Her husband died 25 years old, and her youngest daughter can´t but much older than 25. The youngest daughter who still lived in the house is a nurse in Xela, and the daughter in law is a school teacher. I am not completely sure what the son does, but he is a manual laborer and worked a variety of different hours, sometimes during the day and other times at night. The family speaks Spanish, but the women speak Quiche in the kitchen and I don´t think the grandmother speaks much Spanish, but she was also pretty deaf.
I can´t say I loved the food during this homestay. Bascially we ate fried grease for a week, but we did have a refraccion every evening before supper. The snack consisted of this tea made out of mostly sugar and corn. Emily called it corn juice and it was delicious. We also had this type of bread called quesadilla. It is a bread made out of elote. Guatemalans have many different words for corn, based on different stages in the life of the corn. Maize is the typical translation for corn, but elote is the cob of the corn and is often roasted. Once the elote is roasted you can make a dough, and from this dough our family made the delicious quesadilla bread. It tastes like corn bread, but much more wonderful.
After every meal and snack Brian will go up to each person with his hands behind his back and give a little bow saying, ¨Gracias.¨ The receiver of his thanks will touch his head and say, ¨Buean provecho.¨ This is a Mayan custom and sign of mutual respect, giving and receiving thanks. Every one in Guatamala thanks the people they shared their meal with. Not only is it being grateful for the food eaten, but it is being grateful for the company shared. Sometimes it is difficult for me to accept hospitality and to be waited on. One evening the mother came rushing back from a funeral in order to begin to prepare dinner for us, even though the rest of the family was still at the funeral. Emily and I asked her if we could help her in anyway, and she said sure, we could help make the tortillas. Emily and I had already tried to make tortillas our first night, and failed drastically. The tortilla dough sticks to your hands if your hands are not moist enough, but then the dough does not stick enough if your hands our too wet. Then there is the perfect amount of dough you have to use, otherwise the tortilla is too thick, or too small. There is a perfect science to making tortillas, and Emily and I are no help in the tortilla making department. We get into the kitchen and the mother tells us to sit down and feeds us corn juice and quesadilla. It was only later we ¨helped¨ make tortillas, but in reality we were just waited on without helping at all.
That night Emily and I talked about the story of Mary, Martha, and Jesus. This is a story that tells us how accompaniment is more important than doing, and our year as YAVs is about accompanying the people of Guatemala. Emily mentioned how she always wishes that Jesus went into to the kitchen to help. I feel that would be a more appropriate story for what we are doing here. Accompaniment is about joining the lives of the people here, and part of that is helping in the kitchen. It is difficult when we are not really allowed to help, and how to figure out how to force people to allow us to accompany in all aspects of life, instead of being viewed as a guest to be waited on.
Our house did not have a bathroom, only a latrine outside near the pig pen. Emily and I realized the first day we would probably be going a week without a shower, which we did. The family also had two dogs, a puppie and an older dog. The very first afternoon we arrived, Brian, the 7 year old son, asked Emily and I if we wanted to play. We went outside to play soccer and passed by the dogs. The older dog snarled at us and Brian told us to watch out for him because he is mean. So, of course, Emily and I then watch out for the snarling dog. As we are walking down the driveway down to the road to play soccer we have to walk by the pickup which the dog is now hiding under. Emily did not realize the dog had moved under the truck and when she walked by he snarled again and Emily must have jumped three feet and screamed running into the street. It was incredibly funny, but our fear of the dog never wavered for the rest of the week. Now Emily and I were out in the street playing with Brian, and unable to get back in the house because the dog is watching us and snarls whenever we get too close to the driveway. When it becomes time to head back into the house for supper Brian hands Emily and I two rocks and tells us to throw them at the dog while we walk back inside. Obviously Emily and I do not throw the rocks and the dog, but the mother comes outside and throws a huge rock at the dog. Now Emily and I are inside the house, but we can´t leave to go to the latrine without fear of the dog. Brian and the wife had to escort us to the bathroom and told us to come wake them up if we needed to go in the middle of the night. After the first night Emily and I stopped making the family escort us, but we generally always went together with a huge stick. The dog eventually stopped growling at us, but he stayed suspicious of us and Emily and I never left the house without sticks, and were always scared to use the latrine late at night or early in the morning.
When we left the family the grandmother and wife gave us each a small gift and a bag of apples. While the bathroom situation was difficult, especially with the scary dog, the cot was uncomfortable, and I was constantly cold, I really enjoyed my week in Pajac. Instead of being grateful for what I do have, I realized how easy it is to become accustomed to doing without. Really all we need is good company, corn juice, quesadilla bread, and the willingness to show kindness and open ourselves up to complete strangers.
I can´t say I loved the food during this homestay. Bascially we ate fried grease for a week, but we did have a refraccion every evening before supper. The snack consisted of this tea made out of mostly sugar and corn. Emily called it corn juice and it was delicious. We also had this type of bread called quesadilla. It is a bread made out of elote. Guatemalans have many different words for corn, based on different stages in the life of the corn. Maize is the typical translation for corn, but elote is the cob of the corn and is often roasted. Once the elote is roasted you can make a dough, and from this dough our family made the delicious quesadilla bread. It tastes like corn bread, but much more wonderful.
After every meal and snack Brian will go up to each person with his hands behind his back and give a little bow saying, ¨Gracias.¨ The receiver of his thanks will touch his head and say, ¨Buean provecho.¨ This is a Mayan custom and sign of mutual respect, giving and receiving thanks. Every one in Guatamala thanks the people they shared their meal with. Not only is it being grateful for the food eaten, but it is being grateful for the company shared. Sometimes it is difficult for me to accept hospitality and to be waited on. One evening the mother came rushing back from a funeral in order to begin to prepare dinner for us, even though the rest of the family was still at the funeral. Emily and I asked her if we could help her in anyway, and she said sure, we could help make the tortillas. Emily and I had already tried to make tortillas our first night, and failed drastically. The tortilla dough sticks to your hands if your hands are not moist enough, but then the dough does not stick enough if your hands our too wet. Then there is the perfect amount of dough you have to use, otherwise the tortilla is too thick, or too small. There is a perfect science to making tortillas, and Emily and I are no help in the tortilla making department. We get into the kitchen and the mother tells us to sit down and feeds us corn juice and quesadilla. It was only later we ¨helped¨ make tortillas, but in reality we were just waited on without helping at all.
That night Emily and I talked about the story of Mary, Martha, and Jesus. This is a story that tells us how accompaniment is more important than doing, and our year as YAVs is about accompanying the people of Guatemala. Emily mentioned how she always wishes that Jesus went into to the kitchen to help. I feel that would be a more appropriate story for what we are doing here. Accompaniment is about joining the lives of the people here, and part of that is helping in the kitchen. It is difficult when we are not really allowed to help, and how to figure out how to force people to allow us to accompany in all aspects of life, instead of being viewed as a guest to be waited on.
Our house did not have a bathroom, only a latrine outside near the pig pen. Emily and I realized the first day we would probably be going a week without a shower, which we did. The family also had two dogs, a puppie and an older dog. The very first afternoon we arrived, Brian, the 7 year old son, asked Emily and I if we wanted to play. We went outside to play soccer and passed by the dogs. The older dog snarled at us and Brian told us to watch out for him because he is mean. So, of course, Emily and I then watch out for the snarling dog. As we are walking down the driveway down to the road to play soccer we have to walk by the pickup which the dog is now hiding under. Emily did not realize the dog had moved under the truck and when she walked by he snarled again and Emily must have jumped three feet and screamed running into the street. It was incredibly funny, but our fear of the dog never wavered for the rest of the week. Now Emily and I were out in the street playing with Brian, and unable to get back in the house because the dog is watching us and snarls whenever we get too close to the driveway. When it becomes time to head back into the house for supper Brian hands Emily and I two rocks and tells us to throw them at the dog while we walk back inside. Obviously Emily and I do not throw the rocks and the dog, but the mother comes outside and throws a huge rock at the dog. Now Emily and I are inside the house, but we can´t leave to go to the latrine without fear of the dog. Brian and the wife had to escort us to the bathroom and told us to come wake them up if we needed to go in the middle of the night. After the first night Emily and I stopped making the family escort us, but we generally always went together with a huge stick. The dog eventually stopped growling at us, but he stayed suspicious of us and Emily and I never left the house without sticks, and were always scared to use the latrine late at night or early in the morning.
When we left the family the grandmother and wife gave us each a small gift and a bag of apples. While the bathroom situation was difficult, especially with the scary dog, the cot was uncomfortable, and I was constantly cold, I really enjoyed my week in Pajac. Instead of being grateful for what I do have, I realized how easy it is to become accustomed to doing without. Really all we need is good company, corn juice, quesadilla bread, and the willingness to show kindness and open ourselves up to complete strangers.
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