This I Believe

I believe in being idealistic. I believe that the way the world is, is not how it is supposed to be. I believe the world can change, and human beings are the ones responsible for creating change. I have been told, more than once, that I hold unattainable standards and the world will never be as good as I desire it to be. Even my Ennegram type tells me the same things. But nevertheless, I believe in holding unattainable standards. I remember clearly a poster that stretched across the chalkboard in my first grade classroom. The poster said, “Shoot for the moon, even if you miss you will land among the stars.” I am sure many first grade classrooms had the same poster, but I have thought about it many times in my life. Today, I believe in shooting past the moon.

I do not believe in being satisfied with “okay” or “a little better” when it comes to people’s lives. I believe one reason we exist on this earth is to share and live in community with other people, a community that has no borders or definitions. And part of being in community is supporting those people in your community.

What does that mean for me, a person of privilege, living in a world of inequality? It means that I have to believe in something better, something ideal, and the ideal is attainable.

This past year I have been exposed to a different world, a different way of life from what has always been my reality. I have seen and befriended people living in extreme forms of poverty. I have met people working for development and dedicating their lives to the pursuit of social justice. I have met people from all walks of life, with different backgrounds and different perspectives. And I often come away from these encounters with one prominent feeling, hope. Hope that things will be better, that things have to change.

But too often I feel overwhelmed by the problems Guatemala faces. Many days it feels like development is a distant dream that will never be recognized. The overwhelming problem is you can work trying to combat one issue, but you encounter so many more that impede your efforts in trying to solve the other. For example, domestic violence is a huge problem throughout Guatemala (and the world). Pastoral de la Mujer (where I have been working) spends a lot of time giving workshops to our women on domestic violence. We teach women about the different forms of violence, and emphasize that violence against anyone is wrong. We encourage women to be supportive of one other, especially those women who are living in violent households. We encourage women to speak out against the violence and teach their children that violence is wrong, even if they see their fathers or uncles or grandfathers abusing their wives or children.

Now this is good and necessary, but is not sufficient. In the majority of situations the women literally have no choice but to stay in their violent situation. A woman might come to our workshop and recognize she is living in a violent situation and want to leave her husband. But the woman has too many other obstacles (all development related) in her way.

1. The woman has no where safe to go. Her family and friends will not accept her back into their house for social reasons, they don’t have economic resources to support her, or both. Also, there are no shelters for women in Guatemala and the police will not protect the woman. It is commonly thought that women are the cause of the problem. If they were a better wife they would not be abused.

2. The woman has no economic means. Since she got married she has been a housewife, and has no money that is “hers.” She cannot support herself or her children and has no competitive skills to find work. Plus, there is simply no work to be found for anyone.

3. She has no education. She went to school when she was very young, but then her parents decided to pull her out so her brothers could study and had to spend her days working with her mother in the house. She is unable to read or write, thus making her even more unemployable. It is impossible for her to go back to school because she has her children and responsibilities to them.

4. She has four children. She can’t leave with her children because she has no way to support them. Men hold all the power and if she was to leave with her children, the police would come and take her children to return to her husband. So, if she wants to keep with her children, she has to stay.

5. She has no legal or government support. Sure there are laws against domestic violence and violence against women in general, but they are not enforced and most people don’t even know they exist.

6. Finally, she feels obligated to her husband and community.

Now this is just one example among many and the point is, you cannot combat one problem without facing many others that need attention too. There is no one problem more pressing than another. So yes, these issues often lead to feeling of despair and hopelessness. But I choose to stay idealistic because there is hope. There is a lot of hope in the small changes that are happening every day. I am the first to admit that we are not changing the majority of the women’s lives, but every now and then there are a few who decide to change the way they live, and change the way their daughters live.

No, the world will not change overnight, but if people, all over the world, choose to truly live in community, the world can and will change. If people of privilege, like myself, choose to live a little more simply, a little more sustainably, we can create change. I do not only believe in small changes. I also believe in government and international action that is working along with the small changes that come from people choosing to live a little more simply so that others can simply live. I believe that God walks with us and accompanies us in this world, and He set pretty idealistic goals for this world. I believe in being idealistic about what our world can and should be.

Mamálita

Mamálita, or Margarita, is another incredible woman I have met here in Guatemala. She is the grandmother of Elvia and about 80 years old now.

Mamálita was born in Santa Teresa, an aldea of San Pedro, San Marcos, the same place Elvia was born. Mamálita's father never worked a day of his life, so it was left to Mamálita's mother and Mamálita, as the oldest child, to take care of the younger children. When Mamálita was 8 years old she left Santa Teresea to go and work in Xela as a domestic servant, but was essentially a slave. She never finished school (I'm not sure if she ever went to school) and cannot read or write.

Well, when Mamálita was 18 she met a man and got pregnant with Elvia's father. This man cheated on Mamálita and never married her. When Hermolindo was born Mamálita sent him to live with her mother in Santa Teresea. Mamálita continued living and working as a servant in Xela and once again got pregnant with Gloria, Elvia's aunt. I am not sure how old Mamálita was when Gloria was born, but she is only 10 years older than Elvia. Mamálita was older at this point, so Gloria always lived with Mamálita in the houses she was working in.

Mamálita was consistently mistreated by her employers, and thought of and treated as trash, not worthy of any respect. She constantly had to be working, because if she was ever caught sitting to rest for a minute, even to eat, she was chastised for being lazy and they would threaten to fire her. And Mamálita claims she often worked for nicer families that treated her better than most families would treat their servants.

Well, eventually Mamálita decided it was time for her to come back to San Marcos and find work in the capital city here (where I am living). Eventually Mamálita was able to find a job cleaning the bishop's house. She worked for the bishop before our current bishop, and worked for the current bishop until this past January. She was finally forced to "retire" because her arthritis has become so bad and has a lot of trouble using stairs. So Mamálita was "retired"in her house for about 4 months and became really depressed because she does not know what it means to not work, and to not work exceptionally hard. So about a month ago Mamálita opened her own comedor up the street from her house (which is across the street from mine). A comedor is like a small restaurant, but they generally only offer one or two plates a day and they are really cheap (Mamálita's meals cost about $1.10 and are delicious) and low key. So now Mamálita has her comedor and seems pretty content to be working again.

The lives of so many people I have met here are so different from myself, and everybody I know in the United States. My favorite thing about being in this country is being able to sit down with people and just listen to their stories, and then after understanding their stories, being able to hear their thoughts on life and the world. Mamálita is a bit more jaded about the world then Beatrice (see other post) but she is still an incredibly strong woman for whom I have a lot of respect.

Doña Beatrice

I am going to tell you the story of an incredible woman named Doña Beatrice. She has lived an incredibly hard life, of which I only know a little. And yet she is still the kindest, most giving, and warm hearted person.

11 years ago my boss here first met Beatrice. She was driving a friend home that lived near the coast and the friend was going to stop in to visit the family of Beatrice. Judy decided to go in and say hi and meet the family as well. What she found was a grandmother trying to keep two twin babies alive. The father had died and Beatrice´s daughter died in childbirth. She had been keeping the babies alive on one tiny can of concentrated milk. Judy said the babies were practically skeletons and Beatrice did not have any money to buy the right type of formula, or even more milk in general. A few weeks before Judy had been sent a donation of $1000 and she had been trying to think of a worthwhile project for the money. Well she decided to to use that money to keep these twin babies alive. So they paid for formula, doctor visits, etc and today the twins are 11 years.

Well, Beatrice has not only had to keep those twin babies alive. She has constantly been supporting her various children, their various children, and their various children. Today she is pretty old (I don´t know how old exactly, I am not sure she really know either) and is still working hard. She cannot read or write, and yet she has tried hard to give her children, and especially her grandchildren, educations. She has one grandchild who has three children, and dropped out of school. Now Beatrice is trying to convince her to go back to school, to finish her education because she knows what it is like to raise countless children without an education.

When her husband died, 55 years ago, all she had was her sewing machine. She says her sewing machine is like her husband, because it has helped support her and provide for her family. This is a pedal sewing machine, but she does not want a new one for various reasons. First, this one has a lot of sentimental value, but also, electricity is hard to come by where she lives. Yes, she has electricity in her house, but most days it does not work. So if she wants to be able to work, she needs her machine without electricity.

I also want to tell you about Doña Beatrice´s daughter-in-law, Oralia. Oralia and her husband (Beatrice´s son) left one day to go to the United States. They had their coyote (the men who lead people to the desert to cross) and made it almost to the border. In the desert Oralia watched another man shoot her husband and decided to go back home to Guatemala. It took her four months to get back home, and during that time their family in Guatemala had no idea if they were alive or not. Well during her trip home Oralia was raped, and got pregnant. Oralia is also uneducated and has never had many job opportunities. One occupation many people have, especially in the coast, is collecting firewood and selling it. Well one day Oralia was out collecting firewood and was raped again, and got pregant again.

I cannot even imagine having so much tragedy in one family, in one life. And yet people are able to continue living. Beatrice understands more than anyone the value of life, the value of living, the value of family, the value of generosity, and the value of love. I think I would have become an incredibly jaded person and without hope for the world. But Doña Beatrice has hope for her family and hope for the world. She believes that the world can get better. She says she knows enough kind and generous people in the world that she has hope for humanity. And so, among the many things I have learned here, one is the value and beauty in hope.

The Luck of the Draw

This past weekend Guatemala was on every news channel all over the world. One of the active volcanoes here, Pacaya, erupted and caused quite a bit of damage and covered many areas in ash. Then the tropical storm, Agatha, came and left Guatemala not only soaked, but covered in sticky ash which has clogged drains and been a nightmare for the people living in it. Where I am, in the department of San Marcos, we were not affected by the ash, but we were greatly affected by the storm.

I love rain. I have always loved rainy days and one of my most favorite things in the world is waking up to the rain pelting my window. I like walking in the rain because I know I can go home and change my wet shoes and socks. I know I can go home and drink a glass of hot tea or take a hot shower. But that is not the case for the majority of people here in San Marcos. People think I am crazy when I tell them I love the rain, but that is because it does not affect my life like it affects the life of people here. There is small town very close to where I live here in San Marcos and the fire department wanted to evacuate the people. Most of the people in the town are very poor and live in tiny wood houses. Wood houses with huge gaps in the walls and in the roof. These houses were drenched, everything inside was sopping wet. The cooking stoves were too wet to start fires, and there was not a piece of dry wood to be found anyway. These people were trying desperately to find a few tortillas to eat, because they could not cook anything, or heat their homes, or boil water to have safe drinking water. So the fire department comes in and wants to evacuate.

Where are these people supposed to go?

They don´t have money to pay for a hotel. There entire family lives in the same town, in the same conditions. There only option is to stay put, they don´t have any choice. So they will stay in their wet homes without anything to eat, and will drink dirty water to stay alive. That is the only choice they have, the choice to drink dirty water and risk getting sick, or dying.

Can you imagine that being your only choice?

So, during this storm I was sitting in the living room of Judy, my boss, with Elvia, the lady I live with. We were baking chocolate chip cookies, making bread, and eating hot soup. We were discussing how prepared we were with enough food, candles, and gas, in case another Hurricane Stan occurs, when people were out of supplies for days. Well we start watching the news and hear about all the flooding happening on the coast, how the electricity is out, bridges being swept away, and landslides. And we change to the local channel and hear about this tiny town two or three miles from where we are sitting. And someone says, it is always the poor people who suffer the worst. And I thought, it is the poor who suffer period. Here I am, baking cookies and people are fighting over tortillas. Here I am, wrapped in cozy blankets with toasty warm feet inside my Ugg boots. And here is this mother with her tiny child wrapped in a rain drenched blanket, with plastic sandals on her feet. Here I am eating hot soup, and this mother can´t start a fire to heat up some water to drink.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the unfairness in the world. Why was I born into my life, and that mother into hers? Is it the luck of the draw? What have I ever done to deserve what I have, and what did she do to deserve not having anything? I can´t get a certain Bible passage out of my head from John 9:1-3. Jesus and his disciples encounter a man born blind from birth. The disciples ask Jesus, Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind? Jesus answered, ¨Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God´s works might be revealed in him.¨ And Jesus proceeds to cure the man.
I have to ask, what is being revealed about God´s works in the mother here in Guatemala, today? No one is magically going to cure her situation. No one is going to make her house weather tight and provide her with dry cooking wood and enough food until the rain stops. She will continue living the same way for the rest of her life, and probably her children will too. This woman did not sin, she did nothing to deserve her situation in life, and yet, there she is. With no prospects, with no choices.

So yes, I agree, it is the poor who suffer the most. But why is that so? Why do we allow that to be the truth? Why do we sit in our warm homes eating chocolate chip cookies? Why do I have that option, the choice, when others have none? Why is that the reality we live in, and why do we accept it?

Sometimes, weird things happen

People here in Guatemala and in the States always ask me what I think about Guatemala. This is a hard question to answer because I have so many different experiences, many of them beautiful and others frustrating and not so beautiful. But they are all a little weird. So I feel like the most honest answer to this question is, Bueno, sometimes weird thing happen.

I was inspired to write this blog a few weeks ago when I was sitting on a caminoneta (an old US school bus) holding a live turkey on my lap. My turkey? Of course not. At this point I realized, sometimes, weird things happen to me in this country. But what is even weirder is, I have become accustomed to these weird things and hardly think twice about them.

What types of weird things happen? Well, let´s see…

I will start with the story that prompted me to write this blog. The camionetas also have a nickname, the chicken bus. They have this name because people enter the buses carrying live chickens, roosters, and turkeys all the time. Generally this happens more in the rural communities, but it happens all over the country. The other day I was coming home from Xela, the second largest city in the country, from my language class. Occasionally I see animals on this bus, but not frequently. Mostly I see animals when I am traveling to a community to give a workshop. Well the bus was very full, three people on each seat and the center aisle crowded. An older lady gets on the bus with her turkey in her arms with a leash around its neck. She finds herself standing next to me (I was the third person in the seat) and is having trouble keeping her balance as the chicken bus whips dangerously around the curves. Well she is trying to hold her turkey and keep her balance and I am impressed that she has not completely fallen over. Well she turns and looks at me (the only white person on the bus) and says, ¨here, hold my turkey.¨ My reaction? Bueno, Of course I will hold your turkey! Well, I am sitting on the bouncing bus trying to stay in the seat myself and staring at turkey in the face, hoping he won´t bite me, and I decided that this was weird. And I started to think of all the weird things that happen to me on a regular basis.

Some of my best stories are on the caminetas. People often play with my hair on the bus, especially if it is down or in a braid. Old, young, male, female – everyone likes to touch my hair. I´m not sure if they think I can´t feel it, or just don´t care. But really, I can´t blame people for this, my hair does have magical powers.

When buses are stopped people come onto the bus selling everything from gum, water, soda, pizza, chicken, coffee, icecream, medicine, herbal medicines, pens, to water that will cure cancer. You can buy it all and never move from your seat. Generally the sellers move through the aisles advertising what they are selling, but every now and again I get a seller that decides to harass me. Here buy this icecream. No thanks. It is really good. I don´t want it. Why don´t you want it? I´m allergic. Here buy this gum in a crinkled wrapper that has been in my pocket for who knows how long. I don´t like gum. Do you want to buy my hat? Bueno, I´m allergic to hats too, but thanks. And only after the seller moves on to the next person do I realize how weird the conversation was.

Hey, Mom, don´t read this part.

Then other weird things happen that are slightly more dangerous. The other weekend I went on a trip to Cobán and El Quiché, two departments in the northern part of Guatemala. My driver was driving like a maniac up a dirt road and I finally asked, ¨Pedro, why are you driving like a bat out of hell?¨ ¨Remember that car we hit back there?¨he answers (yes because that was weird too). Well, in this part of the country people will chase after you with guns and shoot you dead. Bueno, I would prefer to return home alive. Another time I was traveling on another dirt road in the middle of the night (really not very smart, but sometimes I get stuck in situations without any other choice) and we had to stop. We had to stop because there was a huge truck in front of us full of boulders. Well, this truck was too heavy to make it up part of the mountain. What is the logical conclusion to this problem? That trucks full of boulders should not drive on this dirt road that is impossible for most pickup trucks with four wheel drive? Of course not! The logical conclusion is everyone that is waiting behind the truck and waiting on the other side of the ¨road¨ should pull the truck up the mountain. Yes, about 20 men tie a rope to the truck and pulled it up the mountain.

But really, I like the weird things that happen. I don´t even know the name of the old lady with the turkey, but I will remember her for the rest of my life, and her turkey (that never bit me). I like the excitement of waking up every day and having no idea what is going to happen. Sometimes I wonder what type of culture shock I will have once I get back to the states and everything is orderly and without chaos. Because right now walking 4 blocks to my office can be an adventure, or just an ordinary day at the office, but I never know. I never know when, but sometimes, weird things happen.

La justicia, sí es possible

I had the opportunity to participate in two marches for the martyr, Bishop Juan Gerardi. Juan Gerardi is a hero in Guatemala, and a hero in my heart. I need to give you a small amount of information on the life of Juan Gerardi, so this post might be a little long.

On May 9, 1967, he was elected Bishop of Verapaz, where he emphasized pastoral work among indigenous communities and in 1974, he was appointed Bishop of Quiché. Between 1980 and 1983 El Quiché saw increased levels of violence in the conflict between the Army and various rebel guerrilla factions. The worst violence and human rights abuses were seen in the department of El Quiché. Hundreds of Roman Catholic catechists and heads of Christian communities, most of who were of Maya origin, were brutally murdered. Gerardi was highly outspoken against the military and demanded that they stop the violence against his catechists and the population of Quiché and Guatemala in general.

In 1980 Geradi closed the diocese of El Quiché, making a very public statement to the world about the violence occurring there. He left the country for the Vatican, was denied re-entry into the country, and was exiled to El Salvador and Costa Rica until 1982. In 1984 he was appointed bishop of the department of Guatemala (which is the equivalent to a state, like Verapaz and El Quiché). While working in the department of Guatemala Gerardi became involved in the creation, and became the head of the Office of Human of Rights of the Archbishopric (ODHAG), which is still active in the assistance of victims of human rights violations today.

After the 1994 Oslo Agreement (an essential peace agreement during the war that preceded the 1996 Peace Accords) ODHAG began the creation of the Recovery of the Historical Memory, or REMHI project, to discover and present the truth of the 36 year civil war. The actual REMHI report is huge, but it essentially looks at the impact the violence had on Guatemala. It looks at how the violence was carried out and includes thousands of testimonies of witnesses and victims of the war. The report looks at the violence carried out by both the army and the guerillas, but in the end it places the blame for 89.7 percent of the violence to the government and 4.8 percent to the guerillas. The UN sponsored Historical Clarification Commission, which came out after the REMHI report, actually places 93 percent of the atrocities to the government and only 3 percent to the guerillas. The report discusses the historical context of the war, providing a through description on why the war started and where its roots were, following the various military governments up to the Peace Accords. The REMHI report also focuses on social reconstruction and how Guatemala can repair the damage of the war and preserve the historical memory of the war.

On April 24, 1998, the REMHI report was published, to the obvious dislike of the government and army. Two days later, on April 26, Gerardi was brutally assassinated in his garage by three army officers. It was not until 2001 and after a long and tumulus fight, that the officers were convicted of his murder. This was an important achievement for Guatemala, because it was the first time members of the military had faced trial before civilian courts

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Every year the anniversary of Gerardi’s death is celebrated, and this year marked the 12 anniversary. Here in San Marcos we celebrated the anniversary on the 17^th of April, with a large march and mass afterwards. It was beautiful to see so many people come from all of the aldeas all over San Marcos, I even saw many of the women we work with from various communities. Our march was during the day and had a somber feel to it, there was music playing, but people were not singing nor chanting. I had to leave during the mass for a YAV retreat, but I was glad have been in solidarity with the Guatemalans for the march. It is about remembering the life and death of Gerardi, and remembering that his desires and dreams for Guatemala can be achieved. The quote that accompanies Gerardi is,”” La justicia, sí es possible,” or “The justice, yes is possible.”

Bettina, another YAV, and I then went to Guatemala City for the real anniversary and march of Juan Gerardi. We arrived in the city in the morning and went to the parish house where Gerardi was killed. We went into the garage and saw the beautiful mural that has been painted in there in remembrance of his life and work, but also in remembrance of the war.

The mural is huge, covering three walls, and I took a lot of pictures of it, but I can’t post all of them here. We then went to the crypt of Gerardi behind the huge Cathedral in the Central Park of Guatemala City. The Mass took place at 5pm, and the Cathedral was packed, and the march was after. More people participated in the march in San Marcos, but it is dangerous to be out at night in Guatemala. During this march people were chanting and even though there was a small amount of people, there was plenty of energy. Bettina and I were laughing because the woman who was in charge of leading the chants was not very good, so a group of young men took over and they were competing with the woman on what chants they would use. The young men were obviously better and engaged the crowd more, but the woman did not want to give up her loudspeaker and it was pretty funny. The march ended in the park in front of the parish house, and people sang and gave speeches. They talked about how we have to continue fighting for the justice, and against the impunity here in Guatemala. Yes, it is a hard a long fight, but we have to be courageous and not give up hope.

Gerardi is a person that I have come to admire more and more during my time here in Guatemala. I have learned a lot more about his life, and I have read a lot more of his speeches and writings. Gerardi was firmly committed to the idea that the church is called to be involved in political and economic issues; the church is not confined to the space of spiritual ministries. Gerardi claimed that the church has the responsibility to protect the dignity of the human being, because the human being is at the center of the gospel. Gerardi saw the REMHI report as an announcement aimed at finding new ways for humans to live together. But it is also a theological piece that ¨works in the light of faith to discover the face of God, the presence of the Lord.¨(Gerardi´s speech during the presentation of the REMHI Report). Gerardi was committed to the truth because we can´t have peace without truth, so truth should be the goal of all of humanity. When we are truly truthful with ourselves and others we are forced to recognize our own responsibility in the happenings of the world, and then we have the responsibility to act. Because we can´t have truth without action.

Gerardi was a man of incredible wisdom, and I believe that wisdom came from deep faith and beautiful understanding of the gospel. Gerardi´s life was constantly in danger during the entirety of his ministry, but he never let fear stop him. He knew it is not easy to be a disciple of Jesus, but we are called to work for the reign of God at all costs, especially when it means putting our lives in danger, because that is were the justice is needed the most. We all admire martyrs, but who actually wants to be one? It is hard to have enough confidence and trust in your faith to allow yourself to put your fears aside. I would like to be at the place someday in my life, but right now I can only admire Gerardi and try to mirror some of his actions and philosophies. Right now I can listen to his call for truth and the direct and indirect responsibilities I carry, and how I should act them out. He is a man that still can teach the world so much about justice and peace, because he is certainly still teaching the people of Guatemala, which can be seen every year in the anniversary of his death.

Prayer

Prayer is something I have often struggled with. It is difficult for me to take time, everyday, to sit down and pray. I often find myself talking to, or thinking about God, but I don´t often pray. I don´t like praying out loud in groups. In fact sometimes I feel weird just praying in groups. I do not know where this phobia came from, nor can I precisely describe why it is I don´t like to pray. It has nothing to do with faith. I think it stems more from bad experiences with fundamentalist Christians.

One of my goals for this year has been to get over my phobia of praying. Praying is not speaking in tongues, who can pray the longest or sound the most sincere. Prayer is not really even about what is being said. It is about setting aside the time just to be with God. Prayer allows us to further understand God inside of each of us, and when we can see God inside ourselves it is easier to see God around us, in the good and the bad. If we don´t recognize where God is in our hearts, we are unable to find God in our everyday lives. I am finding that prayer allows me to give up my own preoccupations.

It is easy for me to feel sorry for myself sometimes and obsess about unimportant things. Poor me, I think, I don´t have this luxury or that luxury. Poor me, this part of my life is so difficult. Now don´t get me wrong, some things in my life are very difficult. Often we don´t have water in our apartment. The water se fue, it went, as people like to tell me. Where? Saber. Who knows. People only like to shop on market days when the food is cheaper. So, if Elvia and I did not wake up at 5 am to go to the Thursday morning market, we don´t have much food for a week. No, I don´t go hungry, but I don´t have many food options. So yes, aspects of my life are harder here then they ever were in the United States, but when I pray I can recognize that I worry about trivial things. No, I do not have to bathe every day, I don´t even have to bathe every other day. I eat the food that is there, I don´t need more.

I also think prayer is difficult for me because I hate giving up control. I have always been a highly independent person and do not like to rely on others for anything. When we pray we are giving our pains, joys, and frustrations to the Lord. We are giving up control and allowing the Lord to lead us. I hate being led, but sometimes we have to allow ourselves to be led to the place we do not want to go. We are forced to recognize our weaknesses and stop trying to control everything in our lives.

I am learning to pray from Guatemalans. When we go into communities the opening and closing prayer is often the most important part of the workshop. My experiences of group prayer has always been polite, when one person is praying you listen. Well here when one person starts to pray, everyone starts to pray, out loud. Some are praying in Spanish, some in Mam, and then there is me, praying in English. People pray with sincerity, they are truly taking all their concerns to the Lord in prayer. Most people pray for things I have never worried about in my life. They pray for food for tomorrow. They pray that their children can stay in school. They pray for a good harvest. They pray for life. People here pray to God in the midst of constant suffering, and yet they have so much joy in their faith. They choose to continue loving the Lord.

Henry Nouwen, who I have cited before (and one of my new favorite religious thinkers) writes a lot about prayer and has helped me in thinking about prayer in new ways. He says that prayer is the way to understanding the heart of God - a heart of justice peace, and righteousness - and the heart of the world. In Guatemala it is easy for me to see the connection between suffering and faith. There is so much suffering and terror in our world, and while prayer is by no means the only option, we have to work in other concrete ways too. But, like Nouwen says, when we pray we allow our heart to become the place where the tears of God and the tears of God´s children become tears of hope, because we are connected through Jesus Christ. He says, “In its pure form, prayer is the divine breath of those whom the world tries to suffocate with terror. Prayer is the martyrdom of those who live.” (Love in a Fearful Land: A Guatemalan Story). Prayer gives us the hope we need to continue the fight for justice, for the reign of God here on earth.

Holy Week

Not many people get the opportunity to spend Holy Week in Antigua, Guatemala. My boss, Judy, compared Holy Week in Antigua to having tickets to the Super Bowl in the United States. I'm not sure it is the closest comparison, but fairly accurate. Basically, everyone from around the world and in Guatemala make their reservations to spend Holy Week in Antigua. It is funny, because this is the first time I have been in Antigua where there are more Guatemalans than gringos. Well, maybe that is an exaggeration, but not completely far off.

Wednesday I put my parents in a taxi for the airport and met another YAV, Emily, and her friend Laurel from college. Later that day another YAV, Bettina, and her friend from college, Shannon joined us. We have spent the last few days exploring Antigua and watching the countless processions that pass by.

Processions generally start on Thursday, with the biggest processions on Friday. The Thursday and Friday morning processions begin with people dressed as Romans carrying different banners and some are on horseback. They are followed by hundreds and hundreds of men dressed in purple robes, signifying the Jewish people. Then more men dressed in purple robes come out sprinkling incense, making the way for Jesus. They are followed by these huge wooden platforms that 50 to 100 people will carry, which is similar to a float in the States. On top of the platforms will be icons of Jesus, generally carry the cross, and might have Peter or another icon included. They are decorated with flowers and are intricately carved
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Well, these platforms weigh a ton, but it is considered an honor to be able to carry the platform, it serves as a type of penance. These processions go on for 11+ hours, but the people change out throughout the procession. After Jesus (although sometimes before) is generally the Virgin Mary, or Santa Maria, and disciples, I even saw one Pope. The processions are followed by crowds of people who follow them all day long. Then there are vendors selling balloons and all types of goodies, feeling a little like the 4th of July. The are followed by the Cleaning Trains, which clean up the debris and trampled carpets.

The carpets, or alfombras, are these intricately and loving made carpets that grace the processions. Store owners or home owners that know a procession is going to pass by their house make these beautiful alfombras and the middle of the street. Some are made out of pine needles, flowers, fruits, or whatever people choose to include. My favorites are made out of sawdust and ground flower petals which provide the colors to the sawdust.

People have stencils that they use the create beautiful and elborate designs in these brightly colored carpets. People spend hours creating these works of arts, which are then trampled by the processions. At least the beginning people stay off the carpets until the platform with Jesus passes by.
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Friday morning, at 4 o'clock in the morning, the first Good Friday procession began, and passed by our hostel around 4:30 in the morning. I got myself out of bed to go and watch this procession, and it was by far my favorite. It was still dark outside, chilly, and slighly eerie. Generally the processions are really nosiy, but most people were still quiet, just watching the procession. Everything felt more solemn, and holy. With all the excitement of everything it is easy to forget that these are very religious ceremonies. Often I don't know what to do with Holy Week, I don't like the blood and guts of it, and I also don't believe in a literal resurrection of Jesus. I have trouble knowing how I feel about the death, and how to reconcile some of my conflicting beliefs. I don't like that Christians often focus on Jesus' death more than his life, when I believe his life was infinatly more important. But this procession, early in the morning, felt powerful and special to me. I am not sure what part of it struck me, but it was a feeling I will remember forever.

The rest of Good Friday was a chaotic mess. There were so many processions happening it was impossible to walk around without running into some procession or roadblock. Emily, Laurel, and I decided to leave the city for a minute to go to a musem in Jocotenago, a smaller town 15 minutes outside of Antigua. Well we get there just to realize it is closed for Good Friday, which we never even though about. So we ate peanutbutter and jelly sandwiches in the park, ate some mangos, and got back on the bus to go back to Antigua. Even though we could not see the museum, it was a nice field trip away from the craziness of Antigua for a little while.