Lago Atitlan

I visited Lake Atitlan this past weekend. It was a relaxing weekend in one of the most beautiful places in the world.

The Past Few Weeks

Happy belated Thanksgiving! It’s been a few weeks since I have written. Lets see if I can recap. Overall, everything is still going well. My only complaint is that I have lost weight and I didn’t think it was possible for my breast to get any smaller; but they have. Maybe that is God’s plan to keep me humble? Or a curse bestowed upon me the morning I was born when my father asked my mother “Do you think she will have breast one day?” I still don’t know if that story is true and one might think that it is odd and somewhat perverted that a father would ask such a question. So I’m just going to change the subject and move on to my next thought.

During the past few weeks, I had the chance to visit “Fuentes Georginas” which is a natural hot spring with Jacuzzi like pools cut out in the mountains. The steaming, medicinal water was very relaxing and by the end of the day my hands and feet looked like prunes. It’s the closest thing to a bath I have had since I have been here since all the homes only have showers.

One night my legs and stomach were attacked by an unknown predator. I woke up one morning, itchy and with red bumps on my body. My host mom thought I had an allergic reaction to food, I thought I had creepy crawlers in my bed. Whatever the case may be, I bruised myself scratching too hard. I changed my bed sheets immediately, washed all my clothes, and luckily within a few days the bites went away.

On November 3, I participated in a Mayan ceremony on the anniversary of my grandmother’s death. Without going into detail, I told Sergio about it and he thought that this was a really bad idea. He is Christian and believes that it’s possible that this priestess put a spell on me or something. I’m not too concerned about this woman wanting to eat my soul. I enjoyed the ceremony and found it quit therapeutic and peaceful. But I’m sure he is praying to Jesus for me right now. He grew up in a very religious home so I can understand his concern. On Halloween, his mother told me to ask the Lord to cleanse my body and rid it of any bad spirits before I entered her house that night. I told her “ok, no problem.” I mean, who wants bad spirits following them? I believe in God and I think there are many forms of worship, meditation, or prayer. As long as my head doesn’t start spinning like the girl in the exorcist, I think I’ll be fine. I’m open to learning about other religions and spiritualities.

Translating conferences continues to be a challenge but I can tell that I am improving. Some of my new vocabulary this week included the following words: clandestine operations, neo- liberalism, trans-culturalization, bio fuel, agrarian reform, impunity, patronage, extra judiciary, legislative chamber of labor, open pit mining, paleolithic, vindicate, African palm oil, fair trade agreement, and gross domestic product…some of which I have no idea what they mean in English. I’m not complaining, just pointing out why this process might take a while.

I know I’m happy because the usual annoyances that would typically bother me; don’t. I don’t mind the fact that my shower only has two temperatures; cold and scolding hot. Or that my bathroom sink has two speeds; dribble or fire hose. I don’t mind that sometimes the electricity goes out or that there is no running water in the house for hours. My bank account was over drafted by $400 last week but hey whatever’s… My sister is mailing me packets of Swiss miss hot chocolate. Its freaking cold at night. Xela is located about 8,000 feet about sea level in the mountains and the homes have no heating system; so you have to make do with lots of blankets and warm clothes at night. Add rain to this already cold climate, it’s no surprise I often hug my hair dryer at night. The hot air and heat from my Conair Ion Shine over my body is so orgasmic.

Some of the things I really like about living here: Life is simple. I know I speak with someone with a lot of privilege, as a US citizen living in a third world country. But that’s a whole other topic. I’ll just say that life, for me, is simpler here. I’m fulfilling one of my life goals. As I reflect and compare my home country with my new home country, the materialism of the US is quite disgusting. There is such an excess of shit, shit, and more shit….of clothes, toys, cars, food, waste. I think of the many poor children and people here that only have one pair of shoes or no shoes at all. How many pairs of shoes are in your closet? I think of the poverty in this country. Malnutrition and hunger is an epidemic. How much food do you have stored in your kitchen cabinets? For how long has that food just been sitting there? I think of our justice system, though flawed, the numbers don’t compare to how 98% of all crimes committed go without any type of jurisdiction. How easy it is to go about our lives and not think of all the sadness and injustice in the world?

Laundry Time

Most families here wash clothes by hand or if they have a washer, they dry all clothes outside on the line. Since I didn’t want my underwear blowing in the breeze for the whole family to see. I chose to bring my clothes to a laundry mat the other day. All laundry mats here are full service; You can’t do your own clothes. To wash, dry, and fold, it costs about 15Q ($2) per small load. I dropped off my bag and a few hours later I returned to pick up my laundry. This guy handed me my bag with a big smile. I said “Gracias” and I headed home. I put my clothes away and felt a little weirded out at that fact that this man was probably the one that hand rolled each one of my panties into perfect, little, palm sized balls. I could have juggled with them. Although this guy may have experience folding women´s undergarments, I’m gonna look for a female lead laundry service next time.

Full Service

The other day I woke up to find a yound mayan woman mopping the floors. "Buenos dias" I said and she politely smiled back and said "Buenos dias." Its not uncommon for families to hire someone to help around the house. But the mere fact that this woman/girl didn´t look any older than 15, completely disturbed me. Shouldn´t she be in school? Why is this child cleaning the house? I left that morning and returned home for lunch and as I walked in the kitchen, I saw her again, this time eating lunch by herself. I sat at the kitchen table with grandma. I was completely bothered at the fact that the "hired help" was sitting in a separate place, facing the wall, sitting at the counter. Why am I so upset at the fact she sits at a different table? Is it because I never had a maid or servant growing up? Is it because I think everyone should have the right to sit at the same table regardless if you are the hired help? WTF!!! She is a human being, let her sit at the table like everyone else! Do I invite her to the kitchen table? Do I say something to the family?Its not my house or family to be making such decisions. I am merely a guest. The next day at lunch, I sat at the kitchen table and there was Leticia or "Lety" sitting at the counter with her back to us. I had the great idea to play stupid and ask questions. When Leticia finished lunch and left the kitchen, I asked my host mom "Why is she sitting at the counter and not the table?" "Becasue there is no room at the kitchen table." She said. I thought to myself.....Rigghhhttttttt....there´s no room....lets just keep it real and not make excuses. To give her credit, that day there technically was no space because me, grandma, cousin, and mom were at the table. (its a really small table) but yesterday the table wasn´t full nor was it full the day after. So I retreated and said nothing more, knowing very well that the maid doesn´t and shouldn´t sit with the family. Come to find out, Lety is really 15 years old and will be living with us for a while. Lety is in school, but its school vacation time. What a way to spend winter break, being a personal servant! Maybe its her young age that bothers me? Someone her age should be at art camp or something else during break. Maybe its how they sometimes refer to her as "Niña" (girl) instead of by her first name. Maybe she is really happy she has a job, and I should just stop analyzing it? I asked her if she likes to read and she said yes. The only book I had on me was "Guatemala Nunca Mas" which is the story and history of Guatemala, kinda the real version, written from a progressive and leftest perspective. So I gave her the book and told her she can keep it as long as she wants. Maybe she will read it and become an activist or something. Maybe she will grow up and teach others that everyone should be welcome at the same table... because I don´t know how to do that.

My Address and phone number

Proyecto Linguistico Quetzaltecto
5A Calle, 2-40, Zona 1
Apdo. 114
Quetzaltenango, Guatemala
Central America

phone number: Dial 011 than country area code (502) my number is 4881-5115. Once again it is 011-502-4881-5115

My Mother

One year ago today, I remember your death. And before that, I remember the last night the nurses came in to the room to change your gown. I saw your naked body; yellow and swollen. You lay cramped and stiff. I wiped the mucus foaming in your nose and heard the gargles in each breath. Your final stage of life reflected the years of damage and neglect. How you drank and drank and drank to come to such a point. How you gave up, how you must have felt so alone, how you questioned God’s existence. I will not judge your decisions or pretend to know what it was like to be you. I will not be ashamed that you were my mother. You purposely slipped away in the early morning hours while I was resting my eyes. And I awoke to the peace in the room, your body still, warm. I remember how your left arm and hand felt and how your face was smiling. It was just me and you in the room along with the grey light humming thru the hospital window. I was with you in the end, did you see me watching you?
I’m sitting outside in the community of Santa Anita and it’s about 6:15am. Volcano Santiaguito has just erupted and I can see the smoke in the distance. The smoke reminds me of your cigarettes. As the clouds drift across the sky, they cover the glorious mountains. I am reminded that although I can’t see you, that doesn’t mean you aren’t there. Where have you been the past year? There are birds chirping, dogs barking, crickets singing, roosters cocking, bugs buzzing, and a gentlemen sweeping the patio; preparing to lay down coffee beans in the sun. With a few deep breaths and a clear mind I hear “Yes, I saw you watching me and I’ve been waiting in the mountains. “

Spirituality

I´m happy to say that i´m in a very peaceful place here in Quetzaltenango (a.k.a Xela) After a rough couple years, I feel stronger than ever and i´m just going with the flow. One of the students at the school, Wendy, has agreed to help translate workshops with me. Before every conference, I research the topic and review potential vocab. And if I don´t understand something I just think to myself "There are worst things in life than not understanding Spanish." I´m also learning alot about Mayan religion/spirituality from Willy. According to my birthday, my Mayan spirit or "nahual" is the owl carring a lot of wisdom from my ancestors. Mayans believe that humans live a total of 13 lives throughout history and that I am already on my 10th life. Willy is only on his 7th life so I told him he has to listen to me because i´m his elder (Ha! Ha!) I felt a little sad at the thought that I only have 3 lives left and at the same time thought my many lives could explain why I feel connected to so many people on this earth. When I was born I also inherited all the pain and characteristics of my four grandparents. "That´s a lot of baggage!" I told him "What am i suppose to do with all that?" "I don´t know, I´m just telling you how it is." Willy explained some Mayan mathamatical calculation on how every26 years there is a change in a person´s life and that every 52 years a person is born just like you. That this happens within families and is connected to DNA. I didn´t really understand this concept but thought to myself, who was 52 when I was born? The first person that came to mind was my grandmother that passed last November. She was born in 1928, I was born in 1980, which means she would have been exactly 52 years old when I was born. Willy said "Yes, you are your grandmother." I was completely amazed. For one, it was too much of a coinsidence. Willy had no idea about my grandmother´s age or that I was very close to her. And two, because when she passed many people compared me to her. I am able to love, because she loved me dearly. She will always be one of my favorite people. Willy also talked about how Mayan´s believe that the human societal cycle is every 5,200 years and the year 2012 will be year five thousand two hundred. Now that doesn´t mean the world is going to end it means that a new cycle will begin and that our universe will actually shift, move and occuply a different space in the universe. The last 13 years of this cycle (representing the 13 lives of a person) will become more and more intense as we approach 2012. Which we have already seen in terms of natural disaters, wars, crisis etc.

Weekend

Last Saturday morning, Willy, Jessica, Miguel and I visited one of the counties of Quetzaltenango named Cajola. Cajola is an area made up of 95% "Mam" which is one of the indigineous, Mayan groups in the country. 34% of this community (mostly men) migrated and are currently living in the US. The leaders of the community are former immigrants of the US and are active in developing their community socially, economically, and politically. Cajola has a huge chicken farm that produces 40,000 eggs per month and the 23 women that run the farm earn more than a college professor. Miguel is from Canada and will be teaching computer classes there. Jessica is Guatemalan but spent the majority of her life in the US. When I told her I was from Connecticut, she said in English "Hey, we are neighbors, I´m from Providence." She is currently working in Guatemala as the international liason for the University of Virginia and she is studying psychology at the University of San Carlos. For her thesis she will be working in Cajola and will examine the pscycological effects in women whose spouses have immigrated to the US. She has done a lot of youth and activist work in the states and in Guatemala. I´d like to work with her on a project sometime, she is "buena onda." Seems like a great person!

My friends from Guatemala will appreciate this next experience i´m going to write about. Sorry i´m not gonna give much context, but i wanted to let you know that on Wednesday night i went to check out the salsa club scene. And there I ran into Werner! He was very surprised to see me and gave me a big hug which slowed turned into a head lock and eventually spun out into a salsa turn. Don´t ask me how, it just happened! "I can´t believe you are here!" he said. I danced a lot with him the last time I was here. Things haven´t changed much with him... he is still flamboyant in his dancing, tall, big smile, and still smoking crack. yes, that is not a typo, the guy is on the pipe. He is very talented musically and has the potential to be gorgeous minus the sweat, blood shot eyes, and shakes. The whole bar scene, loud music, alcohol, and crowdedness was really fucking with my inner light. I don´t think i´ll be doing much dancing this time around. Though I love salsa, I´m just not in the mood for that environment. I´m gonna look into singing. Werner did take me home later that night, but like all good crack heads...he bummed 20Q off me.

Monday night, I went to see the band "Los Guaraguao." Originally from Venezuela, they were/are considered a revolutionary band and have been around for 36 years. They are well known for their songs of protests. Some of my favorites songs include "Casas de carton" (cardboard houses) that talk about the poor people of the country living on the street. "No basta rezar" (Its not enough to pray) meaning in the movement for change you have to take action. Many other songs I heard that night were fun and upbeat. During the Guatemalan civil war in (1960-1996) if someone was caught with the music of Los Guaragua, (especially during the 80s) you could easily be shot and killed by the army. So for them to be playing live, inside a former military base, stirred up a mix of emotions expressed by some of the Guatemalan activists that were around during the most oppressive years of the war. Overall, it was a good time with great music. And I always admire bands that after so many years they "Still got it going on!"

Arrival in Guatemala

Sergio’s sister, Andrea, and her boyfriend, Venicio, picked me up at the airport. Instead of taking a bus to the city of Quetzaltenango , I got the VIP treatment of door to door service. They greeted me with kisses and smiles. They are a cute young couple, she being only 18 and he, 24. The relationship is very new and as they make conversation with me, they flirt and play games with each other the whole way there. They are at the honeymoon stage; excited, happy, not a care in the world, which honestly just makes me want to vomit, more so out of jealousy because I wish I was there again; falling in love. The ride up the mountain to the city is beautiful; filled with green, rolling mountains, fields of corn, and your occasional restaurant and roadside stand where you can buy a cup of hot, atol or an ear of corn from a Mayan family. Atol is a creamy, sweet, corn drink. Though I didn’t think I would enjoy drinking corn, it was quite tasty.

When I reached the house, Sergio’s mom, grandmother and youngest sister, Gabby, welcomed me. I was exhausted from the trip and all I wanted to do was unpack and sleep. Before doing so I used the bathroom, completely forgetting that you can’t throw toilet paper in the toilets, you have to put all paper in the trash. “Shit” I said, flushing the toilet anyway praying for some odd reason, it will go down at least this once...but it didnt. For fear I will ruin the whole plumbing system, I quickly reach into the toilet and pull out my used toilet paper(Gross!)…followed by a thorough hand washing.

The next day, I went to the school, Proyecto Linguistico Quetzalteco, to meet with the director, Carlos. Carlos and the teachers were very happy to see me and to finally have a permanent student coordinator for the school. For months the school has been working with varias people filling in. He put me right to work and asked if I could translate a workshop in the afternoon. “I can try” I told him knowing that I would probably struggle in front of everyone especially being that the topic was about land reform and politics in Guatemala. There is nothing like some good old fashion embarassment to break you into the job. There´s a lot of difficult vocab in that subject. Needless to say, in front of the class, I fumbled a lot and at times said “Sorry I don´t understand.” The merciful, more advanced Spanish speaking students in the audience helped translate the conference.

In the afternoon, I met my friend Willy and we walked to café La Luna for hot chocolate. I met Willy two years ago in Guatemala when he gave a conference at the school on the status of Guatemala immigrants in the US . He is filled with historical and political knowledge. Willy is the epitome of an activist and human rights organizer. So much so that when I asked him if he had a girlfriend, he told me “No, Guatemala is my girlfriend and I want her to be divorced from the oppression husband she is with.” And though he was married to a US citizen for 10 years he refused to become a citizen himself in protest to the US government and their participation in the repression and violence bestowed upon the indigenous people of Guatemala . He is an activist and leader in both Guatemala and across the US , organizing people and working for the economic, social, and political development of Guatemala. Aside from years of work that accumilate to a list too large to write, he recently started the organization----- and is currently working on 8 different projects in Guatemala, mostly targeted at youth groups. ---- mission is to create economic development by building an international network of community-run cooperatives in Guatemala , provide work-skills for Guatemalan immigrants in the US and to educate the American consumer interested in Fair-Trade and Organic principles. After we drank hot chocolate, he proudly showed me the new office. For about an hour he shared with me a brief history of his life story. He is brilliant, witty, and kind but in the depths of his eyes it is evident that he is heavily burdened and plagued by the horror, war, death, fear, and untold stories that live inside him. For a moment, any pain or sadness I’ve ever felt seemed like a simple, pinch in the arm. It was no surprise when he said he has trouble sleeping every night.

Later on in the evening he said ¨Tiana, I´m going to help you with your Spanish.” (He went to the conference and witnessed my first attempt at translating) I was very excited about his offer to help with my Spanish and wanted to offer something in return. I told him “I can help you cry… like help release some of the stress you carry.” He said “Yes, that’s a good idea; I think you were sent here to help me with that."

I end the day with a late dinner at the home of my former host family; Carmen, Hector and their two daughters Cecy (18 years old) and Maria Jose (10 years old). We laugh the whole night, recapping the times I used to live with them. Our dinner consisted of eggs, beans, platenos, and bread. Carmen assured me that she would be calling me to come over for dinner often and that I am welcomed to come over anytime. "Come take a shower, take a nap, or visit" She said. The family also told me they had no problem kicking out their current guest if I should want to live with them again.

Packing

My flight is in a few hours and i'm still packing, going over the list in my head, checking it over and over again. I'm anxious in a way I haven't felt since I was 18 years old when I was packing to go away to college. What do I bring? Who will I meet? What is going to happen? I've traveled before, lived in various places, started new jobs, met many people along the way and somehow this adventure seems different. I'm returning to a familiar place, but i'm excited for some unknown reason as if there is a gift waiting for me. I had dinner with a few friends this evening and my friend Jackie asked me to name the feelings i'm having. The first thing that came to mind was the musical West Side Story, where Tony sings "Something's coming, i don't know, what it is, but it is gonna be great!" I'm Tony; dancing in the alley ways, smiling, looking up at the sky, thrilled at the fact that 'something great' is coming. I know...i´m a dork!