Dream

Last night I dreamt I was leaving a concert. There were people everywhere; I saw a few of my cousins, an old friend from high school and Justin Timberlake. I have absolutely no connection or infatuation with Justin so as to why he was there, who knows? Anyway, on my way back “home” I walk thru this large building with several corridors, salons, and hallways. I realized that I lost my back pack and quickly start to panic. Where is my back pack? I search all over the place and I can’t find it. I’m upset and enter this room where a person was awaiting me, sitting behind a desk. I told this person, “I can’t find my back pack.” I suddenly realized I was being rude and that I did not introduce myself. “So sorry, I’m Tiana, excuse me for not remembering your name, but I can’t find my back pack.” This person already knew who I was and told me “That’s not a problem, Tiana. There is nothing in your back pack that you need.” He places a mirror on top of his desk in front of me and I look at myself. I'm crying with tears running down my face. I look so sad and I try and figure out why he placed this mirror in front of me. “But I really want to learn Spanish” I told him. He replied “That’s not a problem either” and he shakes his hands in the air at me as if I’m being ridiculous. “And why are you worried about your brother and sister? That does not do you any good.” I look back in the mirror and calm myself down until the tears go away and my face looks refreshed. “Oh, ok” I replied “I guess I don’t have any problems.” His words were simple and brought me back to the present moment. No need for tears or that sad girl in the mirror. There was nothing I needed that I didn’t already have. “I’ll see you tomorrow at 1:30pm” said the man. As I turn to leave his office, my back pack was on the floor in front of me. I picked it up, put it on my back and left. What’s the moral of the story?

Why Guatemala?

Many people ask me, why Guatemala? If you could be anywhere in the world, why there? There is political corruption, poverty and violence. It’s not your typical tourist spot or vacation destination. it’s dangerous! Last year, 5,975 people were murdered in the country (about 16 people die daily here from violence, and this does not include death by natural causes, disease, or hunger) But I think that it is more dangerous to live in the routine of unconsciousness and complacency. So why Guatemala? The same thing could be asked about our partners. Why do we fall in love with our spouses, boyfriends or girlfriends? For some unexplainable reason, I am attracted to this country for both its beauty and tragedy. For how I feel when I walk through the streets of Xela or when I listen to the language. It’s the food, the air, the cobble stone roads, the mountains, the children, the narrow sidewalks and street vendors. In a way, I did not seek Guatemala, she chose me. She appeared to me in an email and called to me like a child tugging on her father’s pant leg. “Hey, look at me, I want to show you something!” I came to Guatemala with no expectations, no preconceived notions. I came to her naked and desperate. In search of my language that was lost as a result of assimilation in the US. I came in search of my grandmother’s native tongue. My actions often are not driven by rational or logic. I’m a “feeler” that is intuitive and spiritual. It just felt like the right thing to do. I’ve been called crazy, bold, naïve, and fearless. I’m not sure what I am but I just know that us humans do drastic things sometimes to follow our hearts. And I have faith that at the end of my life, I will confidently say “I have no regrets.” That I will have had lived to the fullest, took chances, loved deeply, failed and succeeded all while helping a few people live better along the way. How many people can say that?

Encounters with Death

Numero 1: The day after Christmas, I went to the beach with a couple friends to Playa Tulate. While my home state of CT was cold, cold, cold at the beginning of its winter season, I was sipping tequila and pineapple soda in the sand. Aside from the perverted, ice cream attendant that was taking cell phone photos of the gringas in their bathing suits, I was quiet content laying in the sun, listening to the ocean waves. Lunch was a plate of fresh grilled fish seasoned with garlic and salt accompanied with a side of French fries. After lunch, I decided to go for a quick dip before laying out in the sun. I was alone in the water about waist deep, day dreaming about ordering another grilled fish, but this time maybe I would try the tilapia. Without knowing how, the water was up to my neck and the shore seemed really far away. I started to swim back, but realized I wasn’t making progress, in fact I was moving further away from shore. The waves got stronger and stronger, pulling me back so I tryed different swimming strokes to beat the current. I was getting tired and I didn’t think anyone noticed me. The waves kept coming and coming, and I kept struggling and struggling. I tried to do the international symbol for “help, I’m drowning out here.” But I don’t know if anyone saw me. After a couple minutes I thought to myself “I’m going to die.” I was getting tired, I was running out of breath, I didn’t think I could hold on much longer. Out of nowhere, like a knight in shining armor, appeared 45 year old Guatemalan life guard in a little, red Speedo. I lived to see another day.
Numero 2: A few days after the destructive earthquake in Haiti, Guatemala got shaken by a strong earthquake as well. Around 10am, I was in the office standing over my desk looking at some papers. I thought I lost my balance because I fell into the desk but in reality the entire school building wobbled back and forth and I could feel the ground beneath me move. Will everything collapse? I thought to myself “Today is a nice day to die, but I’m still not ready yet.” There was little to no damage in the country and I lived to see another day.
Numero 3: Monday night seemed like any old night Monday. After dinner and a shower, I got into bed with a book. I was looking forward to a good night sleep because I had to get up early the next morning for work. My roommate hopped in the bathroom after me to shower as well. Within a few minutes, I heard this crackling, hissing sound. The lazy part of me tried to ignore it but my instinct told me I better get up and see where the sound was coming from. I followed the sound to outside the bathroom door where the gas tank was located. Our shower water is heated by gas. One must turn on the gas, light the pilot, and the furnace turns on. I looked closely under the furnace just in time to see one of the pipes smoking and melting. “Shut the water off” I yelled and quickly looked down to turn off the gas. As I switched the gas off, something burst and exploded in my face. I don’t know where it came from nor did I look because my first reaction was to back away and run. There was a loud hissing noise and it sounded like some type of air was spraying all over the place. I thought to myself “Oh shit, The pilot light is still on, that is gas and the house is gonna explode.” “Get out of the shower!” I yelled again, this time with urgency and worry. The air blowing thru the second floor like a rocket ship lifting off to outer space got louder and louder. A burning, rubber smell filled the air. “Get out of the house!” For whatever reason my roommate thought it was best to take his chances inside that bathroom. Just as I was exiting the house, the noise and air stopped. I wasn’t sure if it was safe to go back upstairs but I did. We were left with a broken pipe and a mini flood on the second floor. During the next few hours, my roommates and I soaked up the water on the second floor with towels and buckets. Where is a water vacuum when you really need one?

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.