Thankful

I have so many things in my life to be thankful for. I have lived a remarkably healthy life for 24 years, I have incredible parents who have supported me in every endeavor I’ve ever undertaken, I have a brother who is one of the coolest people I know and a great friend, I am surrounded by friends who love me unconditionally and push me to grow and learn. I am living an exciting life, fulfilling dreams, being challenged and changed, learning about the world and about myself.

So, this Thanksgiving, while celebrating with a group of other volunteers, I raised my glass to friends, to family and to authentic experiences. Here’s to you- thank you for being a part of my life and giving me so much to be thankful for.

Disparity of Wealth

Throughout the last handful of years I've spent a lot of time thinking and talking about the disparity of wealth that is present in our world, our communities, and even in our relationships. It effects the way people view themselves and their roles in society. A child who grows up knowing that her needs (food, shelter, clothing) are taken care of is much more likely to finish high school, to go to university, not to marry before she chooses to, simply because she has had the luxury of security.

Disparity of wealth is visible in Guatemala in many very obvious and tangible ways. In the municipality where I live and work it often correlates with race (Spanish or indigenous descent) and location (urban or rural). The reality of my current situation is that the town center, where most of the necessary basic services- the market, the health center, the municipal offices, are located is populated by the 2% of the population that is Ladino, or of Spanish descent. The outlying rural areas, where there are much higher rates of poverty and malnutrition, is where rest of the 98% of municipal citizens live, a sweeping majority of them of indigenous descent.

This disparity in my own town was almost sickeningly obvious to me a few weeks ago when I was invited to the first birthday party of a friend's child. There were over 100 guests present at the party, all of them well dressed and groomed, bearing presents wrapped in brightly colored paper. The party had clowns, pinatas, and an abundance of foods; it went on for hours. Meanwhile outside, a small hoarde of uninvited children watched the whole thing through dirty glass. Of course, not every child could have been invited, but the selection of who was and who wasn't, seemed less based on who was friends and more on socioeconomic status.

I was invited, though, and struggled with the implications of that. The party-throwers are my friends. The kids outside are my neighbors and impromptu playmates. So what am I supposed to do? I can play the outsider card, pretend I'm clueless and be friends with everyone. Or I can speak my mind, and loose friends and trust. It's a hard thing, at times, being an outsider in a new context, the very nature of our lives and jobs to analyze situations like this one that we see in our towns. So what do we do? I honestly, don't know.

Dia de Los Santos

One of the most important holidays on the Guatemalan Calendar is All Saints Day, or Dia de Los Santos. Families from all over the country return to the places where they grew up, where beloved family members have been buried to mourn and remember and honor their dead.

This year, I made my own pilgrimage to the town of Todos Santos for their yearly fair. This town is the heart of the modern day Mam speaking world and nearly all its inhabitants still wear the traditional dress of their ancestors. For the week leading up to All Saints Day the normally sleepy streets are abuzz with activity- vendors and tourists and returning family members tripling the normal occupancy of the town.

The central activity of the whole event though, are the horse races which are run by twenty-five or so local men who, by the start of the race, have been drinking for well over 24 hours. The men mount their horses and proceed to run back and forth on a half-mile track for most of the day, the goal being to remain on top of your horse. Though it may sound comedic, the results are often tragic; The tradition is that if you die in the horse race, your family will be blessed by a good harvest. Thankfully, no one was badly injured in this year’s races.

Meet the Family

For the last six months I have been living with a Guatemalan family. Edgar and Lily are both only a few years older than me. They are teachers, parents, community members and over the course of our time together have become my good friends. I wanted to dedicate a blog post to introducing them and their 3 energetic, brilliant children to all of you. Blog world, meet the fam…

Back to School

Work in my official Peace Corps post as been slim lately, and as a result I’ve had to get creative with finding things to fill my time. The mom and dad of the family I live with are both teachers and immediately accepted my offer for help- Lily invited me to start teaching bi-weekly classes to her high school class. At the same time another friend also invited me to do the same in the high school where she works in a nearby village. The following are a few pictures of those classes:

A Walk in the Woods

Every other week I teach life skills classes in two different high schools. One is the “urban” school (the term being used loosely as there are only 2,000 residents of the town center) and the other is a small extension high school in one of the villages of the municipality. I dread going to the village school, not because of the students or the teacher, they are attentive and respectful, but because of the walk- it’s isolated and awash with stray dogs that never fail to send me searching for a rock to keep them at bay.

The walk to the school is generally uneventful; the only real challenges are the giant hills and abusive sun on my pale gringa skin. However, the school is in the afternoon to accommodate the students´ farming and household duties, which means that I finish my lesson and begin my journey home no earlier than 3pm. By this time most people are in their houses resting, making the walk in the fading sun lonely.

Yesterday was my day to go to Mapá, the village school, and as usual I was anxious as I finished up my lesson and began my descent back to town. Thirty minutes into my trek, as I approached the first cluster of houses since I left the school, was invited to sit and rest. I pass this house frequently and in my head I refer to it as “the nudist colony” because there is always a gaggle of bathing children out front. Today the women of the house were making small pottery animals to sell on market day. I sat for a spell, practicing Mam (the local Mayan language) and learning all about paints made from local materials, and then continued on my way. A mile or so I was met in the road by a young woman with her 2 year old daughter who immediately greeted me and invited me to stop and eat a banana with them- which I accepted, thankful for something to put in my growling stomach. Soon we continued together down the road, her daughter chattering away at me in Mam. Magdalia, as I learned she was named, was on her way to visit a sick relative, and when we arrived there she arranged for her family members to give me a ride back to my house, more than 5 miles away. I arrived home exhausted but early, smiling and thankful for such wonderful neighbors.

Lightless

It's 9:30p.m. on a Sunday night and save for the odd cricket, my town is silent. Even the street dogs seem to have been lulled to sleep by the darkness and lack of activity. The usual scene on a Sunday night is something akin to a carnival- neighbors, music, taco stands and burning trash piles. Tonight, it's more like sleeping. A country wide electrical outage is the culprit. The peace is unusual and I'm soaking it in. Who knows how long it will last. My laptop has power and my satellite internet modem continues to function, so I'm bathed in the blue glow of my computer screen while my neighbors sit at their kitchen tables surrounded by the soft yellow light of candles.

I hear some dogs beginning to bark again. And the lights are back.