The Rains Return

The rhythm of life in small Guatemalan villages is largely dependant on the whims of the weather. When it rains, stores and homes close their doors and inhabitants retreat inside to sip coffee, talk, and catch up on telenovelas. When the sun shines, the streets fill with food vendors, drying laundry, and old men lounging and sipping on cusha, local homemade liquor. The rains that come every May are expected and anticipated by weeks of planting, preparing the soil to consume what the sky gives and turn it into corn to be eaten as tortillas, tamales, and atoll the rest of the year.

This year the rains came in May and soaked the fields, but in June the rain clouds fled, leaving only sun, drying cornstalks, and concerned townspeople. June came and went without more than a few minutes of rain, as did July and the first summer corn crop was lost. The second was planted in the bone dry soil in hopes that the rains would return, but still not a drop fell. When I talk to the kids in my town, one of their first questions is usually “Carlota, tu no sabes cuando llegare la lluvia?” Charlotte, do you know when the rains are coming? The Mayan traditional religionists hike up into the hills to perform ceremonies pleading for relief of the heat and the drought. The second week of August arrived with promising, dark, saturated rain clouds, but still nothing.

And then they came. Yesterday afternoon as I lounged on my bed, reading and dreaming of the temperate New Hampshire summers and my grandma’s swimming pool, door open in hopes of a breeze, I heard it. The slow and steady build up, the pattering of rain on my plastic laminate roof, a gradual crescendo until I couldn’t hear my own excited laughter over the thunder of giant rain drops drumming on every surface. I’m not sure if the rain is here to stay, to finish out the shortened rainy season; the clouds have again scurried away to hide somewhere in the wibbly, humid sky. But yesterday’s rains have at least given the corn a few days of respite, a long awaited drink.

1 Year

Well blog readers, we’ve made it a year- I in Peace Corps Guatemala, and you in following the meandering tales of this blog. I can hardly believe that a year ago I was getting off a plane in Guatemala City, marveling at the new sites, smells, people, and emotions that Guatemala was presenting me with.

It’s been quite a ride, full of ups and downs. I think I’ve felt more emotion (excitement, fear, frustration, surprise) in the past year than I knew I was capable of. I’ve learned to function in a second language and culture and met some really incredible people.

I now fully understand why Peace Corps is for two years. It’s taken me this past year to learn the language and culture (which I still struggle with) and to gain the trust of the people I am attempting to work with. All of the volunteers that I’ve talked to say that the second year is the better of the two- getting to see the results of hard work and relishing in the friendships formed over the first year.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say that the past year wasn’t really challenging, but looking back I’m glad I survived it and am ready for another. It was quite a year; here’s to another!

Market Day

Today is Market day. Every Wednesday and Sunday vendors from every pocket of the municipality and from as far as the Mexican border come here to roll out their wares. Main Street is transformed from sleepy to bustling.

The first vendors begin to raise tarps and booths as early as 4am. The racket used to wake me, but I’ve grown accustomed now and sleep until the man selling newspapers passes by my house- my personal market day alarm clock. Market day is a day for people from all of the far-reaching communities to do their weekly shopping, visit the local government office, go to church (as many of the local churches coordinate services with market schedule), and visit with friends. The only transportation that comes and goes from the villages is on market day.

We have the best market around- with the distinction that a majority of the goods come from within the municipality. Though you can’t find the more exotic veggies that come from elsewhere- asparagus, eggplant and spinach, the plethora of local herbal plants and greens is impressive.

In addition to being famous for the variety of goods, we’re famous for the rouge shopping methods of the local women. I have, on more than one occasion, been elbowed in the side so someone can get to the veggies they want. Within the Peace Corps circle there’s a cautionary tale about the market here- one volunteer, in pursuit of fresh oranges, found herself knocked down flat by a local lady (likely no taller than 5 feet). The moral of the story is- shop local; be steady on your feet.

Xela and Fuentes Georginas

To celebrate our (almost) one year anniversary as volunteers, my training group descended upon Xela for a weekend of fun. We spent one night in the city, went out for dinner, played some pool, and wandered the city by night. The second night we spent at Fuentes Georginas, hot springs located just outside the city. After a day of soaking in the springs we curled up by fireplaces in our cabanas and talked about all of the adventures the past year has brought us.

Library Project

One of the secondary projects that I am currently working on is the improvement of our local library. In previous posts I’ve talked about some of the hurdles that my town faces: incredibly high rates of abject poverty, hopelessness, alcoholism, equality issues for both women and for the 98% indigenous Mayan, etc.

One issue that I’m tackling in a small way in my town is illiteracy. In addition to doing community surveys to assess which villages need the most help and encouraging them to seek out literacy classes, I am currently working on a library project. The municipal government has shown that it takes literacy seriously by purchasing a new building for the Library and installing 10 computers for students to use. However, the less than 500 books that the library currently has are insufficient.

When I approached the librarian to ask how I could help he said there were two major things that the library lacked- text books and maps. Over the next two months I had him compile a list of the books that students requested that the library didn’t have. I then made an online wishlist where people could purchase books for the library. Then I approached the mayor and asked him to support the library by buying paint for a map project. He said yes, and we got to work.

The last two weeks, I have spent with two high school students, painting giant maps of the world, of Guatemala, of our department(state), and our town. I realized the necessity for the maps when one of the members of the mayors committee came into the room while we were painting and commented that the world map was a lovely map of Central America.

Even as we were painting students were floating in and out of the room studying the maps and quizzing each other on which countries they knew. My favorite comment of the week was when a student came in and said “Wow! Compared to the whole world Guatemala is like a little bean!” It’s exciting to have made something I can leave in my town permanently that I know will not only help the students do better on their exams, but will also help them to think more globally.

The library project goes on- books are still being collected (if you’re interested in purchasing a book for the project, follow this link: http://www.amazon.com/gp/registry/wishlist/14KD7RLYALKEW ) The next step in the project is to work on a program to get kids excited about reading- I’m planning to start story time in September and possibly also do some other monthly events that will get people coming to the library and making reading a part of their lives.

Here are a few pictures from the painting process…

Thoughts on Food

(the bounty from a recent market visit)
One of the things that I love about Guatemala is the abundance of fresh food. Every Sunday and Wednesday my town comes alive with the sounds and smells of the street market. Vendors come from all of the villages of my municipality and some of the surrounding towns to sell things that they have grown or raised. On market day I am able to buy most of my food for the week (excepting things like flour, olive oil, and specialty ingredients like curry) and know who grew, where it came from, and when it was cut. It’s amazing! I have developed a friendship with Doña Glendy, the woman from whom I purchase my veggies in the market. If I see her when I’m walking around town on a non-market day, she’ll often give me a bag of cherries or an orange- just because.

It’s an amazing thing, knowing from whom and where your food comes from, and something we’ve all but lost in the United States. In the 9 months or so that I’ve lived in my town I’ve been watching my neighbors and friends value what the earth gives them and have learned a lot from the experience. There’s a word in Spanish- “criollo” that is used almost interchangeably with the word “rico” or delicious- it means basically homegrown. Guatemalans use it to describe all sorts of food products that come from the community- chicken, garlic, vegetables; the word is used with pride to tell a guest that what they are eating is from here- in other words, it is the best there is.

One of the women I work with, who lives in a village that is 2 hours from the town center once took me for a walk out in the woods and pointed out various medicinal plants that I never would have recognized as edible. She also cut me some green leafy things and gave me instructions to bring them home and cook them like spinach and eat them with salt and lime. It was delicious and clearly full of iron and other vitamins. It’s this kind of creativity and simplicity in food that we’ve lost in the US that thrills me about Guatemala.

On the downside, any Peace Corps Volunteer will tell you about the multitude of Guatemalan children seen sucking down sugary sodas and chewing on prepackaged snacks. Sadly, a bag of processed Tortrix, the Guatemalan national junkfood, costs less than a mango or a carrot. Hopefully Guatemalan food culture is strong enough to hang onto their respect for the local and diverse. If not, they might soon find themselves in the junk food crisis that the US is in.

Camionetas: Part II

During my first few weeks of training I wrote a blog discussing the qualities of the famous Guatemalan mode of transport- the Camioneta. Now that I’ve lived here for almost a year I’d like to reflect once again on this colorful aspect of Guatemalan culture.

They’re loud, they smell, and typically stuffed to the fingerprint smudged doors with people, livestock, luggage and the like. Peace Corps volunteers earn more or less the same amount of money as Guatemalans, therefore we eat, live, and travel in the same ways- including camionetas.

My favorite part of the camioneta ride, and the aspect on which I wish to reflect on today, is a little something my friends and I have come to call “the wedge.” Think back to the days when you rode a big yellow bus to and from school. Maybe you were assigned a seat or maybe you fought your way to be the first on the bus and have the best seat, but either way, you’ll remember that the seats were designed for 2 people, 2 small people. However, here in Guatemala, we creatively fit 3 full sized people in each seat bringing each row of the bus to a grand total of 6 passengers with kids and animals on the lap. Typically this means that the two people sitting on the outside towards the aisle are left with space for only one cheek; when winding up, down, and around the curves of the Guatemalan countryside, the trip becomes a workout and a battle to remain in your seat.

This is where the wedge comes in. The official definition of the wedge is the smashing of the two aisle bodies together so that they prevent each other from falling to the floor. The trick of the wedge is that both parties have to be willing- which is trickier than it sounds. When you are the third in your row and the third spot in the seat across from you has yet to be filled, you’ll be eyeing the boarding passengers to see who might sit next to you. The ideal partner that you are hoping to sit down next to you is the middle aged mama-type. She’s always willing to work together to make the ride more comfortable. As for the rest of the passengers who may chance to share the aisle with you, you’ve got to feel out whether or not they’re willing to do the wedge. With a little bit of luck, you’ll be sitting comfortably in no time.