Often times, before I even have a chance to digest a day’s activities, or a week’s events, I find that another month has passed. I’ve suddenly been in Guatemala for nearly 11 months and have only produced an appropriate number of Blog posts and journal entries for someone who has been here for just a few months; in other words, I'm behind. I’ve found that writing long emails and letters that take a couple weeks to arrive stateside are my best outlet for writing in the moment and updating on specific events, rather than laborious summaries. In letters I don’t have the chance to recap the last 300-some days. Still, I owe it to my historical-side and loyal readers to say something more profound, more synthesized and more encapsulating about my experiences here in Guate. I will give the people what they want.
Enjoy the following posts and pictures! Que les vaya bien.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Scrapbook Moments
A family adventure way back in May when my sister and brother-in-law came and we returned to their old site, where they lived as former volunteers in Peace Corps Guatemala.
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My return home for my sister's wedding in September, after my first eight months in-country.
The clean-student award in one of my schools on International Hand Washing Day...sí profe...
My most pilas teachers in my most motivated school.
A college friend came to visit my site, after spending two months near Xela, taking Spanish classes.
Así es la vida…
I think I’m finally starting to understand the importance of my relationships with Guatemalans and that those relationships are not just tools to improve my Spanish skills or become culturally immersed. It’s inevitable that my friends here will progressively become closer confidants as I see them on a daily basis. And while, my friends from the U.S. will always play an important role in my life, these two years will be most fully understood by the people who I live among.
Last week my host-mom from training, Doña Berta, died. I had just recently found out that she was sick and planned to visit her on my trip to the Peace Corps office. As many Guatemalan stories end, I didn’t completely understand the conclusion on how she died.
Many of us who lived in Parramos, and particularly those of us who lived with Doña Berta, went to the funeral to support the family. It felt a little like a high school reunion, with various generations (or training cycles) of volunteers who came together for an event. The family’s property was filled with friends, family and neighbors, all grieving and celebrating Doña Berta. The family had a lunch to serve the masses, and while visitors ate in the yard, Doña Berta’s bedroom housed the casket where visitors paid their respects.
Before the funeral began, the family and family carried the casket to the church. After the service, the pallbearers carried the casket to the cemetery and we watched them load the casket into the mausoleum and cement the side wall shut.
Amidst it all, the family was welcoming and happy to see the PCVs who came. The host-family from my training days are real friends, with real hugs, and sincere saludos.
At the end of the day, the family was still serving snacks to visitors who came through the house, and eventually I went to the other side of town to stay with another family who hosts Peace Corps trainees. We debriefed the day and ended saying, "así es la vida"(such is life). Everything has its beginning and its ending; the ending here proved to be sooner than expected, but I am happy to have had Doña Berta be part of my beginning in Peace Corps Guatemala.
Así es la vida…so seize the day.
Last week my host-mom from training, Doña Berta, died. I had just recently found out that she was sick and planned to visit her on my trip to the Peace Corps office. As many Guatemalan stories end, I didn’t completely understand the conclusion on how she died.
Many of us who lived in Parramos, and particularly those of us who lived with Doña Berta, went to the funeral to support the family. It felt a little like a high school reunion, with various generations (or training cycles) of volunteers who came together for an event. The family’s property was filled with friends, family and neighbors, all grieving and celebrating Doña Berta. The family had a lunch to serve the masses, and while visitors ate in the yard, Doña Berta’s bedroom housed the casket where visitors paid their respects.
Before the funeral began, the family and family carried the casket to the church. After the service, the pallbearers carried the casket to the cemetery and we watched them load the casket into the mausoleum and cement the side wall shut.
Amidst it all, the family was welcoming and happy to see the PCVs who came. The host-family from my training days are real friends, with real hugs, and sincere saludos.
At the end of the day, the family was still serving snacks to visitors who came through the house, and eventually I went to the other side of town to stay with another family who hosts Peace Corps trainees. We debriefed the day and ended saying, "así es la vida"(such is life). Everything has its beginning and its ending; the ending here proved to be sooner than expected, but I am happy to have had Doña Berta be part of my beginning in Peace Corps Guatemala.
Así es la vida…so seize the day.
Celebraciones
The last couple months I have spent a significant amount of time in my site, free of traveling, free of weekend visits, and filled with lots of cultural immersion and integration. And though integration often proves to be a very frustrating process (still seven months after I arrived), some events make me feel fully engaged, knowing that I could not have done such things without the hours of rapport-building, or as we say in Guatemala, gaining confianza (trust).
After a quick surface dive into the U.S., vacationing to attend the weddings of four very important people, and a very challenging attempt to readjust, I felt like I finally had the chance to fully invest myself in my community here, once I returned. And it’s the “fully investing” part that is exhausting – mentally, emotionally, and physically.
Aside from Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, Guatemalans also celebrate one more Hallmark holiday called Día del Niño – a full day dedicated to celebrating kids. I went to my favorite school where I gave palabras (words), which Guatemalans consider essential to any sort of celebration. I danced to children’s songs with the other teachers and later, went home with a party bag full of candy. We were all included in kid’s day regardless that we are the teachers.
Vicente Fernandez, the renowned Mexican pop star appeared once again. I finished my parody for my students and sang to the tune of El Chofer about drinking clean water, washing your bedding and your body, as well as caring for the environment. I decided my career as a Mexican pop star might be more successful among the adolescent/adult crowd (my Spanish themes aren’t quite as funny among Mam speaking children).
I continue forced entertainment at birthday parties. One of my small friends turned one-year-old last month. The baby’s mom did not take any caution in celebrating big. Two clowns came to the party and whether the baby will ever know it or not, I participated with the clowns and a group of 150 Guatemalans…twice. I seem to be an easy target for audience participation, so I let the clowns direct me as they saw fit. Perhaps the pictures are the best explanation. I always have some doubts that I might get the directions wrong in Spanish, but that usually provides the perfect space for a well executed joke.
The big celebration, however, took place in Todo Santos for Día de Todos los Santos on November 1. After an attempted celebration of Halloween (not celebrated in Guatemala), we woke up early the next morning to watch the notorious horse races. Horses and their riders, run along a 250-300 meter track, back-and-forth until they reach exhaustion…or are eliminated along the way (I only saw two rider-less horses, after the riders had been thrown somewhere to the side lines). Todos Santos is filled with colorful indigenous traje (clothes) – women in the commonly worn woven skirts and blouses, and men in the less commonly worn red, striped pants and shirts with broad woven collars.
And then there was Guatemala’s Independence Day on September 15, and International Hand Washing Day for my students, and the list goes on.
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I’ve come to know that Guatemalan celebrations are extravagant and that Guatemalans take as much time as they need in order to celebrate, regardless of stopping transportation or shutting down businesses. And that is the culture. Without a little added patience and a lot of willingness to participate and act like a fool in front of a crowd, my integration might have never progressed.
After a quick surface dive into the U.S., vacationing to attend the weddings of four very important people, and a very challenging attempt to readjust, I felt like I finally had the chance to fully invest myself in my community here, once I returned. And it’s the “fully investing” part that is exhausting – mentally, emotionally, and physically.
Aside from Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, Guatemalans also celebrate one more Hallmark holiday called Día del Niño – a full day dedicated to celebrating kids. I went to my favorite school where I gave palabras (words), which Guatemalans consider essential to any sort of celebration. I danced to children’s songs with the other teachers and later, went home with a party bag full of candy. We were all included in kid’s day regardless that we are the teachers.
Vicente Fernandez, the renowned Mexican pop star appeared once again. I finished my parody for my students and sang to the tune of El Chofer about drinking clean water, washing your bedding and your body, as well as caring for the environment. I decided my career as a Mexican pop star might be more successful among the adolescent/adult crowd (my Spanish themes aren’t quite as funny among Mam speaking children).
I continue forced entertainment at birthday parties. One of my small friends turned one-year-old last month. The baby’s mom did not take any caution in celebrating big. Two clowns came to the party and whether the baby will ever know it or not, I participated with the clowns and a group of 150 Guatemalans…twice. I seem to be an easy target for audience participation, so I let the clowns direct me as they saw fit. Perhaps the pictures are the best explanation. I always have some doubts that I might get the directions wrong in Spanish, but that usually provides the perfect space for a well executed joke.
The big celebration, however, took place in Todo Santos for Día de Todos los Santos on November 1. After an attempted celebration of Halloween (not celebrated in Guatemala), we woke up early the next morning to watch the notorious horse races. Horses and their riders, run along a 250-300 meter track, back-and-forth until they reach exhaustion…or are eliminated along the way (I only saw two rider-less horses, after the riders had been thrown somewhere to the side lines). Todos Santos is filled with colorful indigenous traje (clothes) – women in the commonly worn woven skirts and blouses, and men in the less commonly worn red, striped pants and shirts with broad woven collars.
And then there was Guatemala’s Independence Day on September 15, and International Hand Washing Day for my students, and the list goes on.
.JPG)
I’ve come to know that Guatemalan celebrations are extravagant and that Guatemalans take as much time as they need in order to celebrate, regardless of stopping transportation or shutting down businesses. And that is the culture. Without a little added patience and a lot of willingness to participate and act like a fool in front of a crowd, my integration might have never progressed.
Casa of 10
Next week marks my first eight months as a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer), after my initial three months as a PCT (Peace Corps Trainee). And the time since I began has been jam-packed with figuring out how to talk and then figuring out how to live. I was 23, with the skill-set of a college graduate and the functioning capacity of an infant. I feel a bit more competent in living like a Guatemalteco.
When I went on my site visit about a week before swearing-in, I secured my housing. Peace Corps Guatemala requires PCVs to live with a family for the first three months in site and after that time we can live in a house apart from a family. I came to the Martinez family as a stranger with limited Spanish and very little to talk about. The family converted their living area (mostly couch space) to my room where I’ve lived since I’ve been here. I had a bed that is a box-spring with a two-inch cushion on top and a table where I have two piles of clothes, my food, books, and toiletries. They accommodated their living space for me, but we all thought I would stay for three months.
After three months passed, I continually searched for a house. The house hunt in San Se is no easy task. Since classified ads don’t exist, I took on a door-to-door pursuit and asked multiple families and store owners if they were renting a house. About two months ago, I found an open house, and finally said I was interested in renting it, but was not sure how I would tell my host-family that I might be moving out. Suddenly the family was no longer just a group of people from whom I rented a room and instead became some of my closest friends in the community. We joke around, we’ve learned a routine, and despite the occasional confusing conversations when something is lost in translation, we “get” each other.
I seriously examined all the reasons for leaving the house where I am now, and suddenly came to the conclusion, that I’m happy where I am, and there is no reason to change that. Though frequently being watched and working around cooking, bathroom, or laundry schedules, becomes frustrating at times, it’s all overshadowed by the evening conversations, the stories, the jokes, or the two-hour-long games of Uno with the kids.
My roommates range in age from 6 to about 69 (the 60-something couple who owns the house, their 20-30-something daughters and son, and their 6-12-year-old grandsons and granddaughters). Including me, we’re a casa of a 10. We’d make a great sitcom.
I came to Guatemala, knowing that I would make connections and develop relationships, but never thought that I could have real friendships. Though it’s a bit more effort to communicate, the words are beginning to flow better, and suddenly I’m feeling more invested in my time here.
Don Romeo and Doña Enriqueta - the house owners.
When I went on my site visit about a week before swearing-in, I secured my housing. Peace Corps Guatemala requires PCVs to live with a family for the first three months in site and after that time we can live in a house apart from a family. I came to the Martinez family as a stranger with limited Spanish and very little to talk about. The family converted their living area (mostly couch space) to my room where I’ve lived since I’ve been here. I had a bed that is a box-spring with a two-inch cushion on top and a table where I have two piles of clothes, my food, books, and toiletries. They accommodated their living space for me, but we all thought I would stay for three months.
After three months passed, I continually searched for a house. The house hunt in San Se is no easy task. Since classified ads don’t exist, I took on a door-to-door pursuit and asked multiple families and store owners if they were renting a house. About two months ago, I found an open house, and finally said I was interested in renting it, but was not sure how I would tell my host-family that I might be moving out. Suddenly the family was no longer just a group of people from whom I rented a room and instead became some of my closest friends in the community. We joke around, we’ve learned a routine, and despite the occasional confusing conversations when something is lost in translation, we “get” each other.
I seriously examined all the reasons for leaving the house where I am now, and suddenly came to the conclusion, that I’m happy where I am, and there is no reason to change that. Though frequently being watched and working around cooking, bathroom, or laundry schedules, becomes frustrating at times, it’s all overshadowed by the evening conversations, the stories, the jokes, or the two-hour-long games of Uno with the kids.
My roommates range in age from 6 to about 69 (the 60-something couple who owns the house, their 20-30-something daughters and son, and their 6-12-year-old grandsons and granddaughters). Including me, we’re a casa of a 10. We’d make a great sitcom.
I came to Guatemala, knowing that I would make connections and develop relationships, but never thought that I could have real friendships. Though it’s a bit more effort to communicate, the words are beginning to flow better, and suddenly I’m feeling more invested in my time here.
Don Romeo and Doña Enriqueta - the house owners.
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