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.