Para Terminar

We saw him on the ground. A group of men watching. A car had hit this boy and left him lying there crying in pain. Miguel went over to make sure he was ok. I stood by watching the child writhe on the ground. The men began to disperse, losing interest in the scene. The boy stood, hurt and upset. He had no home. He had no family. He had no mother to kiss his scrapes. He stood there alone and helpless. I walked over to him and put my arm around his shoulders. At the feel of my touch he crumbled into my arms crying harder than ever. He yearned for affection. He wanted to know that another human cared about him and that he wasn't completely alone. As I held him I smelled the chemical running through his body. Huffing glue at no more than eight years old. When he heard the sirens of the Red Cross he clung to me crying out that he didn't want to go. I calmed him and we sat together on the curb while the Red Cross checked him out. he was fine, so they left and we were left with a hurt child with no home and no family. I was panicking with no idea of what to do while Miguel gave him a few cordobas. We left and I felt like I had been punched in the heart.

This experience along with many others on this trip were overwhelming to me. I have seen so much poverty, pain, and suffering. I know I cannot change and fix it all, but the best I can do is work on a smaller scale to empower people that will hopefully cause greater change. 

I don't know how I will do this. There are so many communities in so many places that need so many things, but it has begun to put seeds of thought in my mind of what I want to do.

On a more personal level, throughout this trip I have become more Cassidy. I have learned to be vulnerable, how to laugh at myself, how to be me despite what others think, how to have more grace, patience, and acceptance with others, and now to listen.

I have never listened so much as I have on this trip and after listening to all of the stories and ideas I have been able to begin taking who I have become and pairing that with what I want to do to change the harsh reality people live in. I still have no idea how and where I will put my efforts, but this trip has made it more clear to me than ever that this is what I am supposed to do.

There's No Such Thing as a Free (Trade) Lunch

I walked into a hot, florescently lit warehouse packed with hundreds of people assembling my clothing. I watched as poorly clothed individuals packed up $90 North Face jackets knowing that they would only receive a third of that for the entire week. Each person there makes about $123 per month when they need $400 per month to support their families. However, this is one of the draws for investors; the low wages and lack of taxation. Free trade, especially in Central America, seems to promote a race to the bottom and we as members of the United States support this injustice whether we are aware of it or not.

This is not an actual picture from the factory, but looks very much like the place I visited

In the National Free Zones Commission flier they actually brag that they pay the lowest wages in all of Central America. They also advertise the law that gives investors exemption from all taxes…so Nicaragua does not benefit from the presence of these companies in their country, but it cuts costs for our big businesses in the US that have money to spare.

What can be done to change this? The system is so founded that it is basically out of the question to fundamentally change the entire system. This experience reinforced the feeling even more that this world is corrupt and structurally screwed up and I haven't figured out how to adapt to and function within this system in a productive manner. That's all I can do if I can't change it…adapt. But here is the problem I am facing:

While I am hurt by what I saw and heard at the National Free Zones Commission, they are providing a great number of jobs to impoverished people. They employ nearly 74,000 Nicaraguans who wouldn't be able to feed their families otherwise. So, if everyone stopped supporting the companies who take advantage of the Nicaraguan people, these individuals would lose their jobs. However, it is hard to justify supporting such institutions. 

Maybe the answer is to simply change our consumption patterns. Consumers are truly an untapped power in the US. We make the demands on the market. Right now we are telling them that we want our closets packed with the labels that take advantage of underdeveloped nations and not only that, but we want seventeen of each type of clothing. Why don't we start spending on only what we need and not necessarily on everything we want? Then maybe the structure would begin to change and the people I am living with every day can live their lives with a little more dignity and a little less difficulty.

The Sandovals

“Chicas! Desayuno!” Natalie and I walk out of our room after a cold shower and getting ready in our small, simple room. We sit at the table with a breakfast of gallo pinto (beans and rice), fried plantains, bread, eggs, sweet bread, coffee, and juice. Our host mother wishes us “buen probecho” as she kisses our cheeks. After breakfast we leave for school. “Adios, mi amor” our host mother tells each of us. In the afternoon we return to our family. As soon as we’re in the door the children run to us, eager for hugs. We spend time talking with our family, playing Uno, and entertaining the kids’ curiosity as we try to finish our homework before bed.

I am living in Managua, Nicaragua, the most impoverished country in Central America, for the next five weeks. I live with another student, Natalie, in the home of an astoundingly beautiful family. Living in our home are our host parents, Marta and Leonardo, their son, Leon, along with his wife and three children, Leo-8, Jose Andres-5, and Lupita-3. Marta and Leonardo also have a daughter who lives in the same neighborhood and a daughter getting her medical degree in Cuba.

After dinner one night Marta and Leonardo reminisce about their humble roots and how they overcame this obstacle to get an education. Each of them studied through secondary school and beyond. Marta continued with community education and Leonardo finished nursing school. As we talk about our histories, my host parents display pleased grins when sharing about their work with the National Literacy Campaign.

These proud parents love to boast about the accomplishments of their children. All three of them attended university. Now their oldest daughter, Lucy, went to works for DHL, Queyla received enough scholarships to study medicine and is now becoming a cardiologist, and Leon is currently finishing university as well as working as a supervisor at the Mercedes Bendz car dealership.

After dinner the adults spend time studying with the children. Leo recites information for his next exam, Andres practices his alphabet, and Lupita writes her numbers, each of them eager to share with us what they know. I can’t tell you how many times I have yelled out letters and numbers shown to me by the kids or how many words I have written for them to practice writing, each time they come back pointing yelling proudly, “Mira! Mira!”

As I study each night, shrieks of laughter seep through the walls as Leonardo or Leon play with the children. Of the families I have been a part of during my time here, this family is the most outwardly caring. As Leonardo speaks in a high-pitched voice, teasing his granddaughter, Lupita screams in delight, “Ay! Papa Abuelo!” a term of endearment. Every time I, or another family member leaves the home or goes to bed there is a mandatory round of hugs and kisses. Marta also blesses me with the sign of the cross when I am about to embark on another Central American adventure.

It’s people like the Sandoval family that are the true salt of the earth and are an absolute inspiration to me.

Costa Rica

We left for vacation last Saturday morning at 5:30 am, taxied to the airport, I was searched by a woman who gave me the most disdainful look and shook her head at me because I had scotch tape in my bag, we flew to San Jose, taxied to the bus station, almost missed our bus, took the bus four hours to Liberia, and found a nice hostel for the night.

Since then we have been to Tamarindo, Playa del Grande, Samara, and Alajuela. We spent a ton of time on the beach, gone zip lining, seen a sea turtle lay eggs, saw baby sea turtles, saw alligators, went kayaking, and went snorkeling.

The zip lining through the forrest canopy was so much fun! As I stood on the first of 11 platforms I listened to the horrifying sound of the howler monkeys. Soaring high above the trees was one of the greatest experiences of my life. I have always wanted to fly, and that's the closest thing I've come to it. It was a very liberating feeling being so tiny and so far up in the air.

Sea turtles have been my favorite since I was about 8 years old. In fact, at a young age I researched them for a good portion of a summer just for fun. They are also the reason why I seriously considered being a marine biologist for a few years during middle school. The only sea turtle I have seen in real life was half eaten by a shark, so being able to see not only live sea turtles, but mothers laying eggs and the babies was also one of the most amazing things I have ever experienced in my life. Honestly, I blubbered like a little baby when I saw that mamma sea turtle and everything she went through to only hope that a fraction of her offspring will survive. She swims hundreds of miles to the beach where she was born, fins her way up onto the beach, digs a hole with her back fins, lays hundreds of eggs, covers the nest, and struggles back to the water. What a cool animal.

Yesterday we kayaked through the bay to a small island and reef. The paddling brought me back to the intensity of living in a canoe in the Florida Everglades and my sore arms continue that memory. We got to the island that was crazy with hermit crabs and iguanas. It started raining, so we hid in a cave until it passed. Luckily the water stayed clear enough for us to snorkel and see some amazing creatures. We saw brilliantly colored fish of all sizes and shapes, starfish, and eels.

All in all, this past week was a much needed break full of adventure and relaxation. Now I'm off to Nicaragua to study some Political Science and Women's History!

Moving on

Before this trip I was a victim of my culture. I was caught up in the consumerism, materialism, and privilege. I was plastic. I was content to live in my nice, neat, safe, and comfortable life. My eyes were closed to the pain and suffering of the world because it was easier that way. I reflected what I was told by my society. I bought the stories that I was fed. I was part of the sin that permeates society by cooperating in the victimization of the marginalized.

Through this trip so far, through Sobrino, Gutierrez, and Johnson, through Nueva Esperanza, Nuevo Gualcho, Mapache, Rogelio, Naom, and Sister Peggy I have begun to create a new story. My eyes have been open to the reality and truth. I still reflect stories, but they are a new kind of story and a new kind of reality. I have moved to the roots of life; moved into the reality of the masses. I have begun a journey towards truth, hope, understanding, and progress within myself and within humanity.

I have been, and continue to be transformed by my time and experiences here. I want to "pig out on life" in the words of Sister Peggy. I want to take what I have learned and use it to change the structure of poverty. Not just rebuild, but to build new. 

This is what I take with me from El Salvador.

Oh, the people you'll meet

This past weekend we spent in Suchitoto, where Sister Peggy's Peace Center is located. On Saturday our group went to Lake Suchitlan. 

We took boats across the lake, climbed up a green hill, and settled under an ancient tree to hear the story of Rogelio Miranda. Rogelio was a victim of the Copapayo Massacre in 1983 that had taken place on the other side of the lake (we couldn't get there because of the insane amount of water lilies on the lake).

Rogelio was a quiet, kind man who very humbly told us the horror of those days when he was nine years old. The army had been near his village, so many of them had left to go into the mountains. One group of them returned after they thought the army was gone. Rogelio was in this group. A few people that were with Rogelio and his family took a canoe out onto the lake that was spotted by the army and gave away the group's position. 

The soldiers surrounded them and opened fire as people fled. Some swam away and escaped, many died, and the others were captured. The hostages marched with the army as they were told that they would all be fine as long as they cooperated. They walked with no food or water until they reached a small abandoned house. All of them were packed in this house until the next day when they began to walk again; hungry, tired, thirsty, and without much hope. 

The survivors were split into three groups and taken to different areas. Rogelio was in a group with his aunt and sister. They were told to make three lines. Rogelio was in the front row with his aunt and sister. They heard the gun shots from the two other groups being killed. Thinking quickly, Rogelio jumped to the back row without grabbing his aunt and sister. He hid in the grass as the soldiers opened fire on his group. After they were all dead, he laid in the grass until the soldiers were gone. Next to him was another boy a little older than himself. The boy had a gaping wound all the way down his leg and had managed to keep quiet until the soldiers left. He couldn't move, so Rogelio took a rubber boot off of a dead man and ran back and forth from the water so the boy could drink. Rogelio knew, however, that he needed to move on and couldn't take the boy with him. He left and went to an abandoned village where he ate bananas and took refuge in a trench until he was rescued by guerilla fighters. He was the only one that had survived both days.

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The second night we were there, Miguel and I met Naom at a bar. He was a great guy and we had a fantastic conversation with him about the importance of cultural exchange, politics, the war, and Suchitoto. The next day we had a free morning, so Naom asked us if we wanted to meet his ex-guerilla mother and go to a waterfall. Peggy knew him and he was harmless, so we agreed. The next morning, Naom came to pick us up from the Peace Center. We walked to his mother's home where we met a few of his nine siblings and his hell of a mother. She was a kind, boisterous, beautiful woman with an infectious smile that endured through the war.

We continued our walk to the waterfall as we heard about the war, the after effects of the war, and life now. When we got to the waterfall we had to climb down a bunch of giant, geometrically shaped rocks and then I saw one of the most beautiful things I've seen since I've been here.

As we stared at the beauty, a brilliantly blue butterfly fluttered aimlessly in front of us. We sat in silent awe for a while, then we climbed back up the rocks past a group of nuns. We returned to Naom's house to say goodbye to his mother who was upset that she couldn't feed us or at least give us some lemonade.

The fact that Naom wanted so badly to share that experience with us was touching. He took time out of his Sunday to do this for us as well as take us to his family, and he carried a bag of water for us on our thirty minute walk.

Let's see...

Where to begin?…My Liberation Theology class has been pretty demanding. I'm learning a ton, but every day is filled with class, meetings, reading, and homework. It's hard to keep up with my blog. But here is a rundown of what has been going on for the last 10 days…

On Thursday we had a three hour essay exam for Liberation Theology, then we headed to the community of Nueva Esperanza. Here we listened to the music of the youth of the town, we climbed water towers, and ate countless choco bananos. Natalie and I lived with a beautiful family in a small home. 

Our mother was young, our father had the kindest face, little host sister was the sweetest girl I've ever met, the oldest little boy watched tv all the time and never talked, and the youngest little boy, Sergio, was my favorite. He was about 7 and loved us. He and his friends always asked us for kisses and he always had to know where we were going. At our house Natalie and I shared a little hot room, we often watched tv with our host family, I spent a lot of time in the hammock out back (except when the chickens decided it was a fun game to peck my behind), and we had dinner in the little kitchen in the back. There was nearly always a chicken in the house, and sometimes they would lay eggs on the couch. One day Natalie and I walked in just as a chicken had laid an egg. Natalie asked if that was ok, and our host dad said "ahorita" and mimicked laying an egg/pooping.

Our group home base for the weekend was a pastoral center. Here we had lunch every day and where Natalie and I took cold bucket showers multiple times each day. There were also eco-toilets that had a part in the front for #1 and a part in the back for #2…and we were to throw the toilet paper in the toilet…it was weird.

The first night we were there, a few of us stumbled upon a small party being held for our director, Cesar's, birthday. The room was packed with youth who were learning to play instruments. It was a really fun experience and they made us dance for what felt like the longest song ever created. Also while we were there we toured the different coconut, cashew, sugar cane, and mango plantations. 

We went to an Emergency Fund Health Center where they make a lot of their own medicines so the people can afford them and have access to them. We also went to the river that floods the towns because of the hydroelectric damn and the people who run it that don't take into consideration the Bajo Lempa area. Four of us ended up stripping down and swimming in the river where we jumped off of a tree with some kids. One of them popped up out of the depths right next to me and, with a smile, handed me a pretty good sized live fish. It was like noodling on a smaller scale. One night we had a concert by all of the youth of Nueva Esperanza. The weekend there was absolutely amazing…

Sunday night we all went to the bar and had awesome conversations about our first impressions of everyone. On Monday we hiked up the Santa Anna volcano, the tallest volcano in El Salvador. It was probably one of the more intense excursions I've taken, but it was worth it. At the top was a crater with a volcanic lake. There were fairy-like locusts flying around that were brilliantly colored due to the sulfur they eat.

Tuesday, a group of us went to the museum at the Universidad Tecnica. It was all about immigration and the struggle of immigrants trying to get to the United States. It was pretty powerful.

Nothing super exciting happened Wednesday and Thursday, but Friday was frustrating and great. In the morning we went to the US Embassy. The city became noticeably more commercialized as we got closer to the Embassy. I felt weird going there since I have not been in the US for months and all of a sudden I was getting a little piece of it after my changed views of my country. We passed by hundreds of people trying to get visas as we walked in with our US passports.

I already had a icky feeling about being there, but it was made even worse by the diplomat we heard from. His name was Cornelius and some of the crap that came out of his mouth was ridiculous. Here is a list of some of his comments word for word:

-When talking about his job he referred to is as propaganda to "try to make cultures think well of us" (don't worry, they get much worse)

-I had watch a moving documentary of the gangs in El Salvador the night before and Cornelius compared M13 and M18 to the rivalry between McDonalds and Burger King…

-"Salvadorans that come back after living in the shadows in the America bring modern ideas and open franchises"

-He talked about how they helped pass a law to legalize wire tapping because "there are a lot of bad people here that should be in prison"

-He was talking about dolarization and currencies when he said "the dollar is better for El Salvador than what they had before…the quetzal or whatever"…it's the colon. I don't live here and I knew that. He was also talking about the currency in Honduras and couldn't remember what it was so he said, "I don't know, they probably use the peso" We are not in Mexico…

-When speaking about the roll of the ambassador he said, "we send her in for the kill because if they don't do what we want we will make their lives miserable"

What kind of people are we allowing to represent our country? This does not make me want to come back to a country where a good number of people think very similarly to Cornelius. 

Friday afternoon we went to speak with a Jesuit from the United States that works at UCA, Father Dean Brackley. The one part I want to highlight from this meeting was the idea he brought up that where we are right now (El Salvador) with the poverty and pain is a globally average country. This is the way the world is…wow.

Rundown

This is one of those posts that is just a rundown of what has been going on in my life the past weekish:

On Friday we left for weekend stays in different communities to learn about the role of faith and liberation theology among the people. Robyn, Ryan, and I went to Nueva Granada to live with Padre Alcides. The weekend was amazing even though Padre wasn't my favorite person in the world. He talked a lot about liberation theology, living with and working with the poor, and many other Miss America Pageant topics. His words were great, but he lived in a huge house (which the three of us had completely to ourselves the whole weekend) that was packed full of hair products, dietary pills, deodorant sprays, and polo shirts. He was a very well kept man with perfectly gelled hair, designer glasses, and a Blackberry that he used constantly (even during Sunday mass). Padre also talked about women's rights and how everyone should be treated equally, but when all of us were together it was as if Robyn and I didn't exist. What Padre said didn't always line up with what Padre did. Oh, and he also abandoned us…a lot.

Despite the Padre part, the weekend was delightful. We spent time in the community learning about different initiatives they are taking to create social progress. My favorite part was Saturday when we went to another community in the municipality called Nuevo Gualcho. We spent the day with Mapache touring the community, swimming in a waterfall, and getting a real taste of El Salvador.

On Monday we went to the beach. It was pretty much the greatest day of my life. It was a semi-birthday celebration day, so I did not pay for one pina colada. I spent the day diving in the waves of the Pacific Ocean, laying in a hammock, exploring abandon houses along the shore, swimming in the pool, holding hands with monkeys, and other really awesome things that everyone wishes they could do for their birthday. That night a few of us went out for drinks and pool.

My actual birthday was spent writing a paper and reading for class, which wasn't super fun, but it made up for the ridiculously awesome day before. At dinner I got to blow out a candle on a beautiful cake. All in all it was a fantastic two days of birthday.

Today we had class and a meeting on liberation theology and tomorrow we head out for a weekend in Nueva Esperanza to experience more liberation theology at work in the communities.  

Under the Veil

Today we visited UCA where 6 Jesuit priests and two women were massacred by the Salvadoran army in November of 1989. The 8 victims were killed in their rooms and five of the priests were dragged to the garden and put on display with their bullet ridden bodies face down in the grass and left arms outstretched in a fist.

The garden where the priests' bodies were left

Many people and leaders of the leftist party, or that taught principles that were somewhat in line with the leftist ideals, were assassinated by the right. In my last post I talked about the US support of the military of El Salvador, this support essentially means that we supported such actions.

Today I sensed the despair, fear, and anguish that was felt on November 16, 1989. I saw graphic pictures of the 8 martyrs in their death and their blood stained clothes. I walked out of that place dazed and upset. My director, Chepe, then told me of a neighbor woman who was a witness to this massacre. She spoke of what she saw and heard that night. As a result, she was taken from this country to the United States by a human rights group in order to preserve her life. As soon as she made it through customs she was taken by the FBI. It is believed that she was brainwashed so that she would never speak of what she observed that night. There is no concrete evidence of this, or of the fact that there was a member of the FBI on conference call the night that this massacre was planned. However, the possibility that the US government and governmental organizations knew about this plan and took that woman to save their own behinds is terrifying.

Upon hearing this I went into mental and emotional overload. What I learned about US involvement in the Guatemalan and Salvadoran civil war was hard enough, but this was too much.We live under the myth and perception of the US being proponents of peace and justice, but the reality is much different. We carry on under a veil of lies and deceit. We believe what they want us to believe. The US is a world leader, and if we can't believe what our leaders tell us then what can we believe? In what can I place my faith and trust? How have we forgotten humanity? Why have we lost our voices? Why do we allow ourselves fall into unawareness and complacency?

There is no way to find the absolute truth. We live in a dishonest and corrupt world. The only truth we can find is in our close relationships. This is why it is important to create true community. This is why it is imperative to form groups of people to create honesty, clarity, and change. Even before that, we must start with ourselves. What we believe and tell can spread, but it will be hard…we have to do something.

Maybe I'll feel differently tomorrow. Maybe the next three days in a rural village, immersed in a faith community will change this mental anguish I experienced today. Nonetheless, it is a terrifying thing to think about.

A Commandeered Story

My last day in Guatemala was not the best. I laid in bed all day, sick with a sinus infection. The doctor came to visit me. He was adorable! He was a cute little old man with big glasses and an old fashioned doctor bag. I loved him. While I vegged in bed I pondered my thoughts about leaving the country. I was filled with many conflicting emotions that I didn't really know how to put into words. I was sad to leave because of the places I had fallen in love with, the people that I became close to, the culture, the mentality, the atmosphere, etc. I think it's safe to say that I fell in love with Guatemala and its people. On the other hand was ready for change and ready to live in another country. 

When we reached the border we had to walk back and forth over the border to be processed out of Guatemala and into El Salvador. I just wrote an article for the William Jewell Hilltop Monitor about El Salvador...here it is:

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When you read the news, do you question its validity? When our leaders provide us with information, do you just accept what they say as truth? Everything we are fed from the media, from politicians, from our mentors, and from our peers are stories. History is molded and created by those who control the narrative. The stories we hear and pass on to others define our reality, who we are, and what we believe.

I am studying in El Salvador for the next four weeks. The deep-rooted capitalism and cultural influence of the United States is very apparent. The story, or myth, that our nation embodies absolute democratic ideals and spreads these ideals through peace and justice spurs this expansion and acceptance of US presence. Our story, however, is one of power, imperialism, and domination.

 By utilizing this myth and this story the US has buried its ideals and influence deeper and deeper into this country. This hold has been, and continues to be, spurred primarily by economics. During the civil war in El Salvador the US controlled the outcome and longevity by feeding the army $1.5 million dollars per day for 12 years in order to ensure the right wing won and our interests were upheld. The story of El Salvador is now one of militarization and violence due, in part, to our influence on its composition.

We have also made a capitalist influence on the story of El Salvador. As I made my way through this city I was overwhelmed by the amount of US franchises like Burger King, KFC, Radio Shack, Papa John’s, and (the one I found most surprising) Sherwin Williams Paint. El Salvador also uses the US dollar. It is strange for me that I am purchasing items in this country with pieces of paper that depict my country’s presidents. The US dollar has caused a higher cost of living for a people that receive very little. Prices here are comparable to those in the US, but 45% of the population makes around $200 per month. Per month.

How is their economy sustainable with such poverty? It is estimated that three million Salvadorans live in the US with hundreds crossing the border each day in hopes of immigrating to the US. In 2009, $3 billion was sent back to El Salvador in remittances. These remittances make up 18% of the Salvadorian economy and most of this is put back into US companies.

The influence of our story on the narrative of El Salvador is incredible. Perhaps it is time to change that story by becoming more aware and taking small actions to change the plot.

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Other than that, I have started Liberation Theology. Our professor, Sister Peggy, is the most rad woman I think I have ever met. I use rad in the context of awesome and radical. I think I learned more from our three hour class today than I have in some of my semester long courses at Jewell. I am really looking forward to the rest of this class! 

Life in the Mountains

On Friday we all graduated from PLQ. The graduations at PLQ are quite the deal. We have food and drink, all of the teachers come, we sing songs, and the graduates have some sort of presentation. After graduation we went out. It was a fun night but there isn't much to say about it.

Saturday I woke up as Margarita along with my host family knocked on my door and gave me hugs a kisses goodbye telling me to visit when I return on Thursday. We met at the school, got on the bus, and ride to Santa Anita. There, we settled into our house and then took a hike around the land. It was absolutely gorgeous. Santa Anita is a community that harvests bananas and coffee. They live in what I would call a tropical jungle with fruit plants, coffee plants, waterfalls, and other natural wonders. It was the most beautiful thing I may have ever seen. Later, we watched a bunch of movies because we are from the United States and will forever be addicted to media. We also heard from a man from Santa Anita about the community. On Sunday we spend most of the morning in Santa Anita and then sprinted through the rain to the buses. We were on our way to our rural home in the mountains.

We rode in the muggy buses to Xela, and went from there in the backs of trucks to Chuitziribal (chew-eets-eerie-ball). I am finally getting the real Guatemala experience I have wanted. Miguel and I were put with the Tax family. The family has a 5 year old girl, Victoria, and two boys who are 10 and 12, Ronni and Willie. The bathroom is a whole in the ground under the shelter of a tiny tin shack and we are nestled in the middle of a cornfield. We have to walk through the cornfields to get to the church for school. It's awesome except for the dogs who might attack you.

That night we spent settling in, walking around the community, and eating with Ronni and Willie. After dinner, they followed us to our room to look at pictures, listen to music, and play cards. We had a lot of fun with them and this ended up being a nightly occurrence. 

Monday morning I got up after essentially no sleep, got ready for school, woke Miguel up, had breakfast, and walked through the fields to school. Doris was super excited to see me and we had a great time hiking through the village and talking about what ever we felt like.

Later that afternoon, our host brothers came to visit again. They helped me with my homework and hung out for a really long time. They're new favorite thing was Photo Booth on my computer.

Tuesday morning we had breakfast and walked along the dirt roads through the cornfields to class…as usual. During class, I noticed a group of students and teachers going for a little walk, so I asked Doris if she wanted to take a short stroll with them. This short stroll turned into an hour long walk up a mountain, down through a green valley with an old man and his two grazing cattle, and to the river. This whole time I was twisting Doris' arm trying to get her to go further. When we finally got to the water, I took off my shoes and waded through the cool mountain water, squishing the cold mud in between my toes. The teachers were going crazy over the rocks in the river that scrape callouses away. Giant boulders suck out on either side of the river and upstream was a foggy, vibrant green mountain side eerily lit by the sun. On the way back, Doris grabbed my hand and I basically had to carry her to the church.

After school and lunch, the group took a trip down the mountain to the hot baths. CGE paid for each of us to have our own private bath. I spent the next hour sitting in a hot pool of water, drinking beer, singing to myself, and bathing. It was heaven. On the way back to Chuitziribal it began pouring rain, so we rode back in the pickups under tarps and ended up having to walk a good portion of the way back up.

Before dinner our host brothers and host sister came crawling under the wall from the kitchen into our rooms. Victoria would not stop staring and smiling at me. It was pretty adorable. I took pictures with her with Photo Booth and then we drew pictures together. I tried teaching her how to draw stars…that didn't work out so well.

That night I felt so sick I thought I my head was going to explode. I woke up numerous times throughout the night sneezing, blowing my nose, and coughing.

Early Wednesday morning I was having a horrible dream about a cat howling at me. That's when I woke up and noticed that a cat was staring into my soul and howling at what it saw. It was not the best way to wake up. I shooed it away and it wouldn't leave, so I threw a shoe in it's general direction, but accidentally nailed it in the head.

We had class for part of the afternoon, then went to visit a glass blowing factory. This factory is part of a cooperative that pays their workers well and uses recycled glass to make their pieces. The front of the factory is filled with beautiful pitchers, cups, figurines, etc. Next, is a room full of piles of broken glass waiting to be melted down. In the back of the factory is the room where they make the pieces. It is a hot semi-chaotic room with gelatinous glass being molded, cut, and blown. One man could make a good sized pitcher in 1-2 minutes. It was amazing. 

When we got back home I took a bath. This bath is different from those we are used to. My family heated a bucket of water and put it in a small room that filled with steam. I poured the water over myself with a bowl as I washed. It was one of the best bathing experiences I have ever had.

That night we had a party at the school for our families. From the moment we left the house, Victoria did not leave my side and rarely let go of my hand. We looked for marshmallow sticks, hit a butterfly piñata,  grabbed as much candy as we could, and then roasted marshmallows. After Victoria was on a sugar high, we played tag, some sort of cat and mouse game, hide and seek, and other games that involve a lot of running around that is great for a five-year-old on a sugar high but not so great for a 20 year old with a cold in a high altitude.

At the end of the party we noticed that our host mom had left us with the 3 kids, so we took them back to an empty home and watched them until everyone came home. This didn't bother me, but it was strange that they would trust their kids with two foreign strangers.

This morning (Thursday), we had "class." My class consisted of the five of us in the 311 course and our teachers walking to a green hill where we took pictures, told stories, and dirty jokes. The story was popcorn-style of a fable about our 311 group. The three boys were toads, the teachers were princesses, and Kristin and I were queens. After our innocent, but funny story, the teachers began telling some of the most disturbing dirty jokes I have ever heard in my life. I'm going to miss them.

After class I had to say goodbye to Doris. This may have been the hardest thing I have ever done. Even though I knew I would see her again this afternoon, we both cried a little and made plans to write, talk, and visit in the future. She has impacted my life so much. 

Before we left, Miguel and I took pictures with our family. Ronni was acting uncharacteristically shy because he was upset we were leaving. It was really sad. Victoria and the women of the family walked us back to the school and gave us hugs and kisses goodbye. It was hard leaving that beautiful community.

My camera was lost this entire time, so I don't have pictures right now, but I will steal them from other people.

Tomorrow we leave for Antigua for two nights, then it's off to El Salvador! We're about 1/3 of the way through the program...that is hard for me to believe. 

Independence Day and Then Some

The other night I didn't feel like doing my homework, so I sat with Margarita in the kitchen, showed her the pictures from the lake and told her about my trip. She loved it. My youngest host brother, Israel, came in to eat and we all began talking about different lifestyles. Margarita fell asleep mid-sentence while she was sitting on a stool. Israel and I laughed at her for a good 2 minutes before she woke with a start and a sheepish smile. She began to clean the kitchen and make fun of herself.

The next morning I ate breakfast with my host sister, Elisa. Margarita told her about the event from the night before and made fun of herself again. I then told Elisa that I was leaving in 4 days. She corrected me saying that it was actually 4 months. No, 4 days. That afternoon after school I returned home and took pictures with my host mom and sister. Elisa thought it would be funny to joke about how tall I am compared to my family by saying she was going to take a picture of me and actually taking a picture of the ceiling. 

Tuesday after class, we went to the central park and to watch the parade of marching bands. Xela is the party capital of Guatemala for "independence day" (Guatemala never really won their independence from anyone), so there were people from all over flooding the streets. When I went back to my house my Guatemama told me that she expected me to go out and come home late from the festivities. That evening we returned to the central park to enjoy the music and other goings on. Bands were playing, people were dancing, women were on stage in skimpy cow girl outfits, drunk people were vomiting and peeing in the streets…everyone was having a great time! At midnight fireworks exploded over the city and rained ash down on my head. It was beautiful.

Yesterday (Wednesday) was the actual "independence day" so we had the day off from school. I went to a conference at the school after laying around in bed until 9:00. I went back home for my going away lunch with my family. They had made a special meal for the holiday and for me…they did, however, forget that I don't eat red meat. I wasn't going to be rude and refuse the delicious food they had taken all day to prepare, so I sucked it up and ate dreams. My tummy did not like it one bit, but my mouth did. After the red meat my family and I took family photos, but my oldest host brother was sick and couldn't participate. After the photo shoot, my host mom grabbed onto my belt and began jumping up a down trying to get as tall as me.

Later, a few of my friends and I went to the fair. There were apparently rides there, but we didn't walk far enough to find them. All we saw of the fair was the market part. On the way there and the way back we rode in public buses that are the size of VW vans and were full of about 25 people. It is the closest I've ever been to another human in my life. At one point I was sitting on Natalie's lap right next to the open door. As we rounded a sharp corner I nearly fell out of the van . People were hanging out of the side of the van and I would have taken all of them with me.

Finally, today I took my exit exam for Spanish. I only missed 0.25 points! A great improvement from the entrance exam. Tomorrow I have an oral presentation and then I'm done! Next week Doris will come with me to Cantel, but the whole week will be based solely on practice.  

Atop El Baúl

We attended and participated in a Mayan spiritual ritual this afternoon with two Mayan spiritual leaders. We went to the top of El Baúl (the hill/mountain that we hiked a few weeks ago). This mountain is apparently a sacred Mayan ground. Here, the spiritual leaders made a cross within a circle with white sand. On top of the sand, one of the leaders built a mound out of balls and pallets of incense and wood. They lit the fire and explained that they communicate energy with the fire. The man laid 20 cards around the fire. On our bodies we have 20 fingers and toes and the Mayans have 20 parts to their year. The number 13 is very sacred to the Mayan people. We have 13 major joints in our bodies (ankles, knees, hips, wrists, elbows, shoulders and neck) and there are 13 days within each part of the year. This represents 260 days, which is the length of time it takes for a baby to develop within a woman. We were each given two balls of incense, knelt around the fire, and the ceremony began.

The leaders began praying/chanting in Quiche (their indigenous language). They threw small pieces of incense into the fire as they chanted. We bent over and kissed Mother Earth 3 times. They prayed to the largest river in the US (the Mississippi) because great power comes from rivers. At this point we held one of our incense balls in our hands and moved them in circular motions. We were asked to think about pain or troubles that we had, and then we threw the balls into the fire.They asked each of our names and threw a candle in the fire for each of us. They then asked us to speak the names of loved ones who have recently died. A candle was thrown in for Granddaddy. We kissed Mother Earth three more times. They chanted more as they threw in more incense and stirred the fire. We stood and held the other incense ball in our hands while moving it in circular motions. After we threw these into the fire, we put our hands in a prayer position in front of our hearts, moved our left hand toward the fire to receive it's energy, and right hands over our chest to move the energy to our hearts. We then knelt, moving our left hands to our hearts and our right hand to the ground to give Mother Earth some of our energy. We kissed her three more times at the end of the ceremony.

The whole ritual took a little less than an hour and a half. The leaders told us that it was important to remember Mother Earth and give her energy. They said they were glad that we, as young people, were learning these lessons and taking them with us. They also assured us that the world is not ending in 2012. This year is just a meeting of numerous Mayan calendars. Instead of an end, it will be a new beginning.

After this ceremony, the whole group returned to the van in silence. It was wonderful.

Thoughts

I've been thinking a lot about Eduardo's idea that Guatemala is a baby taking it's first steps toward stability. In the United States we had the privilege to start from scratch and build a country based on democracy. As a country we have had great luck and put a lot of work into the development of our country and our leadership. Guatemala, however, has suffered incredible injustice and corruption. It is hard to build up a country after such hardship. I like to think of it as the idea of building a house. The United States had all of the bricks and mortar with which to build their home. As a country we have run into a few construction problems along the way, but we have had a solid foundation underneath each of these problems and the means with which to purchase higher quality equipment. Guatemala was a shaky house. It has fallen and crumbled. The people here have had a pile of rubble that they must now clear away and sort through to begin building again with very little means…I hope that makes sense outside of my head.

When thinking about all of the lectures and talks we have attended, I think I have received a somewhat rounded view of Guatemala. We have heard from guerillas, military personnel, and civilians. From what I have gathered, the people here do not trust the police, army, or the government. They can not invest in the civil institutions and therefore have very little to no sense of security. With this in mind, it is easy to understand why the crime rate is so high, why the people have a raw sense of suspicion, and why in some areas the communities seem to be in disarray and an almost chaotic state. As citizens of the United States we have a very comfortable state of security with most of our civil institutions. We can take comfort in the thought that our leadership is held accountable. The military won't enter our homes and kill our loved ones and our president would never order massacre. We are lucky as a people that the only civil war we have experienced is through text books, and that war was for the liberation of slaves…a just cause. We saw a positive outcome from the battles of our ancestors. The Guatemalan people are still getting over their war. It was not a just war and has really had no positive effects on the country. It was a war with no definitive end and no definitive outcome.

….just expressing some thoughts….

In a little bit I will be attending and participating in a Mayan spiritual ritual. I will probably write all about it today or tomorrow. Until then.