AND YOUR HOME FOR THE NEXT 2 YEARS WILL BE...
They had us close our eyes, all of us along the line of the basketball court with a big map of Guatemala drawn in chalk. One by one they took us by the hand and led us to our new homes for the next 2 years. As Sergio, our program director (ie my boss) relished leading my stumbling across the country, I tried to follow my path. At first I felt myself headed north to Alta Verapaz, the lowland jungle of Guatemala, but suddenly Sergio turned my path sharply to the left, westward towards the highlands. Where was I headed? To Huehuetanango, where I had visited the week before? Could it be to to Solola, the department of beautiful Lake Atitlan? I hoped it wouldn't be Chimaltenango. I suspected somewhere in Totonicapan, where we already knew the great bulk of our group would be heading. When we opened our eyes, I found my suspicions were correct as I looked at the information folder they had placed in our hands, and gazed for the first time at the name which would define my new destiny.
Unfortunately, for security reasons I'm not allowed to actually post the specific name of my site, but I can tell you it has a cool sound. It's in the very north of the department of Totonicapan, but far more isolated than the other sites in the south where the majority of the group is. I'm actually closer to the city of Santa Cruz de Quiche in the Quiche department. As I read through the information, my thoughts were a mixture of nervousness and excitement. While I am still nervous, I have to admit that the site is really pretty much everything I asked for during my interview a few weeks ago. The main point I tried to get across was for a site that was balanced—I didn't mind being isolated, but didn't want to be the MOST isolated site in the country. My new site is fairly “out there” in what I'd definitely describe as a forgotten corner of the country, but is only a half hour bus ride from a major city. It's pretty small, as I asked for, but not tiny, and has a market and basic services. I'd asked for a site with a large indigenous population, and my new home is 97% Quiche Maya—I'm greatly looking forward to throwing myself into learning the Quiche language (but we'll see how my enthusiasm holds up in a few months). There is at least 1 volunteer within I think about half an hour from me, and lots within a couple hours drive (unfortunately there isn't bus service to the rest of the province, so I think my friends in the other parts of the department will be further than they would be otherwise). One of the most significant aspects of my site is that it is new to the Healthy Schools project. While the rest of my colleagues will be replacing other volunteers and continuing the project in schools where it has already been established, I was the one volunteer assigned to a “first generation” site. The good news is that I'll get to spend a lot more time in the classroom, and should hopefully be able to really make progress in introducing the project in the schools and getting things going. The challenge, however, is that everything will be new, and it seems like I really have my work cut out for me. From what I've heard from other volunteers, a lot of my time will be spent just explaining who I am and what I'm doing here, and I'll need to keep my expectations realistic for the pace of change and progress.
After getting over the initial shock and excitement, and comparing our sites with everyone else, most of us headed to Antigua for a celebration. I couldn't stay long however, because I had to go home and pack for our trip to Esquipulas with our host families. Every year the family makes a religious pilgrimage to the holy city, in the east of Guatemala near the border with Honduras.
That night we loaded onto the bus at around midnight. At 5 a.m., after a long, awful ride of trying in vain to get comfortable on the school bus seats, endlessly trying different positions to rest my head somewhere, all the while with music blaring through the speakers, we arrived in the bus terminal of Esquipulas. It was still dark, and Glenda and Daly went to find us a hotel (they explained that if us Gringos went, they would try to charge us more money, although I'm pretty proud of my bargaining skills and wonder if I could have helped out). After they found a place and we dragged our bags a few blocks to the hotel. The first thing we did after depositing our bags in our rooms was to walk the 2 blocks to the main cathedral—an enormous white building with 4 enormous symmetrical bell towers at each corner. A large park surrounds the cathedral, and it was filled with trees with pink blossoms which reminded me of Washington D.C.'s cherry blossoms around this same time of year. A large market selling a mixture of souvenirs and religious trinkets was adjacent to the park. Mass was just starting, but we got in a line at the side of the building. After waiting several minutes, we came to the statue of the “Cristo Negro”--the “Black Christ”. I didn't quite understand the significance, but apparently it's a very important statue and is known and visited by religious pilgrims throughout all of Central America. After having a few seconds to pray in front of the statue, the person would back away slowly, never turning their back to Christ until they reached the exit at the side of the building.
Back at the hotel, we had breakfast right as light was finally filling the sky. They had cooked food the night before in Xenacoj, and in order to save money continued to cook pretty much ever meal the entire weekend on little camping-style barbeque stoves with open fires heated by fire wood. It was a lot of fun to all eat together out in the parking lot, a combination of camping and tailgating! We had to sigh, however, that even on vacation it seemed at times that all the women did was cook.
After breakfast we left the hotel walking towards the giant hill/small mountain a few kilometers away. “Abuelita” (literally “little Grandmother”, the 85 year old great grandmother of the family who speaks Kakqchiquel and only a bit of Spanish) came with us, and I was quite impressed by her drive and stamina, even though she eventually did get in a tuk-tuk to bring her up the final stretch. When we arrived at the mountain, the procession stopped at each of the 20+ stations to do a prayer and penitance. Each station represented different parts of the crucifixion of Christ, and the idea was to experience the pain and suffering he endured on the cross.
I had such mixed feelings about the whole thing, as I did at many times throughout the weekend. For one side I see Christianity as a religion brought and imposed upon the indigenous population by the invading Spanish conquistadores. Ironically, Guatemala's indigenous population are usually the most devoutly faithful. The only explanation for this that I can see is that it is a way for these people who have suffered and continue suffering through so much injustice in this life to make sense of this unfairness, and to have hope for a more just future in the afterlife. Unfortunately most people are ignorant of the country's history, the rich culture that existed before the arrival of the Spanish, and the brutal history that came with Christianity's arrival to Guatemala. Nonetheless, on the other hand, Christianity has now become the established religion, a religion that is probably more dominant in this country than in any other that I have seen. Despite my reservations and problems, it is undeniably arrogant and patronizing to criticize the culture and its beliefs, whatever their origin. Moreover, only an arrogant or deeply cynical person would fail to be touched by the sincerity, the humbleness, the unity and genuine hope represented by people expressing their faith as they do in Esquipulas. Women and men, children and old people alike, all united in a common faith. I must admit I was a bit envious of the simplicity and purpose these strong religious beliefs seemed to bring to the people.
The following day we slept in and spent the morning and early afternoon at a local park and river which people swam in. We cooked carne asada (“grilled meat”), joked around, and relaxed in the shade . Guatemalan music blared in the background, and I realized how much a part of this country I've become when I realized that I could sing along to almost all of the songs.
The highlight of the entire trip for me came that afternoon. I was hanging out in the parking lot of the hotel when Chica motioned for me to come over. She brought me into her room and handed me a black plastic bag. I opened it to find a beautiful white T-shirt with a woven design of a Quetzal and other patterns, and the word “GUATEMALA” written in big letters. “We wanted to give you a present, said Chica. “I hope you like it.” My eyes became moist as I realized how much I had connected with my new family, and how much I'm going to miss them.
After another long long bus ride yesterday, we arrived back in Xenacoj around dusk, pleasantly surprised that Egma, the family's sister in law, had made Chuchitos (“little pigs”--corn dough filled with little pieces of pork, wrapped in corn husks and boiled—kind of like tamales) for everyone, and we had a wonderful final dinner before heading off to shower and go to bed.
This morning we headed back to the Peace Corps center to meet our counterparts—representatives from our projects from the communities we'll be working with who came to meet us, do some activities, and escort us to our new communities tomorrow. I greeted Julio, the director of schools in my community, and Lucia, a teacher at one of the schools I'll be working in. They seemed like very nice people, genuinely interested both in getting to know me and working with me. I'm excited and nervous to head to my site tomorrow. They told me a bit about the community, but it is all still a mystery to me. What will it be like? Will there be enough to do, or I be bored? Will it be too hot, or too cold? Too dry? Will it be pretty? Most importantly, will I be able to find local friends to share my time and experiences with, or will I be lonely? Only time will tell. It's getting late, so I suppose I should stop writing and get some rest.
I'm probably more nervous right now than I've ever been since arriving in Guatemala.
They had us close our eyes, all of us along the line of the basketball court with a big map of Guatemala drawn in chalk. One by one they took us by the hand and led us to our new homes for the next 2 years. As Sergio, our program director (ie my boss) relished leading my stumbling across the country, I tried to follow my path. At first I felt myself headed north to Alta Verapaz, the lowland jungle of Guatemala, but suddenly Sergio turned my path sharply to the left, westward towards the highlands. Where was I headed? To Huehuetanango, where I had visited the week before? Could it be to to Solola, the department of beautiful Lake Atitlan? I hoped it wouldn't be Chimaltenango. I suspected somewhere in Totonicapan, where we already knew the great bulk of our group would be heading. When we opened our eyes, I found my suspicions were correct as I looked at the information folder they had placed in our hands, and gazed for the first time at the name which would define my new destiny.
Unfortunately, for security reasons I'm not allowed to actually post the specific name of my site, but I can tell you it has a cool sound. It's in the very north of the department of Totonicapan, but far more isolated than the other sites in the south where the majority of the group is. I'm actually closer to the city of Santa Cruz de Quiche in the Quiche department. As I read through the information, my thoughts were a mixture of nervousness and excitement. While I am still nervous, I have to admit that the site is really pretty much everything I asked for during my interview a few weeks ago. The main point I tried to get across was for a site that was balanced—I didn't mind being isolated, but didn't want to be the MOST isolated site in the country. My new site is fairly “out there” in what I'd definitely describe as a forgotten corner of the country, but is only a half hour bus ride from a major city. It's pretty small, as I asked for, but not tiny, and has a market and basic services. I'd asked for a site with a large indigenous population, and my new home is 97% Quiche Maya—I'm greatly looking forward to throwing myself into learning the Quiche language (but we'll see how my enthusiasm holds up in a few months). There is at least 1 volunteer within I think about half an hour from me, and lots within a couple hours drive (unfortunately there isn't bus service to the rest of the province, so I think my friends in the other parts of the department will be further than they would be otherwise). One of the most significant aspects of my site is that it is new to the Healthy Schools project. While the rest of my colleagues will be replacing other volunteers and continuing the project in schools where it has already been established, I was the one volunteer assigned to a “first generation” site. The good news is that I'll get to spend a lot more time in the classroom, and should hopefully be able to really make progress in introducing the project in the schools and getting things going. The challenge, however, is that everything will be new, and it seems like I really have my work cut out for me. From what I've heard from other volunteers, a lot of my time will be spent just explaining who I am and what I'm doing here, and I'll need to keep my expectations realistic for the pace of change and progress.
After getting over the initial shock and excitement, and comparing our sites with everyone else, most of us headed to Antigua for a celebration. I couldn't stay long however, because I had to go home and pack for our trip to Esquipulas with our host families. Every year the family makes a religious pilgrimage to the holy city, in the east of Guatemala near the border with Honduras.
That night we loaded onto the bus at around midnight. At 5 a.m., after a long, awful ride of trying in vain to get comfortable on the school bus seats, endlessly trying different positions to rest my head somewhere, all the while with music blaring through the speakers, we arrived in the bus terminal of Esquipulas. It was still dark, and Glenda and Daly went to find us a hotel (they explained that if us Gringos went, they would try to charge us more money, although I'm pretty proud of my bargaining skills and wonder if I could have helped out). After they found a place and we dragged our bags a few blocks to the hotel. The first thing we did after depositing our bags in our rooms was to walk the 2 blocks to the main cathedral—an enormous white building with 4 enormous symmetrical bell towers at each corner. A large park surrounds the cathedral, and it was filled with trees with pink blossoms which reminded me of Washington D.C.'s cherry blossoms around this same time of year. A large market selling a mixture of souvenirs and religious trinkets was adjacent to the park. Mass was just starting, but we got in a line at the side of the building. After waiting several minutes, we came to the statue of the “Cristo Negro”--the “Black Christ”. I didn't quite understand the significance, but apparently it's a very important statue and is known and visited by religious pilgrims throughout all of Central America. After having a few seconds to pray in front of the statue, the person would back away slowly, never turning their back to Christ until they reached the exit at the side of the building.
Back at the hotel, we had breakfast right as light was finally filling the sky. They had cooked food the night before in Xenacoj, and in order to save money continued to cook pretty much ever meal the entire weekend on little camping-style barbeque stoves with open fires heated by fire wood. It was a lot of fun to all eat together out in the parking lot, a combination of camping and tailgating! We had to sigh, however, that even on vacation it seemed at times that all the women did was cook.
After breakfast we left the hotel walking towards the giant hill/small mountain a few kilometers away. “Abuelita” (literally “little Grandmother”, the 85 year old great grandmother of the family who speaks Kakqchiquel and only a bit of Spanish) came with us, and I was quite impressed by her drive and stamina, even though she eventually did get in a tuk-tuk to bring her up the final stretch. When we arrived at the mountain, the procession stopped at each of the 20+ stations to do a prayer and penitance. Each station represented different parts of the crucifixion of Christ, and the idea was to experience the pain and suffering he endured on the cross.
I had such mixed feelings about the whole thing, as I did at many times throughout the weekend. For one side I see Christianity as a religion brought and imposed upon the indigenous population by the invading Spanish conquistadores. Ironically, Guatemala's indigenous population are usually the most devoutly faithful. The only explanation for this that I can see is that it is a way for these people who have suffered and continue suffering through so much injustice in this life to make sense of this unfairness, and to have hope for a more just future in the afterlife. Unfortunately most people are ignorant of the country's history, the rich culture that existed before the arrival of the Spanish, and the brutal history that came with Christianity's arrival to Guatemala. Nonetheless, on the other hand, Christianity has now become the established religion, a religion that is probably more dominant in this country than in any other that I have seen. Despite my reservations and problems, it is undeniably arrogant and patronizing to criticize the culture and its beliefs, whatever their origin. Moreover, only an arrogant or deeply cynical person would fail to be touched by the sincerity, the humbleness, the unity and genuine hope represented by people expressing their faith as they do in Esquipulas. Women and men, children and old people alike, all united in a common faith. I must admit I was a bit envious of the simplicity and purpose these strong religious beliefs seemed to bring to the people.
The following day we slept in and spent the morning and early afternoon at a local park and river which people swam in. We cooked carne asada (“grilled meat”), joked around, and relaxed in the shade . Guatemalan music blared in the background, and I realized how much a part of this country I've become when I realized that I could sing along to almost all of the songs.
The highlight of the entire trip for me came that afternoon. I was hanging out in the parking lot of the hotel when Chica motioned for me to come over. She brought me into her room and handed me a black plastic bag. I opened it to find a beautiful white T-shirt with a woven design of a Quetzal and other patterns, and the word “GUATEMALA” written in big letters. “We wanted to give you a present, said Chica. “I hope you like it.” My eyes became moist as I realized how much I had connected with my new family, and how much I'm going to miss them.
After another long long bus ride yesterday, we arrived back in Xenacoj around dusk, pleasantly surprised that Egma, the family's sister in law, had made Chuchitos (“little pigs”--corn dough filled with little pieces of pork, wrapped in corn husks and boiled—kind of like tamales) for everyone, and we had a wonderful final dinner before heading off to shower and go to bed.
This morning we headed back to the Peace Corps center to meet our counterparts—representatives from our projects from the communities we'll be working with who came to meet us, do some activities, and escort us to our new communities tomorrow. I greeted Julio, the director of schools in my community, and Lucia, a teacher at one of the schools I'll be working in. They seemed like very nice people, genuinely interested both in getting to know me and working with me. I'm excited and nervous to head to my site tomorrow. They told me a bit about the community, but it is all still a mystery to me. What will it be like? Will there be enough to do, or I be bored? Will it be too hot, or too cold? Too dry? Will it be pretty? Most importantly, will I be able to find local friends to share my time and experiences with, or will I be lonely? Only time will tell. It's getting late, so I suppose I should stop writing and get some rest.
I'm probably more nervous right now than I've ever been since arriving in Guatemala.
posted by Travis Snow @ 6:44 AM
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