Dennis Rodman comes to Tejutla

Each year in the six-weeks leading up to Christmas the community holds a basketball tournament. The timing is such because it’s the dry (albeit cold) season and the students are out of school. As luck would have it, the father of my host family was able to find me a team. Those of you who know me in person (versus just knowing me through the internet) know that I’m 5´11 ¾” tall. I’m not sure exactly the average height of the Guatemalan male, but I’m guessing it’s about 5’5” if not a little under. I have a theory that it has to do with drinking coffee with dinner everynight starting at the age of 2. I also get the sense that they play a lot more soccer than basketball in this country. I base that on the lack of some fundamental skills in basketball. Don’t get me wrong, they can dribble and shoot, but it’s a bit rough. With the exception of one freakishly tall Guatemalan, I’m the tallest guy in the tournament. I’m also the only one who seems to get the fundamental concept of blocking out and rebounding. The first game the team wasn’t really flowing. It could have been that fact that they don’t ever practice and I hadn’t picked up a basketball in three years. The second game things were going a bit better. I was a rebounding machine until I got two technicals and kicked out of the game. Yes, I know…poor form. Here’s what happen. The other team found their best defensive technique to be to hold onto my shirt when I was under the basket. I got a bit worked up when this 5´2” Guatemalan muscled the ball from me since his buddy had my shirt wrapped up in his arms. Once I got free I elbowed my way in to get the ball back, perhaps with a bit more force than is acceptable in a church league. Just like back home, the choose referees here with less than perfect vision. So I got the first technical for the incidental blow to the chest of the other player with my elbow. After that I decided it was important that I explain some of the rules of the game to the ref. Of course I turned to my native tongue to do so. It turns out that he actually did speak a little English after all, at least he understood the F-Bomb when I dropped that a couple of times trying to add emphasis to some of the finer points. Last two games have gone better—Double-Doubles with a good amount of points and boards. We actually won the last one. It’s like what Coach Lindeman used to tell us on the Track Team…we’re just out there to have fun, and winning is fun! We´ll see how the rest of the tournament goes, hopefully I won’t pass up the opportunity to keep my mouth shut this time.

It’s better to be a coward…

The public transportation system in Guatemala isn’t the safest. In fact, as Peace Corps Volunteers we are prohibited from taking public transportation inside Guatemala City. Last Wednesday I headed down to Antigua to spend the night there before heading into the city to have Thanksgiving dinner with a family from the US Embassy. I ended up going with two other volunteers. We got a late start since the axle broke on the bus one volunteer was riding down from her town. The delay meant we missed the last Pullman (think Greyhound) and had to take a Camioneta (think crowded school bus) for the 7-hour journey. Aside from a sore arse and a bit of boredom, things were going just fine until we got outside of Tecpan and three men stood up, pulled out pistols, and demanded all of our money and valuables. Not just the gringos, but also everyone’s. They were equal opportunity robbers. Unfortunately, I had made the tactical error of brining my laptop (free Wireless in Antigua) and my digital camera (to take pictures of turkey?). They had a keen interested in the three gringos on the bus and rightfully so since all told they made off with a couple of laptops, a digital camera, two I-Pods, about $200, my watch, and a bit of my pride. They had the due diligence to feel around my crotch and find my money/passport carrier. Fortunately, they only wanted the cash. For no good reason, I also had my class ring with me, but one of my colleagues was nice enough to hide it after she was frisked. I never did actually find out where she put it, but I suspect it was somewhere that doesn’t get much sunshine if you know what I mean. The ladrones (robbers) had control of the bus for about 45-minutes in total and got off in the middle of nowhere, probably to a getaway car. I have to say, they were quite good at what they did, but I see bad Karma heading their way. This is fairly uncommon and I chock it up to bad luck, and yet common enough that the Guatemalans saw no point in notifying the police. We of course made the necessary phone calls to the Peace Corps and they reacted appropriately. Not cool, but probably not the most danger I’ve ever been in. That night my fellow volunteers bought me the commiserate amount of drinks for an armed robbery at a bar in Antigua. Of course there was an Irishman/Philosopher at the bar who was able to pass on to me some words of wisdom (an ol’ saying in his country said with a thick Irish accent) “It’s better to be a coward for 5-minutes than to live the rest of your life dead”. Wise indeed.

Swearing-In

It is hard to believe I’m actually a Peace Corps Volunteer now. If you weren’t keeping score, we had three months of training before we were sworn in as Volunteers and now the 24-months of service clock starts. If you would have told me 18-months ago that I would be a Peace Corps volunteer I would have told you that you were crazy. The 16th of November we swore it at the Ambassador’s residence. It was a nice ceremony and two members from each host family were invited. I am sure for many of the Guatemalans this was on of the nicest houses they have ever seen, actually now that I think of it, it was one of the nicer houses I had seen too. We were then able to spend the weekend in Antigua-Guatemala, which was a nice change and a good chance to get together with friends before we went off to the four winds. Now it's time to get to work.

Veteran’s Day

I wrote the following e-mail to my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers on Veteran’s Day. I figured some of my blog readers might enjoy it also.

It seems like a lifetime ago and a world away that I was wearing the uniform of our armed forces and yet on this day last year I was deployed to Afghanistan in support of Operation Enduring Freedom. What a difference a year makes. When I think of Veteran’s I tend to think of my father and my uncles who served in Vietnam and my grandfathers who fought in World War II, but after wearing the uniform for more than ten-years and serving in Iraq and Afghanistan I suppose Veteran’s Day is for me as well. Today I can’t help but think of and pray for the soldiers in the mountains of Afghanistan, the sailors afloat in the Mediterranean, the marines on the ground in Iraq, and the airmen putting jets in the air around the world. I can’t help but remember the many men and women who have given their lives in defense of our nation.

And still I find myself today in Guatemala serving in the Peace Corps. Most people who find out for the first time I traded in my Air Force combat boots for Peace Corps Birkenstocks have some degree of astonishment. It was a very personal decision involving a sincere desire to work at the grassroots level in development and have a rich and deep cross-cultural experience. In the end I consider it a continuation of the same strain of service to our nation that I started when I was sworn into the Air Force.

Although I deployed to some austere locations, I consider myself fortunate to not have seen the face of war in the way that many members of our military do. I refer to them simply as heroes. Over the years I did have the opportunity to drink coffee with a Serbian man who was only a child when the war in Bosnia ended who nonetheless continued to have a deep rooted hatred for Muslims. I met Afghan Air Corps leaders who were working hard for a better and more secure country even though they had known nothing but brutal occupation in their lifetime. I found myself living on a base in Iraq receiving almost daily mortar and rocket attacks from local farmers who in desperation received a small sum of money from insurgents to light the fuse (and run). I heard stories from Koreans who have been separated from their families for more than two generations because of a tyrannical dictator. I have to question where these seeds of hatred come from and what can be done about it. I truly believe that improving the lives of people on an individual level, exposing others to American freedoms, and gaining a better understanding of how others live can have nothing but a positive affect on the world we live in today. That is exactly what we’re doing in Guatemala.

I find far more similarities than differences between the service I am doing now and the service I did in uniform. I found myself then and find myself now surrounded by motivated people who at their core want to make the world a better and safer place. People willing to make significant personal sacrifices. People who want to decrease human suffering and improve the lives of the less fortunate. We hear of decision makers who are hawks and of decision makers who are doves, but I believe war and peace are on more of a spectrum with a lot of ground in the middle. President Kennedy, the visionary of the Peace Corps, served with distinction as a Naval Officer in World War II and I think he understood this too.

Today is not about just or unjust wars, quagmires or long-term strategy, troop surges or withdrawals. Today we don’t talk about a Global War of Terrorism, low-intensity conflict, or nuclear proliferation in an unstable world. Today is purely about remembering the men and women who have served and are serving as soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines in our armed forces. I know of no collective body that wants to avoid conflict more than our men and women in uniform. And yet, when they are called to serve, when they are called to put their life on the line, they step forward and do so without hesitation.

I recognize that I’m not the first veteran to serve in the Peace Corps and I’m certain I won’t be the last. Over the years I encountered a number of returned Peace Corps Volunteers who were proudly serving in the Armed Forces. In my mind, they are now making peace in a different way. In my mind I’m still fighting for the same things I fought for when I wore the uniform in a different way.

I have seen war and I have seen peace and I can attest to the fact that peace is better. And while I’m thinking of my brothers and sisters in arms in faraway lands this Veteran’s Day I am proud to be here serving with my brothers and sister in peace. I hope all of you take a moment today to think of and honor the men and women who are serving and have served in our armed forces. If you have a friend in the military drop them an e-mail. If your mom, dad, uncle, or aunt served, give them a call and say thanks. That’s what today’s about.

Sincerely

Paul

Where’s Pauldo?

We got our sites this week. It was fun to find out where we’re each going to spend the next two years. We actually got a map and put it up at a bar in Antigua with pictures of each of the trainess taped to their site. There are three programs in my training class—municipal development, agriculture security (growing stuff) and agriculture marketing (selling stuff). Each program director had the opportunity to get to know us over the course of the last two months and also had visibility on the available sites. We got a chance to give him our druthers, but at the end of the day he tried to match our skills and desires with the needs of the available sites. It would have been fun to be a fly on the wall. I told our program director that I was willing to go anywhere and I wouldn’t mind going “somewhere shitty”. I also menioned that I thought the place I visited where all the men wear red pants would be a good fit. He had other thoughts. We acutally talked the day he finalized the list and he asked if I would be okay with going somewhere else (where they don’t wear red pants). I had to put my trust in him. I’m actually heading up to Tejutla, San Marcos near the border with Mexico. It’s about 1-hour from the main town of San Marcos, not that remote, and not that “shity”. I think the overwhelming reason I’m going there is because the guy who has been there the past two years has been extremely involved in the office and the town’s business and our director wanted to send someone who might be able to continue his level of work. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. I know from experience that it’s much easier to follow a screw-ball or chuckle-head so we’ll see how this goes. The other thing which is slightly unerving is that he was a native Spanish speaker (I you’re reading this you’re a good dude and you did a great job). I’m sure it will all work out just fine. I guess we’ll find out when I head up there in a couple of weeks!

Dia del Muertos – Go Fly a Kite

The first of November was the Dia de Muertos or “Day of the Dead”. It’s also know as All Saints Day. One tradition in Guatemala is to go during the week and paint the graves of your ancestors as well as lay flowers. Many people actually go to the cemetery the night of the 1st for a good part of the night. The other thing that Guatemalans do is fly kites. Not your normal made in china kites that you get a Wal-Mart, but homemade kites of varying sizes. I went over to Santiago to see these kites. There were teams of men flying these kites right from the cemetary which ranged in size from 10 feet to over 100 feet tall. There were made with differing sizes of bamboo and something aproximating tissue paper (I believe it was a higher grade than what we use in gift bags). In a mixture of Mayan and Catholic tradition the thought is that the kites can help you get closer to your ancestors (who are in heaven which is of course on top of the sky). I’m happy to report that the kites over about 30 feet tall weren’t actually flown. I’m assuming is was because of some sort of catostophic disaster that occurred in years past. They certainly looked airworthy and were cool to check out nonetheless.

Spanish

Learning a new language is never an easy thing. I have my good days and I have my bad days. Overall I feel like I’m improving, but I can’t wait for the morning where I wake up and I’m fluent. Apparently it doesn’t happen that way. My level coming in was “Intermediate-Low”. Basically that meant I can ask and answer simple questions. After 5-weeks we had another evaluation. I’m improved to “Intermediate-Intermediate” which means I can ask and answer slightly more advanced yet still simple questions. It’s good to know I’m getting better, although I was hoping to move up one more level. A saying we hear a lot is “Poco a Poco” which roughly translates to “Little by Little”. It’s a little intimidating to think that in less than four weeks I will not have any more Spanish classes and my lessons will consist of living by myself in a Guatemalan community and trying tto function with government offices, communtiy groups, and NGOs. O’well “el es que el es” (“it is what it is”, at least I think that’s what I said!)

Noise

Our Volunteer handbook mentioned that one thing that causes most volunteers some irritation is noise. I didn’t believe it when I read it, but now after living in Guatemala for about 6-weeks I know what they were talking about. It’s always noisy. I mean always. Right now in the background there rain on a metal roof and an electric guitar and drums coming form the Evangelical Church next door. By next door I mean I can step out of my room (from the door that leads to nowhere) and onto the roof of the church. In the morning there will be Roosters doing their thing. There is a random loudspeaker about 15ft from my room that makes occasional announcements about whatever needs to be announced. Saturday night there was a rather loud prayer and worship service occurring no more than 20ft from where I was trying to sleep that went until 5am. Like many places in the world, Guatemalans tend to celebrate by blowing things up. In their case they do it the civilized manner of lighting a string or six of firecrackers. At least they aren’t shooting guns in the air like some other countries I’ve been in. I can guarantee you when I get to my permanent site I’ll be paying particular attention the proximity of my house to any Evangelical Church and/or farm animals.

Name that fruit or vegetable

I suppose it should come to me as no surprise that there are fruits and vegetables down here that I wouldn’t find back home in the States, but it never ceases to amaze me. From time to time my host family will put a bowl full of a vegetable soup in front of me and I start trying to figure out what exactly I’m eating. One popular vegetable is called Guicoy and it’s a cross between a potatoe and a cucumber. There are tiny little apple like fruits called Guayava and there is a little nectarine like fruit with at large seed in the middle. I feel kind of silly having to ask whether you eat the peel (and seeds), but I guess you just grow up learning that with the fruits you encounter in your youth. Any guesses on the fruit in the photo?

It’s harder when it’s not your native language

I really don’t have much of a fear of public speaking. Between different jobs I had in the Air Force I was given ample opportunity to speak in public to varying sizes of groups. This past week we had the opportunity to give our first (of presumably many) talks in Spanish. Although my Spanish is certainly better than it was when I arrived, I’m nowhere near fluent. It makes it a challenge and at the same time fun. The talk covered the organization of a community group so I felt comfortable with the topic and actually we pulled it off very well. An interesting observation which was made to me was that it’s possible that we may know Spanish than our audience if they come from an indigenous village. Not sure I’m ready to pick up a Mayan language…vamos a ver.

Yes, that nice old lady just pulled the head off a Chicken

Today we had a bit of a cutural experience. My Spanish class went to a village called San Andres Iztapa. The village is fairly typical except that they have a special chapel there to worship the wicked Saint Simon. To call it a church is a bit of an stretch, although it’s in the shape of the church. There were a couple of rituals occuring simultaniously. Inside the church, people were lining up to go up to the alter and be hit all over their bodies with herbs and then have aguardiente (alcohol) spit out all over them by a lady in front of the statue of Saint Simon. There were people kneeling and liting cadles as well. Outside people were making small fires of incense, wood, candles, eggs, candies, and a number of other odd and sundry items. There would be some words said and then the fire was lit. Some people knelt really close to it and others jumped over it. We watched this for close to two hours waiting in anticipation to see what would happen with a chicken we saw one group of ladies bring into the courtyard. As the ladies were getting the fire ready, the two young girls were playing with the chicken. The chicken’s minutes were numbers because when the fire got going this nice old lady pulled the head off the Chicken (about 10 feet from where I was sitting). With blood soaked hands, she proceeded to throw the head on the fire and then when the body stopped moving (as in “running around like a chicken with your head cut off”) she threw the torso on the fire. The worshiping of, or perhaps praying to, San Simon is a mixture of some Catholic rituals and some indiginous riturals, although neither would claim it and I’m certainly not ready to sign-up. It wasn’t at all tourisy, but we didn’t feel out of place or unwelcome either. I’ve seen a lot of things in my time, but the sacrificing of a Chicken now ranks up there. After our few ours in Iztapa we returned to the town of Chimalentango for lunch…I had beef.

Camioneta Etiquette

My primary mode of transportation besides my own two feet is Camionetas. These are old U.S. School Buses which have made the journey down here to transport the majority of Guatemalans from one place to another. They are also affectionately known as “Chicken Buses”, although I have yet to see a chicken on one. The buses are painted in bright colors. The drivers are usually competent, if not a bit aggressive. Every once in a while you get a Mario Andretti want-to-be. As a guy who is 5’11 ¾” it’s sometimes hard to fit in the seats, especially if you find yourself sitting over one of the wheels. When it’s full they put 3 to a seat and then they fill up the middle as well. There is a guy who they call the “ayudante” (Spanish for Helper) who makes his way thought the bus with some frequency and collects the fare form the new faces. This guy is amazing. He can remember who is new on a bus packed with 70 people. I suppose recognizing me isn’t that hard. When you have more than just a backpack the ayudante climbs up ladders that have been affixed to the bus and puts your stuff on a luggage rack. I’ve seen lots of baskets on their way to market up there as well as an occasional bicycle. One of the more amazing ayudante tricks I saw was one night a few weeks back when on a crowded bus the guy climbed from the doorway to the top while the bus was going down the road at 35mph to retrieve the goods of someone who was getting off at the next stop. It’s really a great experience, although not always the most comfortable. Perhaps after a few years it might get old.

Bucket Showers

You kind of get used to certain creature comforts that you may have had for more than 30-years. One of the ones which I was used to was a “normal” shower. As I recall, you turn the water on and adjust it so hot and cold meet in the right proportion and you enjoy and adequate amount of water pressure to thoroughly clean your body. No so much here. At least not at the house where I’m staying. Every morning I boil a decent size pot of water and bring it into the “shower” with me. In the shower there are two or three 5-gallon buckets of cold water. I then proceed to fill a bowl which is about the size of a dog-food bowl with a bit of the hot water and a decent amount of cold water and dump it over my head. Repeat about 25-times with different amounts of lathering and shampoo and I’m pretty clean. This morning I accidentally dropped my soap in the hot water. Not thinking, I reached in there to grab it. Not a good idea. I think the technical term is “scald”, but whatever it was it wasn’t pleasant, but I know it could have been worse.

Far Far Way

I spent three days this past week in a place called “Todos Santos” or All Saints. It’s in a departmento called Huehuetanango which is up near the border with Mexico in the Northwest of the country. I was visiting a volunteer who has been doing the Municipal Development program for the past two years. He’s had a very successful run and will be leaving soon. The town is famous because the men wear a traditional clothing which consists of red bellbottoms with white strips and a white jean jacket with blue and yellow strips and an embroidered collar (I´m not making this up). It wasn’t just a few of the older men wearing this, it was almost all of the men over the age of 6. It didn’t matter if it was the mayor or guys working on the “road construction” project. To get up there I took something approximating a Greyhound for almost 6 hours and then another camioneta (think school bus) for another 2 ½ hours, the last hour of which was on a dirt road. Funny enough, I think I could be very happy in a place like this.

Trip into the Big City

This past week we made the trip into Guatemala City with my Spanish teacher. The Peace Corps offices are in the city while the training center is located in a nice little town called Santa Lucia Milpas Altas about an hour from the city. Milpas Altas means tall corn stocks, but you probably already knew that. In January the offices will be co-located in Santa Lucia. After that point the only business we would have in the city would be a medical appointment. I'll tell it you you as it is...the city kind of sucks. Lots of traffic and pollution. For our safety we have to get off the bus on the outskirts and take a cab if we need to travel in the city. The good thing, I suppose, is that you can find anything you might ever conceivably need in the city. I even came across a GAP! It's a world away from where I'm living now and I don't imagine I'll make any more trips in there than I have to unless of course I need a new pair of Khakis.

Corn is King

In the two weeks that I’ve been here I can think of less than a handful of meals which didn’t include a healty serving of Corn Tortillas. They are always corn, never flower. There is a lot of history with corn and the land here. According to Mayan legnend man is made of corn and when we consume corn we are in a way consuming the soul of a diety. It strikes me as similar to the Catholic teachings on eurcharist. We get the corn tortiallas from and Aunt of Sister of Jose Lois. Usually one of the kids runs out and grabs them. They are fresh made. You get 4 or 5 for a Quetzal (about 12 cents). I really should keep track of how many I eat over the course of a weeks, but I bet it’s well over 40.

The Elections - How did I end up here and what is going on?

Those are probably my two favorite questions. It means that I somehow ended up in a postion that stretches my comfort level a bit and that I’m going to chalk it up to “an adventure”. Tonight I found myself somehow at a quasi Poltical Ralley. Basically what happen was that my host family asked me if I wanted to go with them to get their voting number for tomorrow. I figured there was a non-partisan governmental office that took care of that. Nope. Best I can tell you go to a Party headquarters and you get your number to vote. We ended up going to a small courtyard for the party which Rigaburta Menchu is representing in the Presdiential race. While Jose Lois and Dina were doing there thing I was sitting uncomfotably watching a guy cut up what looked like some sort of business card for the party which had recently been run on a color printer. I was definitely getting some looks like..mostly what are you doing here? About 10-minutes after we got there a Powerpoint presentation started which covered the details on why Guatemala was poor and other countries were rich. I was trying not to pay attention since we are supposed to stay way far away from anthing approaching partisan politics, but I couldn’t help but listen to how India and Egypt are over 1000 years old and yet they are poor and New Zeland and Austrailia are less than 150 years old and they are rich. There was also some talk on how Switzerland is a very rich country and they make the world’s finest yaughts even though they are land locked. Somewhere along the way the Mayorial candidate offered me a CD-ROM and a color brochure, but I politiely declined it by feinding I didn’t know what he was saying in Spanish. In a strange way it kind of seemed like we were all locked in there, although it also may have been to keep people out. I was a little bit concerned about having my photo taken at the gathering, but I think with the history of this country they are probalby a bit camera shy when it comes to polticial events themselves. Although tempted, I left my camera in my pocket. As a person with a keen interest in poltics, I wish I could have been more of a fly on the wall, but it’s hard not to be noticed when you’re the tallest guy in the room by a good 3-inches and the only guy with blong hair and a bright blue Gor-Tex Rain coat.

The Hurricaine that Wasn’t (at least here)

We we notified last Monday that there was a Hurricane heading our way later in the week and that some of us were going to have to pack up our bags and move to safer ground. My village was on of the four (of 10) which the Peace Corps deemed in danger. I think the decision was based on the fact that it’s perched on a hill and also that the only access (that I know of) is across a bridge. We went back to Santa Lucia Milpas Altas on Tuesday with a bag packed for a few nights. Once again we were with host families. This time it seemed that both the families and the trainees (myself included) knew this was for a short duration so a lot of effort wasn’t put into getting to know eachother. On the other hand, for the dozen or so trainees who found themselves back together again it was a good time to get to know eachother. The two nights we were there we found an out of the way cantina and had a couple of drinks after classes and before heading back to our host families. It was quite enjoyable to speak English and “decompress” with others in the same boat (no pun intended). The Hurricane missed us by a ways so there isn’t a good story to tell about that, but I can understand why the Peace Corps wanted is high and dry and safe.

What day is today?

I’ve been in Guatemala for less than a week and the days are starting to blur together. Hard to believe that I’ve only been with my host family for two nights. This morning wasn’t so obscenely early (although early enough). I had my first bucket bath. Dona Dina was kind enough to put hot water on the stove for me early, although I had enough time to heat the water. It was a good enough size bucket to provide warm water for an entire wash and shave. It’s just odd to stand in what could be considered a shower stall and pour warm water over your head. It works well enough though. That’s what I’m looking at for the next three-months and possibly for the next 2 ½ years. This morning was our first day of Spanish class. It’ll be mostly practical oral. We walked around town and talked about a few different topics. At 10:00 our teacher, Don Philippe and I grabbed a snack. It was Atol which is a warm drink with rice and milk and a Tostada. Muy bien. I’m in the Intermediate-Bajo (Low) group and need to be at Intermediate Media (middle) in order to continue after the three months of training. I’ve defiantly improved in the last couple of days so I’m optimistic. This afternoon my technical group got together in a pueblo called Alotenango. Tenango is a native word for place. It was an hour and ½ ride on three different buses. Wasn’t too bad really. Our Spanish teacher took the three of us from my village to show us the way. He’s going to meet us in the morning to make sure we got it down. My technical group consists to 15-people doing the same job--Municipal Development. We’ll see what the entails, but basically I’ll be in a County Planning office attempting to do a wide number of things from mapping to long-term planning, to facilitating grass roots groups. When I got back from Alotenango I played with the kids for a couple of hours before we had dinner. Dinner was a minced meat and green bean dish and corn tortillas (of course). It’s raining cats and dogs at the moment and it’s pretty cool sounding on the metal roof. Kind of reminds me of camping in the trailer growing up. There is a hurricane heading this way, although it looks like it’ll hit land fall closer to Belize. Of my entering group of 33 about ½ of us have to pack a 3-day bag and stay near the Peace Corps training center. It’s a safety precaution based on the proximity to rivers or dangers of mud slides. The house I’m in seems like it’s been standing for a while and I’m certainly not worried, but I understand and appreciate the Peace Corps precaution.

Official photographer for an Evangelical Baptism

This morning started very early. Don Jose Luis y Dona Dina said they would be up around 4 and we would be taking a bus to a pool at 5. I was a little unclear on what the agenda was for the day, but I figured I would just roll with it and I’m always up for an adventure.. We were up around 4:30. There was never any discussion about breakfast, but that was okay. The Church which they belong to (and happens to be right next door) has a bus. It appeared that about 30-people were signed up for this excursion. The bus is a former school bus, probably from the US. Here they are known as comionetas or affectingly by the Americans as Chicken Buses. The ride took about 2-hours, but I have to admit that I slept most of the way. I didn’t really know what to expect, but when we got there it turned out to be a sports complex with a gym, basketball courts, tennis courts, a track, a soccer field, and a couple of pools. All pretty run down. We were the first to arrive and it appeared that we had to talk the guard into letting us in (before opening time). As soon as the group congregated, we got started with a prayer service. I wasn’t really expecting that, but again I just rolled with it. The Service took perhaps 30-minutes. About 20-minutes into it, Don Jose Luis asked if I had a camera. He then asked me to take some pictures of the service. No biggie, although I wasn’t sure if, when, or how we would get them developed. After snapping a couple of shots I put the camera away. Not long thereafter, the group congregated near the edge of the pool for three baptisms. This came to me as a bit of a shock and is quite a bit different than how we do it in the Catholic faith. As the three folks about to get baptized moved into the (cold) water Don Jose Luis once again turned to me to be the photographer. Once again, I just rolled with it. I was instructed where to stand and how many photos to take. This all took about 30-minutes at which time it was time to swim. I ended up playing a bit of Basketball and then once I was thoroughly warmed up I went for a swim. We were at the center from before 8 until almost 3. Throughout the day I was asked a number of times to take the photograph of different arrangements of family members. I certainly don’t want to get a reputation as the official photographer for this church, but it was a good way to connect with the locals. I’m still wondering what the process will be to develop it and where the money is coming from (not me). On the way back we stopped for some refreshments. Most of the folks on the bus had coconuts mostly skinned with a hole cut out for a straw. It made for a refreshing drink followed by a tasty snack. I stayed awake for most of the drive back. When I got back I went for a walk and stopped in to see my two fellow-volunteers. Neither had left the village today, but they were both doing fine.

Unpacking in a new land

Today I moved in with my host family for the next three months. It was part exhilarating and only slightly nerve racking. I don’t really have a basis for comparison, but I think I’ve lucked out in some ways and not in others. I’m in the town of Santo Domingo de Xenajoc (Shin-A-Coh). It’s a village with a largely Mayan population, although Spanish is spoken throughout. My host family consists of Dona Dina and Don Jose Louis and their three children Dennis, Rici, and Dina (Jr). The parents are about my age, the kids 10, 8, and 4. There are two other Peace Corps Trainees in my town and we will meet up for a Spanish class a few days a week (and a support network as required). My two new best friends are Reina and Kay. Reina has just finished two years with her husband as a Peace Corps volunteer in Jamaica. Sounds like a wonderful experience. They’ll meet up after the three months of training (and see each other with some frequency throughout). Kay has just finished up the course work for a Masters with a program that is in conjunction with the Peace Corps. Now she does her two year assignment as a sort of internship. The house that I’m staying in is of cinder-block construction. There is a small court yard in the middle, a kitchen and bedroom on one side, and a bedroom/living room on the other. The Peace Corps requires that the family give me my own room with a lock. I think I’m lucky because I actually have a room on the 2nd floor. It’s an entrance through the courtyard past some posts with rebar sticking out. Gives me a little more privacy, although sitting in here right now it kind of feels like a prison cell. I was met by Dina and the kids and then Jose Louis came home from work and we had lunch. Lunch was a pork chop in a fairly hot sauce with cucumber salad and (of course) corn tortillas. I’m still trying to figure out what the deal was with dinner, but I ate only with the kids and we had black bean soup and fried chicken. After lunch Jose Louis and I took a walk through town. We made a stop first at the house where his mother lives. There were a number of his siblings there and a handful of nieces and nephews. I’m not sure his family tree, but I do know he has 9 living siblings. We also walked to the houses where the two other volunteers are staying. It was good to see where they were laying their heads. We also stopped at the Catholic Church in the middle of town. The parish has been in existence since the 16th century in some form or another, although I’m not clear on how long the building has been standing. I got the mass schedule. There was one at 7 on Saturday evening, although tonight was a wedding so not really intended for the public. Sunday masses are at 7 and 10 am. I probably won’t be able to make it since the family is going on a 2-hour bust trip to go to a pool. I went to the “Evangelical” service with my family this evening. It was a nice service, although not exactly what I’m used to in a Catholic mass. I’m a bit unclear on my house dad’s role in the church, but he seemed to be a minister of some sort or at the very least a canter. The service was about 2-hours which I understand is pretty short for around here. The lack of hot water will present an uncomfort, but I’ll deal with it. All and all I’m happy to be here and I finally feel like I’m having the Peace Corps experience!

New Lands

New Lands

It’s always strange for me to get to a new place. I suppose it is for everyone. You’re trying to take it all in and at the same time put it in reference to other places you might have been or might know. It’s no different now that I’m in Guatemala. I find myself comparing it to Costa Rica and Mexico and Ghana and Seattle. I suppose in a way I’m not doing a very good job of living in the present. For our first three nights in country we’re at the Peace Corps training center in Santa Maria Altas Milpas. Some folks are staying with a family for a few days and the rest of us are in a “hotel”. It’s pretty rustic, but certainly meets any minimum standard I might (or might not) have. Running water has been hit or miss and hot water takes some technique controlling the water pressure. These three days are an orientation to the country and the Peace Corps and a chance to get to know our group better. We were fortunate to gain a couple who had just finished up a two-year Peace Corps assignment to Jamaica. They are good people (of course) and I think they will add a great deal to our training group. Saturday we will be sent out to live with families. We will be grouped by our language ability and the project we’re working on. Our group of 33 will be broken into 10 sub-groups, although we will be getting together at least once a week for the next 12-weeks. I did have time (and motivation) to get a run in this afternoon. It’s always a good opportunity to think and see new things. It’s a common perspective of new places for me. At the end of the run I couldn’t help but think “I’m glad to be here”.

Lions and Tigers and Bears

…o’my. That was one of the titles of the sessions for “staging” for the Peace Corps. It covered some of the anxieties and aspirations we have for our service. Staging is where all the volunteers going to a country get together for a series of talks and exercises to make sure everything is in order (or tickety-boo as the Brits would say) before they ship is off to a developing world country (in my case Guatemala). There is some irony in the fact that it’s at a really nice hotel, but it definitely lent itself to a professional few days. In our case it was in Washington D.C. (okay actually Crystal City). That worked out well for me for two reasons. First I’ve got a few very good friends who live here so I was able to see them Sunday night one last time. Second, I’ve really gotten to know the D.C. area this year so I knew where to go. In fact, I went out to dinner and drinks only a few blocks from the hotel when I was out to D.C. in July. My first morning here I went for a running tour of DC with my roommate (I was the tour guide). I feel very fortunate, I think I’ll be with a great group of people. We’ll be fairly close for the next 12-weeks during our “Pre-Service Training” and then will be dispersed throughout the country. Undoubtedly many of us will continue to get together throughout our service. What are my thoughts. 1) I can’t believe this is actually happening, basically as I detailed to my friend Jaime the day I came back from Ghana last year 2) I’m not really that nervous. I suppose on 2) I have the advantage of a few life experiences to thank for that! Not sure when my next blog will be. Just depends upon communication and available time.

What to read.

I’m trying to read up on Guatemala as much as I can without “spoiling” the experience with expectations. It probably won’t matter. There is no way to prepare myself for what I’m about to experience (and do I really want to). There are a wealth of good books out there. Heavily skimming the Rough Guide to Guatemala was a good start. I’m a sucker for a good travel guide. Margarita: a Guatemalan Peace Corps Experience did a great job a giving me a holistic view of the experience from a lady who was a volunteer in the late 1980’s. Guatemala: A Cry from the Heart was an intensely personal book by a businessman who has traveled extensively in Guatemala. He covers a wide array of social issues. Although a bit tough to slog through, Voices from Exile: Violence and Survival in Modern Maya History covered the issues of refugees during the civil war, a topic I’m still trying to wrap my brain around. I’m just starting In Focus Guatemala: A Guide to the People, Politics and Culture. You can get a pretty good idea of what it’s about from the title. In Focus is a great series an has titles covering quite a few countries. I’ve got to get all this reading done now since I only plan on bringing a couple of books with me (I should have decent access to English language books while I’m down there). Books are a lot of weight to lug when you’ve only got 80lbs (see last post). I would like to think that when I return I’ll be reading some more books, but in Spanish this time.

What the heck sould I pack?

Seriously. I have a limit of 80lbs and two bags plus a carry-on. It’s not as though I won’t have access to things like shaving cream or clothes, but they may or may not be what I want. I have a fairly good, albeit nebulous, idea of what I’ll be doing and what the appropriate attire is for that, but you never really know do you? So I’m trying to find a good mix of clothes to bring and whatever other sundry items I’ll at least want to get me started. Sensible shoes (whatever that means). The Peace Corps provided me a packing list, but if I packed all of it in my bags I would be well over the 80lbs and it wouldn’t fit in my bags. I know from experience that it will all work out. Of course I can have family or friends send me stuff if I find I really can’t do without something. It just seems to be the question of the day (both asked to me and by me).

Where am I and how did I end up here?

Most of you know that I’m between things. Really I’ve been between things for some time now. In many ways it has been wonderful and in some ways it has been taxing. A lifetime ago, as I sat in an office and worked long hours I dreamed about having and abundance of time off, being able to travel, visit and make friends, and just sort of hang out. The reverse wasn’t true when I had time off, although I did sometimes miss the sense of purpose in my everyday life. My overall assessment is that I wouldn’t have traded my 8-month “sabbatical” for anything.

It’s sometimes hard to figure out where you are in life until after you’ve been there. Right now I have one thought on my mind…I’m leaving for Guatemala with the Peace Corps in 18 days. There are many tributaries to that thought. What to pack. How to maximize my time left (whatever that means). How did I end up here? I’m probably more surprised than some of my close friends that I ended up here.