Well it’s official: it's an excessively wet year. If it's not drought and famine like it was this time last year (the growing i.e. wet season), it's so much rain from so many hurricanes and tropical storms that landslides are everywhere, people lose crops as well as houses (and in some cases their lives) to flooded rivers and sliding mud (and the occasional infernal abyss opening in the middle of the capital city, check the news online someplace for photos!), the Interamerican highway gets completely blocked by landslides or totally washed/caved out at several locations... First it was Agatha, then it was Alex, and then I stopped keeping track of what they’re called. It's ridiculous, and it’s just in time for Totonicapán’s Feria! Haha.
Feria should be good this year, seeing as they finally finished construction “remodeling” the Central Park with a covered stage, etc. etc. for all the bands that are scheduled for, well, every day 2-10 pm since last week till the 30th of September. And now I live in town, so I get to participate in all the fun quite a bit more than I did last year! (I also get the consequences, like constantly hearing said bands from said park till late in the evening, dealing with increased traffic, and increased numbers of drunks walking the streets… but it’s a trade-off that doesn’t bother me much.) So the city center will soon be incapacitated to traffic by hundreds of covered vendors’ shops, half of whom all will be selling roscas (look like circular pretzals but are sweetish and crunchy) and the other half, bricks of coconut candy dyed various colors. I’m not kidding you, this is the kind of marketing genius you find here… if it works for one person, it’s got to work for two hundred more, right?
The new place is good for me. I live with a middle-aged indigenous Señora, and while there are a surprising number of disadvantages I didn't realize I had so good up in the "provincial" village (like hot water, a shower, a sink in the kitchen and in the bathroom, a flushing toilet), frankly I stress out less over most everything else: food, internet, what time I get done with work in town, skyping my folks, etc. Because it matters less now. If I need something now, I just walk 3 blocks to the market and buy it, or if it's nighttime I find a close-by tienda. Same with internet. None of this having to finish everything and be waiting on the right street corner by 6 pm for a pickup driver to pass who happens to be going past the village. What a spoiled Peace Corps Volunteer I’ve turned out to be! This all comes from the reality I faced when I came here, of working in a park way up in a little village, but needing access to the town where the association's office is, where food and internet and all other personal and work-related amenities are... I had to choose to live in one, and commute to and from the other. I tried it Collegeville-style for my first year and a half, living in the boonies and just trying to take advantage of time in town to do everything that needed to be done. But in the end, the complications of that approach got the better of me. So now I do the opposite: I live in town and commute to the park! Six months prior to my Close of Service date, it seems like an odd move and at an odd time.
But I realize I’m much happier now. I suppose one has to realize when a situation has potential to get better, and when it just won’t – which turns out to have been the case living up in the village. And I like this new little old lady (who, confusingly enough is also named Emiliana, but to differentiate I always refer to her as Doña Emiliana). She's all about sharing - time, food, knowledge, family, conversations - but is good about giving and wanting personal time too. She's particular in a good way, in that she pays attention to details in a respectful manner and will never borrow things without being really good about giving it back in good condition. She likes to give high-fives, which I found amusing when I first came. She has a daughter slightly older than me who comes to stay once a week with the new baby grandson, and we all get along swimmingly; this also means she's used to my age group and we can talk, which I haven't often found with older indigenous women here (the cultural divide and age and language barriers seem to get in the way). She likes to travel, and we've already done some of that together, always planning more. The heart of the matter is that I'm learning so much from her, and hope to continue to, and she gets all excited about learning and trying new things from me. This is so great – this is why I did Peace Corps, I guess.
And my relationship with my old host family is wonderful now. Since I'm not living there anymore, all tension and awkwardness is gone. I've visited to stay overnight a couple times and we've had so much fun! I really, really like that family and think moving was a good way to save a strong friendship.
In August I finally went to visit Jennifer my good friend from college in her Peace Corps site in Honduras, quick before her Close of Service this month of September, and together we did a lot of reflecting on time passing and our experiences or chapters of life coming to a close. What will characterize our memories of being a Peace Corps Volunteer? How will our lives have changed course? A window on her life as a PCV, my visit showed just how entirely different her experience has been from mine, and I found myself wondering if that means I’m doing it wrong, or if there is a better or best way of serving as a PCV. I think probably there isn’t, but the point is to keep analyzing that, and to keep implementing the changes that might be needed to make things better. I’m glad I implemented the change of the move, scary and potentially disastrous as it seemed to my work relationships, personal relationships, and credibility in the village. But nobody’s mad at me for leaving the village! I’m still there almost every day, albeit in the park. I was worried about nothing at all, I guess. Jennifer’s good at making me see that.
So looking back at these changes and circumstances, as Feria approaches along with the worst of the rainy season, it’s a mixed bag. There’s lots to be happy about, lots to be worried about, and lots to be excited about. The people pray for blessings this season of celebration and harvest, while in the same breath pray to be kept safe from the damage and danger of the extreme weather. I pray for the same, as well as for inspiration with my work in El Aprisco seeing as I only have 6 months left to get anything done; for the grace to continue strengthening relationships with friends and “loved ones” here; and for guidance in what I will do and where I will be when those 6 months come to a close. (Anyone got any suggestions?? I have an uncle who says Medical school… hm, sounds like a very new direction and a little intimidating… ) Keep well! and hope you’re keeping warmer and dryer than we are here.
21 September, 2010
Get to know your public servants month (Note: this is from April-May 2010)
Once in a while some unlikely situation presents itself, leading to a string of unlikely and heretofore unimagined opportunities. It’s sometimes called serendipity, and this day in late April was not the first day its whimsical influence.
Having traveled to the Guatemala City area for my Peace Corps Mid-Service Conference (another one of those volunteer reunions of my cohort group, particularly significant for its marking of my halfway point), I was suddenly bombarded that fateful Friday by my Peace Corps superiors asking if I planned to be back in Totonicapán the next day, Saturday. I wasn’t; I was staying near the capital for the weekend because I had scheduled a routine but obligatory medical appointment for Monday in the city, there having been no other openings. But I said, “I can be…?” My PC project director and boss Flavio explained that the U.S. Ambassador to Guatemala was traveling to Totonicapán the next day for a big meeting with the Alcaldía Indígena de 48 Cantones, the Indigenous Mayors’ Association with which I sometimes work on forestry, trash management and environmental education projects. I am the only North American who works with them, and if there were anyone who could help orient the Ambassador to the nuanced realities of this powerful form of local grass-roots government it would probably be me… So I jumped at the news! Of course I can be there! Hmm… even if it means forgoing plans to go to the beach with friends on Saturday, haha.
And since it doesn’t hurt to enquire, I asked if the Ambassador was leaving from his home in the capital tomorrow morning, to possibly catch a ride with the convoy/entourage since otherwise I’d just be sharing the highway with them from a chicken bus! Of course, I didn’t know if that sort of thing was allowed, regular folks traveling with the Ambassador… But there I was, responding to my strict orders to arrive at 7:30 am at the “Residence” for a quick breakfast and we were on our way.
A few hours later (and considerably later than the hour at which we were supposed to arrive at the Assembly of the Indigenous Mayors in Toto), the two-SUV convoy stopped in the crowded streets around Toto’s Central Park, it being market day and the place totally crammed with people, and I climbed down from one of those SUVs with the U.S. Ambassador to Guatemala. Fancy that. The big cars and the four or five bodyguards sure attracted attention, and as we walked escorted by the President of 48 Cantones and other board members who had arrived to greet us I was soon hearing “Seño! Seño!” from kids I know who recognized me (that’s a shortened “señorita” and is how all young women and female teachers are referred to in this country). I sure felt important, and like I didn’t really deserve it!
That feeling didn’t change when we climbed the stairs and were ushered into the Assembly. I was whisked to the front with the rest of the Ambassador’s party, and reflected that this wouldn’t have happened had I not by coincidence been in Guatemala City and asked for a ride; I would’ve been just another member of support staff present that afternoon when the embassy entourage showed up. Hence, serendipity.
The Ambassadorial visit was for the dignitary to get to know this organization, and also to sound out whether any potential for Embassy financial support existed. The Board of Directors did much speech-making on the history, structure, and function of 48 Cantones, after which the Ambassador gave his address in k’iche’ (wild enthusiasm from the assembly, of course), after which the President of 48 Cantones presented and briefly detailed his grant proposal. Of course, all this to ask for money!
In the car on the way back to Guatemala City (ah yes, when he found out I had to be back in Guate the Ambassador offered me a ride back too! What a good guy) it was just the Ambassador and I, and he reflected quite a bit on the practicality of the proposal with which he had been presented that day. An exorbitant amount of money to build a building! And for what? “I’d never get this through; I’d be laughed out first!” If only there were a way we could help them out with the tree nursery and reforestation efforts they talked about… If only we could encourage the community environmental education stuff they said they do… And I agreed.
In all, it was a car ride of stimulating conversation and some good ideas and reflections; the Ambassador left me his card with emails and everything, and as the SUV convoy drove me up to the front door of where I was staying and dropped me off I remember thinking… What just happened? Did all that really just happen?
And while that day was soon over the issue of the funding grant was not, and my part to play in this was just beginning really. I soon found out from my friends on the Natural Resources Board of 48 Cantones that another grant proposal did in fact exist, one that included aid on tree nursery upkeep and reforestation, as well as on community education campaigns. Just the thing the Ambassador had expressed wanting to see more of! So I emailed him a copy of the alternate proposal that, because of politics between boards and board members of 48 Cantones, wasn’t presented to him that Saturday but had all the elements he expressed wanting to see. Of course he was interested, and these days we are in negotiations on how to make a grant fit this proposal. I sure hope I see something come of this before I go. If anyone deserves USAID money, it’s the Natural Resource Board of the 48 Cantones whose members dedicate themselves every year to preserving the 21,000-hectare coniferous forest surrounding the pueblo; the natural and cultural legacy that has been “passed down” for generations but which nowadays is being slowly degraded, thinned, and shrunken for lack of environmental ethic and awareness. I sense I am already invested in this potential project because my park, El Aprisco, has played a big part in instilling that lost environmental ethic in the newest generation. But just one effort isn’t enough. We’ll see what USAID says on the matter!
Having traveled to the Guatemala City area for my Peace Corps Mid-Service Conference (another one of those volunteer reunions of my cohort group, particularly significant for its marking of my halfway point), I was suddenly bombarded that fateful Friday by my Peace Corps superiors asking if I planned to be back in Totonicapán the next day, Saturday. I wasn’t; I was staying near the capital for the weekend because I had scheduled a routine but obligatory medical appointment for Monday in the city, there having been no other openings. But I said, “I can be…?” My PC project director and boss Flavio explained that the U.S. Ambassador to Guatemala was traveling to Totonicapán the next day for a big meeting with the Alcaldía Indígena de 48 Cantones, the Indigenous Mayors’ Association with which I sometimes work on forestry, trash management and environmental education projects. I am the only North American who works with them, and if there were anyone who could help orient the Ambassador to the nuanced realities of this powerful form of local grass-roots government it would probably be me… So I jumped at the news! Of course I can be there! Hmm… even if it means forgoing plans to go to the beach with friends on Saturday, haha.
And since it doesn’t hurt to enquire, I asked if the Ambassador was leaving from his home in the capital tomorrow morning, to possibly catch a ride with the convoy/entourage since otherwise I’d just be sharing the highway with them from a chicken bus! Of course, I didn’t know if that sort of thing was allowed, regular folks traveling with the Ambassador… But there I was, responding to my strict orders to arrive at 7:30 am at the “Residence” for a quick breakfast and we were on our way.
A few hours later (and considerably later than the hour at which we were supposed to arrive at the Assembly of the Indigenous Mayors in Toto), the two-SUV convoy stopped in the crowded streets around Toto’s Central Park, it being market day and the place totally crammed with people, and I climbed down from one of those SUVs with the U.S. Ambassador to Guatemala. Fancy that. The big cars and the four or five bodyguards sure attracted attention, and as we walked escorted by the President of 48 Cantones and other board members who had arrived to greet us I was soon hearing “Seño! Seño!” from kids I know who recognized me (that’s a shortened “señorita” and is how all young women and female teachers are referred to in this country). I sure felt important, and like I didn’t really deserve it!
That feeling didn’t change when we climbed the stairs and were ushered into the Assembly. I was whisked to the front with the rest of the Ambassador’s party, and reflected that this wouldn’t have happened had I not by coincidence been in Guatemala City and asked for a ride; I would’ve been just another member of support staff present that afternoon when the embassy entourage showed up. Hence, serendipity.
The Ambassadorial visit was for the dignitary to get to know this organization, and also to sound out whether any potential for Embassy financial support existed. The Board of Directors did much speech-making on the history, structure, and function of 48 Cantones, after which the Ambassador gave his address in k’iche’ (wild enthusiasm from the assembly, of course), after which the President of 48 Cantones presented and briefly detailed his grant proposal. Of course, all this to ask for money!
In the car on the way back to Guatemala City (ah yes, when he found out I had to be back in Guate the Ambassador offered me a ride back too! What a good guy) it was just the Ambassador and I, and he reflected quite a bit on the practicality of the proposal with which he had been presented that day. An exorbitant amount of money to build a building! And for what? “I’d never get this through; I’d be laughed out first!” If only there were a way we could help them out with the tree nursery and reforestation efforts they talked about… If only we could encourage the community environmental education stuff they said they do… And I agreed.
In all, it was a car ride of stimulating conversation and some good ideas and reflections; the Ambassador left me his card with emails and everything, and as the SUV convoy drove me up to the front door of where I was staying and dropped me off I remember thinking… What just happened? Did all that really just happen?
And while that day was soon over the issue of the funding grant was not, and my part to play in this was just beginning really. I soon found out from my friends on the Natural Resources Board of 48 Cantones that another grant proposal did in fact exist, one that included aid on tree nursery upkeep and reforestation, as well as on community education campaigns. Just the thing the Ambassador had expressed wanting to see more of! So I emailed him a copy of the alternate proposal that, because of politics between boards and board members of 48 Cantones, wasn’t presented to him that Saturday but had all the elements he expressed wanting to see. Of course he was interested, and these days we are in negotiations on how to make a grant fit this proposal. I sure hope I see something come of this before I go. If anyone deserves USAID money, it’s the Natural Resource Board of the 48 Cantones whose members dedicate themselves every year to preserving the 21,000-hectare coniferous forest surrounding the pueblo; the natural and cultural legacy that has been “passed down” for generations but which nowadays is being slowly degraded, thinned, and shrunken for lack of environmental ethic and awareness. I sense I am already invested in this potential project because my park, El Aprisco, has played a big part in instilling that lost environmental ethic in the newest generation. But just one effort isn’t enough. We’ll see what USAID says on the matter!
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