My journey in Guatemala, like all good things, is coming to an end. Tomorrow at this time I will be flying over the continental United States. Closure has been difficult, goodbyes bittersweet, but all of them ultimately filled with the promise of continued communication.
Saturday I attended my final ASORGUA meeting, taking a brief jaunt over to la Universidad de Galileo to watch JB, a friend and ASORGUA officer, graduate with a masters degree. Back at ASORGUA, I exchanged hugs, best wishes and small gifts with my friends in the Deaf community. I was overwhelmed when they brought out 2 cakes and presented me with a plaque to bring back to the Guatemalan Deaf and Hard of Hearing Empowerment Project, to thank us all for our contributions to ASORGUA. It will be an honor to present it to the others at Graduation.
Sunday I had lunch with my friends from the Jewish Community, which was nice. I then spent the rest of the afternoon at my friend ML´s house, playing board games and watching a movie with his family. I learned they have a US landline number that gets routed to their house, so they now run a high risk of Hayley pestering them with an abundance of chatty domestic calls.
Yesterday was my last day at CECSA, which was actually fairly low-key. I worked in the office and did my best to swap email addresses and take a few photos without disturbing the students´school day. It was certainly very hard to leave.
After work I went to MWs house in Antigua where I stayed until this afternoon. We ate ceviche and guava cake and partook in some of the finest intellectual conversations I can remember having (which is saying a lot because I always find intellectual stimulation is at a peak when I am with MW and her friends).
And now I am back in the city. I am packed. I am sad. I am anxious. I am impatiently waiting to see my friends and family. I am overwhelmed. I am calm. And I am done.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Friday, May 2, 2008
Pacaya
May 1 is Labor Day in Guatemala, and I decided to take advantage of the time off of work to squeeze in some last minute tourism. Lunch in belly and camera in cargo-pocket, I rendezvoused (sp?) with a group of young backpackers from various countries to climb.
We had a guide for safety , but he spoke no English and did not really provide any tourguide information. He was more of a shepherd, mandating us to hurry up. When he did speak, I served as the translator for 2 brits, 2 aussies, 2 americans and an Israeli. At the bottom of the mountain, a plethora of little boys swarmed the tourists selling walking sticks and asking for change, candy and writing utensils. I traded a pen and a half bottle of gatorade in exchange for idle chat and the chance to pet a horse named Canelo.
The hike up was brutal, 3 km straight up. The weather was extremely overcast and it rained for most of the hike, but that actually added to the foreign-planet ambiance. The ends were well worth the means. The rainclouds cleared for 15 minutes which allowed for some photo opportunities, and we spent some time climbing over volcanic rock and hardened ash (and it was hot! there was lava just a few feet below). We were able to come within a few yards of actively flowing lava. Another group of tourists brought hot dogs to roast. Have to admit, it was a great idea.
We descended the mountain in the dark and met our tourism van at the bottom. By the time we got back to Antigua, I had befriended the 2 Americans and the Israeli, and ended up going out for a drink with them and staying in a spare bed at their hostel.
This morning I had breakfast with some other backpackers, from Costa Rica and California respectively, who were great conversationalists. The whole thing makes me want to load up my frame pack and keep romping around the world. But not just yet.
We had a guide for safety , but he spoke no English and did not really provide any tourguide information. He was more of a shepherd, mandating us to hurry up. When he did speak, I served as the translator for 2 brits, 2 aussies, 2 americans and an Israeli. At the bottom of the mountain, a plethora of little boys swarmed the tourists selling walking sticks and asking for change, candy and writing utensils. I traded a pen and a half bottle of gatorade in exchange for idle chat and the chance to pet a horse named Canelo.
The hike up was brutal, 3 km straight up. The weather was extremely overcast and it rained for most of the hike, but that actually added to the foreign-planet ambiance. The ends were well worth the means. The rainclouds cleared for 15 minutes which allowed for some photo opportunities, and we spent some time climbing over volcanic rock and hardened ash (and it was hot! there was lava just a few feet below). We were able to come within a few yards of actively flowing lava. Another group of tourists brought hot dogs to roast. Have to admit, it was a great idea.
We descended the mountain in the dark and met our tourism van at the bottom. By the time we got back to Antigua, I had befriended the 2 Americans and the Israeli, and ended up going out for a drink with them and staying in a spare bed at their hostel.
This morning I had breakfast with some other backpackers, from Costa Rica and California respectively, who were great conversationalists. The whole thing makes me want to load up my frame pack and keep romping around the world. But not just yet.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Pasajeros
My daily ride back to zona 11 after work was a little more interesting than usual. A familiar legless boy on a skateoard came on to sing his Mayan chant and roll down the aisle soliciting change in his baseball cap. I have yet to figure out how he gets on and off the bus. I tried to retrieve some change from my pocket, but an impressively large woman in a floral dress sat down next to me a sandwiched me against the window. A candy vendor and a sticker vendor came on to peddle their goods, and one of them stepped over the legless skateboarder entirely causing no harm or foul. As we passed the Eye and Ear Campus, a woman got on with a seeing eye dog, the first service animal I have seen in this country. The strangest part of the whole ride was that the driver came to a complete stop at every juncture!
Chiquimulas y Esquipulas
ASORGUA excursion weekend! Saturday morning, over 40 Deaf Association members and their families boarded a prociegos painted bus and headed to the arid, eastern part of the country. We arrived mid-day at a public pool and hotel complex in Chiquimulas, and were bombarded by the heat. I stayed with H and M, their kids, and P in a basic bungalo. We went for a quick swim, downed sandwiches and grape soda for lunch, then reboarded the bus for an afternoon trip to Esquipulas.
Esquipulas is famous throughout Central America for its magnificent Basilica containing a black sculpture of Jesus Christ on the cross. We entered the cathedral and were permitted to come very close to the black Christ. The presence of dozens of Central Americans humbled in the presence of the statue in silence was very powerful. Retreating from the cathedral, it is customary to walk backwards as not to turn one´s back to the Christ. In the gardens surrounding the Catherdral, I chatted with ASORGUA members and built up my Guatemalan Sign vocabulary a little more.
As the sun set, we headed back to Chiquimulas, where we went for a night swim, cooked a huge chicken and bean dinner, then fell asleep, full and happy. Sunday, we again went swimming (the heat really did warrant 3 swims), lunched, and boarded the bus back to the city. We stopped along the way for the best coconut ice cream I have ever tasted. I had such a wonderful time with some of the greatest, warmest folks I have had the privilege to meet.
Esquipulas is famous throughout Central America for its magnificent Basilica containing a black sculpture of Jesus Christ on the cross. We entered the cathedral and were permitted to come very close to the black Christ. The presence of dozens of Central Americans humbled in the presence of the statue in silence was very powerful. Retreating from the cathedral, it is customary to walk backwards as not to turn one´s back to the Christ. In the gardens surrounding the Catherdral, I chatted with ASORGUA members and built up my Guatemalan Sign vocabulary a little more.
As the sun set, we headed back to Chiquimulas, where we went for a night swim, cooked a huge chicken and bean dinner, then fell asleep, full and happy. Sunday, we again went swimming (the heat really did warrant 3 swims), lunched, and boarded the bus back to the city. We stopped along the way for the best coconut ice cream I have ever tasted. I had such a wonderful time with some of the greatest, warmest folks I have had the privilege to meet.
Zona 3
OT, a friend of an audiologist I know, invited me to her home in Zone 3, next to the infamous basurero (garbage dump that people scavenge for viable scrap). She wanted to chat and charge me with brining back some cards and parcels for our mutual friend. I was hoping that it wouldnt be as marginal and unsafe as the zone is rumoured to be. Unfortunately for OT and her family, their asentamiento lived up to its reputation.
Although I had been in plenty of neighborhoods like it on home visits with Pro Ciegos, it was the first time I heard residents complain about the crime and trouble. OT is a hardworking masters student at the public university, and her traditional Mayan family makes a living by selling tamales and other goods. They are all very religious, upright citizens. They want desperately to move further away from the dump but cannot yet afford it.
I met the whole family, and they were overwhelmingly warm and generous. Safely inside their house, I took a few family photos, which I will send to our audiologist friend and to OT who uses email on occasion. I decided to head home well before dusk. OT and her cousin loaded me up with green mangoes from their patio and walked me to the municipal bus, which luckily runs right past their neighborhood.
Although I had been in plenty of neighborhoods like it on home visits with Pro Ciegos, it was the first time I heard residents complain about the crime and trouble. OT is a hardworking masters student at the public university, and her traditional Mayan family makes a living by selling tamales and other goods. They are all very religious, upright citizens. They want desperately to move further away from the dump but cannot yet afford it.
I met the whole family, and they were overwhelmingly warm and generous. Safely inside their house, I took a few family photos, which I will send to our audiologist friend and to OT who uses email on occasion. I decided to head home well before dusk. OT and her cousin loaded me up with green mangoes from their patio and walked me to the municipal bus, which luckily runs right past their neighborhood.
bendiciones nunca vienen solas
I was asked to come to CECSA on Friday for a special staff refreshment time, which I assumed was for National Secretary´s Day (we have a fabulous secretary). When I arrived, however, I found FR, the director, the psychologist and the speech pathologist gathered around a desk full of chuchitos and punch, holding a Thank You card with my name on it. I was so overwhelmed at this sweet gesture. As we ate the refreshments, the director thanked me for my hard work these past months, and noted that having international staff is a very positive thing for the students insofar as it broadens their horizons.
The psychologist, whom I have befriended as a fellow curious mind, gifted me a small boat made of seeds and the shell of a melon. My cup was overflowing. As I walked up the street toward my bus afterward, a Mayan woman commented on how lovely my little boat was. Before I knew it she was handling it--and asking if she could keep it. I smiled and said it was a gift from a friend, but she wouldn´t give it back. It got a little awkward, I was being friendly but secretly hoping I wouldnt have to wrestle it from her mango-saturated grip. Eventually I wriggled it loose--que suerte!
I stopped into a great used book nook on 8a Calle, and while browsing, the proprietor asked me if I was Swedish! Luck strikes again! and as if that werent enough, he gave me a discount on my age-worn Latin American classics.
On the bus, I gave my seat to an older woman with a basket, but she insisted that I could perch on the corner of the seat as a welcome third party. ¨I´m not yet so fat that I cant move over a little, eh?¨ she cackled. I wanted to hug her, but I was carrying books and reclaimed melon boat.
The psychologist, whom I have befriended as a fellow curious mind, gifted me a small boat made of seeds and the shell of a melon. My cup was overflowing. As I walked up the street toward my bus afterward, a Mayan woman commented on how lovely my little boat was. Before I knew it she was handling it--and asking if she could keep it. I smiled and said it was a gift from a friend, but she wouldn´t give it back. It got a little awkward, I was being friendly but secretly hoping I wouldnt have to wrestle it from her mango-saturated grip. Eventually I wriggled it loose--que suerte!
I stopped into a great used book nook on 8a Calle, and while browsing, the proprietor asked me if I was Swedish! Luck strikes again! and as if that werent enough, he gave me a discount on my age-worn Latin American classics.
On the bus, I gave my seat to an older woman with a basket, but she insisted that I could perch on the corner of the seat as a welcome third party. ¨I´m not yet so fat that I cant move over a little, eh?¨ she cackled. I wanted to hug her, but I was carrying books and reclaimed melon boat.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Ciudad Quetzal
Today I completed my final home visit for this internship. It was, of course, bittersweet. Agaist the backdrop of a cardboard wall We interviewed a mother who, bless her heart, didn´t know her own age, and made a living from making tortillas with her mother. Her husband is working in the United States as a meat packer for the second time; He was deported last year but has returned.
On the way out of the house, three small girls approached us. They were classic beauties of the campo, shoeless, dirt-smudged, but with all the beauty that any child under 8 possesses, eminating from their sparkling eyes. The tallest one spoke ¨Are you the person that comes to give us shots?¨ No, we came here to help that family, I said. Incredulous, she laughed and asked the Pro Ciegos driver, ¨Are they the ones that come to give shots?¨ There aren´t many visitors in Ciudad Quetzal.
On the way out of the house, three small girls approached us. They were classic beauties of the campo, shoeless, dirt-smudged, but with all the beauty that any child under 8 possesses, eminating from their sparkling eyes. The tallest one spoke ¨Are you the person that comes to give us shots?¨ No, we came here to help that family, I said. Incredulous, she laughed and asked the Pro Ciegos driver, ¨Are they the ones that come to give shots?¨ There aren´t many visitors in Ciudad Quetzal.
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