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.
Las desgracias nunca vienen solas
Today I interviewed a kind hearted mother of four. She had lost her leg to diabetes, her husband was blind and her son was deaf. Her son in law abandoned her daughter and their newborn baby. Her other daughter works in a factory to support all eight members of the household.
I chose to ignore the cockroach on the wall and focus on her responses. I had to focus, because all of her top front teeth were missing and she was hard to understand. Her husband was missing all of his bottom front teeth, and spent much of the interview swatting at flies in the kitchen with a dirty rag. Her grandson was asleep on the kitchn floor.
Is the United States like this? She asked me.
I told her many things were different.
A little more cofortable? She offered.
She knows. They have cable TV.
I chose to ignore the cockroach on the wall and focus on her responses. I had to focus, because all of her top front teeth were missing and she was hard to understand. Her husband was missing all of his bottom front teeth, and spent much of the interview swatting at flies in the kitchen with a dirty rag. Her grandson was asleep on the kitchn floor.
Is the United States like this? She asked me.
I told her many things were different.
A little more cofortable? She offered.
She knows. They have cable TV.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
No recibí el memo
Yesterday, mid-morning, Pro Ciegos decided to have an inservice today beginning at 845am for all of the staff of the Deaf schools in Guatemala City. They told the staff to show up to Santa Lucia, the school for the blind, with sneakers, and sent the students home with notes for their parents saying ¨no school tomorrow¨. And so it was set.
This morning, I set out early for Santa Lucia, as it is located in Zone 10. The people on my second bus suddenly developed a mob mentality (I still do not know why) and I was pushed out of the back door of the bus with dozens of other people. I was able to get on a third bus, but found that I was running late. In order to arrive on time, I decided to run from the Avenida de la Reforma to Santa Lucia.
When I arrived, panting, I greeted the janitor, Don A., who was standing outside the door of the school. In his precious, monotonous low-talking voice he said, ¨the location was changed, the program is at Fray Pedro¨. Fray Pedro is the other school for the deaf in zone 11 (NOT next to zone 10 as a logical person might assume, but rather on the other side of the city. ironically, where I live.)
¨The...what? When did they change the location? They notified everyone else?¨ Apparently, they had. The only other person who didn´t get the memo was Don E, the other janitor, and he hadnt arrived yet because he has low vision and it takes him a long time to commute with his cane. The Director of CECSA had called and left word with the guard of Santa Lucia to instruct us to take a cab for which she would reiburse us.
I decided to call FR to inform her of the situation. ¨Oh hi,¨ she said when she answered the phone, ¨the location was changed, I was going to call you but I ran out of minutes on my cell phone¨ (bear in mind she was standing in a SEA of Pro Ciegos staffers with active cell phones.) ¨When did they inform everyone of the change of location?¨ I asked. ¨around 8, 8:15 this morning¨ she replied.
Am I the only one who finds it absolutely astonishing that over 100 Pro Ciegos staff members on a phone chain can instantaneously re-route without any confusion? And who changes a location 45 minutes before it starts? Don E. finally arrived and the janitors and I set out in search of a taxi. Every time a white vehicle passed, Don E. yelled ¨That white one! Is it a taxi???¨ The first six times, it was not, in fact, a taxi, but the seventh time was the charm.
We arrived at Fray Pedro to see that the activities had not even started. Just our luck? Perhaps. The opening ice breaker was human bingo, in which each person must obtain the signature of a person with a characteristic on the bingo card (i.e. tallest member of the group). People immediately rushed over to me and thrust their cards in my face,requesting my john hancock next to ¨Whitest Skin¨. Awk.ward.
After a relay race and a rousing variation on the Human Knot, we engaged in 2 hours--2 HOURS--of latin dancing. After 120 minutes of non-stop hip girating, fist pumping and salsa steps, we were all ready to drop (not just me! I was pleased to learn that not all Latina women are skilled in the art of reggeton arobics).
The afternoon session involved disscussion and creative activities involving the mission statement and vision statement of the Comite Pro Ciegos. I have to say, I had a blast. A sweaty blast. And it was a great opportunity to bond with the rest of the CECSA staff, as I only have 2 weeks left (dont get me started [sob] that´s another post altogether).
The kicker was when I was waiting at the bus stop and noticed a boy in a Fray Pedro uniform with hearing aids. I started to sign to him, but got no response other than a sheepish grin. ¨Man he´s shy¨ I thought. But cute. Fifteen minutes later I realized that Fray Pedro is an Oral Deaf school and the boy doesnt know sign language. Good one, Hayley.
This morning, I set out early for Santa Lucia, as it is located in Zone 10. The people on my second bus suddenly developed a mob mentality (I still do not know why) and I was pushed out of the back door of the bus with dozens of other people. I was able to get on a third bus, but found that I was running late. In order to arrive on time, I decided to run from the Avenida de la Reforma to Santa Lucia.
When I arrived, panting, I greeted the janitor, Don A., who was standing outside the door of the school. In his precious, monotonous low-talking voice he said, ¨the location was changed, the program is at Fray Pedro¨. Fray Pedro is the other school for the deaf in zone 11 (NOT next to zone 10 as a logical person might assume, but rather on the other side of the city. ironically, where I live.)
¨The...what? When did they change the location? They notified everyone else?¨ Apparently, they had. The only other person who didn´t get the memo was Don E, the other janitor, and he hadnt arrived yet because he has low vision and it takes him a long time to commute with his cane. The Director of CECSA had called and left word with the guard of Santa Lucia to instruct us to take a cab for which she would reiburse us.
I decided to call FR to inform her of the situation. ¨Oh hi,¨ she said when she answered the phone, ¨the location was changed, I was going to call you but I ran out of minutes on my cell phone¨ (bear in mind she was standing in a SEA of Pro Ciegos staffers with active cell phones.) ¨When did they inform everyone of the change of location?¨ I asked. ¨around 8, 8:15 this morning¨ she replied.
Am I the only one who finds it absolutely astonishing that over 100 Pro Ciegos staff members on a phone chain can instantaneously re-route without any confusion? And who changes a location 45 minutes before it starts? Don E. finally arrived and the janitors and I set out in search of a taxi. Every time a white vehicle passed, Don E. yelled ¨That white one! Is it a taxi???¨ The first six times, it was not, in fact, a taxi, but the seventh time was the charm.
We arrived at Fray Pedro to see that the activities had not even started. Just our luck? Perhaps. The opening ice breaker was human bingo, in which each person must obtain the signature of a person with a characteristic on the bingo card (i.e. tallest member of the group). People immediately rushed over to me and thrust their cards in my face,requesting my john hancock next to ¨Whitest Skin¨. Awk.ward.
After a relay race and a rousing variation on the Human Knot, we engaged in 2 hours--2 HOURS--of latin dancing. After 120 minutes of non-stop hip girating, fist pumping and salsa steps, we were all ready to drop (not just me! I was pleased to learn that not all Latina women are skilled in the art of reggeton arobics).
The afternoon session involved disscussion and creative activities involving the mission statement and vision statement of the Comite Pro Ciegos. I have to say, I had a blast. A sweaty blast. And it was a great opportunity to bond with the rest of the CECSA staff, as I only have 2 weeks left (dont get me started [sob] that´s another post altogether).
The kicker was when I was waiting at the bus stop and noticed a boy in a Fray Pedro uniform with hearing aids. I started to sign to him, but got no response other than a sheepish grin. ¨Man he´s shy¨ I thought. But cute. Fifteen minutes later I realized that Fray Pedro is an Oral Deaf school and the boy doesnt know sign language. Good one, Hayley.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
El Infierno
Monday night there was another mini earthquake, though I feel that ´tremor´is a more appropriate term. A grade 1 seizmic rumble, lasting 40 seconds. I was reading in bed, and actually, I didn´t even get up or even feel alarmed. Something is definitely wrong with me, because the rest of the house was pretty freaked out. Nothing even fell over, but I imagine that living in a country where earthquakes have a reputation of death and destruction will instill fear in people.
This morning we visited a mother of a student for a socioeconomic interview, and the tremor was the first thing that came up. The mother made a casual remark about the possibilty of divine intervetion in the quake. FR jumped at the opportunity to second that motion, then lauched into a 20 minute prosthelitizing session using the soon-approaching apocalypse as a spring-board. This was the longest evangelical session she has ever indulged with a client, and although I was worried both about ethics and time constraints, the client seemed receptive.
Here are some of the things I learned:
1. The quake was a sign that Jesus is returning soon, so people need to accept him as the one an only son of god.
2. There is most certainly a hell (and when the client suggested that we cant really know what lies beyond, FR corrected her in saying that) the New Testament speaks of hell and damnation, and the bible is the DIRECT word of God. Since man can neither add nor remove a single word from this immaculate work, we know for a fact that there is a hell.
3. The ´nucleus´ of hell is reserved for the worst sinners, and is divided into sections, varying by sin.
3a. ´Fornicators´in which giant snake-like creatures crawl into sinners´sexual orifices, engulf and destroy their internal organs, then emerge from their mouths.
3b. There is also a section for insolent people who deny God and listen to rock music. They are forced to stand or move about forever and nails come up through the ground and stab their feet.
4. The people in hell are forced to wear labels seared into their chests, similar to the concept of a scarlet letter. The labels indicate which sin has brought damnation upon them, and are made of an ´aluminum-like material that doesnt melt or burn´
5. Here on earth, there is really no such thing as a Friend, just companions, and co-workers. People who say they are you friends but offer you temptations like beer are not your friends. People who do not always follow through on their word are not your friends. The important thing to know, however, is that Jesus Christ is a true friend, the one true friend of all people.
Needless to say the session ran very over time, and the Pro Ciegos driver returned to the projects to retrieve us. A loyal but ornery man, he was not pleased when we finally got back in the vehicle. The overtime was worth it to FR and me, but for very different reasons.
This morning we visited a mother of a student for a socioeconomic interview, and the tremor was the first thing that came up. The mother made a casual remark about the possibilty of divine intervetion in the quake. FR jumped at the opportunity to second that motion, then lauched into a 20 minute prosthelitizing session using the soon-approaching apocalypse as a spring-board. This was the longest evangelical session she has ever indulged with a client, and although I was worried both about ethics and time constraints, the client seemed receptive.
Here are some of the things I learned:
1. The quake was a sign that Jesus is returning soon, so people need to accept him as the one an only son of god.
2. There is most certainly a hell (and when the client suggested that we cant really know what lies beyond, FR corrected her in saying that) the New Testament speaks of hell and damnation, and the bible is the DIRECT word of God. Since man can neither add nor remove a single word from this immaculate work, we know for a fact that there is a hell.
3. The ´nucleus´ of hell is reserved for the worst sinners, and is divided into sections, varying by sin.
3a. ´Fornicators´in which giant snake-like creatures crawl into sinners´sexual orifices, engulf and destroy their internal organs, then emerge from their mouths.
3b. There is also a section for insolent people who deny God and listen to rock music. They are forced to stand or move about forever and nails come up through the ground and stab their feet.
4. The people in hell are forced to wear labels seared into their chests, similar to the concept of a scarlet letter. The labels indicate which sin has brought damnation upon them, and are made of an ´aluminum-like material that doesnt melt or burn´
5. Here on earth, there is really no such thing as a Friend, just companions, and co-workers. People who say they are you friends but offer you temptations like beer are not your friends. People who do not always follow through on their word are not your friends. The important thing to know, however, is that Jesus Christ is a true friend, the one true friend of all people.
Needless to say the session ran very over time, and the Pro Ciegos driver returned to the projects to retrieve us. A loyal but ornery man, he was not pleased when we finally got back in the vehicle. The overtime was worth it to FR and me, but for very different reasons.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
una mas
Another banner day in the slums of Guatemala City. Today we visited a mother who frequently visits us on account of an ongoing issue with her daughter. We had to meet her at the bakery where she works because the barranco (canyon) community where she lives is so steep and labrynth like that we would have never found it on our own. After talking to us for over an house in the bakery (there really is no way to get a word in edgewise without interrupting her, really), we descended into the barranco. At least this one had stairs. On our way we passed a dog and a boy. FR asked the boy if the dog bites, and he replied ¨Sí¨. Stupendous. But no one was bitten. The one-room house was made entirely of lamina (tin sheets) and produced a very unpleasant odor. The surrounding area was littered with very unique trash and other scraps. A cat ate a dead moth out of a bicycle rim, and the señora mentioned (laughing)that she sometimes killed cats for the crime of being black or black-spotted. The interview took over an hour and a half because of the tangential nature of the Señora´s responses. She then left us to climb out of the barranco and find the bus station on our own. All in a day´s work.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Los Olores
Today, admittedly, stunk. I had to drop off some papers for the Eye and Ear Hospital social worker before work. Upon arrival I was assaulted by the smell of mopped-up vomit and found myself in the company of over 100 people of all ages (it was 6am) who had seemingly been waiting since before dawn. Publis health services here are a nightmare, and everyone was upset or impatient. The one staff member working was being bombarded with grievances and pleas from impoverished parents. Even in my Pro Ciegos uniform, I was the last person he was interested in pleasing. I finally caught sight of a co-worker I knew and begged him to let me by so I could give her the papers. Running back to the chicken bus, I boarded and got off the bus on time and hurried past the dog poo in Zone 1 to the doors of CECSA.
There were 4 visits planned for today, mostly in zone 18 (a ¨red zone¨in terms of safety) so we got to go in a Pro Ciegos vehicle with a driver instead of on the chicken buses. I sat in the back of a Pro Ciegos Jeep from the Vietnam area and breathed in gas fumes all the way to Zone 18. The first visit was without incident, I conducted the interview and we left shortly.
The second, however, was no party. The house was in a dangerous barrio, and the mother we came to see was not there. We started the interview in the dark of the one room house with the student´s sister, between an unmade bed (shared by all 5 family members) and a pile of fly-infested dirty dishes. Everyone´s clothing was in a large crumpled pile on the floor. There was no running water in the house. The stench was all but unbearable.
We got lost on the way to the third house, but were lucky enough to be stuck behind a bus which emitted a simply unreasonable amount of fumes. It was way too hot to close the windows. Walking up the barranco to the house, we witnessed the mother hitting one child while holding a baby. Inside the house, 5 children under the age of 10 swarmed around us, and the mother did the interview while breastfeeding and yelling at her ¨shiftless¨adolescent son. The young boys jumped on the family bed and whipped each other with a belt (wonder where they learned that).
By the time we got to the fourth home visit we were stranded in the campo with no cellphone signal. The Pro Ciegos driver was ready to kill us, and FR and I both had to pee like race horses. We finally found the fourth house and used their outhouse, which teeters over a 15 foot drop lower into the barranco (and yes, that is where the children play). FR sped through the questions and we got out of there, stat.
We arrived back at CECSA with just enough time to eat lunch and punch out.
There were 4 visits planned for today, mostly in zone 18 (a ¨red zone¨in terms of safety) so we got to go in a Pro Ciegos vehicle with a driver instead of on the chicken buses. I sat in the back of a Pro Ciegos Jeep from the Vietnam area and breathed in gas fumes all the way to Zone 18. The first visit was without incident, I conducted the interview and we left shortly.
The second, however, was no party. The house was in a dangerous barrio, and the mother we came to see was not there. We started the interview in the dark of the one room house with the student´s sister, between an unmade bed (shared by all 5 family members) and a pile of fly-infested dirty dishes. Everyone´s clothing was in a large crumpled pile on the floor. There was no running water in the house. The stench was all but unbearable.
We got lost on the way to the third house, but were lucky enough to be stuck behind a bus which emitted a simply unreasonable amount of fumes. It was way too hot to close the windows. Walking up the barranco to the house, we witnessed the mother hitting one child while holding a baby. Inside the house, 5 children under the age of 10 swarmed around us, and the mother did the interview while breastfeeding and yelling at her ¨shiftless¨adolescent son. The young boys jumped on the family bed and whipped each other with a belt (wonder where they learned that).
By the time we got to the fourth home visit we were stranded in the campo with no cellphone signal. The Pro Ciegos driver was ready to kill us, and FR and I both had to pee like race horses. We finally found the fourth house and used their outhouse, which teeters over a 15 foot drop lower into the barranco (and yes, that is where the children play). FR sped through the questions and we got out of there, stat.
We arrived back at CECSA with just enough time to eat lunch and punch out.
Friday, March 28, 2008
trabajo, trabajo, presentaciones
This last week at work was particularly challenging but I survived. People seemed to be in a pervasive bad mood, and work was dryer than usual. Nonetheless, I finished off the week with a fabulous friday at the Colegio Americano de Guatemala. MWs friend EZ is the director here at the American school and invited me to give presentations about sign language and deaf culture. Its a bit wierd because I am a hearing woman, but I figure that some exposure is better than none. I presented to an auditorium full of kindergarteners, then a large group of third graders, then 3 high school classes in an individual classroom setting. In between sessions I had the opportunity to chat with the school staff, and enjoyed it very much. Each presentation was different on account of the ages of the students, but each one brought the reinvention and modification of curiosity. I was very impressed! Part of me just wants to join the faculty here, but dont worry, Ill come home first. :)
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
La cabaña a lado del lago
The end of Semana Santa meant a change of scenery and, impossibly enough, an increase in happiness. MW, her brother, her son, B and I went to a cabin on Lake Atitlan to visit friends of MWs. There were 2 families with 3 young children between them. Now I have met a lot of kids in my life, but these little critters were top knotch. We all became children ourselves, racing, coloring, dancing, making faces, and relishing in the delightful antics of a precocious lad named Pepino (Cucumber) and his baby sister and cousin. After a wonderful meal, the adults played this addictive, rambunctious card game called ¨Pit¨ which destroyed our voices from all of the shouting. The view from the cabin was magestic, especially in the early morning. After a traditional Guatemalan breakfast, we went into Panahachel to people watch (and there were tons of people to watch). My heart nearly broke when I departed in a shuttle for the City. Holy cow, what a Holy Week.
Gallaudet en Guate II
This world is pequeñito! Walking back from Frida´s I caught a glimpse of a Gallaudet sweatshirt, inhabited by a Japanese undergrad and accompanied by 2 other internationalundergraduates. The mysterious Gally travelers that I missed the weekend before! I flagged them down and introduced myself, and before I knew it we were signing away. It was so wierd, we may as well have been sitting in the MarketPlace on campus, but instead we were chatting in the central park of Antigua, Guatemala, with Semana Santa festivities all around us. They shared with me their disconcerting brush with danger in Guatemala City and their exciting stories from Tikal and Flores. I told them about my internship and the Deaf community here in Guate. It was late, so we took a group picture and went our separate ways, only to meet up again at graduation in May.
Semana Santa II
And what an all-nighter it was. After a rousing game of cards, MW, her son, his friend B and I went down town to watch people making alfombras. Some of the designs were pretty spectacular. Most of the tourists had retired for the evening, and the streets were filled with locals, huddled with coffee, selling pupusas and other fried delights. B and I went to take photos of the alfombras while MW and her son went to sit and talk, but all 4 of us ended up at the same restaurant by accident!
At 3am, we stood in front of La Merced, a prominent church, and watched dozens of Roman soldiers on horses read the proclamation condemning Jesus and ride off into the night. It was like the Renaissance fair, but more Guatemalan and MUCH more serious (these guys mean business with the reenactment). We headed back to the house for 2.5 hours of sleep before rising again to start on our alfombra.
The alfombra team was a motley gang of gringoes from all over the States, all with some connection to MW or her housemate. With stencils and planks, dyed sawdust and water, the group constructed an impressive alfombra. Which was promptly run over by pious marchers bearing the weight of a float. bearing the weight of Jesus. bearing the weight of all of our mortal sins. Needless to say it was thoroughly destroyed, but well worth it anyway.
We napped through the afternoon then returned to town to have dinner at Cafe Frida, a hip mexican restaurant/bar honoring Frida Kahlo. Taquila ran like water and a good time was had by all.
At 3am, we stood in front of La Merced, a prominent church, and watched dozens of Roman soldiers on horses read the proclamation condemning Jesus and ride off into the night. It was like the Renaissance fair, but more Guatemalan and MUCH more serious (these guys mean business with the reenactment). We headed back to the house for 2.5 hours of sleep before rising again to start on our alfombra.
The alfombra team was a motley gang of gringoes from all over the States, all with some connection to MW or her housemate. With stencils and planks, dyed sawdust and water, the group constructed an impressive alfombra. Which was promptly run over by pious marchers bearing the weight of a float. bearing the weight of Jesus. bearing the weight of all of our mortal sins. Needless to say it was thoroughly destroyed, but well worth it anyway.
We napped through the afternoon then returned to town to have dinner at Cafe Frida, a hip mexican restaurant/bar honoring Frida Kahlo. Taquila ran like water and a good time was had by all.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Semana Santa 1
Let me just start by saying that I have been having the time of my life for nearly 3 solid days. I am in Antigua, or rather, just outside of Antigua with MW, her housemates, and a fluctuating 7/9 other house guests. We have been strolling through Antigua (which is PACKED with tourists from all over the world) viewing processions and alfombras for Semana Santa. An "alfombra" or carpet is an elaborate, mandala-like creation on the streets made of flowers plants and or sawdust. I helped dye the sawdust for the alfombra that we will be helping SH, MWs housemate, create early tomorrow morning.
The processions involve hundreds of men and boys wielding floats bearing gruesome and ornate depictions of the stations of the cross. Each float is enormous, illustrating the steps leading up to the crucifiction. They are preceded by incense and followed by small marching bands. Thousands line the streets to watch them pass by, their paths carpeted by so many ornate alfombras. The streets are a perpetual circus of people and a delight for the senses.
In addition to the processions over the alfombras, each church has an impressive display of the floats before they are cycled though the city. We visited La Iglesia de San Francisco and La Escuela de Cristo. The latter had a light show, a man narrating with a kereoke machine, and a massive display with Jesus and Angels suspended from the church ceiling and Adam and Eve on the pulpit, dressed in leopard skin caveman garments. Awesome doesn't even begin to describe the novelty of this scene.
As if this weren't enough, I could not be in better company. Our band of gringoes spans 23-66 in age and hails from all over the US. The merriment virtually never ceases. Tonight is supposed to be an all-nighter in the streets of Antigua before we start the alfombra at 6am, so I'm off to take a nap!
The processions involve hundreds of men and boys wielding floats bearing gruesome and ornate depictions of the stations of the cross. Each float is enormous, illustrating the steps leading up to the crucifiction. They are preceded by incense and followed by small marching bands. Thousands line the streets to watch them pass by, their paths carpeted by so many ornate alfombras. The streets are a perpetual circus of people and a delight for the senses.
In addition to the processions over the alfombras, each church has an impressive display of the floats before they are cycled though the city. We visited La Iglesia de San Francisco and La Escuela de Cristo. The latter had a light show, a man narrating with a kereoke machine, and a massive display with Jesus and Angels suspended from the church ceiling and Adam and Eve on the pulpit, dressed in leopard skin caveman garments. Awesome doesn't even begin to describe the novelty of this scene.
As if this weren't enough, I could not be in better company. Our band of gringoes spans 23-66 in age and hails from all over the US. The merriment virtually never ceases. Tonight is supposed to be an all-nighter in the streets of Antigua before we start the alfombra at 6am, so I'm off to take a nap!
San Andres Itzapa
Tuesday brought the privilege of seeing another shrine of Maximon. I went with MW and her brother to San Andres Itzapa to see a particularly well known shrine. When we got to the gate of the temple, there were 3 small bonfires on altars. Several Mayans and one kooky British lady were praying in front of them. Several other Mayans were seated on nearby benches smoking 2 to 3 cigars simultaneously. A guatemalan with perfect English kept offering to tell us about Mashimon (and he and his friend ended up extorting a rather large tip out of easygoing MW).
Inside the temple, there were 6 ling tables where people were lighting birthday sized candles and sicking them to the table top with melted wax. One by one, people ascended the platform where the Maximon was held, and a shaman blessed them by tapping their head and arms with what looked like palm fronds. Closer inspection revealed that this Maximon was covered in plastic wrap, and further observation revealed the reason for this precaution. A woman ascended and, after praying, started dousing the Maximon alternately with perfume and liquor. More liquor than perfume. Maximon in all of his manifestations in known to drink and smoke heavily.
The inside of the temple was adorned with bricks engraved with messages of gratitude to Maximon from all of the people he has helped. It was very neat to read them all. On the way back to the car, we passed through the local market which was impressive but smelly, and just before reaching the car, a sex worker flashed MW's brother, although MW and I didn't see anything. San Andres is certainly an interesting and unusual place.
Inside the temple, there were 6 ling tables where people were lighting birthday sized candles and sicking them to the table top with melted wax. One by one, people ascended the platform where the Maximon was held, and a shaman blessed them by tapping their head and arms with what looked like palm fronds. Closer inspection revealed that this Maximon was covered in plastic wrap, and further observation revealed the reason for this precaution. A woman ascended and, after praying, started dousing the Maximon alternately with perfume and liquor. More liquor than perfume. Maximon in all of his manifestations in known to drink and smoke heavily.
The inside of the temple was adorned with bricks engraved with messages of gratitude to Maximon from all of the people he has helped. It was very neat to read them all. On the way back to the car, we passed through the local market which was impressive but smelly, and just before reaching the car, a sex worker flashed MW's brother, although MW and I didn't see anything. San Andres is certainly an interesting and unusual place.
Gallaudet en Guate
Last week the Gallaudet population in Guatemala quintupled its size. N and J, a couple from Colorado Springs, came to Guatemala City to complete the adoption of their new son. Additionally, there were rumors of 3 Gallaudet undergrads roaming the city, but we were ultimately unable to get in touch with them. I got to spend a fair amount of time with N and J and their adorable hard of hearing son who is 13 months old. We used the Mariott Hotel as our base, since we could exactly play phone tag. The Mariott is like the adoption capital of the city, there are 2 floors designated for adopting families and even a "baby lounge", a communal area for parents to chat. Every other person is toting a newly adopted baby or toddler.
On Saturday, N and I went to the ASORGUA building to chat with some of the members. I was positively amazed by how seamlessly and fluently N communicated with the Deaf Guatemalans. They knew a bit of ASL and she learned GSL vocabulary like she was being paid $50 a sign. Everyone seemed to enjoy themsleves. On Monday, C, JB, and V from the ASORGUA board met up with us for dinner at Guatemala's most famous fried chicken franchise, Pollo Campero. Campero puts KFC to shame and is more of a sitdown restaurant. I'm not big on fast food but I will say that Campero is delicious. Full and happy, we snapped a few photos to docuement the international Deaf connection.
On Saturday, N and I went to the ASORGUA building to chat with some of the members. I was positively amazed by how seamlessly and fluently N communicated with the Deaf Guatemalans. They knew a bit of ASL and she learned GSL vocabulary like she was being paid $50 a sign. Everyone seemed to enjoy themsleves. On Monday, C, JB, and V from the ASORGUA board met up with us for dinner at Guatemala's most famous fried chicken franchise, Pollo Campero. Campero puts KFC to shame and is more of a sitdown restaurant. I'm not big on fast food but I will say that Campero is delicious. Full and happy, we snapped a few photos to docuement the international Deaf connection.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
3 Dog Día
The first home visit I did today was in Zone 7, and the path from the bus to the housing project was lined with stray dogs, fighting each other ferociously. FR actually picked up a concrete rock to throw in case they bothered us. They didn´t.
The second home visit was in a zona roja of zone 18, known for drugs and crime. The path from the bus to the house was marked with a dead dog (or a nearly dead dog, I wasn´t getting close enough to check, particularly because it was covered with lesions from an unidentifiable disease)
The situations of the families we met were very sad and difficult to process. On the bus ride back to my home, I got off in front of the high end shopping mall in zone 11, and walked around for a while to people watch. I´m not sure if seeing other unimpoverished people eased or compounded my guilt and frustration. On a lamp post there was a flyer for a lost dog, a well-groomed maltese that had gone missing from a nearby home. The award for finding the pet was Q2000, more than either of the families I interviewed earned in a month.
The second home visit was in a zona roja of zone 18, known for drugs and crime. The path from the bus to the house was marked with a dead dog (or a nearly dead dog, I wasn´t getting close enough to check, particularly because it was covered with lesions from an unidentifiable disease)
The situations of the families we met were very sad and difficult to process. On the bus ride back to my home, I got off in front of the high end shopping mall in zone 11, and walked around for a while to people watch. I´m not sure if seeing other unimpoverished people eased or compounded my guilt and frustration. On a lamp post there was a flyer for a lost dog, a well-groomed maltese that had gone missing from a nearby home. The award for finding the pet was Q2000, more than either of the families I interviewed earned in a month.
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