Sorry I epically failed with keeping up with the blog. I guess at a certain point I was too busy living life to be recording it diligently. The experience was incredible; I even pushed back my flight a week and a half to have time to travel. Ironically, the lessons I learned in Guatemala are best summed up by an anecdote I experienced here in Charleston.
Last night, I was walking on the beach by myself at sunset after an amazing picnic with my friends. I was listening to soul-awakening music, feeling the sand on my toes, and getting surprisingly wet from the unpredictable rush of water that comes from the tides. I saw a man walking with his family with a metal detector in hand, searching ardently for who knows what. Probably gold, or coins, or something. His son kind of smiled at me in acknowledgment or embarrassment; could he see through my eyes how absurd I felt the whole situation to be?
His father has everything he could ever search for within his grasp, yet he is refusing to look for it, to grab for it. He is absurdly distracted. He has everything-- ones to love, the sunset, the natural beach, a spirit the ocean gives you if you only open yourself up to it. That's how happiness works- finding fulfillment in renewable, natural resources. Finding peace in your situation because there is always plenty to find peace in. But he was still looking for metal... for physical, man-made treasure and fulfillment. He's not going to find what he's looking for if he keeps looking in the ground for what can only be found all around him. None of us will.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Teaching
When teaching classes here, you really have to get in a different mindset. The tricks at home don´t work here like they should. You could try to reward the kids for good attendance, but most times it is not at all their fault that they are not attending the program regularly. You have to worry about possible embarrassment with rewards-- if they get frustrated and embarrassed that their schoolmates have more stickers or bracelets than them, they might stop coming all together.
The school provides food. This isn´t just a nicety- a lot of these kids probably are very hungry. When you think about why these kids aren´t prone to learn, you can´t just blame it on behavior. They might be hungry, they might be witnessing something at home we wouldn´t want them to, they might be lacking a good place to sleep at night and are tired.
I was playing with a five-year-old yesterday, and he couldn´t catch a big ball I was tossing to him from 3 feet away. Where would he have gained hand-eye coordination? He looks to have not showered in weeks, much less have a ball to play with at home. This kid in particular is quite bright. He is picking up the alphabet very quickly, but he is so painfully shy and reserved that the only words I´ve gotten out of him are his name and his asking for permission to go to the bathroom.
The saddest thing is that these are the kids whose parents actually care enough to send them to a program. I can´t even imagine life for those whose parents don´t even care, or see the reason for, even that much.
The school provides food. This isn´t just a nicety- a lot of these kids probably are very hungry. When you think about why these kids aren´t prone to learn, you can´t just blame it on behavior. They might be hungry, they might be witnessing something at home we wouldn´t want them to, they might be lacking a good place to sleep at night and are tired.
I was playing with a five-year-old yesterday, and he couldn´t catch a big ball I was tossing to him from 3 feet away. Where would he have gained hand-eye coordination? He looks to have not showered in weeks, much less have a ball to play with at home. This kid in particular is quite bright. He is picking up the alphabet very quickly, but he is so painfully shy and reserved that the only words I´ve gotten out of him are his name and his asking for permission to go to the bathroom.
The saddest thing is that these are the kids whose parents actually care enough to send them to a program. I can´t even imagine life for those whose parents don´t even care, or see the reason for, even that much.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
A much less depressing post...
My pace of life is a lot different here. No things that generally are fillers for life. No work. No internet. Even no snacking. It is refreshing and what I wanted. Most days go like this while I am taking classes...
6:30- wake up. Run or read or take shower.
6:45- make my bed, get dressed, generally contemplate the world, look out the window at the view or the clouds (usually the clouds)
7:00- Sit with the kids on couch before they go to school
7:30 or 7:40- eat breakfast... quickly because they make it pretty late. Usually consisting of eggs or pancakes. And usually with beans. I´m having to learn to like beans.
7:45-walk to El Nahual for classes. About 10 minutes
8- one on one Spanish class until 10, then a little break when I talk with the other English speakers, then class again until 12. It goes by surprisingly quickly!
12- check email, walk home or do activities with the school like salsa or cook for the potluck on fridays
12:15- watch the kids play video games at home. Watching Donkey Kong is becoming my newest most exciting activity of the day
1:00-eat lunch with house mom, 2 kids, grandmother, grandfather, aunt, and 2 ¨cousins¨. It´s a family affair!
1:30-more video games. or read. or nap. or again generally contemplate the world.
2:30-walk back to El Nahual to plan for classes for the kiddos.
3-class with ¨pequeños¨ (the littlest ones.. between the ages 3 and 6). We draw a lot and go over the alphabet. Most of them do not know how to write, but they don´t seem to care that I don´t know much Spanish. They like playing a game with me where I pick them up and count ¨uno... dos... tres!¨ and dip them.
5-walk home or go into town to buy stuff (takes about 30 minutes, and I can´t walk alone when it is dark because it is unsafe and very creepy)
7-Eat dinner with the family then watch TV with the kids and do my homework. The kids like iCarly and other American tv shows. There don´t seem to be many Guatemalan tv shows.
8:30-everyone else goes to bed, so I read and fall asleep soon after.
Yes... lots and lots of sleep and no work except learning a language... which is fun for me anyway. It´s a pretty good life.
6:30- wake up. Run or read or take shower.
6:45- make my bed, get dressed, generally contemplate the world, look out the window at the view or the clouds (usually the clouds)
7:00- Sit with the kids on couch before they go to school
7:30 or 7:40- eat breakfast... quickly because they make it pretty late. Usually consisting of eggs or pancakes. And usually with beans. I´m having to learn to like beans.
7:45-walk to El Nahual for classes. About 10 minutes
8- one on one Spanish class until 10, then a little break when I talk with the other English speakers, then class again until 12. It goes by surprisingly quickly!
12- check email, walk home or do activities with the school like salsa or cook for the potluck on fridays
12:15- watch the kids play video games at home. Watching Donkey Kong is becoming my newest most exciting activity of the day
1:00-eat lunch with house mom, 2 kids, grandmother, grandfather, aunt, and 2 ¨cousins¨. It´s a family affair!
1:30-more video games. or read. or nap. or again generally contemplate the world.
2:30-walk back to El Nahual to plan for classes for the kiddos.
3-class with ¨pequeños¨ (the littlest ones.. between the ages 3 and 6). We draw a lot and go over the alphabet. Most of them do not know how to write, but they don´t seem to care that I don´t know much Spanish. They like playing a game with me where I pick them up and count ¨uno... dos... tres!¨ and dip them.
5-walk home or go into town to buy stuff (takes about 30 minutes, and I can´t walk alone when it is dark because it is unsafe and very creepy)
7-Eat dinner with the family then watch TV with the kids and do my homework. The kids like iCarly and other American tv shows. There don´t seem to be many Guatemalan tv shows.
8:30-everyone else goes to bed, so I read and fall asleep soon after.
Yes... lots and lots of sleep and no work except learning a language... which is fun for me anyway. It´s a pretty good life.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
My lil Chautauqua
It´s good to have this decompression time. It gives you time to categorize and follow your thoughts. I often take this time after ¨almuerzo¨to lay on my bed and be pretty passive.
What I have been thinking about lately is the interplay of sexuality and power here in Xela. Despite its deeply Catholic culture, sexuality seems to be everywhere. I was watching a TV show (basically latino kid American Idol) the other day with my host family. In one segment, the host of the show a very elegant, tall, voluptuous Mexican woman dressed in an evening gown, was talking to one of the girls who was probably about 6 years old. The host asked her what she likes to do. Suddenly, Latino dance music starts playing, and the girl starts dancing in response. It was the kind of dancing that would leave an American audience gagging at the sight of. My host mom, though, was just smiling, even maybe a little impressed. I think I did a good job of trying to be culturally sensitive, but I was still disgusted on the inside. Why, at the age of 6 or so, does she already feel she needs to sexualize herself like this to attract positive attention?
Why am I sexualized everytime I walk down the street? Why do they whistle and say things to me I can´t, and don´t want to, understand? Why is it that my white skin and long hair is inarguable evidence to them that I want to have sex with every Guatemalan male? If I could some how perceive it as flattery, I would, but I can´t. It infuriates me. I see it as a small part to the whole of Guatemalan gender culture. It´s not just that I am viewed as a sexual object.
It´s that no woman here lives away from her father until she is married (and if she never marries? She lives with her dad). It´s that my Spanish teacher who has a three year old son and his father does nothing physically, emotionally, or monetarily to help. It´s that my host grandmother cooks, cleans, and watches the kids while my host grandfather is never to be seen because he is in his room watching TV all day. It´s that my friend had her ass grabbed because she wore yoga pants one day on her way to yoga. It´s that I walked to my house last night at 7:30, terrified, because I know I could be in danger. I tilt the umbrella so it hides my face. I don´t smile at men. I don´t even look at them. I think about my younger host brothers and am confused as to how such sweet boys might become these men I fear.
This abuse of power, this invisible yet pervasive power, is helpful to no one. Not men, not Guatemalans, not whites, certainly not women. If men could be smiled at without the assumption of sex, if my host grandfather could bond with his grandkids, if a little girl could dance however she damn well pleased to feel important, if I could explore Xela without the ubiquitous fear of being robbed, or raped or worse. If all these pieces fit and people were viewed as people able to assert their freedom and wishes... if gender and societal roles didn´t bind us to our fear- my fear for my safety, his fear for his acceptance, my fear for my body, his fear for his machismo image...
How do I cut my ropes when my hands are not free?
What I have been thinking about lately is the interplay of sexuality and power here in Xela. Despite its deeply Catholic culture, sexuality seems to be everywhere. I was watching a TV show (basically latino kid American Idol) the other day with my host family. In one segment, the host of the show a very elegant, tall, voluptuous Mexican woman dressed in an evening gown, was talking to one of the girls who was probably about 6 years old. The host asked her what she likes to do. Suddenly, Latino dance music starts playing, and the girl starts dancing in response. It was the kind of dancing that would leave an American audience gagging at the sight of. My host mom, though, was just smiling, even maybe a little impressed. I think I did a good job of trying to be culturally sensitive, but I was still disgusted on the inside. Why, at the age of 6 or so, does she already feel she needs to sexualize herself like this to attract positive attention?
Why am I sexualized everytime I walk down the street? Why do they whistle and say things to me I can´t, and don´t want to, understand? Why is it that my white skin and long hair is inarguable evidence to them that I want to have sex with every Guatemalan male? If I could some how perceive it as flattery, I would, but I can´t. It infuriates me. I see it as a small part to the whole of Guatemalan gender culture. It´s not just that I am viewed as a sexual object.
It´s that no woman here lives away from her father until she is married (and if she never marries? She lives with her dad). It´s that my Spanish teacher who has a three year old son and his father does nothing physically, emotionally, or monetarily to help. It´s that my host grandmother cooks, cleans, and watches the kids while my host grandfather is never to be seen because he is in his room watching TV all day. It´s that my friend had her ass grabbed because she wore yoga pants one day on her way to yoga. It´s that I walked to my house last night at 7:30, terrified, because I know I could be in danger. I tilt the umbrella so it hides my face. I don´t smile at men. I don´t even look at them. I think about my younger host brothers and am confused as to how such sweet boys might become these men I fear.
This abuse of power, this invisible yet pervasive power, is helpful to no one. Not men, not Guatemalans, not whites, certainly not women. If men could be smiled at without the assumption of sex, if my host grandfather could bond with his grandkids, if a little girl could dance however she damn well pleased to feel important, if I could explore Xela without the ubiquitous fear of being robbed, or raped or worse. If all these pieces fit and people were viewed as people able to assert their freedom and wishes... if gender and societal roles didn´t bind us to our fear- my fear for my safety, his fear for his acceptance, my fear for my body, his fear for his machismo image...
How do I cut my ropes when my hands are not free?
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Hola de El Nahual!
19 hours of travelling, 1 hour of greeting, and 10 hours of sleep later, I am at the school I will be volunteering with! There were a few notable things about the trip that I think will be most effectively summed up by bullet points:
-Upon entering the plane at 4:30am (you know, when everyone wants to kill themselves with exhaustion), TACA airlines is quite loudly playing some latino dance mix song featuring the words ¨this is lady´s night¨. Only on South American airlines would suggest partying on a flight at this hour...
-Officially in Guatemala time. My driver shows up 40 minutes late to take me to the bus station (it turns out the school told him I was arriving an hour later than I did). We then try to find an ATM for 30 minutes, finally the fourth try is the charm. He tells me he needs to pick someone else up at the airport at 11:30. It´s 11:30. So he decides to get his ID recovered with the ¨extra time¨.
-The four hour wait for the bus was fairly uneventful. Oh, except that they were filming a movie or something in the lobby. So that was interesting. They also asked me to sit in front of them as if I were a five year old. That was probably my first ¨am I going to regret doing this?¨moment.
-The bus ride itself was like a roller coaster. We also got in a wreck within the first 20 minutes, but no biggie. We just held up traffic for 20 minutes while talking to the police, then left. Best part of the bus ride? This:
This mom and her son were absolutely adorable. He´d wake up sleepily every once and a while, look at his mom, then clonk back out. They were picked up on the side of the road, which was pretty common. The bus would not even come to a full stop, pick up some locals, and then the driver´s assistant would go ask them for money after they had been sitting for a while. Sometimes he´d give them some money back 20 minutes later. I didn´t really understand the system, but I´m glad they´re making it work somehow.
-Getting off the bus... I go into the station, and no one is there. I figure my family is just a little late picking me up. Then the bus station starts closing. They are locking the door and pulling the metal over the windows. I start panicking. I try to call the volunteer director at El Nahual with their phone, but to no avail. I remember I have the address to the host family on my itouch and go to a taxi. I accidentally delete the email (stupid touch phones), go to the trash, and since it is in the trash it will no longer let me read the e-mail. The taxi guy is trying to understand what I am saying... I am nearly in tears because it is dark, a little sketchy, and I have no idea where I am or where I am supposed to go. Luckily, a car pulls up and the lady in it says ¨Maria?¨ Thank god.
So now I am here, at the school, having been well fed and well... slept? I am excited for the next few weeks to come, and I hope communicating gets a little easier!
-Upon entering the plane at 4:30am (you know, when everyone wants to kill themselves with exhaustion), TACA airlines is quite loudly playing some latino dance mix song featuring the words ¨this is lady´s night¨. Only on South American airlines would suggest partying on a flight at this hour...
-Officially in Guatemala time. My driver shows up 40 minutes late to take me to the bus station (it turns out the school told him I was arriving an hour later than I did). We then try to find an ATM for 30 minutes, finally the fourth try is the charm. He tells me he needs to pick someone else up at the airport at 11:30. It´s 11:30. So he decides to get his ID recovered with the ¨extra time¨.
-The four hour wait for the bus was fairly uneventful. Oh, except that they were filming a movie or something in the lobby. So that was interesting. They also asked me to sit in front of them as if I were a five year old. That was probably my first ¨am I going to regret doing this?¨moment.
-The bus ride itself was like a roller coaster. We also got in a wreck within the first 20 minutes, but no biggie. We just held up traffic for 20 minutes while talking to the police, then left. Best part of the bus ride? This:
This mom and her son were absolutely adorable. He´d wake up sleepily every once and a while, look at his mom, then clonk back out. They were picked up on the side of the road, which was pretty common. The bus would not even come to a full stop, pick up some locals, and then the driver´s assistant would go ask them for money after they had been sitting for a while. Sometimes he´d give them some money back 20 minutes later. I didn´t really understand the system, but I´m glad they´re making it work somehow.
-Getting off the bus... I go into the station, and no one is there. I figure my family is just a little late picking me up. Then the bus station starts closing. They are locking the door and pulling the metal over the windows. I start panicking. I try to call the volunteer director at El Nahual with their phone, but to no avail. I remember I have the address to the host family on my itouch and go to a taxi. I accidentally delete the email (stupid touch phones), go to the trash, and since it is in the trash it will no longer let me read the e-mail. The taxi guy is trying to understand what I am saying... I am nearly in tears because it is dark, a little sketchy, and I have no idea where I am or where I am supposed to go. Luckily, a car pulls up and the lady in it says ¨Maria?¨ Thank god.
So now I am here, at the school, having been well fed and well... slept? I am excited for the next few weeks to come, and I hope communicating gets a little easier!
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
For those of you who don't know, I am going to Xela, Guatemala for a month to volunteer at the El Nahual Language School with the afternoon's children's program called "Manos de Colores". I have very little details about what I will actually be doing, but I am sure I can give much more detail on that within 48 hours. I leave tomorrow at 4:57 am, so my trip begins with a shuttle to the airport at 1:30 am. I will get into Guatemala City at 9:30 am their time and have a four hour bus ride to Xela. For those of you are aware of my sleep compulsiveness, feel free to hold a personal moment of silence for the death of my sanity.
I titled the blog what I did because I figure I will be saying it a lot once I get to Guatemala. I don't really know any Spanish which of course gives me a bit of anxiety. I've travelled by myself quite a bit but never to an area that wasn't proficient in French or English for more than a few days. However, I am excited to learn. I will be living with a host family and eating with them three times a day, so I think there will be plenty of opportunity to practice some Spanish. I also, of course, have a dictionary just in case my pantomimes and Franish both fail me.
I am really excited to go. Since leaving my solo expedition to southern France, Morocco, and Italy almost exactly a year ago, I have been yearning to get abroad again. I also knew I didn't just want to vacation; I want to be able to interact with the people and the culture of a region a lot different from my own. So here I am, happily satiating myself for a little while, even if the road gets to be a little rough.
Talk to you again from Xela!
I titled the blog what I did because I figure I will be saying it a lot once I get to Guatemala. I don't really know any Spanish which of course gives me a bit of anxiety. I've travelled by myself quite a bit but never to an area that wasn't proficient in French or English for more than a few days. However, I am excited to learn. I will be living with a host family and eating with them three times a day, so I think there will be plenty of opportunity to practice some Spanish. I also, of course, have a dictionary just in case my pantomimes and Franish both fail me.
I am really excited to go. Since leaving my solo expedition to southern France, Morocco, and Italy almost exactly a year ago, I have been yearning to get abroad again. I also knew I didn't just want to vacation; I want to be able to interact with the people and the culture of a region a lot different from my own. So here I am, happily satiating myself for a little while, even if the road gets to be a little rough.
Talk to you again from Xela!
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