'tut tut...'

From a very early age, I was socialized (in part by Winnie the Pooh and his 'tut tut...looks like rain') to think that talking about the weather was not only something that we do in the face of strange phenomenon or awe, but something we do even when we don't have anything to state but the obvious.

The obvious here in Guatemala this ‘winter’ (aka: the rainy season, which should be upon us) is that it does not look like rain. And it’s what I end up talking about with people, quite a bit actually. This is partially due to the fact that weather is a safe neutral topic, most people will agree – we either need more rain or we don’t. Which is much easier than coming to a similar agreement in regards to, say, taxes.

But this year, it’s not that all that simple really. The gravity of the situation makes it emotional, makes it political. Droughts at home are terrible I, in no way, mean to minimize the pain they cause. Still, it almost seems there’s no comparison to the way that a few months without rain here can affect people. The majority of rural Guatemalans live on less than $2/day. A season without rain, in a country where so many depend on the corn they grow to feed the mouths at their table, means that thousands are dangerously hungry. In the last four months, the number of Guatemalan families at risk for severe malnutrition has quadrupled.

Interestingly enough, when one looks simply at the GDP or other ‘economic indicators’ of how Guatemala’s doing, it’s not all that bad. Disparities unaccounted for and Guatemala is doing ok; however, Guatemala boasts 'the sixth worst rate of chronic malnutrition in the world' (for more stats/info see: 'Hungry in Guatemala': http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200908u/guatemala-hunger). I read an editorial this morning that argued that poverty is humanity's natural state of being, that richness is really the exception and we shouldn't be so shocked or upset that so many are on the edge. And while I may agree that living simply is closer to our 'natural state', I just can't swallow the idea that some have so much while others have so devastatingly little.

Perhaps what's most sad about the situation is that the future prospect for these families doesn’t look good. Without much in the ways of government aid, many have been desperate enough to eat their seed corn, an understandable act if your children may die before the dry spell is over. But in doing so, have devoured both their ability to plant next year’s crop, as well as the freedom they previously maintained from genetically modified seed.

I wouldn’t say that I’ve been passionate about the weather in the past, and know that I complained about the wet September here last year. But this year, when the dark clouds roll in, I find the phrase ‘tut tut…’ always comes to mind, almost as a petition for those who may be able to salvage part of their harvest, for those who have tired of dry, sunny days.