human connection...

In previous semesters I have spent my last week in Guatemala at 'the mountain school' - a Spanish school in a rural area of Guatemala near Colomba. This semester (since our group is mini) we all ventured out together to a new rural community about a half an hour from Xela.

Mornings consisted of Spanish class (for me as well! still working on the subjunctive, unfortunately enough) and the afternoons were filled with activities teaching us about issues the community is facing and initiatives the people are taking in response. We dove into topics such as immigration, water, deforestation, education (i.e. lack of funding for education) and cooperatives. I learned an incredible amount, all of this set in a breathtaking corn'field' tucked away in the mountains.

What I will most remember from the week though is, without doubt, our host-family. Grandma, Grandpa, Mom and her four children were, without exception, utterly endearing. Home stays are a part of my job, and while I always appreciate getting to chat with people and hear different perspectives, I don't generally expect to get attached in a week anymore. I think that the 6 year old daughter in this family stole our hearts the first day and throughout the week we (Joe and I) only grew to appreciate them more.

They were just such strong people. People who have worked incredibly hard, have been integral in the creation of their community, have advocated for people's rights, who continue, with what little they have, to provide for both their children but also a widow from the war and neighbors who have even less than they do. It was humbling and heartwarming to see the ways in which they battle for the good of their family, of their community.

And yet, so often it was just heartbreaking to spend time with them. Grandma would walk into the kitchen to see all of her grandchildren eating and smile and say 'mis pollitos' (my little chickens) -- you could tell that she was content, proud even, to see them all eating. And yet, they weren't sure where their next meals would come from.

I could write much more about them, but really, what it boils down to is that they humanized poverty for me. I wish that all of my loved ones could meet this family, could see this community, could laugh with them and be touched by the way in which they continue to fight when the odds are impossible. I wish that all of my loved ones could see this poverty up close, could hear about it's viscious cycle from those most affected, would be filled with the just anger of knowing that, despite their beauty and diligence and love, these kids just don't really have a shot.

Small comfort comes from the fact that it wasn't just me out there last week. I was there with 8 students who were hearing the same stories, seeing the same injustices. I am increasingly convinced that only through human connections will we be truly motivated to change...and I guess that's why I love this work.

escarlatina...

One thing I love about my job is that I am constantly learning new things about history and globalization and Central American politics…and, as it turns out – bizarre medical mishaps. Many of you may remember the post last year about the ‘fire plants’ that gave one of our students second degree burns. This year, we started off right away with an equally strange case. One of the girls let me know that she was getting a rash, but we weren’t all that concerned at first…until it started to spread, *quickly*. Never in my life have I seen a rash so red and so expansive.

Over the course of the following week, this trooper of a student visited three different doctors and received a different diagnosis from each, first it was an allergy/a reaction to her malaria meds, then is was Rubela, then is was an allergic reaction again, and finally, at the last doctor she was treated for Scarlet Fever. Scarlet Fever? I don't think I've heard of anyone getting that since Beth from Little Women got it from the baby next door.

I'm still skeptical about the whole thing; she was treated for so much stuff that who knows what it actually was. But the antibiotics for Scarlet Fever worked. And as she started to heal, the skin started to peel (see pic of arm in process on the left). I repeat, she had a marvelous attitude through the sleepless nights of burning and the shedding and re-shedding of her skin and we're thrilled to report that she's no longer losing skin and the redness has almost entirely disappeared.

quick update...

I've neglected to write this week - and apologize, but wanted to check in quickly...I'm still here and I'll post something of substance soon! Certainly there is lots going on; we went to the market town of Chichicastenango (see pic of me with Eliett and Joe) last weekend and this coming weekend is our free time. I'm headed to the capital for a night and then to Lake Atitlan.

(And it has finally started to rain!)

'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.

beginnings...

After a couple of days with the new crew of students, I'm thrilled to report that although our group this semester is small (just eight as opposed to recent groups of 18) thus far the group has been lovely. Considerate, informed, very interested and grateful - they have been a joy to be with and I'm happy and hopeful for a fabulous experience with them all. I love this job and the ability to hear things more than once with people who are hearing it for the first time - there's a consistency and perseverance to it accompanied by new observations and wide eyes - a combination that feels utterly life giving.

Battling a headache tonight, I'm excited to get to bed, so I'll keep it short. Our time here in the capital is already done. Any thoughts and prayers appreciated tomorrow as we wind through the mountains to Xela: our new home for the next few weeks!

on the road again...

After a gorgeous day Saturday, including brunch with my dear family and then an afternoon celebrating Mandy and Craig's union, I headed out early early Sunday morning to fly back to Nicaragua. I spent almost a week there, some of it reconnecting with coworkers, and re-acclimating to the heat, the culture, and the language of Managua (Nicaraguan Spanish is *so* different than the Mexican Spanish I got used to this summer). I also spent a few nights away in a nearby cloud forest, with a day trip to the ocean; it went by all too quickly, gorgeous surroundings, fabulous conversation, great food, and incredible company. It was a sweet little getaway - time to think of nothing but exactly where I was, to disconnect from the life to which I so recently said goodbye and the life we'll pick up from in the airport on Monday.
And now, I write to you from San Salvador, en route to Guatemala with my ever-entertaining compañero Chepe (it's such fun to be traveling with him again). We got in yesterday afternoon and head out today for Guatemala City. It's been fabulous to see all of my coworkers again and everyone is so genuinely excited for the new semester to begin that preparations have been a joy. We're headed for the bus station again in a few minutes, so I should head out. Best wishes to all! I miss you Minnesotans already!

the summer in review...

It appears as though my summer vacation also turned into a short hiatus from my blog. After a month and a half of not having written, I feel I should have more to report. But the last two months have been nearly entirely about focusing on people and letting myself sink into the relationships here at home that remind me who I am. When I'm out and away it's easy for me to focus mostly on who I could be, what my potential is, what the need is and how I might be able to shape my life accordingly.

Home is about who I am, right now. Home offers roots, friends offer space to be ridiculous and be appreciated for it, family offers endless support and insight that portrays a love I can't fully understand. I think that at times I'm tempted to see one place as more valuable than the other, or as more necessary at specific periods of time. It's an obvious realization, but it's clearer after some slower time here that they're immensely different, but of equal value.

After my last blog post I finished up the book "The Country Under My Skin" by Giaconda Belli (very worth reading) and she writes about moving to the United States with her partner after a life of service and loving dedication to being Nicaraguan. She writes more beautifully than I ever could about some of the same feelings I have attempted to express in recent posts. So, I'll paste a quote below and put up a couple of pictures from the summer. And I'll be writing with much more frequency again, so check back in soon.

"I was often tormented by the fear that I would become soft and compliant, assume the attitude that people term ‘realistic’, hang up my gloves and resign myself to the idea that we lost the battle or, in the best of all worlds, that the fight to achieve new utopias would now fall to other people. But reality taught me otherwise. Life has shown me that not every commitment requires payment in blood, or the heroism of dying in the line of fire. There is a heroism inherent to peace and stability, an accessible, everyday heroism that may not challenge us with the threat of death, but which challenges us to squeeze every last possibility out of life, and to live not one but several lives all at the same time. To accept oneself as a multiple being in time and space is part of modern life..."
- Giaconda Belli