School´s Out for Summer!

Unlike in the U.S. the Guatemalan school year ended last week with the end of October.  This is simultaneously a relief and yet complete panic.  What the hell am I going to do with my time?  Luckily (or sadistically—I’ll get back to you on that) I tend to over plan and I have a ton of activities lined up.  Before I get into that thought, the week before last involved meeting with parents about my all girls sleep away self-esteem camp, playing a ton of games with the kids there, attending several graduations, and oh yea…winning a dance contest in front of 150 teachers.    

HIGHLIGHTS

Monday: The parents meeting went well and 5 out of 7 girls will be attending.  The number is slowly climbing but still quite low.  I still have a lot to plan and I think I might change the time frame.  After the meeting silly old me said, ‘’Yea, I play soccer.’’  Using this term far too loosely the kids told me not to be afraid of the ball as I sweated and ran across the field.  At least it was fun.

Tuesday: Kindergarten graduation (more or less).  I was invited to a pre-kinder/kinder graduation in which the kids put on a play, accepted gifts, and looked unbelievably cute.  After the graduation we stopped for some good old barbecue where the ladies argued over who would receive my meat.  Apparently being a vegetarian is a good move for making friends.  We joked around for a while and I laughed really loudly at an inappropriate joke to the delight/surprise of my fellow teachers.  It was funny!  When I mentioned the possibility of camping out in the local municipal park, they got really excited—something else to look forward to!  Since it was the last week of school, the teachers had to send in their grades and other information via confusing forms on the computer and ridiculous requirements for printing that were in English mind you!  What does that mean?  ‘’Meri, are you really busy this afternoon?’’  I did not leave until 7:30 that night.  We pretty much just hung out trying to figure out these forms to no avail until one of the seños called her husband who is also a teacher.  He fixed it in under 5 min. OMG.

Thursday:  I was invited to another graduation at the same school, but this time for the kids leaving sixth grade.  It began with a mass, followed by a lovely ceremony, pictures on the rooftop of all the teachers, and a really delicious meal provided by the parents.   There might have also been a few toasts in there.  Unfortunately, I had to leave the party early and head to another graduation in the neighboring community.  On the way to the other school I couldn´t stop grinning: life is so funny and so great!  I showed up to the second graduation, poorly presented myself in K'iche (Mayan language), and butchered some poor kids names as I handed out their diplomas--all of this to much laughter.  I have discovered that the key to being a good PCV is being able to repeatedly and willingly make a fool of yourself.  I seem to be pretty good at that.

Monday: Cierre de Labores.  This event is the official close to the school year.  All of the teachers come and socialize and then select a board of representatives that will plan all of the incoming year´s activities.  I enjoyed greeting all of the teachers and chatting in between activities.  All was fine until I was chosen as a participant.  I was purposely avoiding the gaze of the MC until he shouted something along the lines of ´´Hey, you!  Blondie!´´  So I guess he was pointing to me afterall.  I asked the participant what the activity was: a partner dance contest.  WHAT.  My partner was ´´Profe.  Chino,´´ one of the only people around my height so I guess you could call me lucky.  All of the teachers got in two large lines and the 4 pairs of us danced in between the 150 remaining coworkers.  People cheered me on, clapped, and gave helpful hints such as ''move your hips more,'' as I laughed my way through the unfamiliar changing songs.  Needless to say it was a landslide win.  And for my troubles?  I won three ballpoint pens and a notebook that says ''Nature World''--in English of course.  

Forget Halloween! (ok I don´t really mean that but...)

It was ten o’clock on Halloween and the lights were already out.  I would be asleep in mere seconds.  Why?  Well, for several reasons one of which is that they don’t celebrate Halloween here, but rather, All Saints Day.  At 4:45 Nov. 1st, my alarm sounded.  Then it sounded again ten minutes later then again…anyways the point is that I arrived at my friend, Andrea’s house a little after five a.m. where her five-year old son was anxiously awaiting our departure to…the cemetery!  We gathered the flowers, tissue-paper chains we had made a few hours earlier, and some other decorations.  Heading down a rocky path until we met the equally dark street, we were ironically greeted by hanging lights in the walkway to the cemetery.  Vendors had long since been established, preparing food since god knows when.  When they offered us an array of snakes, Andrea replied back, ‘’It’s not time to eat yet!’’ 

In the dark of early morning we meandered to the graves of her family members, and began to make flower arrangements using the empty paint cans that littered the cemetery as vases.    We covered the graves in pine needles, carefully created flower petal crosses, and placed colorful tissue-paper chains and scraps on the graves and plants.

Needless to say, Guatemalan cemeteries are quite different from those in the U.S. as many of the dead are buried above ground in what is more or less brightly painted cement block boxes.  Adding to all the color, on All Saints Day people adorn the graves with flowers, wreaths, decorations, and also often leave offerings in the forms of meals.  When I mentioned how U.S. cemeteries are far more somber than those in Guatemala, Andrea’s mom, Amparo contested, “But you have grass there!  That’s beautiful!”  

As we rested a little bit, a few girls who are my friend Rosa’s nieces came up to greet me.  I had passed by their house the evening before, and they had warmly invited me in.  Their mom and dad motioned for me to join them, ‘’Meri, are you going to help us make ‘’pan de elote’’(cornbread)?’’   I hadn’t been in their house since Semana Santa (Holy Week) when I ‘’helped’’ (I’ll use the term loosely) make the special bread for Semana Santa.  I came in and chatted for a while and Marcelino, Rosa’s brother and the baker, invited me to go into the kitchen to watch his daughters make Fiambre, the typical dish for Día de los Santos.  Fiambre is literally composed of everything in the fridge—beats, carrots, green beans, hot dogs, beef, chicken, peas, sausage, cold cuts, dried cheese, picaya, lettuce, hard boiled eggs, etc.  While I thought I was about to leave, Doña Norberta offered me a seat to chat awhile.  As we discussed cultural differences between Dia de los Santos and Halloween, a bunch of people came into the house to buy bread.  One of their ten daughters (who I always confuse with her sisters—they honestly look soo much alike!) invited me back into the kitchen to help with the fiambre.  As I was about to help her peel and cut the beets, she asked me,  ‘’Are you sure you don’t have something else to do?’’   My internal monologue went something like this, ‘’Yes, very sure.  Dying of boredom in my house since Friday morning actually.  This has by far been the highlight of my day.’’   Then I laughed out loud and explained how living alone can be pretty boring, something that she has never had the misfortune/opportunity to experience due to her brother and 9 other sisters. 

The next day, I returned to that family’s house to buy some more pan de elote.  The daughter who I had spent the evening before with was delighted and brought forth a huge dish of fiambre for me to take home.  ‘’Don’t worry, Meri.  It’s not that much meat—mostly vegetables.  You can just eat what you want.’’ 

I have never seen so much meat in my life.  I ate all the vegetables and tried but failed to eat the meat.  I just couldn’t do it.  I ended up sharing my feast with the dogs, but not before allowing the cold-cut/hotdog odor to invade my house.  Happy holidays.

Yes, I admit it’s getting better, It’s getting better all the time

And so it goes!  I spent the week away from site for Reconnect (two days of meetings after the first three months in site), Kaqchikel (Mayan language) classes, and Brenda’s wedding (my host sister from training).  It was a jammed pack week:  I got a bacterial stomach infection, was able to speak with the U.S. ambassador (Q &A session), had several more trainings, got a nasty cough, relaxed with my friends on a rooftop with an amazing view of the volcano Pacaya, and tore-up the dance floor at Brenda’s boda.  Though I was resistant to leave my site since the school year’s end is quickly upon us and there’s still a lot to do, I really enjoyed sharing my experiences and hearing about other volunteers’ experiences too.

Since I’ve returned to San Andrés, I feel like I’ve hit the ground running.  I’ve spent several weeks agonizing over my first workshop and it will finally be happening this upcoming week.  I wanted the teachers already involved in the program to facilitate it in order to share their experiences and show that even though some of the program requirements may seem difficult to obtain, it’s not impossible.  I made some more progress this week with re-scheduling the workshops, distributing the invitations to the directors, and meeting with the facilitators.  I also gave more of my introductory talks at two of the schools I’m working with.  I was a bit nervous since I felt out-of-practice after a week in Antigua, and one of the schools is has a lot of teachers, which can be intimidating.   Instead, both charlas (talks) went surprisingly well, full of laughter, Kaqchikel, and growing confianza (trust).  On my way between schools, I ended up stopping to visit another one just to say hello.  They greeted me warmly and generously fed me two hard boiled eggs in tomato sauce and atol (hot cereal drink like liquefied oatmeal).  On my way to the other school I asked directions in Kaqchikel,  “Yibe pa’ tijob’äl Chutistancia.  Utz pa’ b’e?”  I ended up getting there alright so I’ll take that as a good sign!

There were two large meetings of all the teachers this week to discuss the possibility of a teachers strike and for a workshop.  This was the first time that at a large gathering, I didn´t feel completely out of place, but was welcomed and greeted by many.  I joked around, impressed people with my error-ridden elementary Kaqchikel, and made some plans for next week.  As I walked around town this week, I was greeted my more warm smiles and a feeling that I am beginning to be accepted.  The fact that I can begin to joke with teachers and be more of myself feels great.  The Kaqchikel is also helping since people expect me to speak Spanish, English, or German.  All in all, things are beginning to really fall into place, and I’m beginning to feel that I serve a purpose here.

Me, delicate?!**

I was chatting with my friend the other day about my experiences in Guatemala so far.  As we continued to talk about difficulties integrating or building relationships, she admitted that a lot of stereotypes about North Americans and Europeans influence people’s perception of me.  One of which is that we’re delicate.  “Delicate?  Like my stomach is sensitive?” I inquired curiously.  “Well, in all ways.  Just more delicate than us,” she vaguely explained, leaving me to ponder her statement. 

To give a bit more context to our conversation, we were talking about adapting to life in Guatemala, about novios, and about men.  I told her how I ignore men when they shout at me here, but in the U.S. I would probably shout back or do something because I simply wouldn’t take such disrespect there.   When I thought about it further, I looked back at the latter statement.  I hate it when men yell at me, try to touch me, or just slow down their car to stare at me in a disgustingly intimate and dehumanizing way, and yet I do nothing about it here.  In a sense, I feel powerless since I am respecting cultural norms by ignoring these actions.  I have never seen a Guatemalan woman react to such things.  I used to wonder to myself, “Why don’t you do anything—say anything?!”  In this sense, my feeling violated and subsequent desire to act out could be seen as delicate—I let it affect me.  To me though, my acting out is my way of showing strength and not allowing someone else to dominate me.   Guatemalan women in my community seem to have a silent, steady, endurance, and strength.  In this sense it is rather a cultural difference between the internal and external.  Both “strengths” and “weaknesses” can be seen as positives or negatives depending on the perspective.  To clarify, Western women may ironically be seen as delicate for externally expressing their internal strength.  Guatemalan women, on the other hand, may be seen as submissive or passive for not visibly expressing the stoic strength that leaves them unaffected.

Perhaps we are more delicate, unaccustomed to the stark gender inequalities, poverty, and difficulties of living in the “developing” world.  Or perhaps we have found our voice and don’t want to be silenced or oppressed again.  Either way, there is value in both reactions—whether it is a stoic strength that must endure in order to survive or a loud voice of resistance to domination. 

**This blog relates specifically to the experiences that I have had and witnessed in my largely Mayan rural community.

Dia del Maestro (Teacher´s Day)

If there's one thing I've learned about Guatemala, it's that Guatemalans love festivals, parties, and any reason to take a day off from work to celebrate--who wouldn't?  It definitely makes the work week go by quicker.  This past Friday was Dia del Maestro(a)--Teacher's Day.  I was thankfully invited to this event, and my Kaqchikel (Mayan language I'm learning) teacher wanted me to perform a song in Kaqchikel for the event.  Never one to back down from an opportunity to embarrass myself, I agreed and started practicing the song.  The event is not just a celebration for teachers, but also a pageant of sorts for the female teachers.  The participating schools each perform a folk dance in the traditional traje (dress), while the candidates for Seno Magisterio are highlighted and give an speech about values and bilingual education.

The day before the event, I arranged to go to the event with Seno Angelica, my lively neighbor and a teacher at Panimatzalam.  We left an hour after it was supposed to start and ended up hanging out in the park until the rest of Panimatzalam's teachers showed up.  The event hadn't yet started so in pure Guatemalteca fashion, no one entered the Salon.  Instead, we went shoeshopping.  We eventually made it back to the event around 10:15--starting only a little over two hours later.  Prof. Geremias, my Kaqchikel teacher, told me that I would be going on fifth so I had a good amount of time.  I sat down with the rest of the teachers from Panimatzalam as the MCs told us the order of events.  I wasn't worried when I hadn't heard my name listed.  There was no time to worry since they called up "La Cuerpa de Paz" (the peace corps volunteer) to start off the event.  I rushed to get my guitar and my teacher to present me, as I fumbled to compose myself.  As uneloquently as possible, I greeted everyone, congratulated them, and said it was a pleasure to share this special day with them.  With nervous laughter, I started singing a song about going to school, "Yoj apon pa tijob'al oj ru yob'en ri tijonel."  I was kindly (perhaps out of pity?) met with loud applause throughout the song and was relieved when I could exit the stage.  Returning to my seat, I relaxed a bit knowing that nothing more was expected of me. 

That relief was momentary.  When the ladies of Panimatzalam got up to go change, Seno Dominga invited me to accompany them.  Sure, why not!  The teachers unlocked a classroom for us and lent us a boombox.  All of a suddent, Seno Dominga is referring to me while speaking Kaqchikel to the other women.  Hm.  All of a sudden she asks, "Meri, do you want to dance with us?"  "Uhh...I don't know the dance at all.  I don't have a traje either." To which everyone objects, "Oh come on!  We only practiced it twice so don't worry!  Seno Susi brought an extra corte (traditional wrap around skirt) and guipil (typical sometimes elaborately embroidered blouse) for you.  We'll help you get dressed!"   So there I was in a classroom learning how to do a baile folklorico (folk dance) from Chichicastenango.  After that, the ladies stuck to their word and helped me get dressed into a beautiful corte and guipil, wrapping the faja (cloth or beaded belt that holds up the corte) unbelievably tightly around me.  After only rehearsing maybe two or three times within 40 minutes before our performance, I was ready.  The dance went surprisingly well, and we all giggled when we surrounded Seno Yoly, our Seno Magisterio candidate, realizing that we didn't know what to do next.  After we finished the dance, we took a ton of photographs of us all dressed up, changed our outfits, and listened to the speeches.  A few of the teachers behind me cheered, "Bravo, Meri!"  When I explained that I had only just learned the dance 30 minutes before performing it.  They were shocked and remarked, "iQué pilas!" A frase that means very motivated and "a go-getter."  It was amusing and encouraging to see all the looks and comments I got from people for wearing the outfit and participating in the dance.  Though I almost always feel like I'm putting forth an effort to integrate, it was a visible reminder for those around me to see that effort.

To our delight, Seno Yoly received second place--that means that our dance had to have been pretty good!  We ate our lunch and laughed as we watched the video of the dance Andrea had taken since she didn't participate (at a very pregnant 8 months, the faja of the traje can be extremely uncomfortable).  While everyone finished up their food at the end of the event, Seno Silvia, the director of Panimatzalam, handed me a candle and said she'd be expecting me tomorrow at the church for her daughter's Quincenera, which would be followed by a party at her house.  Another great suprise after a rewarding day full of them.  I was surrounded by a chaotic whirlwind of goodbyes, congratulations, and "Feliz dia del maestro!"

Antigua Ladies Weekend!

I'm back!  I purchased a computer online, shipped it to my friend's house (she returned to the U.S.) , and just picked it up in Panajachel today.  I must admit though that my necessity for it decreased during my waiting period since I had several project applications due the past few weeks.  These projects were for water infrastructure since several of the schools don't have enough faucets or "chorros" for the students to practice healthy habits (the objective of my program).

In the mean time, I have visited all of the uncertified schools at least two times--the first to introduce myself to the kids and the second to complete a baseline survey, checking how many kids come to school clean (hands, hair, clothes, face, etc.).  Some kids are really funny and cute so the time goes by quickly, even if it can be uncomfortable with the teachers, which it is at times.

Ok now the good stuff.  After I gave my first little talk or "charla" to a group of all female teachers at one of my schools, Panimatzalam, my friend and one of the teachers there, Andrea, asked me what I was doing that weekend.  A lot of people ask me that, and I usually answer that I have nothing planned except for my four hour English class Saturday mornings--hoping that they'll take pity on me and invite me to something.  That afternoon, luck was on my side and Andrea invited me to the ladies weekend in Antigua to celebrate Dia del Maestro (Teacher's Day).  Sweet!  This was  a great opportunity to get to know the teachers, gain confianza (trust), build relationships, and hopefully enjoy myself.  I was definitely nervous though since I really didn't know the teachers at the school, i had no idea what to expect, and I assumed I'd feel like an outsider for some of it.

I wasn't quite sure what we'd be doing or where we'd be going.  I showed up early, nervously awaiting the microbus that Andrea had arranged to pick us up.  Of course, no one was there on time, and I was worried/partly relieved to think that they had left without me.  I end up having the front seat to myself until we stopped to pick up the rest of the teachers, and then I was squished between the driver and Seno Yoly.  We talked most of the three-hour drive to Antigua about music, school, etc.  The hotel was pretty swank and full of Americans.  I wonder what they thought when they say this American girl with a bunch of Guatemalan women, the majority wearing the traditional dress.  Everyone was starving so we went out for dinner.  Where to?  Pollo Campero, Guatemalan's favorite fast-food chain, which specializes in fried chicken.  We went back to the hotel to change and eventually set out for the discotecas. 

Unfortunately, not everyone brought their identification with them so we couldn't get in.  I personally think that they discriminated against us because three of the women were older (40-45) and wearing the traditional dress.  I saw plenty of young Americans enter without a problem, but that's for another blog.  It seemed that everything we tried to do backfired.   The eight of us ladies returned to the hotel (the two male gym teachers ended up going to the discoteca) and ended up talking, laughing, joking, and playing cards late into the night. 

The next day we ran around Antigua's market and ended up going to some pools to swim.  As hard as I've tried to cover my tattoo, I faltered poolside and had to explain my pencil.  The teachers all pressured me to get in and swim since none of them knew how.  I felt silly demonstrating my "skill" since I myself am a terrible swimmer.  I also now know that I need to buy a more modest bathing suit. 

All in all, I had an amazing weekend joking, sharing, and just spending time with the teachers from Panimatzalam.  When the micro dropped us off, one of the teachers and my neighbor, Angelica, and I walked back together.  She told me that she was glad I had come since she thought I was serious before and didn't want to offend me.  "But now we have confianza!" she told me.  It was really comforting to hear my own feelings confirmed by one of the teachers and to realize that this is really only the beginning. 

Friends

A few of the bullet points from the last entry reminded me of a topic I wanted to discuss:  mainly, friends.  When we`re young, our friends are mostly around the same age as us and as we grow older the demographics change more.  Here my friends are an extremely diverse group from my friend/mother/co-worker Rosa who`s 42 to her 7 year old daughter to my 17 year old evangelical friend.  It definitely makes for a wide array of conversation topics.  It also makes me rethink friendship and my view of it.  My relationship with Rosa is multifaceted.  At times she acts as my mother, my supervisor, my best friend, and my colleague.  I`m also close with her daughters and like to make dinner with them or just play games and joke around.  Do I call a seven year old my friend though?  As I explained in an earlier entry, Rosa invited me to be part of their family so I look at them as my Guatemalan family, but what about all of the other kids who I`ve befriended?  In this sense, language seems to fail me since calling a child my friend seems odd and inappropriate yet it`s also the best description available.

Another issue is that while my poor American friends have had to listen to me bitch for years, a lot of the things that frustrate me here are cultural.  When I try to explain why something bothers me, I can`t quite explain why I`m frustrated to my friends.  I also definitely worry too much.  Very unbecoming of a young lady if you ask me!  It`s not really culturally relevant here either.  My problem is that I don`t want to let people down or disappoint them, especially if I`ve committed to something, but that conscientiousness is not reciprocated.  Example:  I`ve changed my schedule to accompany coworkers/friends to events and rushed to get there (not eating, forgetting things) and then end up waiting 30 minutes without explanation and then they ditch me at the event or don`t invite me into conversation.  Hm.  I`ve also developed a problem of over committing myself since I have trouble saying no—relating back to the previous statement.  I`m currently working on finding a balance of being busy but not rundown and having time to relax but not being bored or feeling lonely.  It`s all a delicate balance since hanging out with friends here can be relaxing but taxing at the same time since I`m still (frustratingly) learning social scripts. 

While this may sound like a rather negative or frustrated entry, it`s more so an accurate progression of what it`s like adapting to another culture and lifestyle.  My relationships are developing and I`m meeting more people weekly.  Everyday has some new experience or surprise to it, and with that comes the realization that understanding the culture here is a dynamic, never-ending process.