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. 

Recap!!!

Wow, what a crazy past…month?  It`s really a shame that I´ve lost the other entries I wrote since I’m sure they were riveting.  I have spent the past few weeks finishing up my primary visits to schools to introduce myself and then moved onto doing a evaluation of the conditions of each of the schools I´m working with.  That means lots of introductions, forgetting names, and throwing a personal hygiene dice around.  Though in the beginning I really stressed about each visit, I´m beginning to take it easier and just try to be friendly and open with all of the teachers and kids. 

One thing I`ve found is that it`s difficult picking up an ambiguous job after someone just left it with two years of experience.  The best thing seems to be not comparing myself to Crystal, the previous volunteer or other volunteers since everyone´s situation is different.  It`s encouraging to know that she accomplished so much and clearly made a positive impact here in her two years in San Andrès.  It`s also motivating to see the progress (little but substantial!) I´ve made with getting to know teachers and parents in the communities.  I hear my name (sometimes incorrectly) being shouted from all directions—up on a hill, behind the fruit stand, up in a tree, or just passing in the street—making me feel like I`m a part of the community. 

This is a really boring entry despite all of the events that have happened.  Let`s try to catch up with some bullets.  There are definitely some exciting events:

·         Did I mention I participated in a choreographed dance as a cowgirl with one of my schools at Dia de la Madre Maestra (Mother`s-Teacher`s Day—why can´t I seem to translate that?)?  Yup.

·         Recently walked a horse through town up to the urban school`s anniversary parade.

·         Got two schools to apply for water-infrastructure projects so that they´ll have enough faucets for the kids to wash their hands and brush their teeth—no small feat!

·         Ate some street pizza.  Bad idea.

·         Broke my computer and bought another one thanks to my tax returns. Woohoo!

·         Had fleas/bedbugs, sore throat, stomach problems from the aforementioned pizza all in a week.

·         Dressed to the nine`s in 80`s gear for the Sololà department welcome party.

·         Went on a boat trip on the lake with a bunch of other volunteers.  Really magnificent!

·         Improved my Kaqchikel (mayan language) skills ever so slightly—at least enough that people laugh and realize I`m trying to talk to them.

·         Played in a teacher vs. students fùtbol game.  Went in for the header and missed. 

·         Exchanged some phone numbers with young, single teachers—I qualify this because it`s pretty rare to be 25 and not married with kids.  That means they have time for friends!

·         Rosa and her family finally came over to my house and couldn`t believe my assortment of teas.  She offered to make a curtain for my bookshelf, which acts as a dresser, bookshelf, medicine cabinet, etc.  I wonder if she´s trying to tell me something…

·         I continue to wear monochromatic pajamas to bed with my leggings/long johns tucked into my socks and my sweatshirt tucked into my leggings/long johns.  Let`s just say I am quite a sight with my retainers in and glasses on.  Tall, lanky, and monochromatic (brown or grayish-blue) trying to sneak into the bathroom without being seen.  You can spot me any morning from 6-7 am.

·         The six year old who lives next door likes to sneak into my house and scare me.  He hides and then comes out with a spiderman mask, a pillowcase over his head, or clothespins attached to his face.  Half of the time he gets me, but I`m becoming wise to his tricks.

·         I just got a mountain bike fixed up that I inherited from Crystal.  I`m pretty stoked about it though the guy completed ripped me off and overcharged me.  Now I`ll be that crazy gringa on a mountain bike.

·         My neighbor`s (the family who I rent from) dog follows me everywhere—into stores, to my friend`s house—and even waits for me so we can walk back together.  It`s pretty cute except for the fact that most people here hate dogs and try to hit it.  Her name is Kila though my friend accidentally calls her Tequila. 

So that`s just a bit of a brief recap.  More entries to come…

Broken Computer!

So for those of you wondering why I haven´t written in so long, unfortunately it is due to a broken computer. I had actually saved some pre-written blog entries, but the files are corrupted--so much for that. Things are going well though! I feel like I'm getting the hang of my job. I already have a diverse group of friends and acquaintances and every day is met with new and unusual experiences. This week I played soccer with a team of teachers against kids. It was really quite pitful and embarrassing to see me--especially when I missed that header I was going in for. Fun to play and laugh! I also walked a horse across town today. I can only imagine what people must have been thinking, ¨What is that weird white girl doing now?¨ I will definitely be writing as soon as my new computer comes in--thank you tax returns! Hope all is well. Feel free to email me since I would love to hear from the States.

Una Adibinaza! (a riddle)

“A riddle,” Rosa proposed to her daughters and me as we stood around the woodburning stove watching the tortillas and eggs melt into one another. Lately, Dyana, the 7 year old, had been relentlessly asking me riddles as I embarrassingly struggled to solve them. Rosa continued with her adibinanza , stopping only a few times due to some uncontrollable laughter, “One day, Barbie walks into a room full of dwarves. Everyone stares at her. One of the dwarves takes a seat and pulls out a chair that looks shiney, deciding not to sit there since he thought it was wet. Barbie takes the chair and sits on it. When she attempts to arise, she realizes she’s stuck to the chair. The shineyness wasn’t water but glue. True or false? Odalys, do you think this happened?” “No.” “Ashley, do you think it happened?” “Yes.” “Dyana?” “No.” “And Meri?”

“YES,” I said nodding my head and laughing once I realized that the riddle happened to me the other day. This was Rosa’s thoughtful way of telling a funny and embarrassing story of one of our many school visits. Once it happened, I chastised myself for not having the forsight to examine my seat in a room that wreaked of glue. Since I only have one pair of jeans, my pants have a nice plastic-ass to them. Don’t worry, laundry day is coming up.

As I’ve continued to visit schools, kids have said a lot of funny things in addition to just STARING. Before I leave, I always try to ask the kids, “What are you going to do when you see me in the street?” Most of the time they say that they’ll greet me. Yesterday, a kid responded, “Bañarme!” That’s to say, “Bathe myself!” At least he was paying attention to what we were learning! I wish I could remember all of the funny things that the kids have said to me, but I’ll just have to settle for that one. Most of the kids today didn’t speak much Spanish but Kiche, one of the 21 indigenous languages spoken in Guatemala. The principal of the school helped me by translating for the kids.

Another day, another experience. So much to learn. Poco a poco.

GRINGO!!!!

One thing that has happened to me several times and has continued to irk me is the loud shouting of “Gringo!” in my direction. This bothers me for several reasons: (1) why would you shout that at someone? Shouting names at people is always poor manners and is generally malicious; (2) it makes a distinction between the two parties, only working negatively to reinforce our differences; (3) if anything, it should be gringA (feminine). So what have I done in response?

“Chapin!”

Chapin means Guatemalan/Guatemalteco. When I respond by calling the person “Chapin,” it tends to confuse the yelling party since they had expected me to be passive and walk away. I then follow that by opening up a dialogue. “Hi, how are you? I’m Meri. What’s your name? Nice to meet you! I live here in San Andres Semetabaj too. Where do you go to school? I’ll be visiting you soon since my job is to work with all the schools. So next time you see me what are you going to say? Buen@s dias, tardes, noches Meri! Perfect! See you soon.” This has proven to be quite effective actually. It attacks the problem directly by holding the person accountable for their actions, humanizes me in the process instead of remaining some , and starts a relationship based on mutual respect. Today I passed a little boy who I met when he shouted gringo at me by the football field one day. This time he grinned widely shouting, “Meri! Meri!” What a cutie! It gives me hope that things don‘t always have to be that way. Now the next problem is tackling the men and their catcalls. That one’s a bit more complex.

Favorite New Family

Though I have felt pretty comfortable overall, I miss the comfort and company that came with living in my old host family’s house. I’ve been satisfied just going into the Plasti-Centro to buy some plastic wear from Silvia and chat for a bit. But then, Rosa, a women who I work with in the superintendant’s (CTA) office, invited me over to her house the same day I had my language class. I sure didn’t have anything else going on! I walked through town toward the Pinchazo (where you get flat tires fixed) and was about to enter the shop, asking if they knew where Rosa lived when she came out and rescued me, laughing since I had wandered too far. Inside her house, she showed me the different rooms and introduced me to her three truly lovely daughters. Odalys is a mature, thoughtful 18 year old waiting to start her practicum; Ashley is an outgoing 10 year old; and Dyana is a precocious 7 year old. I had so much fun talking and joking with them that I tripped over my words more than usual, giddily trying to get my jokes out.

Just seeing how the girls interacted with each other and their mother was like being a guest their special world in which family bonds seemed impenetrable and sacred yet just being there gave insight. We had coffee and bread the first night and the Ashley and Dyana tried teaching me Kaqchikel. The following night, I translated Dyana’s storybook to English. The girls laughed and listened intently, attempting to follow the Spanish words as I switched languages. I ended up eating dinner with them that night as well, which was especially enjoyable since I’ve been eating alone.

I’ve returned each day since the first evening to play with the girls and talk with Rosa and Odalys. I brought some of my photos for the girls to look at since they showed me theirs the other day. Today Dyana, Ashley, and I also ended up playing a “game” of reading U.S. history-themed flashcards in Spanish. No idea where those came from though I did learn how to say checks and balances in Spanish! Actually, I have already forgotten. Great actvity in reading outloud and reviewing U.S. History I. I went to Pana the other day and bought all of the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies so I think I’m going to surprise everybody with them. First, by using their kitchen and second, by giving them all the cookies they could possibly desire.

Olympics and Kaqchikel!

I keep meaning to write more frequently, but I really hate how much time I waste on this evil machine known as a computer. The past two weeks have flown by, and they’ve actually been a lot of fun.

School was canceled so that all the kids could participate in a district-wide Olympics, which was based here. I had a meeting with all of the principals early on in the week and was able to present myself, my job, and my hopes for our working together. The meeting went quite well though I admit remembering very few of the many names and schools presented--all except one has a Kaqchikel name. Later on I built some plywood and cinder block shelves in order to make my house more of a home. I say built very loosely since it was more like stacking. A chore in itself since I had to take three trips back and forth from the store, which I’m sure was a site for all of the people who passed me huffing and puffing with a basket full of block.

By Wednesday I was ready to confront my nerves about going to the Olympic games--a series of 8-13 year olds playing basketball and soccer. What time were the games? Who would I sit with? Talk to? Would everyone look at me? Before I got to the games though, I sat in the park and befriended a huge group of kids who surrounded me, hungry for English words to hurl at one another in between fits of laughter. After spending some time getting to know them, I eventually went the gym to watch my first, second, and who knows how many games of intense pre-teen basketball. I ran into some teachers who I had briefly met before and befriended some of the kids and women around me. I really enjoyed watching the 12 year old girls play basketball--great hussel! The best part is listening to their mothers and teachers yell at them in Kaqchikel and Spanish while wearing their traditional traje (dress). It has me thinking about possibly joining the women’s league. Hm!

Another exciting first this week: Kaqchikel class. Though very few volunteers have fluency in any of the 21 mayan languages here in Guatemala, most recommend learning some key phrases and greetings. Though this was never one of my major goals, how could learning a language not be a fun, exciting, challenging, and rewarding experience? Geremias, my teacher, is also the principal/teacher at one of the schools I’ll be working at. For about two hours, that poor man had to listen to me make glottal noises accompanied by goofy grins. He kept emphasizing the importance of practicing around town since people will automatically open up to me more. I don’t think I realized the extent of it until I went for a stroll the next day. “Saqar nana. Saqar tata.” Good morning, Madam. Good morning, Sir. “Utz awach? Utz matiox.” How are you? Fine, thanks. I can’t even attempt describing the smiles, laughter, and genuine looks of surprise and interest I received. Women smiled broadly, turning their heads to follow where I was going while talking animatedly to their companion. My tortilla lady, Lidia, gave me a huge grin and told her boss that I was learning Kaqchikel. When she said responded with something beyond my limited vocabulary I just wrinkled my nose, giving what has to be a universal face of not understanding, and we all laughed together. My landlady was also pretty impressed and now speaks to me in Kaqchikel, even explaining some frases. I overheard her telling her daughter that I speak it. Well, that might be a bit of an overstatement, but the thought and effort are there. It’s really motivating to see how much it means to people when you speak their language. It’s also exciting since this is just the beginning!

New Digs and Discoveries

I arrived at my site in San Andrés Semetabaj Monday night around 6 pm. Crystal, the volunteer who I’m replacing, greeted me and told me some basics about my new home. Since she had moved several times throughout her service in attempts to live with families, her last home was more of a make-do situation. It’s half of a little house with a plywood wall divider in a family compound (pictures below). A bit basic but hey, it’s Peace Corps!

The following two days, Crystal and her brother who was visiting, Jeff, showed me around town and introduced me to all of her friends, shopkeepers, and special places to get photocopies. As she was saying tearful goodbyes, I was presenting myself. It was intimidating yet comforting to see the strong bonds that Crystal had forged over the past two years. Unlike me, she had no one to introduce her or bequeath their basic belongings. In short, she’s saved me weeks of introductions and thousands of Quetzales by passing on her things.

On Thursday I met Crystal and Jeff in Panajachel, the tourist city on the lake. Crystal showed me the bank, the lake up-close, the market, and other possible necessities. We went to Crossroads, a coffee shop owned by an ex-pat, Mike. He treated us to delicious coffee and pastries free of charge. As he continued to refill our glasses, conversation spun from the education system in the U.S. to different ways of traveling the world. At one point when the caffeine was audibly buzzing all around us, Mike asked us if we wanted to see the secret room: UH YES. He moved a bookshelf only to uncover a hidden door, taking Jeff and me to his coffee roasting room. To paraphrase, the conversation went a bit like this: “Do you like to create? You know that feeling you get when you share what you‘ve created with other people? That’s the point of life! …Self-doubt is the most dangerous thing because it paralyzes you from action…Find like-minded people--not people doing the same thing, but a similar mentality and just go with it. Follow your inspiration.” Intense but awesome.

To revert back to the housing topic, in all fairness, I will not actually be staying in my initial abode though I really do like the family. The 16 year-old son is especially friendly and tries practicing his English with me. Instead, I’m moving to a house on the compound of another family, the director of one of the elementary school’s I’ll be working with. This house is a bit larger, has a yard, my own pila (large outdoor sink for washing dishes and clothes), and a bathroom that should have hot water when I get there (we’ll see!). I’ll also be paying them a bit extra so that I can share dinner and Sunday lunch with them. I’m especially excited about being able to start my own garden. Apparently avocado trees can grow within two years…!

Other interesting happenings/discoveries:
--Powered milk is pretty great.
--I bought a pressure cooker as an impulse buy in the street the other day. Beans for dinner!
--Riding in the back of a pick-up will be my main mode of transportation for the next two years (sorry Aunt Meg).
--I have great access to tempeh and tofu.
--There’s nothing like eating beans that you spent several hours making as you tried figuring out your pressure cooker.

Site placement & Swear In

The moment we had all been waiting for--our site placements! We were all told to close our eyes as our trainers and PCV leaders guided us to our site on a huge map of Guatemala. After my trip to Huehue, I decided I wanted to be out there, dropping some very obvious hints to our trainers. When I felt myself being led in the opposite direction I started to worry I was in Baja Verapaz, Chimaltenango, Totonicapan or Quetzaltenango. Instead, I ended up in the one place I had completely forgotten about--the coveted department of Sololá, renown for Lake Atitlan. My site is a smaller municipality about 15 minutes past Panajachel, one of the major tourist destinations in Guatemala. I can’t say that I was disappointed but rather, quite surprised. I immediately recalled when I first met the volunteer stationed there who told us that she was selected because she was responsible and took her work seriously. Because of the site’s close proximity to Panajachel, it would be easy for the wrong people to spend their two years partying at the bars instead of working in the communities. As I was remembering this, Sergio, my boss took me aside to remind me of the added responsibilities and temptations of my site, and that I was very carefully selected to be placed there. I assured him that I was here to integrate in my community though I must admit feeling a bit overwhelmed and honored by the placement.

Two days later, we had our swear-in ceremony at the American ambassador’s house in Guatemala City (I.e. third most dangerous city in the world). We were allowed to invite two members from our host family so Doña Susana and her sister, Maria, came as my guests. All of the volunteers and their host families piled into specially-rented camionetas and we rode them into the city. The embassador’s house was large and opulent, a bit embarrassing for most of the volunteers since our host families live very simply, some of them on the brink of poverty. The back yard was enormous with a huge tent built to accommodate the 400 or so guests, composed of all the volunteers in country, PC staff, trainees, host families, and some PC staff from Washington, including the chief of staff. The ceremony was lengthy but full of great speakers, anecdotes, and our inauguration. To be honest, the ceremony was more geared towards PC celebrating its 50 year anniversary and honoring the PCVs about to close their service, acknowledging each of their endeavors. Every time we heard the accomplishments of one of the volunteers, I think all of us new PCVs thought, “What will they say about me in two years?” It’s exciting to think of it as this blank slate to be filled. [I've attached a link that isn't working (copy & paste!) to a story about our swear-in in the Prensa Libre, Guatemala's equivalent of the NY Times. We made the front page!]

http://www.prensalibre.com/noticias/Cuerpo-Paz-celebra-anos_0_451154918.html

After the ceremony, I said goodbye to my host family. Wilson refused to say goodbye so picked him up and gave him a kiss. I love that kid! I had already given my family a photo album full of photos of them and us together, a beautiful woven apron for Doña Susana, a coloring book with stickers for Wilson, and earrings for Brenda. I was so overwhelmed by love and gratitude for them that I felt like I couldn’t say what I wanted to without getting emotional. Thankfully, I was rushing to catch the bus so we parted ways almost nonchalantly since I was usually rushing to catch the bus. This was fine though because I know that I´ll see them again soon. After all, they're family.

IDA--I forget what this acronym means...

To catch up from my internet absence, I’ll write about my IDA trip. This was an opportunity for trainees to visit Volunteers dispersed throughout the country. The farthest site was 8 hours away and the nearest only 30 minutes. Guess which one I got? A lovely 8 hour bus drive on four different buses to San Pedro Necta, Huehuetenango near the border of Mexico. I couldn’t have enjoyed it more!

I visited another solo Healthy Schools volunteer, Mari, at her site in lovely Huehuetenango. She lives in a large town nestled amongst green mountains. It is one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen in Guatemala thus far. While there, I helped her put on a four hour sustainability workshop for her teachers, we attended a school football game when classes were canceled, swam at a local pool in the woods, hiked through some coffee plants, ate in a comedor, made mini pizzas, watched a few movies, attended a Life Planning class for teens put on by another volunteer, played cards, and laughed a LOT. When I proclaimed that I felt like I was on vacation with a friend of mine, Mari replied, “Guess what? This is the life of a volunteer!“

Only in Peace Corps does a random stranger show up at your door to share your bed, your food, and your jokes only to become a friend within hours. At one point we were watching a movie in which I noticed the characters were driving in a car with seatbelts. I turned to Mari saying, “I feel like I never wear seatbelts here!” To which she responded, “You just stood in the back of a pickup truck all the way down a huge mountain.”

Good point.

Another Surprise Revealed!

As Healthy Schools volunteers, the majority of us (35 trainees) will be paired off and placed in order to cover larger districts with up to 30+ schools. Since we discovered this, we have been obsessing over who our pairs would be. One person remarked, “When you look back at your service, that person will be there.” A bit intimidating! We filled out questionnaires, did speed dating, and then left the decision in the hands of our Program Director, Sergio, who would decide partners with the help of our language teachers, trainers, and Peace Corps Volunteer Leaders (PCVLs).

Yesterday was the day. We waited until 9:30 when Sergio finally entered the room and announced that eight of us would be solo. Once they announced my friend, Jenn, as one of the solo people, I realized that I would be solo as well. The two of us had spent our Field Based Training together and had spent a lot of time talking with our trainer, Marta, about our expectations for service. Everyone seemed concerned about how I felt about being placed alone, but I’m really excited and comfortable with it. I could have gone either way quite honestly. It’s funny because the whole time, I was hoping for my partner to be my new best friend, someone to challenge me, someone to learn from and grow with. It turns out that someone is me! I’m up for the challenge though. This is what my initial idea of Peace Corps was anyway. I feel as though having a partner would possibly hinder my integration into the community since I would always have the possibility of just hanging out with them instead. Possibly. Who knows? Either way, I’m excited about it and looking forward to finding out my site at the end of March.

Later on that day, we voted on who would be our speaker at the Swear-In Ceremony. Whoever was elected would have to carry on the duty of giving speaches at our mid-service meeting and our Close-of-Service (COS) ceremony. I was nominated by two of my peers and ended up being the run-off candidate though a Sustainable EcoTourism trainee, will be doing it--she's great! Nonetheless, I felt deeply honored to have been nominated to represent our group at such formal and significant occasions.

Beans, Beans, the musical fruit. The more you eat them the more you...

A lot of people have asked me how the food is. It’s great! Actually, my host family asked me what I used to eat in the States. I responded beans, eggs, avocado (when I went to the store), cheese, and bread. They laughed since it sounded pretty similar to what I eat here. Being a vegetarian has proved unbelievably easy here. The only problem comes with refusing or skillfully eluding food with meet offered by schools and other entertaining organizations. I have no problems with my host family though. My host mom, Doña Susana, is an amazing cook. She makes a mean soy protein meat sauce for my pasta and also some delicious eggplant in red sauce. Today I had chow mein for lunch. Stews or soups with assorted vegetables and meat are also common. There are also lots of tortillas, tamales on special occasions, tamalitos and chuchitos. All of these are variations of the same thing--masa, corn meal. Tamales are by far my favorite. They have the masa (similar to polenta) in a red sauce with a bit of spice and a piece of meat in the middle or capers and olives, in my case. Then they’re wrapped in a huge palm leaf and boiled to cook. A bit difficult to explain, but delicious to consume.

Have I mentioned beans yet? OMG. I eat so many beans. Daily. For breakfast and dinner. Colados, parrados, y volteados=Liquefied, whole in a bit of the broth, or refried. I personally love the colados. Let’s just say that after eating all the beans, I’m glad I don’t share a room. And that it’s isolated.

Independent Study

So what else is new? Once I finished my language classes, I started my independent study, which has given me the opportunity to meet with several different organizations. By the end of training, I’m supposed to have a finished product of sorts. So far, I’ve met some really interesting, inspiring people. I’ve been working with the Municipal Women’s Office (OMM), Los Patojos, and Cambiando Vidas.

I’ve tried scheduling a meeting with the director of OMM in Antigua (local tourist city), but it hasn’t quite worked out yet. The office works in empowering women through organizing workshops that give them skills so that they can earn an income--anything from pastry-making to sewing. While that may sound like a luxury, knowing those skills can help women step out of the home, earn an income, and be financially independent. This is especially important in situations in which women are in abusive relationships and finances restrict them from leaving their spouse. Hopefully, I will be able to meet with the director (who is also the mayor’s wife) and help out at one of the workshops.

Another organization that I work with is called Cambiando Vidas, a Montessori method-based school for low-income children. When I first visited, I played with the kids and taught a by-request English lesson on the fly. Last week, I had the opportunity to do 20 minute charlas on teeth brushing, which meant lots of singing and a race to brush a coca-cola soaked egg. I’ve also teamed up with some volunteers to paint a world map on one of the courtyard walls. When I returned on Monday for the map after teaching my Friday morning charlas, I was greeted by not only the teachers who remembered my name but by tons of smiling, waving students, shouting “Seño! Seño!” to get my attention. Some even started singing the song I had taught them. It made me realize the importance of building relationships with kids and teachers in the schools.

The last organization that I’ve been working with is Los Patojos, quite possibly my favorite. It’s an after school program for kids and teens in Jocotenango, the next down over from Antigua. It was founded by a young Guatemalan, Pablo, who believes in popular education and giving kids the space and resources to be creative individuals and agents of change. The organization has two buildings--one for little kids and one for the pre-teens and teens. The first time I visited, I played with a bunch of kids and taught them some hula hoop tricks. Since then I’ve spent my time hanging out with the older kids. At their center, they have time set aside for homework, but also for beat boxing, creating music for films (with their 5 acoustic guitars, keys, and drum set!!!), break dancing, hiking (on special days), and other assorted projects. Last Friday, a group of young filmmakers came and showed four different Guatemalan shorts to the kids. Then they discussed the importance of Guatemalan film and how it contrasted to that of Hollywood. I was really impressed with what everyone shared. Throughout this, the filmmakers took a bunch of still shots while one of them recorded the audio, leading me to believe that they’re creating a really sweet piece of mixed media. Afterwards, they had the kids go around and create a character and a story based on it, everyone adding something different. It was really fun and inspiring to see these kids so motivated, intelligent, and active. Tomorrow, if all goes according to plan, I’ll be teaching some girls how to do yoga.

It’s really inspiring, encouraging, and quite simply, beautiful, to see Guatemalans working hard to empower one another, especially the youth of the country. When I talked with Pablo the other day, he admitted that his dream was to study music in the capital city. He wanted to develop his art, but instead he’s sacrificing his dreams for the dreams of all the kids he’s working with. He explained to me that his culture is not one of “me, me, me,” but rather, us. Because of that, “It’s not I eat, but we eat. It’s not I write music, but we write music. It’s not I paint, but we paint. It’s not I dream, but we dream.” Puchika.

Check out the websites here:
Lospatojos.blogspot.com

Field Based Training

Field based training has already come and gone. I can’t believe it! Field based training is an exciting, action-packed week in which a group of trainees go off to visit volunteers’ sites while having hands-on experiences.

Monday
Unlike the other groups, our Quetzaltenango group had to do our individual classroom presentations to kids first thing Monday morning. One of the volunteers, Sarah, took us to her favorite school, and we all did a 15 minute activity with a different class. I did a brief trash management activity and discussion that went relatively well. Later on that day, we visited the women’s group with which Sarah had been working. This was by far the highlight to the day and quite possibly, the week (sadly, it’s biggest competition is lots of fart/poop jokes--try to understand the vast intake of beans daily).

Marta, our AMAZING Guatemalan technical trainer, drove us out in the microbus to one of the women’s home. It was my first REAL experience with poverty so far. While a lot of people are poor, a lot of them still have their basic necessities--water and food. There were about 25 women present, the youngest being a girl of about 12 and the oldest seeming to be in the late 60s though age is quite difficult to tell due to living rough lives. Most of the women didn’t speak Spanish so a few of them did the translating. We started off doing a silly icebreaker of saying “In the morning, I wake up and wash my (insert fruit here but motion a body party).” The women were so shy and easily embarrassed, but it worked out well.

Since the theme of this meeting was stress, the activity was to draw a main source of one's stress on a little piece of paper and present it to everyone. Most of the women are illiterate so they were not used to writing or drawing, but they still seemed to manage. As they presented in Spanish and K'iche', they revealed their problems humbly with smiles on their faces--they had no money, not enough food, no water, their husbands had died, the men in their family drink too much, and their children had left them. As the trainees presented their causes of stress, we focused on worrying about family back home, worrying about being successful in work, and worrying about life after Peace Corps. The differences amongst our causes of stress were stark, putting things in perspective. These women were rightfully stressed out for very immediate reasons or problems that lingered as a result of the past. Our issues all had to deal with uncontrollable preoccupations about the future. When the 12 year old girl went up to present and solemnly stated, “I drew a table because we have no food,” all of the women laughed. I felt so silly, so privileged, so helpless. It made me realize that worrying about the future is a luxury when you’re just trying to survive.

After the meeting, they gave us all tamalitos, a cornmeal dough with meat in the middle, that is wrapped in a corn husk and boiled. I think we all felt ridiculous accepting two tamalitos (or a platter of fruit in my case) when we knew that these women had difficulty feeding themselves and their families, but it would have been a very strong insult to reject any food or drink that they wanted to give us. After finishing up, we sang several children’s songs and laughed with the women as we were all squished into a small adobe meeting room.

I’ve been really excited about working with women’s groups to help empower women in a very machista culture. The very simplicity of giving these women a forum to discuss their problems is such a small thing, but a necessary way to start change. Studying at university and reading theoretical books about women’s liberation is so large scale. The women thanked us and Sarah, the volunteer, for sharing and helping them. They mentioned how her cooking classes have allowed for them to bake cakes and other goods to sell to people. It’s the very small, seemingly minute things that can make all the difference.

The rest of the week, we helped do a Training of Trainers (TOT) to a group of teachers at a teacher’s high school. The subject was classroom management since most schools in Guatemala have very lax, if any, rules for the classroom. I also did a 15 minute teeth brushing activity with parents at a parent-teacher meeting. In between all of that, we visited two municipal buildings, a health center, three other schools, met the superintendents, etc. At one of the schools, I ended up playing in a heated game of basketball with some 12 year old girls. Despite the fact that they were wearing the traditional corte (dress) and heels, these girls were tearing it up! It was some of the most fun I had all week.

One of the main ideas that I’m getting from this is that every site is different. One of the districts that our volunteer leaders were working with only receives water every 15 days or so, which is a major improvement from the previous 28 days. When communities don’t have access to water (this isn’t even to say it’s potable), they are unable to wash their hands to prevent illnesses such a diarrhea, which can lead to malnutrition and developmental disorders. It’s crazy to think that such a small thing as washing your hands can be so crucial. In the same vein, lack of water also means the inability to maintain proper dental health, which can once again be related to malnutrition when teeth aren’t strong enough to eat certain foods. I have never had to personally struggle with accessing water or clean water until moving to Guatemala, where it can be an everyday struggle for thousands of people.