I’m staring at my blog for the first time in ages and trying to compose a narrative of all that has happened in the past few months. There’s so much to tell, I’m not sure where to begin so I think I’ll come back to those happenings in subsequent posts.
The rain is pouring outside and some old Isaac Hayes album is playing on my iTunes. It’s odd mixture, his smooth voice against the beating rain. The current downpour signals the start of the rainy season. Great. I arrived in August last year (that’s 8 months in country!) and caught the last third of the rainy season which runs from April/May – October. Last year Guatemala was deluged by the most rain in its recorded history. This leaves a lot to be expected for the upcoming wet months. Travel will be difficult on these muddy, landslide-prone roads. I was returning from the Lake at the beginning of December and got stuck behind a landslide that had just occurred along the road descending into Nebaj. What was unnerving about the whole thing was that it hadn’t rained in several weeks. I’m guessing the soil was so saturated from all the rain of the previous months that eventually hillside crumbled. It will be interesting to see what goes down this rainy season and also how the constant rain will affect my work as I’ve noticed that Guatemalans aren’t exactly excited about doing work when there’s even a light drizzle.
Last week was Semana Santa (Holy Week) which is the country’s largest holiday outside of Christmas. The schools that weren’t already closed because of the lengthy teacher strike, shut down for the week (as did most businesses) and it was nice to see the streets filled with people. It was a festive time and Nebaj was filled with carnival booths, street vendors, a couple of rickety ferris wheels and of course plenty of bolos (drunks). The strangest thing I saw was an effigy (of who I have no idea) hanging in the central park in front of the Catholic Church. I spent most of the week leading up to Easter in Nebaj by myself, taking a break. I lounged around, worked out, read, watched a bunch of The Wire and wandered the muddy streets. I’ve got to admit it was good to have some alone time. Sometimes living with 5 siblings up in Salquil Grande can be trying and I’d spent a lot of time with Peace Corps volunteers in the past month so it just felt nice (and a bit lonely), to take a break from everything. That being said I did have a wonderful wine filled night with other volunteers at Passover Seder on Wednesday night. I hadn’t seen my good friend Noor in a long time so it was great to spend time with her and of course our terrific host Nicole.
Most of the major U.S. holidays have passed since I’ve been in country. Thanksgiving and New Year’s were celebrated in grand fashion with other volunteers and that was nice. It’s great to get together in big groups for such celebrations because while I come from a small family, it’s nice to experience that same sort of camaraderie. Christmas was a small event. I spent it with my two dear Dutch girls who had just arrived for their two month volunteer stint in Nebaj. I had planned on getting together with other volunteers for Xmas but I decided to spend it in a small setting, getting to know my new European friends. While I miss everyone back home, in regards to Christmas and Easter, it has felt nice to take a break from the usual madness that comes with holidays here in Guatemala and especially in the U.S. It may not seem preferable to hunting for eggs or microwaving Peeps but spending a quiet couple of lonely days was a nice change.
Showing posts with label Religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Religion. Show all posts
Monday, April 25, 2011
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Work
I want rain. There I said it. Three months ago I probably could never have imagined saying those words but I’m a changed man. No I’m not; I’m just a man who cares dearly about his precious carrots that have sprouted in his garden. A few days after I arrived at site I made a bed and planted carrots and broccoli. The soil was clay so I double dug the bed in order to loosen the soil up, meaning with the help of my two youngest brothers I dug a deep trench then pushed the soil I had just dug back in the trench and built up the elevated garden bed. I also made check dams to absorb water in case it rained. It took us one afternoon and by the end of it my brothers wanted to kill me. My host father wore a confused face that day. I explained to him that it was an odd technique but I was just experimenting.
The next day I helped him make his own bed, we made six his way, without digging in the soil. Afterwards he said to me “Look today we made six beds my way and it took you an afternoon just to make one your way. Whose way is better, yours or mine?” All I could say was we’ll see, to which he laughed. For a second there I felt like the guy who comes in following the textbook only to quickly learn that that’s not how it works in the field. Fast forward a couple weeks. My host father comes up to me: “Your carrots have sprouted, mine haven’t.” I wanted to do a fist pump right there but I just smiled. As of today his carrots have yet to sprout.
Ahh yes the work has begun. It took a while due to several meetings where none of the group leaders showed up and my organization changing things but I have started working in several family gardens in three communities. So far we’ve planted carrots, swiss chard, beets, and radishes and I’ve given talks on double digging (after my own success) and a couple brief talks about nutrition. I’m mighty busy but all I can say is that it feels great to get my work up and running.
The family situation is getting a bit sticky. It seems my concerns about religious involvement are coming to a head. I won’t go into it but I think they might raise my rent for not going to church with them. It’s kind of funny how illegal that would be in the States. That’s not to say that all is not well with my family situation. They’re building a house for their oldest who has a pretty serious girlfriend he hopes to wed next year. She lives in one of the nearby villages and I met her last night. Carlos and Reina just stood there and talked while her little brothers dragged me off to throw fireworks and eventually watch Bloodsport. It was hilarious. The little kids kept referring to Jean-Claude Van Damme as “El Van Damme,” (The Van Damme). I occasionally lend my family a hand with the house construction and they have me lifting hundreds of cinder blocks which is good exercise but most importantly when I help them out they feed me for free. Little odd jobs like giving the cows water. I guess you can say “feed the cows” but you can’t say “water the cows.” Anyways note to self don’t wear a red shirt next time.
Basketball has been frustrating as of late. They don’t call fouls up here and I now understand why that huge guy I would play basketball with at Covenant in the mornings would always threaten to punch someone because everyone would foul him like crazy because they couldn’t stop him.
The daily grind means I have little time to myself in which to write. I fixed my fakakta bed so there’s not a missing board where my neck rests. At night I’ll throw on an album and listen to it straight through while I cook dinner. It’s sort of like my own little scene from The Big Chill. I try and listen to an album a night, last night it was David Bowie’s "Heroes". I think tonight I’ll put on either Blonde on Blonde or Loaded.
The next day I helped him make his own bed, we made six his way, without digging in the soil. Afterwards he said to me “Look today we made six beds my way and it took you an afternoon just to make one your way. Whose way is better, yours or mine?” All I could say was we’ll see, to which he laughed. For a second there I felt like the guy who comes in following the textbook only to quickly learn that that’s not how it works in the field. Fast forward a couple weeks. My host father comes up to me: “Your carrots have sprouted, mine haven’t.” I wanted to do a fist pump right there but I just smiled. As of today his carrots have yet to sprout.
Ahh yes the work has begun. It took a while due to several meetings where none of the group leaders showed up and my organization changing things but I have started working in several family gardens in three communities. So far we’ve planted carrots, swiss chard, beets, and radishes and I’ve given talks on double digging (after my own success) and a couple brief talks about nutrition. I’m mighty busy but all I can say is that it feels great to get my work up and running.
The family situation is getting a bit sticky. It seems my concerns about religious involvement are coming to a head. I won’t go into it but I think they might raise my rent for not going to church with them. It’s kind of funny how illegal that would be in the States. That’s not to say that all is not well with my family situation. They’re building a house for their oldest who has a pretty serious girlfriend he hopes to wed next year. She lives in one of the nearby villages and I met her last night. Carlos and Reina just stood there and talked while her little brothers dragged me off to throw fireworks and eventually watch Bloodsport. It was hilarious. The little kids kept referring to Jean-Claude Van Damme as “El Van Damme,” (The Van Damme). I occasionally lend my family a hand with the house construction and they have me lifting hundreds of cinder blocks which is good exercise but most importantly when I help them out they feed me for free. Little odd jobs like giving the cows water. I guess you can say “feed the cows” but you can’t say “water the cows.” Anyways note to self don’t wear a red shirt next time.
Basketball has been frustrating as of late. They don’t call fouls up here and I now understand why that huge guy I would play basketball with at Covenant in the mornings would always threaten to punch someone because everyone would foul him like crazy because they couldn’t stop him.
The daily grind means I have little time to myself in which to write. I fixed my fakakta bed so there’s not a missing board where my neck rests. At night I’ll throw on an album and listen to it straight through while I cook dinner. It’s sort of like my own little scene from The Big Chill. I try and listen to an album a night, last night it was David Bowie’s "Heroes". I think tonight I’ll put on either Blonde on Blonde or Loaded.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Living with Mayans
I mentioned a little about Salquil Grande in my last post but I think I should explain some more about my new home. Salquil Grande is located in what is called the Ixil region (pronounced “E-shill”). There are 22 different Mayan languages spoken in Guatemala and in the small area between the towns of Nebaj, Chajul, and Cotzal is a language spoken nowhere else in the country: Ixil. I will undoubtedly be learning Ixil. Remember how I said I wanted to be placed in a Mayan village? Well Salquil is 98% Mayan and during my visit the only time I ever heard the people speak Spanish was when they were speaking to me. The rest of the time they were conversing in Ixil. So now not only do I have Spanish on my plate, but Ixil as well.
There is some interesting history behind region. Guatemala was embroiled in a 36 year civil war during the latter half of the 20th century and unfortunately the war was especially hard on the Ixil people. The remoteness of the region that preserves its pristine mountains was one of the contributing factors to what some consider a genocide of the Ixil in the 1980s. As with all conflicts it’s important to recognize that there are two sides to every story as to why certain actions are taken but the fact that there were mass killings of the Ixil is indisputable. They were simply caught between two warring parties and the result was devastating. I won’t go into a history lesson but I’ll give you a brief, general overview of what I’ve learned because I think it’s pretty interesting. In the 1970s the Guerilla Army of the Poor took to the mountains of the region because of their remoteness and sadly the local villagers were trapped in the fight between the guerillas and the government as the army tried to purge the area of rebels and the rebels tried to maintain control of the region to create a independent zone. By the end of the war tens of thousands of civilians had been killed and those who survived were displaced from their homes. That’s all I really know but I would like to read more about it. I’ve heard that wounds are still fresh and although the area is commonly referred to as the Ixil Triangle (because of the three major towns Nebaj, Cotzal, and Chajul), one person told me that there’s a social stigma tied to that name and that it’s not kosher to refer to it as the Triangle.
On a lighter note I’ll tell you about my living situation in Salquil Grande. My house is a small room in a hostel. Because of Salquil’s remoteness the hostel doesn’t get many guests and that’s pretty apparent when you see the place. The hostel is run by a family of eight and they’ve been quite hospitable so far which is great. The kids are a lot of fun, they like watching movies. On my visit we watched The Mask and my host sister instantly said I was like Jim Carrey (something I’ve gotten throughout my life). I swear I’d only spoken probably 3 sentences to her and she already tagged me as a silly jokester. I’d say that’s a fair assessment.
In my travels I’ve always worried about religion coming into play with the family I’m living with. It’s a touchy subject. Hell, people die every day because of religion. I want to fit in and be accepted without any problems but at the same time there is nothing I hate more than proselytizing. It’s my biggest problem with religions. You can believe in whatever you like. As long as you’re not causing any harm then its fine with me. The family I’m living with is Evangelical and the father is a pastor. They asked me to go to church with them which I said I would. I’m interested in seeing their ceremonies because Evangelicals here are different than those in the States. However I’m a bit skeptical because Evangelicals here are particularly forceful with their beliefs (not that Evangelicals elsewhere aren’t as well, but here it’s more in your face). Maybe it was the preacher screaming in my face on the bus ride from Nebaj up to Salquil. I guess I’m a little worried about having to deal with that with my family. I don’t want to make things uncomfortable. I’ve lived with Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses, two religious groups that are notorious for door-knocking, but in both of those cases I didn’t feel pressure to convert at all. Hopefully it will be the same here. I like being the thoughtful observer, there to experience and learn without commitment. Anyways it’s an issue I’ll deal with when I come to it. So far the family has been great.
I like my little room, it’s quite quaint. I have a stiff little bed, a shelf made of stacked cinder blocks with a board between them, and a table with a stove on it. It’s Peace Corps Guatemala’s policy that all volunteers live with a host family for their first three months. Then they are free to find a house of their own. This was not the case in Togo where we had our own houses to start with. I’m sure most of my friends are looking forward to living on their own and I admit that would be nice but Salquil is such a small town and there’s no house to rent so chances are I’ll be living with this family for the whole two years. And that’s fine with me. I’m comfortable in my little room. Plus it's a hostel so if I can convince any of you to come visit me (and make my life) there's a place to stay.
I should comment on the weather because it’s rather unusual. Most of the time it’s cold up here in the mountains but that can change in an instant. There’s a big hard Sun, Eddie and its mighty powerful up here. It will be burning hot and I’ll be sweating but after spending a couple minutes in the shade I’ll want a jacket. Once the clouds role in late in the afternoon, it starts to get chilly. I’m coming to site at the beginning of November which is the last month of the rainy season and the beginning of winter. I’m glad I packed warm clothes.
There is some interesting history behind region. Guatemala was embroiled in a 36 year civil war during the latter half of the 20th century and unfortunately the war was especially hard on the Ixil people. The remoteness of the region that preserves its pristine mountains was one of the contributing factors to what some consider a genocide of the Ixil in the 1980s. As with all conflicts it’s important to recognize that there are two sides to every story as to why certain actions are taken but the fact that there were mass killings of the Ixil is indisputable. They were simply caught between two warring parties and the result was devastating. I won’t go into a history lesson but I’ll give you a brief, general overview of what I’ve learned because I think it’s pretty interesting. In the 1970s the Guerilla Army of the Poor took to the mountains of the region because of their remoteness and sadly the local villagers were trapped in the fight between the guerillas and the government as the army tried to purge the area of rebels and the rebels tried to maintain control of the region to create a independent zone. By the end of the war tens of thousands of civilians had been killed and those who survived were displaced from their homes. That’s all I really know but I would like to read more about it. I’ve heard that wounds are still fresh and although the area is commonly referred to as the Ixil Triangle (because of the three major towns Nebaj, Cotzal, and Chajul), one person told me that there’s a social stigma tied to that name and that it’s not kosher to refer to it as the Triangle.
On a lighter note I’ll tell you about my living situation in Salquil Grande. My house is a small room in a hostel. Because of Salquil’s remoteness the hostel doesn’t get many guests and that’s pretty apparent when you see the place. The hostel is run by a family of eight and they’ve been quite hospitable so far which is great. The kids are a lot of fun, they like watching movies. On my visit we watched The Mask and my host sister instantly said I was like Jim Carrey (something I’ve gotten throughout my life). I swear I’d only spoken probably 3 sentences to her and she already tagged me as a silly jokester. I’d say that’s a fair assessment.
In my travels I’ve always worried about religion coming into play with the family I’m living with. It’s a touchy subject. Hell, people die every day because of religion. I want to fit in and be accepted without any problems but at the same time there is nothing I hate more than proselytizing. It’s my biggest problem with religions. You can believe in whatever you like. As long as you’re not causing any harm then its fine with me. The family I’m living with is Evangelical and the father is a pastor. They asked me to go to church with them which I said I would. I’m interested in seeing their ceremonies because Evangelicals here are different than those in the States. However I’m a bit skeptical because Evangelicals here are particularly forceful with their beliefs (not that Evangelicals elsewhere aren’t as well, but here it’s more in your face). Maybe it was the preacher screaming in my face on the bus ride from Nebaj up to Salquil. I guess I’m a little worried about having to deal with that with my family. I don’t want to make things uncomfortable. I’ve lived with Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses, two religious groups that are notorious for door-knocking, but in both of those cases I didn’t feel pressure to convert at all. Hopefully it will be the same here. I like being the thoughtful observer, there to experience and learn without commitment. Anyways it’s an issue I’ll deal with when I come to it. So far the family has been great.
I like my little room, it’s quite quaint. I have a stiff little bed, a shelf made of stacked cinder blocks with a board between them, and a table with a stove on it. It’s Peace Corps Guatemala’s policy that all volunteers live with a host family for their first three months. Then they are free to find a house of their own. This was not the case in Togo where we had our own houses to start with. I’m sure most of my friends are looking forward to living on their own and I admit that would be nice but Salquil is such a small town and there’s no house to rent so chances are I’ll be living with this family for the whole two years. And that’s fine with me. I’m comfortable in my little room. Plus it's a hostel so if I can convince any of you to come visit me (and make my life) there's a place to stay.
I should comment on the weather because it’s rather unusual. Most of the time it’s cold up here in the mountains but that can change in an instant. There’s a big hard Sun, Eddie and its mighty powerful up here. It will be burning hot and I’ll be sweating but after spending a couple minutes in the shade I’ll want a jacket. Once the clouds role in late in the afternoon, it starts to get chilly. I’m coming to site at the beginning of November which is the last month of the rainy season and the beginning of winter. I’m glad I packed warm clothes.
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