Hands

Hands.

Something I’ve come to learn over the past 6 months in Guat (oh my goodness, we’re over ½ way! I am so sad… yet excited for the next chapter...) is how amazing hands really are.

If you were to look at my hands, it would be very apparent that I don’t have the best track record of hand care.  My left ring finger was broken and “surgerized” in an innertubing accident, my pinkies are both bent out of shape from too many sprains and accidents, there are scars all over them, and today, I’m graced with the presence of two temporary cat tattoos (thank you little host sisters).  I have always taken these vital organs for granted, but now that I’m living here, I see how incredibly important hands are to life.

Everyone knows that hands are the evolutionary advantage granted to humans.  Wow does that opposable thumb have some power! 

But, beyond evolution, hands are what sustain life.  These people here have taught me how much corn can be shucked by hands.   I have seen how their hands can assemble an ungodly amount of wood into a bundle and then strap it to their heads as they walk home.  Hands are what milk the goats walking down the street as people buy fresh milk by the glass.  Hands are what cut the fruit that I eat.  Hands are what write the lessons on the whiteboards.  Hands, for these people, are life. 

Hands are also security.  When we cross the road to go to the playground, the girls say, “Mano, mano” asking for a hand to keep them out of trouble.  When I put the girls to bed, they want to hold my hand, to know that all will be okay as they escape into dreamland.  At school, I sometimes feel like a strange version of a rockstar walking through and having every child reach for my hand (which is at face level, more or less) – for these kids who come from rough backgrounds or the orphanage, I sometimes fear that the touch for which they crave from my hands is the only positive touch that they will receive all day.

Finally, hands are for play.  Hands are what can hold playing cards, one of the primary forms of recreation in my life here.  They hold crayons as we create valentines.  I’ve learned that, at least here, high fives and thumbs up are universal reassurances and signs of positive feedback.  All the crazy hand games I have used in youth ministry to kill time are also great to bridge cultural and communication gaps.  All of us have hands, we might as well play.

Sitting in church the other day, I had the youngest one on my lap.  She, with her small, smooth, dark hand was rubbing my hand.  She clearly was mesmerized by it – it’s a different color, different size, and I have a wonky finger that keeps her entertained.  As I watched her intently watch my hand for over an hour, I tried to picture what she was thinking…

“we both have hands, but they’re different.”

“They both can do a lot of things but hers can open the glue when it’s stuck and mine can reach into the fence when we drop things”

“why are they different colors?”

“why does mine have a scratch here and hers has a bunch there?" 

“why do we both have 10 fingers?”

The beautiful thing about hands is how much they have in common, but how they can each tell a story of their own.   

I think that’s the beautiful thing about people too.

Daily Life Blog Post - Community

This is one of many (hopefully) editions featuring aspects of daily life here in Guatemala... in writing these, I hope to share funny things, ironic things, and things I admire and I want to share them not as a form of judgment... in ANY way... but in a form of telling a story... with that being said...  here's information about community!
During our group of volunteers from Southern Illinois University visited, one of the chaperons asked me if there was a big community of volunteers in Xela. I never thought of that as a question that someone would ask, and as I thought about my answer, I realized that I really just take the people here for granted.

I have a wonderful community in the country.  There are the Mission Co-Workers from PC(USA) who are not directly involved with the YAV program but who still offer support and invite us over for Thanksgiving Dinner (Thanks, Karla!).  Then, there are all the volunteers in the country: Juli, Laura and Andrew in Antigua area with our wonderful coordinator, Marcia, and her family, plus Tina who is  here in Xela with me so we can celebrate Monday Fundays.  The community that I have with these volunteers through our Sunday texts and monthly/bimonthly retreats definitely keep me going.  At the retreats, we each take as much time as we want (usually 45min-1hr) to tell our stories of the elapsed time since the past retreat.  Then, we work together to hear underlying issues and brainstorming how to address them, if possible, and talk about the really interesting subject that we have been studying/reading about since the last retreat.  I love it!  When this blog posts, I'll be in Belize with these wonderful people!

Tina and I, along with Malea, “my boss” at the school and Kyra, the other english teacher, also have a really healthy community here in Xela.  We try to grab lunch together at least once a week and from time to time have sleepovers or go on some fun adventure.  When something happens be it funny, strange, or bad, these are the people that immediately get to receive a text about it (aka my dog giving birth when I’m home alone, my month-long inability to find my bus (silly Christmas market blocking streets), fleas…).  The support they offer is incredible.

Then, there’s the other “extranjeros” in Xela. I don’t really have a night life, mainly because I don’t want to pay for a cab, miss the opportunity to spend time with my sisters at night, or miss my chance to work out in the morning (or more correctly, look out the window, see the frost, and decide that it’s way too cold to torture myself in that way).  However, despite my lack of socialism, I do have a few people who I really value and enjoy time with. Kate, Hannah, Steve, and Kelsey (from CPPC! before she left) are some of these people.  It’s just great to engage in conversation over a walk, hike, or coffee, about our experiences and observations. 

As much as I do really like people, I do also greatly value my independence and never saw myself as a strong “community” person.  Then, I moved to a Latin American country and community suddenly became important in my life – my lifeblood.  These extranjeros, along with my Guatemalan families, fellow teachers, and friends, are the reason that this experience (thus far) has been as incredible as it has been.  I wrote my Statement of Faith for Seminary with the premise that we, as humans, are called to live in community with one another and with God.  This year has strengthened that belief even more.   

Who are you in community with?

Happy Birthday, host mom! (and a post that is an excuse to display puppy pictures)

 This past Sunday was my host mom's birthday.  It was the first birthday for an immediate family member, and I was excited to see what transpired. 

I was warned that it would begin really early, at 6am to be exact (that's really early for a Sunday now that I'm not working at a church!).  I got up at 5:15, thinking that I should help prep for what was to happen.  No one was up so I went back to bed where it was warm.  Finally, at 6:10, the doorbell rung and in a matter of 5 minutes, our house went from silence to Alvin and the Chipmunks singing multiple versions of Happy Birthday and people running all about.   There were about 15 of us in total.  It was loco for that hour!

Around 7, we ate tamales and then life transpired into art in my room and puppy play outside where I gave my host sister my camera and she produced some fun pictures that I have to share!  
They are actually cute now - look!

Daily Blog Post... Transportation Take 3!

This is one of many (hopefully) editions featuring aspects of daily life here in Guatemala... in writing these, I hope to share funny things, ironic things, and things I admire and I want to share them not as a form of judgment... in ANY way... but in a form of telling a story... with that being said...  here's information about more transportation!


Transportation, as you can tell by its ability to take of three weeks of daily life blogs, is a very fascinating thing for me.  Not only do we have the big buses and the little buses (both of which have gained recognition with their very own blogs that highlight the differences between the US and here as well as some fun anecdotes), but then we have the other things that are just so different that the differences captivate my attention…

Seatbelts.  Yep.  Not important.  Nor are seat numbers.  I instinctively reached for the seatbelt in our car the other day and not only did my sisters laugh at me, but I found out that they are as close to unusable as humanly possible.  Then, as soon as I recovered from the embarrassment of assuming that I would be able to safely sit in my seat, I was befuddled by how many people were crawling into our car. That number would be 13.  Yep.  13 people in a SUV.  Kids in the back, 5 people across the back seat, and 3 in the front.  Ridiculous.  I guess I didn't need a seatbelt after all...

Streets.  Psycho.  Not straight. Very skinny. Very pretty.  Slightly terrifying when  a car, driven by a very energetic and aggressive driver, comes careening towards your face.

Motorcycles (or Motos en espanol). Possibly the most dangerous idea ever.  Put lots of people, of all ages, on a two wheeled hundred pound (or more) piece of metal and drive around town like a bat out of hell who has no recognition for rules or traffic regulations.  This is made even more treacherous when you realize that the larger hunks of metal on wheels that they are cutting around and through also have little to no respect for rules and regulations of the road (that is terrifying as stated above).  

and helmets?  They're a fashion accessory.  I see them most often hanging off the handle bars. 

How many people can go on the moto?

Two Spanish teachers + a bag full of water + moto = relief car for our independence day 5k.

 Pick-ups.  They are by far the most useful car in Guatemala.  There is one town outside of Xela that is nicknamed Toyotalandia because of its influx of Toyota pickups.  They aren't lying in the name.  There are a ton of pickups.

Anyways, pickups can carry a lot.  They can carry 10-20+ people, ages 0-90.  They can carry bags upon bags of fruits.  They can carry enough food for hundreds of people as we hand it all out at schools. OR... they can carry ALL THOSE AT THE SAME TIME!

One of my favorite things about walking through the Market in the mornings is that the majority of the Taxis that are there are pickups.  Magical.

Stand up, sit down, stuff in the cab, or extend yourself over the luggage in the back.  How you ride in the pickup is up to you.

Laura modeling with a tuk-tuk!

Tuk-Tuks.  Aren't they pretty?  Sadly, they're outlawed in Xela... possibly because of the crazy other forms of transportation. 

But, let me break my mourning and describe these amazing vehicles.  First of all, every tuk-tuk has its own flair.  The one pictured here is pretty boring.  The ones out along the lake are crazy.  They look like bugs with their flying curtains as they careen and bump down the holy (not in the spiritual way) roads (often sandwiched between camionetas... in a collision, the latter would win).  They are decked out in hyper, flashing lights, and have extraordinarily tinted windows... so tinted that sometimes you doubt that they can see out the window at night but then you realize that there's a tiny hole, the size of a telescope, that allows them to see.  And at night, you sometimes question their sobriety.

Tuk-tuks, in design and by definition, are three-wheeled apparatuses that are driven by a joystick... kinda reminiscent of our the handles that steer and drive the airplane my family had when I was a child. Not reminiscent of our airplane, the average tuk-tuk pilot is a 20 year-old boy who is looking for girls and a party and as many people to ride in their tuk-tuk as possible, thus they drive REALLY FAST (afterall, you're charged for distance, not for time). 

Oh man, there's so many more types of transportation to tell and explore, but there just isn't the time... plus, so many other stories to share!  
Take care!

Becca and Andrew came to town!

Have you ever had an event that you're so excited for you just keep counting down the days thinking, "three more days of learning 200+ children's names (most of which are Jose and Karla) and then..." or "It will just be learning verses from 1 and 2 Kings and then..."?

Well, my guess is that you probably have had different scenarios in your countdown (I think a lot of my situations in my life right now are probably uniquely circumstantial to my living situation), but I have felt that way recently as I was counting down the days for Becca and Andrew to visit.

Becca is my friend from Seminary.  Beginning our second Intensive (after I decided that maybe she wasn't too cool for me and I would give her a chance), we became really close.  She flew from Minnesota to Washington to visit during the summer and when I was at school, I spent a lot of quality time with her (including when we skipped Chapel to go to McDonald's to buy ice cream for Molly and Becca failed to inform me that she was lactose intolerant until after she ate a whole melting cone and then was kinda sick). 

 She is also an amazing photographer.  And, if I ever decide to have/the stars align for my fantasy beach party wedding, she will, without a doubt, be my photographer.  Before that, she was working at a church and we were able to share and relate to many similar joys and struggles that come with ministry.  Before that, she was a missionary in Mozambique and now we have that level, living abroad and all the good, bad, and poopy (literally and figuratively) things that come with that.  Having her here was incredibly insightful.

Andrew is Becca's boyfriend.  I didn't actually know him before he came, but I'm glad he did.  He's pretty cool.  I give him a gold star of acceptance.

They were here for a week, and during that week, we did so much.  It was great.

Our fun times began in Antigua. Edgar the friendly taxi driver (not to be confused with Casper the Friendly Ghost) brought the poor, cold, Minnesotan refugees to the wonderful Black Cat Inn and in the morning we were greeted by gorgeous sunshine... a welcome relief from the "frigidity" of Xela and the "frigidisimo" of Minnesota.

We also got the beloved free breakfast:

We played in Antigua with Juli and Andrew and got to visit Laura for a bit as well.  Our playtime included one of my favorite walks up to the Antigua cross on the hill and some games of hide and seek in the ruins of the old cathedral (let's abstain from telling the nuns and priests about that one). 

On Friday, we got to go with Campus Crusades, Guatemala, to see where the food that Andrew's company, Feed My Starving Children, goes.  We went to some really cool places - an alternative/after school feeding and school helping program that works to get kids all at a healthy body weight, a really rural school (combined with an excellent back of the pickup truck ride), and a sweet elderly home in Antigua.  It was a really cool and thought-provoking trip.  It caused us to have some great conversations.


 After the City, we fled to the Lake.  I am learning more and more that cities are not for me.  I like to play outside and in the water.  I like to go to the water and see small towns, and for once feel as though I'm not a sex object or dollar sign.  This happens in San Juan.  And that makes me smile.

So, we went to San Juan La Laguna.  And we got to see Benedicto.  And chill out. And kayaking.  And, Becca climbed a tree. 

and then the tree broke.

But she was okay.

And we got to take a picture together!  In my favorite medium!

Check out that ghetto green kayak made out of hard Styrofoam painted green... it was real hard to paddle upwind.

 Then, after the happy land of Lake Atitlan, we went to Xela.  We met my host family and Tina joined us on a search for a search for Los Vahos, a sauna that is way more than the 30-45 minutes that we were told of. 

But, it was totally worth it. 

In the Guatemalan ghettotastical way.

We like to joke, not so jokingly, that we went to hell.  It was a really, really, really hot sauna.

And really fun.

Then, they came and experienced my crazy and awesome morning of teaching (it is SO NICE to have three teachers!).

After school, we hiked to El Baul.  It was my third time there, but I continue to be shocked by how ridiculous the slides are and how much fun it is.

Yay!
Thanks for coming, Becca and Andrew!
Hope all is going well :) 

Daily Life Blog Post ... Transportation take 2!

This is one of many (hopefully) editions featuring aspects of daily life here in Guatemala... in writing these, I hope to share funny things, ironic things, and things I admire and I want to share them not as a form of judgment... in ANY way... but in a form of telling a story... with that being said...  here's information about microbuses!

I can only guess how many people are in the red and white vans...

Microbuses, glorified 12-16 passenger vans, are another marvel of the Latin American world.  They are small, yet mighty.  Predictable, yet mysterious.  Structured, yet not at all.

The crazy terminal...

 Not a day goes by that I don’t walk down the road and hear, “Rotunda, Rotunda”, “Parque Parque!”, “Calvario, Calvario”, or “Terminal, Terminal!”.  These buses, staffed with the standard ayudante and peloto are constantly campaigning to have your business.  When I first moved to Xela, I almost gave into the campaigns a few times thinking, “I don’t really need to go to the Parque, but I could walk back and get some exercise and help this poor, desperate sounding man out”.  Then I wised up and realized that every one of the 100+ buses in the city has the same poor, desperate sounding tone to the campaigning ayudante.

This is, unless the ayudante is 8.  

I hate child labor.  

The standard peloto seems to be around their 30s, and the ayudante in his young 20s/late teens.  However, especially during the holidays, the peloto would use what seemed to be his son, so in the mix of men whose voices have changed, you have a little kid yelling, “Parque!  Parque! Parque!” trying with all his might to sound like an adult, but nature just won’t let it happen.  

Another interesting fact about microbuses is that they magically can never fill.  The other night, we had 26 people on our bus coming home, and our peloto stopped for more people (and also because the bus was having a really hard time getting over the speedbump) and kicked his son, the standard 9 year old ayudante, out saying, “I’ll come back for you”.  So, then we had 29 people in the microbus, having traded a 9 year-old for 4 fullsized adults.  Yet, we all fit!  Kinda.  

Finally, there’s the mysterious route system of these buses.  My host dad, who up until recently was the president of a microbus cooperative, tells me and shows me that there is a schedule for the buses, but I have a hard time believing this.  I often arrive at the terminal to see three of my bus numbers leaving and then wait for 10 minutes until a mob of them return.  Space out the times?  Why?  That would be silly!  There’s also this silly bus route entitled 20B.  When I ask for the best bus to go ___________, the answer is always 20B.  The thing about 20B is that I never see it!  The three times I have seen it, one time the bus was broken, another time I got on and went in the wrong direction, finding myself back at our house, and the third time, it wouldn’t stop for me.   My host parents claim that it’s mysterious because there’s only three buses on the route, but they always seem to be able to take it home, thus getting home in less than ½ the time it takes me.   It’s becoming quite the house joke.

Microbuses, like the crazy cars (upcoming blog) and insane buses, keep you on your toes.

(ps... thanks for the pics, juli!)

The Sun!!!

Now that the cold season is wrapping up, I want to post an ode to my old friend... the sun. 

For the first time in my life, I am having the privilege of seeing the sun both rise and fall almost every day.  What makes this even more special is the fact that we live at such a great altitude that the sun is gorgeous as are the Xela clouds.  It is an incredible experience to wake up and lie in bed watching the sun slowly appear over the mountain outside my window.  Then, as I walk home at night or am playing with the girls on the canche, I get to watch the brilliant colors of the sunset (thanks diesel powered busses) as it goes to rest in another place.  

As much as I don’t like to admit it, I am fairly sentimental person, and I really miss a lot of people at home.  Don’t get me wrong – there is nothing I would trade this year for.  But, as I talk to and hear of people who are struggling, sad things that are happening or have happened, and also the exciting things happening in people’s lives, a part of me realizes that it yearns to be there with those people.  

Monterrico Sunset

This is further precipitated during times when I am sitting in church, meetings, or even just among people and I want to be able to contribute, but by the time I have everything translated enough to say, we’re on to a new point.  Thus, I find myself spending a great deal of time looking up at the sun; it’s big, bright, and I don’t have to communicate in Spanish when I’m looking at it.  

Sun and ocean... I love it!

Monterrico Sunrise

During the morning, I get up and look at the sun rising and I know that it’s a new day filled with new opportunities to learn the language, the culture, and where God fits in all this mess that we call life.  Each day is a testimony to God’s faithfulness; the world is still spinning, no matter how many mistakes I made yesterday or how many people around me I feel helpless to assist.

During the day, as I soak in the sun (the insides of buildings seem to be frigid all day long) or am looking at it, frustrated that I can’t communicate or that I’m not really sure how to start a conversation with the 13 other people in our Chevy Blazer sized SUV because I have yet to master how to converse with strangers without being stranger than I already am as a 5’6” light colored skinned person living among people who are much darker and much shorter than myself, I am reminded that there are some things in life that are continuous and don’t stop; the sun is one of those beautiful gifts (this is a lot easier to see and remember here than it is in Seattle…). 

Then, during the night, as the sun sets over the mountains, I know that it’s going west.  My friends at home are slowly seeing it in a different light, and it will travel all around the world while I am renewing myself with sleep, and we will see one another once again in the morning, ready to try this game of life all over again.

Sunset from my house

Random Life Fact from Guatemalans...

So, I went to the dentist (which was one of the best dentist experiences EVER... partially because it cost $15 without insurance and partially because they went really slow and didn't use flouride so I didn't puke).   And the dentist gave me a very valuable piece of information during our conversation:
US cities put flouride in the water because it's a tranquilizer.  That's why our cities have less crime.
So, there you have it!

Daily Life Blog Post ... Transportation take 1!

This is the third of many (hopefully) editions featuring aspects of daily life here in Guatemala... in writing these, I hope to share funny things, ironic things, and things I admire and I want to share them not as a form of judgment... in ANY way... but in a form of telling a story... with that being said...  here's information about buses!

There are many names for busses around here. 

Sometimes they are referred to by tourists as Chicken Busses.   Although this is taken rather offensively by many Guatemalans, the name itself is scarily accurate.  Not a day goes by when I don’t wonder what is in the basket beside me that that the woman is gingerly carrying on her head because it seems to move on its own, and not a week goes by when I don’t, to my surprise, see a living animal in those baskets, most often a chicken.  Along with the living animal motif, I looked up the other day and saw a dog sticking its head out one of the windows on the bus.  He looked quite content sitting there on the seat…

Locals refer to them most often as “Camionetas”.  I try to stick to that name, now that I know it (it took a while).  Ironically, my host parents also refer to their car as the “Camioneta”.  Deep down inside, I wonder if they are referred to by the same name because both my host dad and the drivers of the Camionetas are incredibly safe and talented drivers who manage to also instill a deep fear for your life as you are careening down the road.

Then, there’s the simple name, “El bus”.  Although the name is boring, don’t let it deceive you.  Busses are anything from boring.  Check them out!

These Camionetas may look like school busses that were seized by hippies in the 60s and 70s but they are definitely run differently.  Almost every bus has two employees on board: the Ayudante and the Peloto.  The Peloto’s job is to drive the bus and stop every 100 yards in the city to pick up more people.  Outside the city, his job is to drive as fast as the bus can go to the next location in order to keep themselves on the imaginary bus schedule that doesn’t actually exist.  Meanwhile, the Ayudante (literally, helper) has the task of yelling the destination of the bus as loudly as possible.  He is also responsible for fitting the standard 80-90 people onboard through the front and back doors while yelling, “move atras” or “dos cada lugar” over and over.  Once everyone is on the bus, he holds onto the handles of the door in order to keep the person there (quite often me because I’m not aggressive enough to get further on the bus) from falling out mid-ride.  When it is possible to move (aka I’m on the 2^nd step from the door), the ayudante walks through the massive amount of people and collects bus fare.  It is quite a complex job.
 

Possibly my favorite part about busses is the irony that they all have.  My bus today had a sign that said, “No Firearms. Ordered by the laws of Ohio”.  I like the message, but I’m not sure if any gang members or crazy people, or the standard Guatemalan man who either has a machete or gun really care what the Ohio law says.  My other favorite thing is the busses that still have the rules from their former lives pasted inside the bus.  I copied them one particularly slow bus day and am going to share them with you, along with my ironic commentary.

School bus rules: “Don’t lose your riding privileges!”

                FOLLOW THESE RULES!

1)      Observe the same conduct as in the classroom

a.       Classrooms here are rather out of control… or they’re copying straight off the board.  Neither of these are conducts that you would want on the bus.

2)      Be courteous and use no prohibited language

a.       I haven’t really heard any prohibited language, but if courteous means move from your seat in the front so the abuela entering the bus doesn’t have to walk all the way to the back or stand up in the aisle, this rule never followed.

3)      Do not eat or drink on the bus

a.       They sell food on the bus when you stop in focal points in the city!  It’s hard to not eat or drink. 

4)      Keep the bus clean

a.       Considering all the people who go on the bus, it’s really clean.  However, there are the times when the drunk is on the bus, or people are being dirty and therefore making the bus look as dirty and trash-filled as the rest of the country.

5)      Cooperate with the driver

a.       That’s not hard… just pay him!

6)      Do not smoke

a.       They actually seem to follow this rule!

7)      Do not be destructive

a.       How do you define destructive?

8)      Stay in your seat

a.       This isn’t too hard unless the abuelita gets onboard and my conscious tells me it’s time to move.  The driver and ayudante seem to have a harder time with it.  More than once, we have been driving and I look up to see the two of them switching places.  That’s a really interesting sight to see.

9)      Keep your head, hands, feet inside the bus

a.       That pertains to small children too, right?  Because there is never any lack of small children poking their heads outside.

10 Bus driver is authorized to assign seats

a.       Good luck.