Charting a New Course

"You need a plan ... but don't become consumed by it. Winds change."

  -- Joseph Ehrhard 

In mid-January I was in planning mode. I met with the school director in my village to plan for the start of the school year. I outlined my six month plan to cover nutrition with my women's groups. I was anticipating the changeover of half the board of directors in the cooperative, hopefully providing an opening to work with the Agriculture Committee. I was contemplating starting a weekly Junior Master Gardener group and a GLOW camp (Girls Leading Our World) for Holy Week. I was plotting how to best use the rest of my vacation time.

As often seems to be the case in life, and in the Peace Corps in particular, events have torn my best laid plans to shreds. 

The Powers That Be came to Peace Corps Guatemala. After an urgent text message and email, volunteers from all over Guatemala assembled at an All Volunteer Conference in Quetzaltenango (aka Xela) in what felt like a tortuously slow motion scramble. 

Representatives from the national Peace Corps office in DC came and explained in compelling detail that crime and safety are of serious concern in the Northern Triangle of Central America, which has been called the "deadliest non-war zone in the world" (Christian Science Monitor). Surveys of Peace Corps Volunteers in Guatemala show disturbing trends in volunteers' sense of safety and rates of being a victim to crime. They explained that Congress was asking the Peace Corps pretty pointedly, "What are you doing in Central America?" 

We learned that PC Guatemala is not going to be shut down, but that major changes are on the horizon to manage risk here. The number of volunteers in Guatemala must be reduced drastically and immediately. Those scheduled to leave in March will leave in February. Those scheduled to leave in July will leave in March. Everyone in the country may take an early Close of Service should they choose to do so. The remaining volunteers in country will be condensed into the Central Western Highlands.

Since I live in Alta Verapaz (not in the Central Western Highlands), I was given the choice to either take the early COS or take a site change. Again.

At first the hardest thing to swallow was that I was among the volunteers who had to move. Sure, Guatemala is dangerous. Sure, the murder rate is startlingly high and the impunity from prosecution is sickening. But I feel safe in my site. Everyone knows me. It's a tiny place. I rarely leave my village, and when I do I have access to tourism shuttles and relatively safe bus lines. I spent several days in denial, mentally bargaining for an exception. Surely I could stay here to finish out my service. It took a sympathetic but firm response from my Country Director before I accepted that there was no Option C. I had to choose between going home and going to a new community within Guatemala.

I chose the Peace Corps as my means of volunteering abroad for many reasons, but a huge one was that it allowed me to spend two full years in a community. I felt that in sustainable development, it was important to commit to being somewhere long enough to really know the people, recognize the needs, and take the time to do things well. Having already taken a site change when my initial site placement did not pan out, another would mean my 27 months would end up being 3 months of training, seven months in Solola, ten months in Alta Verapaz, and then seven more months in an unknown location. That sounded exhausting, ineffective, and frustrating.

Yet, I didn't immediately close that door. I wanted to know what the site change might mean. I thought maybe I could be placed somewhere a little more like a job than the usual Peace Corps location. Maybe I could work with an international organization that already had a program in place and just needed help carrying it out. Perhaps I could spend the rest of my service solidifying my Spanish skills and getting a new flavor of work experience.

Once I got back to site, I tried to imagine a new path for myself in Guatemala. I couldn't muster much excitement for it. Going to a new site would overshadow the rest of my time in Alta and likely mean leaving my current site sooner than a COS would. Site development is a complex process even when not rushed, and there was no guaruntee of being sent somewhere I could hit the ground running, or even walking. Going to a site focused on something specific I wanted to get out of the experience rather than on what I could learn and then contribute seemed like a recipe for disappointment. It also runs contradictory to my approach to Peace Corps. A site change felt like a big gamble, but somehow I kept trying to talk myself into taking it. Somehow because I was more apprehensive about staying in Guatemala than going back to the US it felt like that was the bolder, better, or braver choice. Mostly I couldn't let go of my plan of serving my 27 months and finishing out with the rest of my training group.

I realized that what was holding me here was pretty much pure stubbornness, and that made the decision. On February 1, I called my program director and told him I am heading to the States at the end of March. Time to close out this life chapter as best I can and to look inside for what I will bring to the next.

Stoves [The Once and Future Project]

In my time in Alta Verapaz I have spent a fair amount of time working on developing an improved efficiency wood burning stove project. The cooperative where I work held a general assembly in September and voted down participating, so I won't see these put in during my time here. It’s a disappointment in some ways, but it was the decision of the community and that’s how things need to happen in participatory development.


I thought I'd still share what I've learned about the technology, since it is work that is being done by many other volunteers across Guatemala. Although its not a project I'll get done, it is certainly a relevant need for my community in A.V.


To set the scene, here are a few pictures of the current state of affairs in kitchens in my community. Almost all houses use an open fire on a fire table, relying on the smoke making its way out between the space where the roof and walls do not meet. This leads to smoke in the living space, which leads to increased respiratory problems affecting women and children the most. What's more, it's a very inefficient use of fire wood, putting a squeeze on family budgets (either through money spent to purchase the wood or time spent to collect it) and exacerbating deforestation problems.   

Now here is a set of photos of an improved wood burning stove under construction.  Most of these are from the trip that Wendy and I took to the department of San Marcos back in June to learn the construction process.  This particular style of stove is unique to that community, and was designed in collaboration with the participants/users to fit the cultural needs as an acceptable substitute for their previous set-up.

The builders take a hoe to the hard packed dirt floor to get the base level
and measured out to the right dimensions.

The base is three sides of a box built out of cinder block.

To prepare a concrete slab under the burning chamber, they built a frame
without nails so the wooden pieces could be easily removed and reused afterward.  

The finished form ready to pour the concrete.

The slab has rebar in the middle to provide structure. 

At this point the stove is left overnight to allow the concrete to set.

The next day, a third layer of block is placed upon the slab.

The blocks are filled with pumice to increase the thermal retention.

Bricks create an inner chamber, leaving another buffer of pumice between the blocks and bricks.

A pumice filling made the floor bricks ramp upwards toward the back of the stove.
This helps with air flow, and to prevent users from over-loading the stove with firewood.

The cracks were filled...

...and the stove top checked for a perfect fit.  

The chimney is a cement tube for the first meter, then continues up as metal.

The "hat" on the top of the chimney is a signature of every "improved stove."

The exterior is coated and smoothed, although the stove top is left loose for easy removal during cleaning.

A family posing by their completed stove.

The final product has the four signature features of an improved stove: A metal stove top, a door where the fuel is inserted, a chimney, and a "hat" on the chimney top. In addition, this stove is has a larger work space along the top, since the stove is the main item in Guatemalan kitchens. This provides counter space for use in food preparation or for eating. The side left open below the fire chamber acts as an ideal space to store fire wood, particularly in rainy locations such as Alta Verapaz where it is a challenge to keep firewood dry.   

Although these stoves won't be appearing in my community any time soon, I do still have hope that they will eventually be the standard kitchen ware here. I know that the process of developing the project captured the imaginations of many cooperative members, and that some of them may be just the leaders this community needs to get the project to fruition at some point in the future.  

Call it Middling

On August 11, 2010, I left the US for Guatemala. One year ago.


We usually talk about the Peace Corps as a two year commitment, but really it is 27 months. So now that I have reached the one year mark, I feel a little strange. Like I´m going into halftime in a sporting event, or intermission at a theater. I´ve been counting up how many months I have been here each step of the way, and now I´ve been here a year, but have more than a year to go. In November I´ll head to my Mid Service Conference and I suppose my mental clock will start ticking back downward… only 11 months to go… 8…. 3…. Etc….


I don´t want to seem like I´m counting the days in any sort of ¨get me out of here¨ mentality, but because this experience has such a defined timeline, it´s hard not to note the passage of time. I hit six months in country and thought, huh, that went fast. I hit six months in my site in Sololà and thought, shoot, I haven´t made it very far. Now I´ve been in country a year and all expectations or benchmarks have been smashed, so I don´t know what to think.


In some ways these next three months are like the turn of the tide. I feel I am in stasis… things are not coming closer nor pulling farther away. Unlike intermission and half time, things will not be standing still in my site… indeed I am busy dawn to dusk and hope to make a lot of progress on some tangible projects as well as relationships, language skills, and the rest of intangible things that add up to be development work. Still, mentally, I think I am now going to disengage from counting down or counting up the months, weeks, and days. Here I am. I might as well be here. I think I´ll call this the Middling Season.

Week in San Marcos

After IST, Wendy and I headed back to site for just over a week, only to turn around and leave again.  During IST we had connected with a Food Security PCV one year ahead of us who has done a lot of work on estufas mejoradas (improved stoves), which is one of the projects that we are working to implement up in A.V. (replacing cooking over an open fire).  So, we arranged to spend a few more of our training days out in his site in San Marcos.  It took us two days to get there, we spent two days constructing two stoves, one day delivering construction materials, and then headed back to the PC Office again for the All Volunteer Conference and 4^th of July festivities. 

One of the stoves we built, approaching the finish.

Dolled up for the 4th

In Service Training

The second week in June found me travelling away from my brand spankin’ new site and toward the PC office for IST.  Luckily, my counterpart Andrés was coming with me, so we got to get to know one another and build our working relationship while we were at it. 

A little team building – we Volunteers and our Counterparts
Photo credit: Sara B

The first two days of training were with a Guatemalan counterpart that we brought from out sites, to work on non-formal education concepts as well as improving communication skills and setting expectations for the relationship.  The next two days were just us PCVs and we spent them building a greenhouse, planting a medicinal garden, and installing part of a water capture and irrigation system.  

Building the greenhouse.
Photo credit: Sara B

With

I feel as though the dam has broken on my enthusiasm. What I thought had drained away in a drought, I had actually carefully walled away in a big cistern. When I saw no natural spring in my Sololá community, I bottled up my own motivation and eagerness in anticipation of rationing it out to bolster my resilience for the next year and a half. I did so out of fear and in response to a situation that seemed impervious to all my attempts to plant seeds of relationships, knowledge, development, and community.

I feel reborn. I feel refreshed. I feel renewed.

My first two days in site were spent with Wendy (as my site mate is known in our community), learning the ropes of local transit, checking out my housing options, and being introduced to a few key friendly faces. The next two days I was flying solo, as Wendy had to travel to Guatemala City to pick up a friend from the U.S. I arranged my things in my temporary quaters, I went with my counterpart Andres to his house to meet his family and admire his crops, and I successfully navigated getting to Coban and back for my first Q’eqchi’ class.

Tuesday, my fifth day, was shaping up to leave me at loose ends. Irma is Wendy’s counterpart, an impressive translator, and currently in the running for Guatemalan I most want to be like when I grow up. On Monday evening, she was looking at my calendar for June and asked where I would be for the last day of May. I had no answer. She mentioned she wouldn’t be coming in to the office (where I am living) because she and the other members of the cooperative would be out at a project packing bolsas (bags) to plant coffee. I asked to tag along, and she immediately arranged for Filomena me to walk out to the community where the work would happen. Filomena was among the first people I had met upon arrival, was the first to greet me in Spanish, and her calm broad smile made me categorize her immediately as a good egg. I felt I was in good hands.

After breakfast with my future host family (starting in July, after the construction project to give me a room gets completed), I was walking toward Filomena’s house and she met me on the path as she came in search of me. We chatted comfortably in Spanish for about half an hour on the walk out to the other community, as my eyes darted between admiring the scenery, dodging hitting my head on cardamom and coffee branches, and trying not to trip on the uneven path.

Immediately on reaching our destination, I was drawn into Irma’s house and given a place to leave my things. Next thing I knew I was sitting on a small flattish rock shoulder to shoulder with a group of women crouched around a pile of sifted dirt as we stuffed small black plastic bags to be used as containers for coffee plant seedlings. Around us there were boys, perhaps 10 year-olds, shuttling the filled bags from the circles of women to young men working on a shallow trench to hold the bags upright in lines running across the hillside. The older men worked further up the hill to transplant seedlings into the bags and water the ones already transplanted. The older boys were kept busy shoveling dirt onto a wooden frame with screen on it to sift the soil, which two other boys would shake back and forth while chatting idly.

The whole process threw my thoughts back to the fall semester in 2005 that I spent in Oaxaca, Mexico. Some of my favorite memories from the whole experience surrounded very similar bags, which we were using for a reforestation project. The language was different, the purpose was different, but my experience of it was the same in all the important ways.

We worked together companionably, smiling and laughing over the repetitive and mindless work. Few of them speak any Spanish (and fewer speak it well) and I know only a few words in Q’eqchi’. Still, I felt included. When we took a mid-morning break, Filomena made sure to bring me a mug of fresca (a sweet fruit drink… in this case probably mixed from a powder) and also passed along a banana that another woman wanted to give me. One girl kept an eye out for me any time we broke the circle to move to a new pile of freshly sifted soil. If I hesitated even a moment she’d catch my eye, smile, and pat my designated rock in an invitation to join back in. After lunch the women who had shared my circle stopped by Irma’s kitchen door to collect me as we walked back to the workspace.

I heard my name mentioned several times in any given five minute period, as people tried to remember how to pronounce it, and commented on my bag filling skills. Often my name was followed by peals of laughter, and I just chose to take it as inclusion without needing to know what the joke was. At some point I’m pretty sure two women were commenting on my lack of love handles (after one tried to grab for them), and when Irma and I took a turn at the sifting station there was laughter about how we looked shaking the wooden frame about. When it threatened to rain, they were concerned for me (I had forgotten my rain coat, but then, none of them had any rain protection either) and suggested I go take shelter. When I refused, we all giggled as we scrambled to fill as many final bags as we could before the rain really set in and the dirt turned to mud.

We waited out the rain, sipping on more drinks, and they thoughtfully provided me with more fresca, knowing I don’t drink coffee. When there seemed to be a break in the weather, the crowd dispersed and eventually Filomena and I took our leave of Irma to make our way back. Halfway there the rain started up again, harder than before. I made it home wet through to the skin, my back sore from hunching over a dirt pile all day and with streaks of dirt and mud all over me. But I was perfectly content.

It was not a day in which I taught anyone anything important. It was not a needs assessment or a community action survey. It was just a group of people coming together to get something done, working with each other, talking with each other, laughing with each other. I learned some new friendly faces, and many of them learned my name. Perhaps this seems a small victory, hardly worth commenting upon. But I have spent months feeling acutely how lonely it can be to be in a crowd, how it is possible to work in the same space as someone yet not work with one another, how two can eat at the same table but not be sharing a meal. I have travelled the same space without travelling with those around me.

The months ahead will have challenges. I will search for purpose; I will be confused by the language; I will be short of patience with myself and those around me. There will be days that I am exhausted by being watched by all and wish for the anonymity of living in a city or at least being an unremarkable community member. For now, all I want to do is to unleash my flow of enthusiasm to meet the hospitality I have been offered. They are small gestures, yes, but I am deeply grateful for each and every one.

I feel welcomed. I feel wanted. At last, I feel I am with.

Too Many Lentils

A few weeks ago I tried a new recipe for lentil burgers with a friend.  In the prep, I measured out two cups of uncooked lentils into the pan, while the recipe called for two cups of already cooked lentils.  Turns out lentils about triple in size.  Whoops.

As I prepared to get out of town last week I realized I had an odd assortment of things left in my fridge.  So, I made an experimental Lentil Soup that turned out pretty darn well.  Among other things, Peace Corps is teaching me to let go of absolute recipes (my sister ought to be so proud, she's never followed a recipe straight through in her life).  Turns out things can taste pretty good when just thrown together, so long as you have that always helpful sauce of Hunger.

I honestly don't remember exactly what all went in or what proportions, so I'm going to try to let you know more or less what I had on hand.  Feel free to do what I did -- improvise.

Ingredients:
Garlic (3 cloves)
Onions (one?  two?  don't remember)
Vegetable Oil (a good splash)
Carrots (two)
Lentils (a few cups... not sure how much I had)
Ham (in my case, left over lunch meat)
Tomato (one last lonely tomato in my basket)
Potato (ditto)
(I didn't have any celery, but I bet it would be a good addition)

Season to taste with:
Salt
Pepper
Ginger
Oregano
....anything else that sounds good.  I just went with what was available.

I threw the oil, garlic, and onions in first, shortly followed by the carrots and potatoes.  Since my lentils were already cooked, they got to head in later... if you're starting with dried lentils I'd guess they'd have to be right up there with onions and would take a fair bit of time on their own.

I got so busy throwing things in that I didn't take photos of the intermediate steps.  Suffice it to say that the tomatoes and ham went in toward the end, and the spices were thrown in throughout to taste.

It didn't turn out all that beautiful to look at, but it was tasty, filling, and emptied out the cupboard!  I highly suggest it next time you're just too lazy to go grocery shopping, or if you need to get out of town like I did.  Crusty bread in place of the club crackers would have been divine, but I'll have to wait for that addition another 21 months or so.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cultural note:  Lentils are definitely not a Guatemalan staple.  I found these in a store in Xela, and haven't seen them in any of the local markets.  At the same time, the concept isn't so far away from beans, so it seems like if they were more widely available it would be an easy thing for Guatemalans to embrace.  

Whirlwind.

I've been travelling.  Here's what happened:

Friday 11th:  6 month anniversary in Guatemala!  Rode to Antigua in a chicken bus seated uncomfortably close to a man with an impressive curly mullet.  No pictures, sorry.

Saturday 12th:  Climbed my second volcano in country (Pacaya!) with about half the PCVs who swore in with me.  We roasted marshmallows at the top (from heat escaping from a crack in the earth) and hiked down in the dark with headlamps.  

Sunday 13th:  Got my first hair cut in country... I figure I ought to do it at least once every six months right?  Also, we went out on the town in the most ugly PACA (second hand clothes exported from the US) finds perhaps ever worn out in public.

Monday 14th:  Day one of Reconnect.  Ended up being a mixture of processing and venting in our tech groups.  Got a calidad Valentine's gift in our PCV Valentine exchange... the Wrinkle In Time books!  

Tuesday 15th:  Day two of Reconnect.  Focus group on how training had gone in the morning, and a pizza lunch and Q&A session with the US Ambassador to Guatemala.  

Wednesday 16th:  Woke in what felt like the Twilight Zone.  Since I was participating in a workshop looking at redesigning the PC Sustainable Agriculture program in Guatemala, I was staying in a hotel with hot water coming out of the tap!  Total reality shift.

Thursday 17th: Finished up the workshop, feeling like I shouldn't eat for the rest of the month after not having turned down a single morsel for the previous 48 hours.  I feel I was victim of the "now or never" mentality.  I don't know when I've eaten that well.

Friday 18th:  Worked on some planning for the internal Ag Magazine for PC Guatemala with some other PCVs, then headed back to site.  It's good to be home!

Ch ch ch changes!

Three weeks and two days ago, I was on pins and needles awaiting my site assignment with my three fellow Sumpango Food Security Trainees. I didn’t know quite what I was hoping for, and I was desperately trying not to figure it out, in case that wasn’t what came my way. Upon entering the room I could see which four sites remained to be assigned and despite myself, I knew exactly which one I wanted (despite knowing very little about it). Happily, that’s exactly the folder my APCD handed me! I knew my destiny at last; my home for the next two years was to be an aldea (village) in the department of Sololá!

Two weeks ago I was wrapping up my site visit. I’d met my new host family (who is also my “counterpart” which is my official connection to my host agency in the community) and worked out living arrangements for the immediate future. I’d managed to scrape up a shin on rebar while falling in love with the view from the family’s roof. I was feeling nearly equal parts overwhelmed and hopeful. I was determined to find a teacher for the local language, K’iche’ ASAP. I also realized just how comfortable I’d become with my previous host family… it was time to mentally prepare for a new adjustment period.

One week and a day ago I went to the U.S. Ambassador’s home in Guatemala City, raised my hand, and took the oath that transformed me from Peace Corps Trainee into Peace Corps Volunteer. We scarfed down refreshments, hitched a ride to Antigua, and settled into the Hostel as home base for a day/evening of celebrations… several birthdays, the fact that we’re volunteers, and a bon voyage as we headed to our many new homes. Unfortunately, I came down with some food poisoning midafternoon and got to know the bathroom of my Hostel much better than any restaurants or bars around town that evening. So I spent Saturday in Sumpango to recover and then headed to my site early Sunday morning.

 

Today I am wrapping up my first “work week” in site. I arrived over the Day of the Dead celebrations, so the start to meeting the community has been slow since everyone was focused on their personal family traditions. I did manage to buy a bed off the back of a pickup truck for less than half the asking price in local stores (hopefully it wasn’t a lemon purchase). I’ve spent many hours sweeping mouse poop and spiders out of the place where I’m hoping to move later this month (I’m safely in a room of the family’s house in the meantime).

We held our first meeting with the women’s group “as a whole” this morning, set to begin at 8:00. The first woman arrived at 8:25 and additional women were arriving until after 9:00. Of the 72 women listed as part of the group, perhaps 25 arrived, and Ela was pleased with the turnout. I have to say, it was a windy morning in the high 40s, so I don’t blame some women for wanting to stay home. I did my best to introduce myself and seem eager to work while managing expectations for just what projects we’ll get going on and when. I was striving for eloquence in Spanish (with middling results) and who knows how I sounded once Ela translated me to Ki’che’ for the women. Regardless, it’s a start!

Recipe: Naomi’s Chicken Empanadas

When I returned back to Sumpango after Field Based Training, my 12 year old host sister had volunteered to make dinner based on a recipe she had learned at school earlier that week.  Since my parents were heading out on an errand, I jumped in to help in the assembly line of making them.  Although a labor and time intensive process, we got our reward when the younger brothers nominated us to continue cooking the rest of the meals this week. 

The basic pattern of this meal matches that of a lot of meals I’ve had here; make a dough (usually corn based), make a filling, tortillar (verb meaning to make into tortillas), combine, fry.  Here’s the step by step with a little more detail:

Filling:

Chicken breasts on the bone (boil, then disminusar by picking meat off bones and shredding)

Bell pepper (chopped finely)

Onion (shredded or chopped finely)

Mayonese (just enough to moisten the other ingredients)

Masa or Dough:

White flour (one cup)

Milk (one cup)

Margarine (one stick)

Salt (just a pinch)

Baking Powder (one teaspoon)

Directions:  Combine ingredients for dough and knead.  When it has achieved a good consistency, pull out balls of dough and roll with a rolling pin into a thin tortilla a little bigger than your palm.  Fill the tortilla with a tablespoon full of filling.  Fold over the dough, pinch it shut and seal it with the tines of a fork.  Fry the empanada on both sides in vegetable oil until golden brown.  Serve hot, with tomatillo sauce (optional).

FBT: Jalapa

Last week I went east to the department of Jalapa for Field Based Training with the other seven Food Security PCTs.  We used Mataquesquintla (a town nicknamed Coliz, oddly enough) as home base and headed out to a variety of surrounding aldeas (villages) during the days to get a taste of what some real current FS PCV sites look like.  Highlights follow.

Sunday:  We took a half day road trip starring a food court in Guatemala City that included standards from home like Subway and Burger King.  This started the week long trend of being bottomless pits meant to absorb any food in sight.

Monday:  Chicken vaccinations in San Antonio Las Flores by morning, touring a Coffee Co-op in Los Magueyes for the afternoon.  It turns out injections with a syringe are much less emotionally scarring than stabbing a chicken in the wing with a lancet.  The Coffee folks had a truly impressive worm compost system, but I was less enamored of the actual coffee (not that I know coffee quality anyway).

Tuesday:  I came down with a fever on Monday night that plagued me all day Tuesday, leaving me less than peppy.  We observed a cheese making process at the lecheria (diary) in Soledad Grande, had a devastatingly good lunch at the local PCV’s host family’s house, and toured some family gardens she has helped start.  Even though I was under the weather, this site appealed to me way more than Monday’s did.  Something about being high in the mountains just always makes me happy.

Wednesday:  We spent the morning in Pino Dulce making lunch with a women’s group who works with our PCV guide.  Since my portion of the meal needed to boil awhile, I also got to bond with the kids of the household, playing some a nameless game similar to Duck Duck Goose.  The afternoon was a quick stop by a school garden for another example of current projects, and then we returned to the hotel to prep our charlas for Tuesday (chats or workshops).

Thursday:  Charla day.  All eight of us had 30 minute presentations to give, which made for a long day.  The morning group was a cluster of women in San Supo who were eager to participate and pretty savvy to the topics.  For the afternoon we went to Pino Dulce’s ecological park where I gave my charla on soil conservation to a very shy group of young men that are employees at the park.  They enjoyed my “Lluvias de cambio” / “Rains of change” game (that’s Winds of Change to you, FLBC-ers), but were stone cold when I asked for questions or comments.  Ah well, the people evaluating me seemed to think it went okay.  We spent the evening around a campfire playing a marathon series of Mafia games (cards) and slept in a cabin perched on the edge of a steep mountainside.

Friday:  After breakfast we had a class on soil conservation methods that was both theoretical and practical, which actually reinforced my own talk from the previous day pretty well.  We hiked down a steep valley and constructed some A-frame levels, drainage ditches, and discussed terracing.  After a humbling (gasping and wheezing at 8,000 feet) climb back up to the park entrance, we had a delicious lunch and jumped into the vans for Sacatepequez (our department during training). 

We returned a day early due to Tropical Storm Matthew heading our way, but I was tired enough to get over my disappointment at missing out on zip lining fairly quickly.  Plus, we got to stop at Wendy’s and buy a Frosty on the way home.  It’s funny how I love American fast food here, but never ate it while I was home.  Go figure. 

Training, huh?

Today makes two weeks in country!  Here’s the overview:

After our first three day arrival event, we were split into groups based on both our Spanish speaking abilities and our technical program (for me, Sustainable Agriculture Food Security).  Then our groups were sprinkled out in communities within a 40 minute camioneta commute from PCHQ in Santa Lucia Milpas Altas.  Our training cycle has presented some difficulties because we didn’t cluster well with our speaking ablilites within the technical groups.  So, I find myself in a group of 8 trainees in one community split into three language levels that straddle two technical projects.  (I assume that ideally we’d have one tech group per community and one or two language levels.)

The philosophy behind the 11 weeks of training is learning by doing in a community based training (CBT) context.  I’ve now moved to my Sumpango Host Family’s home and split my time between Spanish language/Guatemalan culture classes and Technical training sessions most days (Mon, Wed, Thurs, Fri, and a half day on Sat).  My technical (Food Security) group is split between two towns, so half the group gets a ride from our trainer to the other town most days for a 2-4 hour session. 

Tuesdays are set aside for Common Sessions at PCHQ with the whole training group (all three technical groups).  These days are mainly spent on medical, safety, and general cultural adjustment sessions with a little bit of technical training thrown in.  Early on we received a mini briefcase full of medical supplies and then we tackle a different theme each week more in depth.  For example, yesterday was D Day.  Yes, that stands for Diarrhea. 

Upcoming milestones in training include:

·         Day-trip to a current volunteer’s site (tomorrow!)

·         Field Based Training week long trip to stretch our Spanish and technical wings (September)

·         Receive Site Assignment (October 14)

·         Site Visit for four nights (the following week…. Also hopefully moving into my site at least halfway)

·         Swearing in as a real Peace Corps Volunteer (October 29)

In between all these events I’ll be giving many practice presentations (one in English, the rest in Spanish) known as charlas (or chats).  Along the way the staff will evaluate/observe us to get to know us (our skills, interests, strengths) and match us with our sites for the following two years.  In Sustainable Agriculture there are 17 trainees and 30 sites who requested us, so hopefully that leaves them enough flexibility to avoid serious mismatches. 

All in all, I feel I’m in good hands those training me and placing me.  The one thing I’m antsy for is learning a Mayan language (which will very likely be the dominant language in my site).  But, since my site is still TBD I don’t know which language to start learning!  Ah well, patience, patience, patience.  That’s going to have to become my middle name.

First Night on the Town

On my third night in Guatemala, my Santa Lucia (first) host mother decided to take my fellow PCT and me to a 15^th birthday party for the daughter of a childhood friend. 

For those unfamiliar, this is a bit like sweet 16 or a debutante party big in many parts of Latin America, with the Quincieñera birthday girl as the star of the show.  There had been lively discussion over whether we would be allowed to go at all, because we are supposed to be home before dark every night for safety purposes.  While that’s somewhat flexible if you are out with your family, in this case we were going to a neighboring town meaning we would be traveling by camioneta (aka Chicken Bus).  Having had strict instructions from the Training Director to be home before 7 pm, we double and triple checked with our host mom that we would be home on time.  She assured us we would, as it wouldn’t be good for her to travel after dark anyway, and that yes, we’d be home before the buses stopped running and before it was dark.

Well.

The event started with a Mass at 4:00 that we missed because we were still in class, so we went straight to the reception/party portion at a local municipal building, arriving around 5:45  (45 minutes late, according to the invitation) after a quick pass through the outdoor market to pick up a gift. 

The room was filled with about 40 round tables with white tablecloths and 9” tall plastic princess figurines in blue ribbon covered wire hoops that were suspended at eye level when seated.  The birthday girl’s name and the phrase “a dream made reality” (translated) were suspended over the cake table in large blue sparkly Styrofoam block letters.  There were towers of white cakes below with blue frosting flowers surrounded by another dozen or so of the plastic princess figurines.  These ones had batteries inside them that made a heart shape on the skirt glow in ever changing colors.  The table was a huge Lazy Susan, making a spinning sculpture of confections with glowing princess dolls.  There were waiters putting out the last of the goblets with white cloth napkins folded inside them, a screen for live and prerecorded videos, two walls of speakers playing very loud music, a DJ, and a blue oddly sized swing set with one basket shaped swing on it. 

In conspicuous absence was the birthday girl, most of her family, and guests to fill the 80% empty seats.

So, we sat with our host mother around a table, mainly silently due to the music already playing.  During the next hour the music gained volume steadily until I wished for the earplugs that had been on the packing list a former Volunteer sent me.  The music itself consisted mainly of American pop music that had a saxophone playing the melody in place of a singer.  I thought it odd when, “It Must Have Been Love (But it’s Over Now),” came on but figured it’s peppy enough if you don’t know the lyrics are about heartbreak.  What really got me was when they played Phil Collins’ song, “Another Day in Paradise,” in the midst of all the extravagance.  Odds are none of the people present knew the original,  so I suppose it was my own personal dish of irony.

As the clocked neared 7:00 my friend and I considered worrying but decided against it just because the situation was out of our hands anyway.   We were hungry and thirsty, she had a headache, and we had lost hope of making it home by dark since darkness was actually imminent and there was still little evidence that the party would begin any time soon, nor that our host mother had the slightest inclination to leave.

Luckily, the actual event got going pretty soon after 7 (guests had finally started filling the room around 6:30).  It began with a procession of that looked like every younger cousin the Quinciñera had in blue dresses and suits, followed by the girl of the hour in a blue ball gown accompanied by her grandparents, while her parents waited tearfully at the swing set.  There were many hugs and tears, followed by a series of symbolic first and lasts.  This began with the birthday girl “breaking” her “last” piñata (oddly enough, shaped to look just like her), swinging on a swing for the “last” time, and getting her “first” shot at wearing makeup and high heels.  Of course, the next item was a slide show of her childhood which had plenty of beauty pageant and dance competitions that showed plenty of makeup- and heel-wearing in her past.  Then there was a series of dances including father/daughter, mother/daughter, grandfather/daughter, grandmother/daughter, and daughter/boyfriend pairings.

At this point (which felt like “at last” to me) there was a full sit down dinner for everyone with champagne, beef, rice, potato salad, rice, and rolls.  Next there was the ceremonial gift delivery after which point our host mother agreed to take us home.  I wouldn’t have been so antsy except that my friend was feeling more and more sick, both feverish and nauseous.  We walked a bit to grab a taxi, and made it home without incident (although we did pass a landslide area that took over one of the lanes on the road.

The whole experience was fascinating on several levels and I was thrilled to get to observe the event!  Hopefully I’ll get to attend another later on to see how these events vary from place to place and family to family.  I was frustrated we didn’t have more options when my friend was feeling so ill, but I’ll chalk that up to a lesson in direct/indirect communication styles (especially now that she’s fully recovered).  Also, if that’s a birthday party, I can’t wait to attend a wedding!

Safe Arrival

My trip to Guatemala was by way of Staging in DC.  Staging included filling out one last set of paperwork that officially changed me from a Peace Corps Invitee to a Peace Corps Trainee (PCT).  We also got a small start on learning each other’s names and had a little reflection on what brought us to this point. 

On the 11^th I was up at 3:00 a.m. to check out of the hotel and be on the bus by 4:00, getting us safely to the airport a full four hours before our flight.  PC believes in being prepared, folks.  After attempting some naps in the airport, I pulled out of grogginess long enough to notice the sun was coming up (below).

We made it to Guatemala without incident having gained several new friends sitting near us in airports and on airplanes, all of whom wished us well and a few of whom actually served in PC years ago.  After a surprisingly simple pass through customs (having already been met by PC Guate folks, thank goodness!), we headed to Santa Lucia Milpas Altas, where PC Guate has its compound (PCHQ hereafter). 

Peace Corps immediately set about imparting paranoia for our own good.  Knowing we were exhausted, they gave us just a few tips before sending us to our first host family, who had us for the first three nights only (during the Welcome Event, before they figure out where our Spanish skills were and sent us out to our training communities).  So, if you find yourself dazed and confused in Guatemala, here’s what you need to know to not screw up too much the first few nights:  Don’t eat the street food, don’t drink the water, don’t put the TP in the toilet, and don’t go out after dark.  With that, I headed out to my first family with another PCT for company.  We had dinner and promptly crashed into our beds.