Tuesday, November 29, 2011

The Zoo!

On Friday, November 18th, I went to the zoo with a bus full of teachers and kids. It was one of the colorful chicken buses, except that we had rented the whole thing just for us—for the whole day! The kids that came with us ranged in age from about 7 to 17. The older kids were paired with a teacher to help lead a group of 7 to 10 younger kids. Most of the kids had never been to the zoo before. Even one of the oldest students had never visited.
Needless to say, we were all excited. We had bread ham and ketchup sandwiches and orange juice packed for the morning snack, we were getting on our very own bus (still crowded), the kids were screaming different cheers, and all the teachers were with us leaving the library closed for the day!
It took about an hour by bus to reach the zoo. It was beautiful. There was grass—a rare occasion here if you live in any sort of town. Within a few minutes of finishing our snacks in the opening of the zoo, I saw a scene I might never forget—the waterfowl display. There were mallard ducks and flamingos among about 12 or 14 other types of water fowl from about 3, maybe four different continents in the same enclosure!  I couldn’t believe my eyes. I think I remained hung up on this image (as the number of pictures in my camera show) until I reached the snake house.  In stateside zoos, I remember, oftentimes there being one way glass in the reptile houses. But, that was certainly not the case here. I could see the snakes, and the snakes could see me. Even with the special glass, the different snakes give me chill bumps and yet I felt I was being pulled in for a closer look.
As I was leaving, I had a brief moment of panic when I stopped to try to read a sign. I misunderstood. At first, I understood the sign to be warning me of what to do if a snake should get loose—through the two way glass. A few minutes later, after I slowed my mind and my nerves, I realized that it was just an educational sign about what to do if you ever meet a snake in your path. At least, that is what I am telling myself it said.
Later on, I stood entranced, as if I was one of the kids, watching two monkeys fight. They screamed and swung by their tails. They tackled each other and raced round and round the cage among the 6 or 7 other monkeys. All the monkeys were tense. It brought to mind the scene from the movie, Mean Girls, where Lindsay Lohan acknowledges the difference in problem resolution between the animal kingdom and girl world. In her mind the antagonist simply dives across the table to tackle the others girls starting chaos in a high school cafeteria.
This monkey disagreement also reminded me of our human ability to take on too much and the way that makes us feel crazy inside. Crazy like this monkey fight—thoughts running around chasing each other tackling each other and screaming retorts and exclamations about inadequacy. All this monkey business passes in between our ears.
This moment, standing outside the cage watching my thoughts running around, jumping, and swinging dizzily somehow reminded me the beauty of not taking on too much, of refusing to be overloaded as our society might expect us to be. It reminded me to live simply, to rejoice in the beauty of life that God gave us, and to love one another as we should love ourselves, and to remember the power of the simple word “no.” 

I like concrete!

Everything here is constructed of concrete. I think the main house of Finca Santa Elena has, so far, been the only building used for living or business constructed of wood that I have witnessed. I have, in my few months here, discovered two wonderful benefits of buildings of concrete. I realize that both are concepts we are aware of in the states, but now, I know these things securely.
One. Houses of concrete can’t have termites. Have you ever thought about the power of termites? They have the ability to destroy houses that have been passed down for generations. These are houses that are old, but full of sentimental value.  They also enjoy devouring trees. For which Guatemalans have developed the habit of painting the bottom half of all the trees white—or in the case of the one in my house, the same color as the wall. Turquoise camouflaging for trees. Who knew?!
Two. When a pile of trash in the neighboring lot catches fire next to your wall (and very near my room), underneath the power lines, the result isn’t a totally fried house. Only some foul burning rubber and burning plastic smelling smoke, really fast Spanish, and the whole town permeating the house. The only thing wooden would naturally be the ladder that the firefighters use to climb the wall to reach the fire on the other side. Trust me. I know from experience.
If you are one of those people who has nightmares about your house burning down, just use concrete it has proven reliable. In the time that the fire in my house burned, at least half a wooden house would have scorched, but here, the fire didn’t even get eat more than the trash pile of its origin. With my room being the closest living space to the fire, I have decided that I am a fan of concrete! 

YAV PARTY NUMERO UNO!

On November 11th, we, the YAVS of Guatemala gathered in the department (kinda like a state) of San Marcos in Guatemala. We had the privilege of spending four days on Finca Santa Elena where we learned to pick coffee, went hiking on the giant farm, rode in the back of a pickup truck standing up, talked about the two books we read (Silence on the Mountain by Daniel Wilkinson, and Never Again! Part of the REMHI project of the Catholic Church), Sang, ate too much, prayed, but most importantly (and enjoyably) hung out and shared stories!
I realized in this weekend together, the value of community, but also the impact of culture. All of us had stories of events that we didn’t quite understand or cultural behaviors that frustrated us but weren’t bad, just different. We talked about and truly understood each other as we expressed the difficulty, and yet desire, to build cross-cultural relationships. I had known that my life and experiences here so far had been stories in the making. I just didn’t realize how good it was going to feel to release all those stories to people who truly understood my perspective with open ears, who gave encouragement or challenged my ideas.
This year I find myself outside of comfort zones every day, and as a result, having a full weekend with four others who I hold near to my heart, truly brought me comfort and reminded me of not only whose I am, but who sent me here. It reminded me to be still and know that I am here—I am exactly where I am supposed to be. 

Party in the Cemetary

I was so excited for my first Guatemalan holiday, and Day of the Dead is a BIG deal.  I had been a little disappointed that in the previous week more of our educational materials at work had to do with the American Halloween than with the Guatemalan Day of the Dead, but the actual day was far from disappointment.
The cemetery was full of color and people. Going into the cemetery at 6:30 in the morning as some of the latest arrivals astounded me. It seemed that everyone greeted everyone with smiles and good mornings. I couldn’t help but wonder, at 6:30AM, how everyone was so happy in a cemetery (and at 6:30AM without coffee mind you).  
If I had to guess, 99.9% of the graves had been cleaned and repainted a few days before. On November 1st, graves were swept, re-soiled and covered in flowers, confetti, and wreaths of varying colors. Some of the graves were above ground, some were new, others only marked by a wooden cross; some had trees growing out of them (which were well trimmed for the special occasion). When I think of a cemetery, I don’t often think of a place exploding with life and color, but on this day every cemetery in Guatemala filled this description.
Not only did my eyes feast on a scene full of life and color, my taste buds were overwhelmed by the variety of flavors in my food. For example, Fiambre is the name of a traditional Day of the Dead dish here in Guatemala. Almost everyone makes it their own way and almost everyone thinks theirs is the best. Fiambre has everything in it. It doesn’t taste bad, but the concept of turkey, chicken, every kind of sausage, hotdog, green beans, beets, pickles, cucumber, corn, baby maize, lettuce, radish, asparagus, cilantro, beef, lima beans, tomato, carrots, and peas all together in one dish is a little disgusting. 
Another traditional Day of the Dead food is the Mollete. For me, Molletes are like that piece of pie that you could probably, and secretly want to down in about two seconds because it’s so good, but you persuade yourself not to because you’re sad to see it go. I helped my host mom, Marta, make the molletes the day before. They are made with a special type of roll with sweet cream, raisins, and wine inside. After stuffed, they are rolled in really well beaten egg and fried in corn oil on the fire stove. On the second day, a slit is cut in the top and they are reheated in a unprocessed brown sugar and spice water/syrup in a bowl.
Kites are also a huge part of Day of the Dead. Everywhere you look for days leading up to, and after, November 1st, it is possible to spot at least one kite. In the afternoon I counted at least 35 coming from the same cemetery. Some are the size of my head while others, entered in different competitions, can be bigger than a few people high. Most of the kites are made of tissue paper,  lightweight wood and cost less than a dollar depending on size and shape.
The two moments that I treasured the most this day were flying kites with my host family on the roof of the house and visiting the fair in a cemetery near by my town.  The fair on a dirt soccer field was exciting to witness, not to mention that for the first time since I have been in Guatemala, Julianne (other YAV) and I just happened to bump into some Guatemalan friends we have made! It may sound small, but in a world where everything has been foreign and people don’t often speak English, these two tiny encounters proved that we are beginning to make our place here. We are actually managing to build relationships and to make friends. It was the first time that I was able to recognize that I can, that I am, and that I will continue to build trust and community here in a culture different, yet full of life and color, from my own.