Monday, July 7, 2008

Lava-toasted marshmallows


Last Saturday, I finally made it up to Volcan Pacaya. (The first time, I organized the entire trip, only to get very sick with "intenstinal problems," to put it delicately.) This time around, only a few other volunteers went, as well as some Peace Corps medical staff. It was a cloudy day, so the visibility was poor, but the forests and farmland that the trail wound through was a brilliant green. It felt good to be on a trail again, even though it was crowded with lots of student groups.
When we neared the summit, we walked out onto the uneven black hardened lava. Hot air floated up through vents. We made our unsteady way to a live lava flow. I was surprised by how quickly it flowed. I busted out marshmallows and chickys (chocolate covered cookies) to make a Guatemalan style s'mores, which tasted fantastic. It was worth the wait.

smack down

I really love my family, but I am really sick of watching WWF wrestling while eating dinner.

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Maximon


Last week, for Spanish class, my teacher took us to a small town outside of Chimaltenango to visit Maximon, the renegade Mayan spirit/historic figure/demon/Catholic saint-- depending on who you ask.

Maximon (pronounced Mash-ee-moan) has a very prominent presence in Guatemala, although not every quite approves. Legend has it that he was a Mayan fighter that resisted the Spaniards, and that he promised the people that if they always remembered and paid homage to him, he would protect the Mayan people. He is considered by some to be a Nuhal, a spirit that represents certain qualities and energies in the Mayan world-view. Some consider him a representation of Saint Judas (the one that betrayed Jesus) from the Catholic religion. Many Evangelicals consider him to be a demonic figure. But all agree that when you visit Maximon, you´ve come to ask for something-- be it love, wealth, or harm to someone you know.

There are a few "Maximons" scattered throughout Guatemala that people visit to make their requests. The one we visited was in a fairly normal Guatemalan town, only distinguished by the various stores selling special candles, incense and relics. We went up a side street and entered a non-distinct door into a large courtyard where several fires were burning.

I had the strange sense of entering onto a pirate ship. Rough looking men wearing baggy white shirts tucked into trousers, long bandanas and heavy necklaces with crosses were circling the fires, muttering incantations. Women wearing tight-fit revealing clothing sipped bottles of liquour or chain-smoked large cigars to feel closer to the presence of Maximon. Singers with guitars would strum an ode to Maximon for the pricey cost of Q10 per song and dusty little boys tried to sell strings of beads or shine your shoes. Street dogs (chuchos) slinked furtively around, trying to lap up the remnants of the sweet sacred fires that had burned out. Surprisingly, after our near-celebrity status as gringas almost everywhere else, no one paid us much attention as we sat and observed for a while. Eventually, we entered into the dark temple where Maximon was housed.

The plaster figure of Maximon sat encased on a pedestal, clothed in a black suite and sombrero, holding his rifle, surrounded by flowers, candles and bottles of liquour. Tables below him were covered with lit candles, each representing a request, and a long of people was formed, waiting for their turn to approach Maximon. In groups of two or three, they went up to his pedestal, murmured their prayers, dipped their hands in liquor and wiped it on their hair and skin, and left him fistfulls of bills and bottles of liquor. To the right of Maximon was another incased figure of the classic robes of a saint that I assume to be Judas (but no one paid him more than a glance). The walls were all covered in plaques from people thanking Maximon for the good fortune he had given them.

After a while, we went back out to the courtyard and watched an entire family prepared an elaborate sacred fire of sugar, incesnse, sweet wood, candles, chocolate, liquor. They chanted their prayers relentlessly as they added more and more treasures to the firest. They must have spent a fortune. We also noticed a large red chicken waiting in a crate, and we knew what was coming. Finally, it came his turn, and the father lifted the live chicken by the feet and passed it-- squacking-- up and down the bodies of his family members. Finally, with the help of his wife, he pulled the head off with his bare hands and laid its still wriggling, splurting body into the flames. Whatever they were asking must have been a big request. If they're lucky, it will result in another plaque on Maximon´s wall.

Saturday, July 5, 2008

The Site Visit

A picture I found of my village.

So this week I saw the village where I´ll be spending the next two years of my life, for the first time.

On Tuesday, we had our counterpart day, where I met the director of one of the schools where I´ll be working and the superintendant of the elementary schools that will be managing me. It was an exhausting day of workshops and discussions where Peace Corps did its best to explain my role as a volunteer and the program and set us up for success. Mid-morning the next day, I left, with my counterparts and the two other girls going to Toto, to make the journey out to my site.

It wasn´t as long as expected, only 4 hours by pullman (the nicer style of bus, similar to a Greyhound)-- up into the mountains of the Western Highlands-- to arrive at Cuatro Caminos, a transportation hub of the main highways that take you all 4 directions in Guatemala. From there, it was only about a 20 minute ride by camioneta into my town. After a few miles, we left the Inter-American highway that runs all the way to Alaska, and turned onto a very bumpy dirt road that wound its way into the little valley where my village is nestled, up against a mountain ridge.

The town is surrounded by corn fields and farm lands. Plots of corn are scattered throughout the town center and the hills are smattered with the little houses of the farmers. The surrounding hills and mountains are blanketed with pine trees, a testament to the colder climate and higher altitude (no palm trees here!). It was a pretty town, secluded but very accesible (by Guatemalan standards), small but with sufficient resources to be comfortable (internet, many tiendas, even a small library). There are buses that run directly from my town to the city of Xela, a lively and developed city, which is central to where most of the volunteers in my group will be working. Yet, I am the first and only volunteer in my town. It will be "my town", and I'm excited to be their first exposure to the Peace Corps. Yet I will be able to escape easily when I need a break. It's truly ideal.

The director of the institute had already set up a living situation for me with one of the teachers and his family in a house right next to the town center. The teacher and his brothers had have worked in the States, and the difference in this house from the one I live in now was drastic. They were two 2-story houses alongside each other, connected to each other and to two stores (a hardware store and a traje fabric store). One of the houses is mostly vacant because the brother is currently working in the States, and in this house I will be living. My bedroom is upstairs. It has a queen size comfortable bed and a bay window surrounded by exposed brick. (Peace Corps or Posh Corps?) I will also have my own rooftop where I can look down on the whole surrounding town. There is a common living space and private bathroom on the same floor as the bedroom, but they´re currently being used for processing maiz to make the tamalitos they eat with every meal. The living room was filled with bundles of corn to be husked and the bathtub was full of corn stalks-- so for now I have to make the long journey down my stairs and up the family´s stairs to the bathroom. But rather than bucket baths in the temescal, I´ll have a hot shower (which felt amazing after 2 months without). This family clearly enjoys a different living standard than the one I live with now.
Still there are similarities. There are around 9 people living there-- the teacher and his pregnant wife and their daughter, his sister-in-law and her 2 year old daughter and infant baby, the mother, the father, and a couple people I have yet to identify. The women all wear traje very similar to the other family, and rather than tortillas they serve tamalitos (ground up maize molded into hot patties) with every meal (a nice change). They still do all the washing in the pila and most cooking with firewood, though their kitchen is much nicer with tile-lined walls and a brick chimey rather than rickety wooden walls and no chimney in the other and they even have a refrigerator.
I know I would have been fine with simpler conditions, as I have been fine for the past two months. But I will enjoy the higher comfort level, and especially the additional privacy. I will have a lot of space to myself and separation. I´ll be preparing my own breakfast and lunch, but I´ll take dinner with the family. I´m looking forward to having more control over my life.
Besides getting to know the family, my director took me around the first day meeting everyone and their brother-- the mayors, the health officials, the directors and teachers of all the schools, store owners, committee members, you name it. The next day I left my town and went to San Francisco, the larger town of which mine is an aldea, and met all the officials there, including the Catholic priest. I also visited the three other communities and the three other institutes where I´ll be working and met many of the students. One of the schools even hosted a surprise assembly, and I had to give an impromptu speech in front of all the students an teachers I hadn´t met yet.
By the end of the third day, my head felt stuffed to the brim with jumbled up puzzle pieces of Spanish words of thanks and welcome and introductions. The last night, I spent a lonely 4th of July in a rather run-down hotel room in San Fran, but I appreciated the quiet. The visit was definitely exhausting, but overall I am pleased. For the first time, it really hit me that I am going to be on my own, without other volunteers, without PC staff hovering over me, without Americans. This is real. I´m a little scared, but ready.