Quetzals, Tortillas, and 7^th Graders….

In America there are price tags on every single item in a shopping center. Here in Guatemala you have to find a store worker and ask them how many Quetzal or “Cuantos Quetzales”. This past Thursday we had the opportunity to stop at Chichicastango on a market day. This is the biggest and oldest market in all of Guatemala and it occurs every Thursday. All of the streets were filled with vendors selling shoes, blankets, wepils, skirts, bags, knives, fruits, seeds, meat and anything else you can imagine. You would hear a vendor shouting “20 Q” which meant 20 Quetzal. It was very overwhelming, but a lot of fun when bargaining with the different vendors to lower the price. I imagine them thinking, “Those stupid gringos let me sell them this bag for 100 more Quetzals than it’s worth”. I of course ended up buying and spending way more money than I expected…yes I am the typical American girl. One little boy followed me for about 10 minutes all the way back to our restaurant trying to sell me some musical instruments; which of course I succumbed to his constant negotiating and bought them. “Cuantos Quetzales” has now become a daily phrase so far during my stay in Guatemala!

Pancakes for lunch??? Noo… Stacks and stacks of thick pancake like tortillas are served with all of our meals everyday. I’m not sure how I have survived without them while back home in the states. The other day we were given a tortilla making lesson and literally we tossed the dough ball back and forth in our hands and placed them on the stove and we had about 10-15 ready in less than 5 minutes. Why don’t we do this in Texas?  They are so thick and delicious. Everyone keeps saying we will eventually get tired of the tortillas, but so far I am in tortilla heaven. I will never buy tortillas from HEB again… I now know what the taste of a true pancake tortilla is like and there isn’t any going back to the prepackaged kind.

Just picture yourself in the 7^th grade again… Do you remember how hard it was to focus because of the cute boy next to you and the teacher who was trying to introduce the concept of letters and numbers as one subject? Now add in the fact that you can hear the class next door yelling and your desk is wooden and uncomfortable. We take so much for granted in the US especially when it comes to our education system. Every two or so years we are given the newest textbooks, the latest technology, and someone is always coming up with a new way to make our learning environment more enjoyable. Here in Chajul, the kids had so many distractions around them that I wondered how they even focused on the lecture. The middle school we visited today was also considered one of the best academic wise, but yet just observing the classroom for 30 minutes opened my eyes to so many differences from classrooms back home in Texas. These students had a lot of ambition and goals and with the distractions of their daily life I was very proud to see so many attending school. Life here in Chajul has really taught me to appreciate what I have back home especially when it comes to my opportunities in education.

It’s funny how it’s called a “language barrier”. Usually when there is a barrier it is almost impossible to connect to the other side unless you are able to penetrate and tear down the barrier, but when it comes to communicating with a fellow human being there are so many ways to communicate rather than speaking. In Chajul many of the children speak not only Spanish but also a Mayan language called Ixil, this could somewhat be interpreted as a double language barrier in some cases. Of course a translator never hurts (shout out to Molly, Steven, and Alice y’all are the best), but sometimes it takes more than the exchanging of words to form a bond with someone. You have to live through experiences, learn about each other, and have a genuine interest in those people if you want to experience a true connection. Although I speak the same language as however many millions of people in the world, it doesn’t necessarily mean we will get along or will ever get past the typical small talk. I’ve never really given thought to the term language barrier until today in Guatemala, but I’m beginning to think this barrier is completely mental rather than an actual barrier from connecting.

Today was one of the best days that I’ve ever had abroad. You might be wondering what was so extraordinary to make such a lasting mark…did we walk through a rainforest on a bridge over 50 feet high only made of rope and boards? Did we take a tour through a city of ruins and climb a volcano? Did we snorkel in a lake as clear as glass? All I can say to these types of guesses is think simpler. Today we were simply given the opportunity as a group to interact with the Limitless Horizon scholarship students. It started off fairly awkward, fairly uncomfortable, trying to talk to these students in Spanish. I felt like I was making a complete fool out of myself with every word coming out of my mouth, every time I blurted out an attempt at Spanish I would be met with a few giggles but mostly blank stares. The few times I was able to put together a feasible sentence the conversation usually ended right as it began. Then we started playing. This may seem like such an empty, pointless interaction to many, just playing basketball and futbol with these children, but I had so much fun I can’t even begin to describe the joy that filled my heart today. I feel as if this was a way to bond as a unit seeing each other’s competitive…and not so competitive sides. As we continued on with different activities I realized that I didn’t have to say much more than a muy bien and a high five to give encouragement to those around me. We continued on with cool down games such as Amarillo, Verde, Rojo, which was their own version of red light green light and still managed to laugh and smile with no exchange of words other than the occasional rapido. Other games such as the human knot were a little more difficult, but once they got the concept we were able to work together and untangle ourselves in an astonishingly little amount of time. Overall I am looking forward to continue working with these kids even though there may be a bit of a language barrier between us, but I believe that that will make little differences towards the overall bonding and experience.

Within the week that we have been in Guatemala we have been to countless markets and shops. There are people everywhere selling everything from handmade goods and produce to car parts and household items. In the United States we too have shops and stores on every corner. A common theme between both countries is that we thrive on competition. Some United States examples of this include a Shell station being placed across from a Valero station or a CVS pharmacy being placed across the street from the Walgreens. Here in Guatemala, in cities such as Antigua and Chichicastenango, this competitiveness is seen to an extreme.

In each market there are many, many stands all next to each other that will be selling similar items such as woven goods, handmade woodcarvings, and handmade beaded jewelry, all being sold for different prices. They each have an excess of these products that look almost exact to their neighbors’. This drives the vendors to extreme measures and they begin to put the hard sell on anyone that walks by or even makes eye contact. Although this may be annoying to the passerby’s, this is their livelihood and the way that they provide for their families. Many of the vendors say, “Help me pay for my family’s lunch,” or “Help me pay for coffee in the morning.” These statements definitely pull at one’s heartstrings. If at first they don’t succeed at selling an item, they often are willing to adjust their prices in order to make some sort of money for the day. Tourism and money from outside the city is what sustains their economy.

On the other hand, what about the other smaller towns, such as Chajul, that may not have tourists come through? If there are not many traveling through a town, there is no outside income, and without outside income the community’s economy will become stagnant. With the economy stagnant, the city will never be able to grow, improve, and prosper. I often wonder that if in these small towns that everyone knows everyone, how is business done and how can people make a profit? Is bartering and trading their way of life? I feel that the only way for these towns to improve is for the economy to improve and have an influx of money, but from where? Not every town can be a tourist’s paradise, especially in Guatemala where the terrain may sometimes be too rough or the roads too mangled to drive on.

Tonight, I brought up this topic during our reflection time. It was interesting to hear each of my fellow classmates’ perspectives. Overall, we realize that not all cities and not all countries can be growing and improving economically. It would most likely take the support from the government and the majority approval of the population. We came to the conclusion that the whole reason why Limited Horizons Ixil and the TAMU students are here is because we do see room for improvement and growth. There is a brighter future for the people of Chajul.

You know that saying, “you are what you eat?”

Well, if you live here in the rural town of Chajul, Guatemala, you would be corn. Which wouldn’t be a problem for the average citizen of Chajul, since corn is so revered in their culture. According to the Mayan creation story, people were first made of rocks, sticks and mud, but that wasn’t conducive to life because those aren’t sustainable materials. Hence, people are made of corn!

We ate lunch with a local family today, and they had enough corn stored to create a fair amount of people. The house was one room, with adobe walls and a dirt floor, with a bed in one corner and a small storage silo in another. We sat at a small table in the middle of the room, under long wooden planks that created an attic of sorts. Climbing the ladder and taking a look, all I saw was corn. The family’s harvest, all stored right above our heads. It was piled high, ears of yellow, white, and black, all shucked and waiting to be ground into cornmeal and made into tortillas.

I’ve been here in Chajul for 5 days now, and I am already sick of corn tortillas. The people here eat them with every meal, 3 times a day, and often use them as a substitute for silverware. Our meal today was a potato soup, which was a corn-based broth with two potato chunks placed in the center of the bowl. We used tortillas to scoop up the broth, and to pick up the potatoes. Our drink was atol, which is also corn-based. The corn is boiled and then drained, and the result is a gritty, semi-sweet, milk-like beverage.

But can corn alone sustain a person? We interviewed the woman who cooked our lunch today, about her opinions on hunger and malnutrition. In her eyes, “hunger” is having the desire to eat, but not having enough money to do so, which she said was synonymous with being “poor.”  Her diet is restricted by her financial resources, and she cooks beans and rice in large batches at a time- sometimes the family will eat on it for 3 or 4 days. With the lack of diversity in the food supply, it’s easy to see the connection to malnutrition. In the words of a Chajulense housewife, “malnutrition starts in the womb.” If the mother isn’t eating a proper diet while she’s pregnant, the baby is already at a disadvantage. The effects of malnutrition are easily observable, simply by walking through the streets. Children that are 12 or 13 years old look like they’re 6 or 7, just because of their height. I didn’t believe the first child I asked – he said he was 14 – but now I’ve learned to take these kids at their word, and wonder about their diet and their health.

After all, if we are what we eat, these kids are just corn. Lots and lots of corn.

‘Aggies, I don’t think we are in College Station anymore.’ This well-known statement taken from the movie The Wizard of Oz is a good example of dialogue that was first felt when we arrived in Guatemala a little over a week ago. When Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz first realizes her and her dog, Toto, find themselves no longer in Kansas, her feeling of displacement is comparable to how us students felt upon our arrival to Guatemala.

Within the first minutes of being in Guatemala City, with the wheels of the plane still hot from landing, the differences were almost instantly notable. As we pulled into our gate at the airport and heard our flight attendant speaking over the intercom, announcing the typical announcement of arrival, we started noticing the differences from home.  One of the differences was arriving to a much smaller airport in comparison to the DFW airport, which our group departed from.  It was almost as if you were to compare the Mall of America to a single department store with the differentiation in size between the two airports. The biggest difference we first experienced that I may have taken too lightly, was the fact that our flight attendant’s announcement was first spoken in a language I did not understand. Her announcement was of course first spoken in Spanish, then English.  Still not taking this into consideration of the new dominant culture we just landed in, the ‘adios’ and the added non-understandable farewell that was followed by the plane crew still did not phase me.

 

As we navigated through the airport, going through customs and eventually collecting our bags, we finally were nearing the exit into the unknown. We headed towards the glass sliding doors that lead us to both our exit from the airport and our entrance to the new experiences we were about to endure on our stay here. There was such a huge crowd that was waiting outside, it was almost like we were greeted by a third of the population of the town, as we finally stepped foot onto Guatemalan soil exiting the airport. I almost felt as if we had to choose between two different ways of presenting ourselves as the mob of people started to grow closer to us and the shouting of voices became louder. One attitude we could have projected was one of a child’s, who is unaware of the unknown, an attitude of nervousness and timidity. This attitude that presented itself is one that didn’t seem to have any real direction and seemed to make us more out of place then we already were by our basic physical features. The second attitude that I believe we did exhibit was one of assertiveness, to have a meaning for our presence on entering this foreign ground. It didn’t hurt to immediately see a gentleman holding a sign that said ‘TAMU’, which greatly helped our confidence while navigating through the crowd and ultimately finding the rest of our group waiting.

After loading our bus and finding my seat, I then shoved a cookie called ‘chiky’, that is popular here in Guatemala, into my mouth and allowed its chocolate layer to melt on my tongue as I began to take in my new environment.

I think I can say for the rest of my fellow colleagues, that we’ve clicked our anticipated shoes enough and have finally arrived in Guatemala. Now only if our stay here was longer…

Over the past couple of days, I’ve had the chance to visit two wonderful cities here in Guatemala. Both have allowed me to experience the culture and lifestyle of the country, but comparing the two has really opened my eyes to many hidden differences.

One of these is Antigua, which was our first stop upon arriving in the country. The city was vibrant, colorful, and touristy, with higher- class stores and restaurants. It was an interesting mix of old world charm and modern day customs. On our walking tour of the city, we saw beautiful cathedrals with ornate pictures and impressive architecture. We strolled through one of the parks, which was bordered by an old pila, or washing area for women to do laundry. And we walked under El Arco de Santacatarina, which was like a covered bridge above the street that used to allow nuns to travel between the convent to the school without being seen. But among all the old artifacts was new life. Cars, trucks, and motorcycles speed down the streets, careening in and out of traffic. Merchants sell their goods on every corner, waving cloth and jewelry and other wares at the tourists. And despite the fact that we’re in a foreign country, it is surprisingly easy to find people who speak English. Antigua has it’s own unique feel, a palpable energy that’s reflected in the people- both locals and visitors.

In stark contrast to that is San Lucas Toliman, which is where we’ve stayed the past few nights. This city is sleepy, dark, and definitely not touristy. It’s located on a lake and nestled in the mountains, so the air is foggy. The streets are lined with trash, stray dogs walk the streets and sit on sidewalks, and we get weird looks from the people in the markets. Gringos, they must be thinking. The people here are more conservative and agriculture is more prominent, with the women wearing traditional clothing and carrying baskets on their heads, and men hauling wheelbarrows and unloading trucks. Clothes are washed on stones in the lake, then splayed on the bank to dry. But despite the culture change, people still reply when we say hola or buenos dias, and a simple smile always reflects back at us on the other person’s face.

This trip hasn’t been about being a tourist. Although each new city allows us that opportunity, I’ve enjoyed being an anti-tourist the most. Walking the streets and meeting the people, observing the interactions between the locals. Watching a group of kids play basketball, or walk down the street to school together. Listening to local women tell us about their lives, and what they want for their children. One of the women we spoke to told us that money isn’t everything. Although I already knew that, it’s nice to be reminded, especially in a country other than my own. Happiness can easily be found in the scenery around me: smiles received from people walking down the street; a group of young girls singing to us while we work in the garden; being able to carry a conversation in broken Spanglish. Taking pride in the work we’ve done so far, and having nothing but excitement for the adventures that lay ahead.

Guatemala was not what I was expecting. It has taken me by storm and has shown me so much about myself and my place in the world, and it has only been five days. Our trip thus far has taken us to increasingly rural areas, easing us into the poverty and service work we are here for. Antigua was full of beautiful architecture and ruins. Its history seemed from every cobblestone street; from every century-old church.

The church La Merced in Antigua.

The quality of human interaction seems to be pretty lost in America after visiting Guatemala where human interaction overarches everything. In the states we go to a store and anonymously shop for our items and then check out without much interaction at all.

Shop in the church square in Antigua.

The markets and even just on the street the merchants come up and talk to you, asking you what you would like to buy or what you are looking for, hoping to find an item that is a good fit for you.They are very proud of their trades and set up their shops very neatly. I really don’t think I’ve been to any artisan shop in the United States that is as personable as the ones here.

Horse buggy in Antigua.

The stories I have heard from the group of women who work at the Association of IMAP have made me reflect on the “hardships” I have experienced in my life. What have I even done that compares to the stories I’ve heard, really? Francesca lost her mother when she was ten years old and raised her one year old sister from then on. Then when she started working at a Catholic mission she had to have an abortion after two months and then in June when her baby would have been born she found a baby to be abandoned at the hospital in the mission and adopted him. Her husband had three children with a Canadian woman and then moved there, which completely goes against her Catholic beliefs of the love god which says that a woman should respect her husband and a man should respect his wife. And he didn’t keep up his end of the bargain, so Francesca was left to raise three children on her own. The strength she has is incredible and awe-inspiring.

Us Aggies and the four Guatemalan women at the Association in San Lucas from right to left: Francesca, Odelia, Josephina, and Nancy.

It makes me feel quite spoiled to have grown up in America, and also makes me feel handicapped for my lack of life struggles. Life struggles seemed to have made her stronger throughout her life, and started very early on as she grew up in poverty and never went to school; never learned to read or write. But yet she persevered and worked to better herself, learn a trade, and be able to provide for her family. She is amazing. Of course I am eternally grateful for the life I have been given and for all my parents have been able to provide for me, but seeing such a vastly different lifestyle makes me wonder if I could have been as strong as someone like Francesca.

Coffee plant blossoms.

I yearn to learn more from the women and children in Chajul as well. Until today we only heard what the men had to say, and it was only in the context of orientations and agriculture. Today was when the women spoke to us and told us some of their stories. It was one of the most touching moments of my life to see these women in the flesh in front of me and to know the insane chasm between my life and theirs. The dissonance of our lives alone brought tears to my eyes. I feel so unworthy in a way, to be working by women who have so much more strength and wisdom than I. They even said they knew we were there to help and that they respected us. They respected us. It made me speechless.

   In Guatemala, as I sat on the balcony of the third floor of our hotel, looking down onto the city of Chajul I noticed so much within so little. I could see the mountains and how they met the misty horizon. I easily realized how our hotel was probably the tallest building besides the church and the mayor’s home. I heard so many different sounds built up on top of each other, yet they weren’t hard to identify. I could hear the man trying to sell shoes at a very cheap price “Barratos! Barratos! Zapatos!”, the faint Mexican music coming from the fair, the kids giggling over a single “hola” from one of my peers, the dogs barking across the town, and the people conversing and buying and selling in the market. I could smell the corn, the smoke embedded in my clothing, the animals, the nature, and my recently washed hair that was beginning to fade from a fruity smell to a very smoky one that I had learned to adapt to, during my week in Chajul.

At times, it is hard to face someone else’s reality. Phones, internet, tablets, apps are all fine and dandy here, but living without them and them not being a need was very uplifting. It allowed me to see beyond my palms and experience the world from a different perspective.

Seeing the butcher house for the first time, was quite astonishing. They do it all out in the open, and those cows are all lined up to serve their destiny. I remember seeing a little girl standing next to a man at the door way of the building as things got done. I would have been too afraid and disgusted as a child to even dare get near the dripping blood. Watching the pipe run down the stream into the river was what scared me the most. That is the water they drink, bath, and wash with. Luckily, the water that we were provided with was filtered water and I can only imagine the few families who can even afford to own a filter of their own. They most likely don’t find a need for it, since their bodies have become adjusted and immune to their surroundings. The dogs that stood around waiting for a few scraps was saddening, but was a direct reflection of the malnutrition and hunger within the people.

The sense of culture was seen and felt everywhere. It affected so many aspects, whether it be the clothing, the homes, the gestures, the habits, the politics, and education. The woman wore their traditional wear so proudly (or oppressively, although they claimed it was a proud thing), and seeing the teenage girls, who helped us out in the garden, wear it even then, was a perfect example. The stories we heard about how politics affect the employment or unemployment on those who vote favorably were eye-opening. The buses that went from city to city, were so decoratively adorned. The owners took pride in what was considered their profession. The fact that the children had school days off due to the yearly fair (which happened to be there the week we went to Chajul). Even, the mountains they hike to simply have a religious ritual.  It all is so strong, but is it something that needs to change for the better of the community? Will foreigners be the cause of that change? Will it be a positive outcome?

I tend to complain about a potholes here in the streets of College Station, but realizing that all they do is walk up and down hills and through mountains with sacks full of corn or wood makes me truly appreciate what I have. But, in the end, one man’s burden is another man’s everyday task.

Oh, the tortillas! I think I speak for everyone in our group when I say we ate A LOT of tortillas while in Guatemala. Literally every meal, with an exception of maybe two or three, we were served tortillas. If there was a huge bowl with a towel over the top and tucked in the sides, you knew exactly what was in there—tortillas! Don’t get me wrong, I loved them. I loved them so much that I ate at least eight with each meal. That’s right, at least 24 tortillas a day! Well, this extremely unhealthy habit slowly started to dwindle as I was only eating about four with each meal about midway through our stay in Guatemala. By the 7^th day, two or three was all I could eat. By the 9^th day, I was done! No more tortillas for Jackie.

This brings me to a very interesting thought, though. The people of Chajul eat tortillas every single day, sometimes that’s all they eat in addition to a little chili. Can you imagine? It was absolutely mind blowing to me, and still is, that they live off very little food and the food they do eat has little to no nutritional value at all. Hence as to why malnutrition is very common in Chajul and various other parts of Guatemala.

In addition to the lack of food, the people of Chajul had adobe homes with dirt floors and holes in the roof. Very few families have electricity and hot water was generally unheard of unless boiled in a pot on top of a wood-burning fire. They don’t use a washer and dryer to clean their clothes like we do. Instead, the women go to the river and wash the clothes by hand and then hang them or throw them on top of the roof to dry.

 

Seeing how the people of Chajul live with my own eyes was incomparable to what I could ever learn in a classroom or read in a textbook. I got to experience first-hand what it’s like to live without things I often take for granted such as hot water, clean clothes, an abundance of food, a vehicle, internet, my education and most importantly, my freedom and access to unlimited opportunities. The opportunities I have in America are endless and I am so very fortunate to be able to go to school and earn an education past the sixth grade unlike those in Chajul.

Most importantly, I learned what it means to have unconditional happiness. One image I can’t get out of my head, even if I tried, are all of the happy children of Chajul. No matter how dirty their clothes were or how hungry they may have been, they ALWAYS had a sweet, innocent smile on their faces and NEVER missed an opportunity to say “hola!” to us gringos! I learned so much from those children. No matter the circumstances, they were all so happy and full of life. I think we could all use a little bit of unconditional happiness that these children possess, don’t you think?

 

In all, I learned so much more than I could ever imagine learning in Guatemala for just ten days. I learned that we should never take anything for granted. We should never wish for things we don’t have, but instead be thankful for the thirngs we do have and always count our blessings, because somewhere in this world, there’s someone living without.