Mom's post

Since I obviously can't keep up with writing a blog myself, I decided to throw the task on my mom to give everyone a different view of things... enjoy...

Nov. 13th, 2011

Lots and lots of chicken buses since I arrived on Nov. 8 th (with a number of took tooks and micros thrown in a couple of times a day) and although Anne’s sister, Katie, requested pictures of me on the chicken buses, they will not be forthcoming simply because I was usually gripping desperately onto whatever was available, including some poor woman’s trahe, while Anne was nodding off (apparently that happens to most people who ride chicken buses with any regularity). But what stands out beyond the hours spent on the buses is the time spent at some of the sites. Hoping Anne will post some pictures that we took in Patachaj where we were able to watch a stove being built in Dona Santa’s home. We walked for quite a while on a dusty road from the aldea of Patachaj to reach her home, encountering dogs ~ a few which were mean/threatening dogs, pigs, shy and smiling children, corn field after corn field (or “milpa” after “milpa”), warm sun, and a stunningly beautiful big blue sky. I have thought for days how I might be able to give folks back home a picture/sense of what Dona Santa’s home is really like, but frankly, I’m stumped. Words like small compound, smoke - thick, choking smoke, dirt floors, no latrine except for the cornfields, 4 surviving children after giving birth to 9, 3 beds for 8+ people, weaving loom that takes up over 2/3 of one of her 3 rooms in the compound, windy, very little water ~ no pila but just a big bucket and a hose, beautiful and green landscape, a way of living that most of us in my everyday world have no ability to imagine (how Dona Santa does so much with so very, very little).

Words for Dona Santa and her friends, however, come easily ~ generous, thoughtful, productive, tired/exhausted, sweet, busy/industrious women. Small example: we had to leave before they served us lunch (after having served us a snack of bread and a hot drink or “atol” made of fresh cow’s milk and rice) and as we left her compound, Dona Santa came running out trying to give us money to buy our lunch (from a woman who has no money) since she had been unable to feed us. I will never forget that and am grateful that I have a picture of her to remind me of that morning in her home.

Some impressions from my time here:
- the incredible amount of time, every day, that must be spent on travel here, simply getting from one place to another
- how Antigua is quite surely “Guatemala Light” as compared to the rest of the country ~ so very, very different
- how little most folks here make do with ~ and with little or no complaint
- how colorful and LOUD the chicken buses are with their LOUD music with extra LOUD bass that is played on all chicken buses
- how “being on time” is all very relative, which makes any real “planning” (as we Americans know it) pretty much impossible
- the amount of trash that is found everywhere. . . . except for in Antigua, of course. In my memory, however, the trash issue was much worse in the DR than Guate ~
- the beautiful trahe worn by almost everyone in the Highlands

Now, after 5 days on the road doing what Anne does for her work here and using her house in San Cristóbal as a base, we’re in Antigua until I leave on the 15th ~ two days to slow down, relax, do some hiking in and around Antigua, visit some markets, watch OTHER people ride the chicken buses, spend some time with a couple of Anne’s PCV friends, hang out in the central plaza and eat at some of the really good restaurants around. . . . a really nice ending to a trip and time with my daughter that I wouldn’t have missed for the world.

Sad day in San Ramon

Dona Roberta is around 38 yrs old, has 2 girls and 2 sons. They have a nice house, and all the kids go to school. Generally, the family’s doing well and has money to make sure George (Jorge Luis), their youngest, has nice clothes and a bike. The simple fact that all their girls still go to school is a good sign of how things are in the family as well.

About 8 or 9 months ago, Dona Roberta came to the health post and asked for a pregnancy test. It came out positive. She’s a friend of Adilia’s and even brought her oldest daughter along with her to sign up for my health promoter course.

This past week, Dona Roberta gave birth to a baby boy. Two days later, he died. George came to my house the next day to let me know about the death of his baby brother. He said he heard the spirits come in the house – a bird and another animal (he didn’t know the word for it in Spanish, only K’iche) that are known for announcing death. He was so scared he didn’t get out of bed to let his mom know they were coming. Dona Roberta, her husband, and the baby were sleeping when the spirits came. His nose was bleeding when she woke up. They have a car so they took the baby to the hospital. He was dead upon arrival at the hospital.

I don’t know what’s the saddest part – that Dona Roberta never understood what the doctor was trying to explain about what happened to the child or that this is the 3rd baby she’s lost.

Dona Roberta has been in a lot of pain, emotional and physical, for a long time. She’s been receiving injections for the cysts on her ovaries, and seems to be walking around more and moving more each day. I’ve only been to visit her 3 or 4 times, but every time she feeds me then lets me know how much she cares for me and how much she’ll miss me when I’m gone. She is a light in my life here in San Ramón and I will be deeply sorry to leave her when the time comes.

The Slump

So I've been putting off posting these short entries. To warn you - they may put you in a bad/depressed/sad mood, because that's what I was in when I wrote them. March and April weren't the easiest months for me, and evidently, it's normal to have a slump about 9 months into being at site. Good news is that May/tons of work/Holy Week vacations have pulled me out of that slump and I no longer wishing I would wake up in America (it only happened a few times, don't worry).

Does “integrated” mean that you got 23 flies chillin on your bedroom ceiling? Or does it mean visits from Carlitos asking you to help out with his biology project? It could mean going to work every day and getting fair prices at the market. I’m trying to figure out what to write for the section titled “Tell Your Story” on my Volunteer Report File that gets sent to Washington twice a year. I’ve been invited to a few weddings. Had a few birthday parties with the host family. Carried a basket on my head home from market. Cooked my own corn and taken it to the local molino (or mill – where I was almost laughed out of the place after the women saw me show up in the doorway and then have about 7 kernals of corn for my tortillas). Yet I still feel like I am not integrated, or even close to being integrated into this community. I almost feel like by asking that of me, Washington is asking for the impossible – maybe not completely impossible, but highly improbable. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying that I should be integrated after merely 9 months in site, or even within the allotted 2 years of service time. Maybe I’m just writing this to give myself less of a hard time. Maybe I should get a fly swatter…


I realize that here, you do most things alone. And it’s not just most things: it’s usually the vast majority of your day that you spend alone. I have site-mates, so I actually get to see other people and friends more often than most. But, for example, today: I woke up, made myself some food in my house, went to the Puesto, went down on the bus, sent emails, went to a meeting (where 2 other volunteers were participating as well), ran an errand, took the bus up to Shannon’s community, ate lunch with Shannon and other Puesto workers, went on home visits all afternoon, rode down back to San Cris, saw Kate for a few minutes, went to run errands in Salcajá, before getting on a pickup truck for San Ramón, walked home alone, made dinner alone, ate alone, and am now hanging out. By myself. All interactions with people I consider friends were very limited to no more than 10-15 minutes a piece. I guess I’m just used to doing most things with friends, whether it’s a roommate eating breakfast at the same time, seeing people at work all day, going to see friends after work, making dinner with friends or roommates, and then going out/watching a movie/etc. with people. It gets lonely out here. And the saddest part of it is: I have multiple site mates (not actually where I live, but I see them all a fair amount) and live near a big city where I get to see a ton of volunteers on a regular basis. So the real question is: Why do I feel so alone?