My first weekend trip
Trip Start
Jul 14, 2007
1
8
11
Trip End
Aug 11, 2007
Quetzaltenango,
Guatemala
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Of course, their journey back was no easier than their exile, where they worked for a pittance on a Mexican farm. They worked farm to farm and eventually found land to buy. Because I wasn't at the conference, this part is a bit confusing, but I think the community was able to scrape together enough for the land, but they lived under tarps for a while. A group of 12 women got together and formed an association dedicated to creating woven goods to help the community. The women got a micro loan for 20 dollars, which was enough for them to buy a back strap loom and the materials for one handbag. They sold that one for 14, which bought them the materials for 3 more bags. In turn, they sold those, repaid the loan, and started to amass enough money for all of the women to eventually get their own looms.
These women still work in the afternoons and evenings weaving. But, their work enabled the community to get running water, electricity, and materials for building houses. A couple of students from Celas Maya put them in contact with students in the US and a church (I think) that helped them build a school for the children. So, even though the story has a horrific beginning, it's getting better and better.
A group of eight students, including me, signed up for the trip to the community. One of the women from the community came to escort us on a chicken bus to San Martin, in the Retalhuleu department, which is closer to the Pacific coast. From there, we rode in the back of a pick-up to San Alfonso, where the cooperative lives. THAT was a blast, but is probably not something that my mother would approve of me doing. (Sorry Mom...).
Once we got to the community, we were treated to lemonade and fresh fruit, the women divided us up into small groups of 1 to 3 and invited us to stay in our homes. I was pared with Ethan and we went to Juana and Pasqual's house. Neither Ethan nor I speak much Spanish. I had only taken classes for a week and Ethan had just arrived at the school. But, Juana and Pasqual were very nice and patient with us. They even gave up their beds for us to sleep in.
Now, I mentioned that the community has buildings with electricity and running water and our hosts' house was typical of the community. They live in a three room cinder block home with 5 children. Ethan and I took up two of those rooms and I suspect that if we had more Spanish between us, we might have insisted that they were being too generous. The kitchen is actually outside of the parents' bedroom and the only water is there in a sink that functions as the place where the family brushes their teeth and washes both laundry and dishes. The sink is a three-basin affair that is still found in many more modern Guatemalan homes as well. My host family in Xela has one that is very similar, though they use it only for dishes and laundry. The bathroom, on the other hand, is a squat toilet with a cement cover. So, while this community is in much better shape than it was, it is far from a modern, jungle paradise.
After everyone got settled, we reconvened at the association presidents' house for lunch (which would be where we'd eat dinner and breakfast as well) and took a walking tour of the community. When we saw two or three children playing soccer on the football field, Trina, my housemate in Xela, suggested that we try to get a game started with them. Soon, six of us were playing with three kids. Word got out and more children appeared. The game was about an hour long and was a great icebreaker with the local kids. Afterwards, we always had an escort of children and they took great pleasure in playing with us and in seeing our photos. Kari, another intermediate student here, showed them how to work her camera and some of the children took pictures with it.
In the afternoon, the association took us to their meeting house (salon) and gave us a history of their community and then a tour of the local flora that they use for food and medicine. When they explained the history, we learned that there are about 80-90 families in the community and about 15 of them are involved in the cooperative. Honestly, I didn't have enough Spanish to ask questions. It was enough for me to get the gist of the conversation. Kari and Trina did a tremendous amount of translating because they were the ones among us with the most experience. But they often had large chunks of information to digest and rephrase into English. Additionally, the Mayan women in the community speak indigenous languages as their first languages, so they were translating into Spanish and we were trying to follow along. It was incredibly tiring, but very interesting.
Afterwards, we returned to Elsa's home for dinner. Lunch had been a modest but delicious soup with shrimp and the day had been very hot. Add to that the effort of football with kids who were between 8 and 11 years old and the concentration of trying to understand all that Spanish and we were famished. We weren't at all certain what would be offered, but we knew we'd eat it. The women amazed us with the food they brought. We literally feasted on atoll of corn (a hot drink), fried plantains, beans, bread, tortilla, and the best guacamole that I have ever eaten in my life. Now, I've had some good guacamole here, but that was hands down the best, freshest guacamole that I will probably ever eat. They overwhelmed us with their generosity. I know that every family contributed to that meal and that the kids probably helped collect the avocados for the fabulous guacamole.
That night, we slept in the houses of the communities, most of us on beds that were little more than wooden tables with blankets. But we were all so tired that we were able to sleep in conditions very different than we were used to. I fell asleep listening to Juana and Pasqual speaking to one another in their kitchen in a mixture of Mam and Spanish. It was almost hypnotic to smell the scent of the wood fire in the kitchen and listen to the rise and fall of their conversation that held only the occasional familiar word.
Sunday, we met again for breakfast and again went to the salon. This time, the women presented various traditional dances that represented the values of their culture and their struggles as a community. Once again, I didn't have enough Spanish to completely understand the symbolism that they conveyed in their music and dance, but I got the gist. Afterwards, Maria, another of the women of the community, demonstrated the process that they use to weave. I recognized some of the steps because I have seen people weave with looms similar to the backstrap looms that these women use.
The women also had items that we could buy, which we all cheerfully did both because their work is absolutely beautiful and because we all wanted to support this community that has worked so hard. However, we noticed that often, the women would have one cloth that could be used as a placemat or a napkin and no others. Trina helped us tell the women that they might be even more successful selling to people from the U.S. if they made those items in sets of 4 to 8 because Americans like to have matching settings for their tables. The women did not know this about our culture and thanked us. I hope that helps them make even more money from their work.
At about 11, it was time for us to return and we got into a pick-up for the ride back to the chicken bus. Along the way, the eight of us started talking about how cool it would be if we could just take the pickup back to Xela. It would be faster, less crowded, and far more fun. When we got to San Martin, we decided that we would each chip in an extra Q10 and offer the driver Q250 to take us back to Parque Central in Xela. He agreed. Maria (the Maria that had escorted us to the community, not the one that demonstrated the weaving) was concerned that it was so expensive, but Trina told her that it was ok because we like spending money in Guatemala. I think she said something about us having more than we needed and being happy to share it, which made Maria laugh. The pick-up driver switched trucks for one that was more reliable and the eight gringos locos were on our way back to Xela.
The trip was a blast! We saw the scenery and were able to take better pictures than we would have on the bus. Even though it rained a little on us, we still had much more fun than we would have. The truck went a different way to Xela and we were able to see different communities and passed through a community called Zunil that I would return to later in the week. About an hour and a half later, we were in Xela devouring pizza at Guisepe's and planning dinner later that night.
It was a fantastic trip!
