There's Something About Mary

I was asked to talk about my time in Guatemala at my home church's service last Sunday. This is what I came up with.

Scripture Passages
Old Testament:
Hosea 12:6
Micah 6:8

New Testament:
Luke 1:46-55

There’s Something About Mary

A few weeks after moving in with my very Catholic host mother, we were listening to local Catholic radio, like always, while cutting up veggies at the table. She looked at me and asked,
“So you aren’t Catholic? What are you again?”
“I’m Presbyterian,” I told her.
She gave me a blank stare. Christians are divided into two groups in Guatemala: Catholic and Evangelical. For better or for worse, Protestantism and denominations such as Presbyterian mean nothing to most Catholics and many Evangelicals for that matter.
“Are you Christian?”
“Yeah. I’m Protestant.”
She gave me a blank stare. “So you’re evangelical,” she assumed.
“Well, it isn’t considered evangelical in the U.S…”
She cut me off.
“You don’t believe in Mary then.”
“We do,” I disputed.
“But not like we do. You know some people don’t even believe that she was Jesus’ mother and that you shouldn’t pray to her.”
Seeing that this conversation could get heated fast I responded “You’re kidding!” I often joined in the Guatemalan women kitchen gossip this way. You know how they say, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” Well, when in a Guatemalan kitchen, always enthusiastically agree with whatever the owner of the kitchen says.

But she got me thinking. First of all, why are Latin American women particularly obsessed with Mary? They are always seeing her face in unexpected places and spend money they don’t have to go on pilgrimages to sites where she has supposedly appeared. I can imagine a remake of the Ben Stiller and Cameron Diaz comedy “There’s Something About Mary.” But this time Mary wouldn’t be a tall blonde, but an Israeli peasant and her suitors wouldn’t be 30 year old bachelors, but Mayan and Latina women from Central and South America. Why is it, anyway, that we don’t talk about Mary more in the Protestant church? I mean, sure, we like her fine, but in a sort of respectful of other people’s beliefs sort of way. I grew up thinking that Mary was some lady that took away from the awesomeness of Jesus, that by loving her, you somehow loved Jesus less. I was never particularly impressed with her. She was just some lucky, poor young woman who saw an angel and 9 months later, had a baby. End of her story. And apparently, many of our missionaries brought those same ideas to Guatemala, and who knows where else. But after 20 something years of ignoring Mary, I’ve begun to really see her for the first time. She lives in Guatemala and she told me her story.

Justina
Justina is a leader. During the 36 year conflict in Guatemala, where indigenous people were brutally tortured and murdered by the government, Justina, as a young girl, came home one day to find her parents had “disappeared”. Being the oldest of her 7 brothers and sisters, Justina packed up her family and moved to the nearest city to find work. They all had to separate to find jobs and even her youngest sister, just 5 years old at the time, had to live alone to work as a tortilla-maker, sleeping on the floor at night. They lived that way for several years, only seeing each other every few months. Now, Justina is the President of a weaving cooperative that she helped to form. They are a group of Mayan women who were displaced by the Armed Conflict. They weave and sell their work to support their families. They have also linked up with a Christian non-profit organization that supports oppressed women in Guatemala. Through this organization, many have gone back to school and attended women empowerment workshops. Justina, like so many other Guatemalan women, didn’t know that God loves women too, not just men, until she was told. Just recently, a human rights organization found and uncovered the bodies of Justina’s parents. Tears in her eyes, she insisted on showing me the pictures. And as she pointed out the details of her mother’s jewelry, dress, and noose around her neck, that were all still intact, though decayed, you could get a sense that a deep wound in her was finally healing by telling her story.

Marta
Marta was the first person in Comalapa to greet me personally on the street. I had been there for about a month and didn’t know very many people. I was feeling alone and isolated. Little kids laughed at me and called me “gringa”, others ignored me, but most people were cordial. But no one greeted me like they knew me. Then one day, I was in the bakery buying some sweet breads for my family. It’s a tradition to eat sweet bread and coffee every evening before dinner. I heard my name “Celeste” being yelled from across the room and there was Marta. And I felt filled with joy that someone knew my name. Marta’s warmth and care continued throughout the year. Just the other day, at about 10:30 pm, the phone rang, and when I answered I heard the same “Celeste” on the other end. It was Marta.
Marta’s husband lives in Atlanta. He left when Marta was pregnant with their 4th child, 5 years ago. When I asked what he does there, she told me that he does a little of everything. Every morning, he wakes up early and goes to stand in the mall parking lot with all of the other illegal immigrants and waits for someone to come and hire him for the day. The funny thing is, I’ve seen those men in that parking lot in Atlanta. I remember when I saw them thinking that I couldn’t believe that standing in the hot sun, waiting to be hired everyday was worth not seeing their families. Well, one of those men was Marta’s husband, and he’s never met his youngest son. She told me, with mixed emotion, that he’s coming home this year. She will be so happy to see him, but that means that he won’t be sending any money home anymore.

Virginia
Virginia never finished school. She studied through the 6th grade then stopped to help take care of her brothers and sisters at home, a common responsibility taken on by oldest daughters. She is a big joker and an excellent weaver. She once told me that she weaves because it keeps her alive. Then she added that she also weaves because she is vain and knows that her weavings are the best. Despite her difficulty reading and writing Spanish, she was my most dedicated English student. She was always the first one to show up, and almost never missed a class. Her and I formed a friendship because I was always at her house, at her request, to help her with her pronunciation or to just reteach the lesson because it was hard for her to copy the notes on the board. I went over to her house once and she had written maybe 5 or so recipes in English. I’m positive that she was my only student making up homework for herself.
Virginia will never have any practical use for that English she learned this year. But she lives in an oppressive country where women are not seen as equals. As she once shared with me, crying and laughing at the same time, that once her husband took away her weaving for 6 months. So, she filled her time going around town visiting friends and family. Well, he didn’t like that either. So, she just went and brought her weaving supplies to her mother’s house to do it and that was that. Virginia isn’t going to use that English. But I don’t think that was the point for her.

I knew Mary when I talked to these three ladies and many of the women in Guatemala. Just like Mary, they are, poor, servant women. Just like Mary, they were born into poverty in an oppressive, sexist, racist, and classist society. And just like Mary, God has seen them and called them blessed. We know their type, but do we actually know them? Marta, Virginia, Justina, Mary.

I haven’t studied theology or anything, but I find “Mary’s Song” that was our scripture passage today interesting. She sings this after she finds out she is going to give birth to the Son of God. It is a song of joy, but also, I think, a song of justice. Listen to this author’s spin on Mary’s Song from the book “Unexpected News: Reading the Bible with Third World Eyes.”

The author and his wife are in Peru at a Mass that is dealing with issues of injustice against them. The mass has ended and thousands of peasants are filing out of the church, back out to a hostile environment in conflict, sort of like the Armed Conflict that went on in Guatemala. As everyone leaves, they sing “Mary’s Song.”

“The words they are singing are familiar; we share, after all, the same Scriptures. But on another level the words are brand-new…”

Those who have every reason to wonder whether God can any longer be called a God of justice and power are singing, ‘God has shown strength with His arm.’
Those who have so often been victimized by arrogant rulers who show no regard for the poor are singing, ‘God has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.’
Those who have been threatened and imprisoned by leaders whose grip on power seems secure are singing, ‘God has put down the mighty from their thrones.’
Those who have seen their families ground down and destroyed, with no apparent hope of ever rising again, are singing, ‘God has exalted those of low degree.’
Those who worry about food for themselves and their children are singing, ‘God has filled the hungry with good things.’
Those from whom the rich take more and more, whether legally or illegally, are singing, ‘And the rich God has sent empty away.’”

“…Surely the police, hearing such revolutionary slogans as ‘Put down the mighty from their thrones!’ and ‘Exalt those of low degree!’ should have their guns at the ready as the crowd leaves the assembly hall.…[But] all the worshipers are doing is singing a prayer song by a dutiful, demure little Jewish girl…”

6 ferris wheels and my last blog in Guatemala

It is fair time in Comalapa. And there are currently 6 ferris wheels set up in the plaza...6!!!

Well, as you may or may not know, I am now 3 days into my last week in Guatemala. Tomorrow is my last day in Comalapa and then I’ll go on my last retreat with the girls and my supervisor to Panajachel. At about 3am on Sunday I’ll be on my way to Guatemala City for a 6am flight. And by 5pm eastern time on Sunday, I’ll be back in Pennsylvania. And that’ll be that. Another end. Another chapter closed.

This past week has been super busy! I translated again last Thursday and Friday morning. Then a lady from Cedepca came to Comalapa to put on a workshop at CEFORMA. The lady stayed at my house with me which was nice. But by Sunday evening, I was exhausted.

The workshop was called Project Alternatives to Violence. It was created in the U.S. by the Quakers. And it has been brought to many countries all over the world. It is entirely interactive and deals with how to deal with problems in your everyday life. Talking to some of the women afterward, I think it was really helpful. Not only that, but it gave the women a chance to really take some time for themselves. And that so rarely happens with women in a Guatemalan household. Though, they couldn’t take too much time, because they asked to end at noon on Sunday, instead of 3:30. Oh well, small steps. I hope that they take the initiative to bring in more workshops for women at CEFORMA. As a community-run school, I believe that providing these sorts of educational services to the mothers will help keep the school alive.

On another note, this is a week of goodbyes. I am terrible at goodbyes and usually brush over them, not giving them the full attention they deserve. But not this time. This time I am saying my goodbyes. A few each day. I began packing on Sunday. And it is now Tuesday and I am still not finished. My mom isn’t here to help me this time! I seem to have accumulated a whole suitcase full of Guatemalan fare. That just means that I will have to leave everything that doesn’t fit here. Hopefully my host family is OK with that!

I bought gifts and souvenirs for myself, but it seems that I didn’t need to because everyone keeps giving me things! It is really so unnecessary. But at the same time, I can’t refuse something that some wants to give. What a giving place this is. All year I have received little gifts. A necklace here, a pair of earrings or a little purse there. I’ve even been given 2 güipiles! And on top of the material gifts, the love and affection I’ve received is indescribable. People have invited this strange tall gringa into their homes and fed me and shared with me and made me feel at home. Words cannot express how grateful I am for having met the people of Comalapa. Especially the women. They have given me new insight into what it means to be a woman. What it means to be strong and maintain ones dignity in an oppressing society.

So, I am going through my goodbyes feeling excited to see my family and friends again, to discover what it is I have learned here and how it will change my life as a whole and how it has changed my day to day decisions. What will those changes look like? Will I shop differently? Will I consume less? And more importantly, will I treat people differently? I sure hope so! I sure hope I am strong enough to maintain these new values I have developed while living with a family in a small town in the mountains in Guatemala. So, I am hopeful for the future ahead of me, and ready to start the next chapter. Yet, of course, I’m sad to end this chapter in my life. I have had an uneasy feeling in my stomach all week. But, I can’t tell if that is from sadness or the parasites that I’m sure I have. Probably a little bit of both.

See you soon!!!!!

my 3rd and final newsletter! on translating and telling your story

Querido Amigos,

I don’t know when I reached the point of translator, instead of the one being translated for. In fact, I don’t think the line is so clear because I still often need people to explain things to me in different ways so that I understand. Nonetheless, I am now also doing the translating. I’ve helped translate for two groups from the United States who have come and last week began a job translating for a women’s weaving group called Corazón de las Mujeres or Heart of the Women. These jobs have required two different types of translating. One is a casual paraphrasing or a “how do you say…?” type of translating. This type is much easier and is a lot less pressure. It is a loose translation where translations such as “He said something about that dog,” often do. And the response “I’m not sure” when someone asks “How do you say clothespin in Spanish” leaves no one feeling voiceless. That type of translating is really quite harmless. The worst that can happen is a translation blooper that causes a big laugh and a community forming an inside joke for the rest of their time together. On my first translating trip with a group from the U.S., someone asked me “How do you say parachute in Spanish?” Being unsure, I went to my bilingual Guatemalan counterpart and asked him, “How do you say parachute in Spanish.” Without any hesitation, he responded, “Par de zapatos.” “Pair of shoes?” I thought. Then it hit me that he thought I had asked, “How do you say pair of shoes in Spanish?” Needless to say, we all had a big laugh. And some might say that the blooper was actually a blessing, causing joy. However, the second type of translating I have done is a direct translation using the first person. In other words, all of my “She said´s and He said´s” become “I´s”. There is much more pressure to get it right. And this is the kind of translating I have been asked to do now with Corazón de las Mujeres.

Corazón de las Mujeres is a group of women that formed during the Armed Conflict here in Guatemala in the early 90’s. The Armed Conflict is known for being a horrific 36 years when the military brutally murdered thousands of indigenous Guatemalans, even wiping out entire villages. These women were victims of the war. Their family members were killed and, as survivors, they were displaced from their communities. Since the early 90´s, this group of women has met monthly to discuss their experiences, share their stories, or attend women empowerment workshops put on by Centro Evangélico de Estudios Pastorales en Centro América (CEDEPCA). On top of their meetings, they are weavers. They work together to make woven handicrafts to sell to groups who come to visit them and hear their stories. Being a part of the Corazón de las Mujeres community is a means of emotional support and provides educational and financial opportunities in a country where opportunity of any kind is often limited to the elite and non-indigenous.

I have been asked to help out a lady who meets with women from Corazón de las Mujeres to conduct interviews about the women’s experiences and the tradition of weaving in their lives. Since these are interviews, I have to do direct translations. No paraphrasing. No “I’m not sure.” And I need to translate in first person.

As I listen to the ladies’ perfected, memorized stories and translate in their voices, I feel as though I have stepped into their shoes. It becomes easier to put myself where they have been. I hear their suffering and really hear it. And when tears well up in their eyes, tears enter my eyes too. At that moment, their voices are being heard through my voice. And the responsibility of translating their stories is both frightening and wonderful. From these women, I have understood the importance of telling one’s story. These women have told their stories to countless groups. Yet, the tears still come like it is something weighing down on their shoulders that needs to be spoken aloud to lift the weight. Telling one’s story is a very personal experience. However, it cannot be told without someone to listen – someone to share the weight with to make it lighter.

After each interview is over, it takes me a moment to step out of the heart of the storyteller, to step out of the story and enter my own body, my own life. I worry that I didn’t convey in English what the women had conveyed to me in Spanish, that something was lost in translation. But, the story was told again. And rather than the burden of reliving the same horrific events over and over, I see in the women’s eyes that telling their story has empowered them all over again. Maybe because as the storyteller, you are in control of what comes out of your mouth. And that makes you, in some way, in control of what has happened to you, I think.

As I reflect on the importance of sharing one’s experiences, I think about how I will convey my own story when I return to the United States. What will it mean to me to share my story? What will make the final cut of the perfected, memorized version? What is it that I really want to convey about my experience in Guatemala? With only 2 weeks left in my community, these questions become more pertinent in my mind. And though I’m sure that the story of the beheading of my Guatemalan Thanksgiving turkey would be entertaining, I don’t think that is the story I need to tell. Really, telling my story is telling these women’s stories and the stories of all those who have impacted me so much here. Those are the stories that explain what it is I have experienced and learned as a Young Adult Volunteer in Guatemala. Those are the voices that need to be heard.

Con Amor,
Celeste

thoughts on just "being"

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.”
-Ecclesiastes 3:1

The Bible verse above has been one of my favorites since high school. It’s a simple statement that speaks volumes about life. And though I have reflected on this verse time and again, I still am now just understanding it in a new way. As I approach the end of my time in Guatemala, I feel myself getting anxious. As with many things in life, I just want to get them over with. I felt that way about high school, about every semester in college, and now about my volunteer year in Guatemala. I am always ready for next thing in life. Going to college in New York City probably did not help my rushed way of living. There is no time for dillydallying. I’m already almost 23 for goodness sake!

Yet, “there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.” I knew that when I signed up for this program that a major focus was that the volunteers experience what it means to just “be.” My work assignment is not particularly strenuous. I am very rarely rushed for time here. Heck, I get a full 9 hours of sleep almost every night! And though I think I have done a pretty well at resisting boredom, I still haven’t quite learned how to just be content where I am.

There is so much to learn in my community. I’ve learned to weave, to paint, to cook, to teach English, Spanish, a little Kakchiquel and the list goes on. But, what I still need to learn from my community is how to be thankful for each moment. Because, really each moment is a gift from God and it can be taken away by God as well. And there is always something to be thankful for.

Just the other night, I was awoken by a pretty strong tremor. The next day I learned that it was a full 7.1 earthquake in Honduras. It could just have easily bee a 7.1 earthquake in Comalapa and then what? Each moment is a gift, an undeserved gift.

As I finish out my last 27 days in Guatemala, I want to focus on just being. If I allow myself to open up to being where I am, then who knows what sort of love and fellowship could come out that. Who knows, I might even find myself not ready to go home in these 4 short weeks.

In other news, I went on a field trip with CEFORMA to Guatemala City this weekend. We boarded 2 old school buses or camionetas at 6am, and after a good half hour of trying to get one to start, we were off. That bus only broken down once along the way, thank goodness! We visited a natural history museum, botanical garden, and amusement park/zoo. It felt so good getting out of town with everyone I know here. I rode all of the rides I could, though it seems many rides were not made for my size. When I climbed on a nice looking horse on the carousal, I was quickly told I was too big for the horse and needed to climb onto something else. Well, the only other thing to ride on the carousal was an even smaller horse. But, I obediently jumped on and my knees were up to my ears as I precariously tried to sit on the thing. Everyone was laughing at me, and then the attendant told me that I couldn’t ride that either! So, I just wondered why the hell he let me on the ride to begin with?! Anyway, we had a tiring, but joy-filled day and got home at around 7:30 pm and crashed from exhaustion.

I began teaching my 4 hour intensive English course yesterday. And thankfully, the 4 hours wasn’t as exhausting as I thought it would be. Time flew by and the women seemed quite interested in learning. I really quite enjoyed myself and found it rewarding. I really like teaching English and am thinking about getting my Master’s in ESL/Spanish Education. I’m not entirely sure what I want to do, but I don’t think it would hurt to have that degree. I just need to perfect my Spanish first!

Oh well, until next time…

The Wedding aka the weekend of 3 am wake-ups and more bread than anyone could know what to do with.

Weddings are full of cultural customs all over the World. I think, going to a wedding in another country or culture can be a peak into the values and social structures of those people. I was fortunate to get that peak into the wedding customs of Comalapa this month. In Comalapa, when a couple decides to get married, they search out a married couple to be their padrinos who basically sponsor the wedding financially, as well as serve as the newlyweds marriage counsellors. My host parents, Aura and David, were chosen to be the padrinos through a small ceremony in our home back in October. The wedding was scheduled for May which I thought would be a month that never came, but alas, it did come and has almost gone! I already posted pictures of the wedding, so I guess I will tell you a bit about what actually is going on in those pictures. As well as a little bit extra!

The wedding custom in Comalapa is quite extensive. I only saw it from the padrinos’ perspective, so that is the insight I can offer. The padrinos are in charge of buying the rings and veil. On top of that, they are expected to invite their friends to join in on the festivities. Fortunately, part of the tradition is that the invites stop by beforehand to drop off a financial donation to the padrinos to help out with the cost of food. Because that job is expensive! The Friday before the wedding, Aura was up at 3 am to get everything ready for her friends/guests to arrive starting at 4 am. The most dedicated arrive that early, while others trickle in throughout the morning. The women were put to work in the kitchen, preparing soup, tostadas, atol, tamalitos, etc. And the men were out decorating and arranging the house so that the maximum amount of people will fit inside. At about 5:30 am, I got out of bed and quickly dressed so that when I opened my bedroom door and saw about 20 women sitting there cooking, they wouldn’t see the just woke up version of myself. Especially, since I was lazy and slept in until 5:30!

At 10 am, the family of the groom arrived. I knew they had arrived when I started coughing upstairs from the smell of incense. Catholics, you all really love that incense. From now on whenever I smell it, I will be reminded of Comalapan parties. That, and the scent of pine. Party floors are always covered in fresh pine needles. It smells so good. What once was strictly a Christmas smell is a Guatemala smell for me now. Anyway back to the groom’s family. When I say family, I mean everyone in the family and extended family. It was probably about 40 people. Add that to the 20 or so people that were already at the house. They came carrying a huge basket of food. It was so big we had to basically remove the door to get it through. A lot of praying goes on in front of the make shift altar we made the night before and the basket is brought inside to the women. After we all take turns swinging incense over the basket (more incense! Cough cough), we open it. This basket is filled with bread, plantains, chocolate, soda, 2 chickens, and I don’t even remember what else. Despite giving it out to our guests, much of the food went bad. We are only a family of 6 here and 3 are eight and under. And 1 doesn’t even have teeth yet. So, that was frustrating seeing all the good food go bad. I wish we could have given it out before it went. Anyway, after the basket, we gave everyone tostadas and coffee. When the groom’s family left, we dished out the soup for Aura and David’s party. And then we went and brought bread, plantains, and soup to all of the houses of the invites as their official invitation. And we got rained on.

The next day, Aura was up at 3 again and the bride was there at 6 to get her hair done by Aura. Everyone came back to the house and waited for the family to come again. Once we were all dolled up and the family came, we all went out to pray in front of the altar again. Fire works were lit, the band started, and we marched our way to the municipal building where the couple was married civilly. Meanwhile I had gone to the church to help decorate the pew that the bride, groom, and padrinos were going to sit in. After the civil wedding, the parade marched its way to the church and the mass began. The couple has a baby together, so they took advantage of the day and baptised their son as well. After the wedding, we all went to the groom’s house and sat there for hours. First we were served lunch, some people took naps in their chairs, and several hours later we were served dinner. There was a live Christian band, which meant we weren’t allowed to dance. So we just sat there. Luckily, or unluckily, I had a stomach issue and had to go home for a few hours in between meals. My little sister jumped at the opportunity to leave as well.

By the time Sunday came around, I was glad to wake up to an empty house again.

Going through all of these customs made me realize how important customs are here. The 3am wake up convinced me that Comalapans are much less lazy than I am. The fact that everyone came over to the house to help cook showed me the importance of community here. The way everyone was fed demonstrated the importance of giving. And the lack of dancing at the reception made me thankful that I don’t believe dancing to be sinful and the path to hell. Most of all, I hope that no one falls asleep at my wedding!

In other news:

• I am on a CEFORMA teacher’s basket ball team! I am really no good. The teachers signed me up expecting me to be good because I am tall. That’ll teach them to judge a book by its cover. Our practices are at 5 am (why so early!) and our games are about every other Thursday. We play other women’s teams from town and just outside of it. I have learned that the teams from the rural areas are super tough. So far, we have lost every game. But I made a basket at our last one! Woohoo!
• The day after the wedding was MOTHER’S DAY. And that day is celebrated extra strong here! The school had an activity for the mothers which involved games, songs, performances, etc. It also involved me wearing my traje or traditional Mayan outfit for the first time! I bought the top from a friend who wove it herself and the skirt from another friend who bought it two years ago and never wore it. Aura made a belt and gave it to me. Look at the picture down below! It is absolutely gorgeous but dyed my legs a sickly looking blue.
• I went on a trip with the other volunteers to Semuc Champey last weekend and it was amazing! I swam through a cave with only a candle to light my path. Luckily we had a guide with a flashlight on his head. But it was quite the adventure. A major thrill. We also jumped off swings into the river and tubed down it as well. There the river cuts through a valley and splits off partly underground and partly over. The parts that are over form these little blue pools of water on limestone. They are great to swim in and absolutely gorgeous!
• I only have 5 weeks left in Guatemala and even less time in Comalapa. My departure date is June 28th, but I leave Comalapa on the 25th. So my time here is really winding down. I can't decide how I fee about leaving because it changes moment to moment. I have a lot to do still, but haven’t really felt like doing much of anything. Hopefully this will pass because I have a whole to do list! Though what I really want to focus on in my last few weeks is spending time with my host family and friends. Though part of me is ready to go, the idea of leaving the people here that I’ve grown close to breaks my heart. And I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for the goodbye.
• I want to thank everyone who has been following my blog this year for your interest! I’m sure I’ll write a few more entries in the next month before I leave. Also, any of you who have donated to my year here I send a HUMUNGOUS thank you!!! I could never have done this without you. I have almost reached my goal of $10,000 and think that I will be able to get there by the end of the summer.
  

no tengo ganas a escribir un blog. disfrustan mis fotos!

I keep coming to the internet cafe to write a blog, but I just don't feel like it! No tengo ganas a escrbir nada! So instead, I'm just going to add some pictures for you all to enjoy.

Easter, wedding, and Mother's Day. My host parents were the padrinos of a wedding last weekend. That means they had to pay for the veil, rings, and who knows what else! The whole week was dedicated to the wedding and people were at my house for several days starting at 4am working to prepare for the event. As much as I found it interesting, I have decided NOT to get married in Guatemala because I don't think I'd much like to wake up so early to get married. It might start my marriage on a cranky note. The day after the wedding was Mother's Day and I broke out my traje! I bought one from a friend who weaved the top herself! It is the traditional Comalapan style outfit. I felt so elegant wearing something that isn't bleached, torn, or faded from hand washing and drying in the sun. And that is what women wear here everyday. What a slob I am! I only have a month and a half left here in Guatemala with much to do still! My official departure date is June 28th. The date is sneaking up on me, and everyone seems to be treating me like it is the last time I will see them, inviting me over to dinners and lunches. It is getting close, but it isn't over yet! When I get back, I promise to tell you all about my photos, if you are interested.


Enjoy!

My parents trip to Guatemala aka my mom brought me a new shirt and I wear it everyday.

Some pics from my parents trip to Guatemala! Most of them are of our time in Comalapa and the new baby! There are also a few of ziplining in Panajachel and our amazing trip to Tikal. Enjoy!

¡Marzo en Guatemala! Un Mes lleno de felicidad.

March! What a month! It began in Belize and moved throughout Guatemala. Let me tell you a little about it.

I had been waiting all year for our retreat to Belize. When it finally came, I couldn’t believe we were already at that highlighted section of my calendar. It was a long journey from Comalapa, but it still felt strange to cross the bay to enter a country that spoke ENGLISH. For a country of only 300,000 inhabitants TOTAL, there is such a variety of cultures and peoples. The biggest mind blower was to see indigenous Mayans speaking their native language and ENGLISH not Spanish. I couldn’t bring myself to say “Good Morning.” My mind was still in “Buenos Dias” mode. The beach we went to was a little too occupied by tourists for my taste, but what can you expect at a place where the waters are bluer than any part of my name, the sand is whiter than the teeth on a Crest commercial, the fish are always dressed to go out to a disco, and boats are used as common transportation to get from place to place. Tourists search for happiness in places that look like that and they call it Paradise. I call it kind of strange and awkward but still undeniably beautiful. The national beer is called Belikan, but the people are called Belizeans. Houses are built of wood and sit on stilts. And, despite popular opinion by Guatemalans, they were NEVER a part of Guatemala. And I think I’m addicted to snorkelling. Really, I dream of being a mermaid now.

While on my trip, an emergency translating position opened for the YAVs to fill. So, just 4 days later, I was on a microbus to Xela at 5 am to meet with a group from Queens University, North Carolina. My friend, Hanna, had been with the group up until then, so I was a little nervous that they wouldn’t accept me as part of their group. But, oh the contrary. They were a very accepting group! And Hanna ended up missing everyone so much that she came back and we all just had a merry time together. We did a homestay in a very rural community outside of Xela. We made a trip (like the 5th time for me) to Lake Atitlan where Hanna and I got hair-wraps and called them our awesomeness. And we also spent a night in Guatemala City. Now, there was much more to the trip than just fun and games. But, I do remember fondly those fun and games. The day before I was to head back to Comalapa, I got a phone call from my host dad telling me the good news that my host mom had a baby…a beautiful, healthy baby boy! I was so shocked I didn’t know what to say. Mostly because I thought she was due in April and my parents were coming two days later and planned to stay at my house! For some reason I was really nervous to be around a baby. Though now it feels very normal and not scary at all, thank heavens. In fact, I might want one of my own someday it is just that cute.

My parents got here that Tuesday and of course our plans had to change. Instead of staying at my house, they stayed down the street at a hotel. And I did a lot of the cooking, so their meals weren’t quite as Guatemalan as I had hoped. But they were able to meet many people in my community and were served delicious Guatemalan meals by several different families. They came to my adult class with me and my parents did everything in Spanish while the class did everything in English. We spent a couple of days in Panajachel where we got to visit Anna at her community in Santiago Atitlan. We had a day excursion with my whole family to Iximché where we climbed Mayan temples, ate watermelon on the grass, and had a huge meal at a famous restaurant named Katok. The next week, I stayed in Comalapa to teach while my parents headed to Antigua to do their own thing. They took a trip to the Copán ruins and explored Antigua. I met them on Thursday night and we took a weekend trip to Tikal which is way up north in the jungle. We woke up at 3am on Saturday, so we were quite tired. But it was worth it. It was absolutely beautiful. Just from our bungalow room, we could see spider monkeys playing, shiny turkeys, and other wildlife. We woke up to find a pile of monkey poop on our porch! Inside the park, admist the ancient Mayan temples, you could see howler monkeys, parrots, toucans, etc. just living their day-to-day life. The whole atmosphere was just breath-taking. At sunset, we climbed a temple to watch the sun go down. The temple was higher than the canopy of the jungle and we could hear all of the animals making their nighttime noises.

We came back to Antigua and I meant to leave on Monday, but on the way to the bus terminal I was feeling a little sick. I was worried it would get worse, so I stayed behind. And yep, it did get worse. So, I left at the same time they left for the airport on Tuesday. I must say, despite the crazy beginning, the trip went so smoothly! I give a lot of credit to my mom to finding some fantastic places to stay. Everything just really worked out, and I will always remember that trip as a happy time. And here I am in Comalapa now. March is over and I have so many memories of the month. This Sunday I leave again to meet Drew at the airport on Monday. Holy Week is next week, then another retreat, and then a week-long class at CEDEPCA that I’d like to take. So, there goes April as well! Time is really flying now. And now that my flight ticket home is being FedExed to me right this moment, I am starting to realize how finite my time here is. Once I leave, it will be over. And another chapter of my life will close, though hopefully it will open up new doors and my experiences will continue to shape me and my life in positive ways.

I’ll try to get some pictures of my trips up here soon!

mariachi band ALL THE WAY FROM MEXICO, a couple of clowns, and a blonde girl...a copy of my 2nd newsletter

Dear Amigos and Amigas,

One of the things I find most encouraging in a time of economic crisis, war, and hunger is to see the hope that small groups of average people can bring to the world. Whether it is nonprofit organizations, church groups, or plain good-hearted people, their missions are what keep me and many others hopeful for the future and joyful in the present.

This Christmas I was lucky enough to be able to share with a Guatemalan group of good-hearted people serving their own community. The project is called “Calor Navideño” or “Christmas Warmth”. “Calor Navideño” is a Christmas project serving the community of Comalapa. Throughout the year “GuateVision”, a Guatemalan TV station, holds a drive collecting whatever the choice item is that year. This year it was blankets. The day after Christmas, I was sent to work, helping to sort and package blankets, toys, sweaters, and trousers with pretty little bows on top, not knowing a thing about the event about to take place.

The next day, we loaded all the packages in the back of a pick-up truck that was decorated with balloons of every color and every level of inflation. I jumped on the back of the empty truck that was also decorated with balloons, as well as a loud speaker, and we began our journey. We picked up tamales and chuchitos from some ladies who wanted to help out. (Later during a snack break, I ate one of those chuchitos to find a pig’s foot inside. Thinking it was a cultural thing to eat the feet I offered mine to my counterparts. Everyone gave me a look as they pulled their own pig’s feet out and offered them as well. I guess it goes to show that pig’s feet are enjoyed by few and far between in Guatemala too.) Meanwhile, in the distance, I noticed a group of five men walking toward us dressed in mariachi gear, with cowboy hats instead of sombreros, and carrying instruments. Just as I let out a laugh at the sight of a fully-dressed mariachi band climbing a hill at 7 am, two teenage boys with fauxhawks and unshaved whiskers, dressed as clowns, jumped on board. Suddenly, our overstuffed pick-up felt a little more like a clown car in size and in atmosphere.

For the next 12 hours, the clowns, the mariachi band, the volunteers, and myself drove around town to the houses of pre-selected elderly struggling to survive. As we drove, someone up front announced over our loud speaker what it was we were doing. “Here we are, “Calor Navideño”, bringing gifts, a hot meal, a mariachi band all the way from mexico (not really), two clowns, and a blonde girl (that’s me!) to the elderly of Comalapa, trying to spread hope and joy throughout Comalapa.” Though my hair isn’t really blonde at all but more dirty brown, I was glad I had made it onto the playbill that day if it would help to spread hope and joy throughout Comalapa. It’s the least I could do for the people of Guatemala, really. At each stop the mariachi began to play, the clowns danced, tamales and chuchitos were served, a gift was given, a TV crew filmed the whole thing with commentary, and I stood there being “blonde”. At our very first stop an old man showed up carrying homemade sombreros and a delighted look on his face as he handed them over to the band. The look on the mariachis’ faces was not quite so thrilled. I imagined the old man thinking how long he had been waiting for those sombreros he made to come in handy again. Well, today was the day for miracles.

Throughout the day, the elderly we visited ranged from bed-ridden to blind to supporting a whole family with no means of income. The floors in most of the houses were dirt, the front doors were often just a piece of wooden board, and the beds were without a mattress and shared by many. Though, no matter how big the hardship, every single one of them seemed to ignore the overwhelming chaos of all the commotion and enjoyed their five minutes of entertainment from the mariachi, the clowns, and the blonde girl. The giving spirit was alive that day, as most of those elderly visited offered something in return. Some offered us their smile, others a story, others a piece of candy, and once in a while a shot of whiskey. Whatever it was, it was more than necessary. We finished late that night with headaches from the loud speakers blasting in our ears (and maybe the whiskey) but hopeful for the future and joyful in the present. And I think those we visited might have felt the exact same way.

Con Amor,
Celeste

P.S. My parents are coming next week!

photos of my classes and mayan ceremony!

I just posted a blog below, so make sure to check that out. But here are some photos from my two classes!

And some from a Mayan ceremony I went to with my host dad!