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!