Yesterday I had an opportunity which was not really unique for me. I had the opportunity to meet a small group of short-term missionaries.
"Where are you from?"
"Oh, I live right around the corner, but I'm from Michigan."
This sort of conversation starter is not unusual for me, but it made me pause a moment and wonder why I never ask them where they are from. Is it that I think I'm so much more interesting? No, not really. I mean, I got my start in short-term missions too. The team gave me a ride to Antigua afterwards and I thought about it all the way back. It's not because I don't care or am so egotistical; it's that I'll likely meet hundreds of thousands of them during my time here. I won't remember all their names, all their stories. And, to be completely blunt, most of their stories follow these lines: "My church was offering a mission trip, and I thought it would be interesting." Good for you? I mean, I am grateful for those who do come down on short-term mission trips. Many of them can do things for the people that I just can't do. I'm no doctor or surgeon. I'm not a dentist. I can use a hammer, but the idea of actually building a house is somewhat daunting. I'm not a fire fighter, police officer, emergency medical personnel. There is so much that I can not do for these people that I really do value short-term mission volunteers. But there are so few whom I actually talk to, get to know. The ones I do get to know tend to come back. I think I get to know them because they do come back, not the other way around.
But what if it was the other way around? What if they were coming back because they actually knew someone down here who knew them too?
Friday, February 24, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Give us Today our Daily Bread (Day 489)
First thing I want to mention is that the kitten did die. It managed a week with me. We buried it at the school.
Second thing I want to mention is that per a suggestion by the headmistress of the school where my mother teaches, I have opened a YouTube account. Via this link, you should be able to view videos of some of the work I do here. However, due to the speed of my internet connection, you may wish to wait a couple days for the first video. (It has been uploading since about 2 pm today. 5 and a half hours later, we're at 75% uploaded.)
Third thing is that I had an opportunity to talk to the woman from whom I buy bread nearly every day. I had just left the pharmacy which is right next to her house/store after buying some "pomada." (I was after some cortizone, but this was the best they could offer me.) I showed her my hand and what I had bought, and she used the expression "primero Dios" which I would mostly call a "catch phrase" around here used by just about everyone. For the English equivalent (not translation), it would be "God willing." However, the woman said something that really struck a chord in me. She said that even though this wasn't what I had been looking for, if I asked God to let this medicine work, He could use it to cure my problem. (My problem is what we hope is an allergic reaction on my hands, primarily on my left hand but also affects my right hand.) So, we got to talking about religion.
My bread lady is Catholic, and I identified myself as Christian. Due to my mixed denominational background, "Christian" is about the only thing I'll call myself these days. I even explained the mix to her, and she said that her family is the same way. She wondered if she should be upset that her daughter-in-law goes to her Evangelical church while the bread lady goes to her Catholic Church. I expressed my opinion that, in the end, it's all about the same, that the denominations are mostly a method of expressing one's faith. And, for me, the only ones who might have a problem in the end are those who have been nominal Christians/Catholics/etc. In both the United States and Guatemala, there are lots of people who claim to be Christian (for me, this title encompasses all denominations and will use only it for the rest of this entry), but there are many who don't know the least bit about the religion that they claim to be a part of. What's the holy book? The Bible. Who is in it? Jesus, Mary, Adam, Eve, Peter...maybe some other people. REALLY? And I don't mean to rag on the Catholics here or in any country, but the woman who I talked to tonight knew so much more. She actually READS her Bible, studies it. Bravo. And bravo for talking to someone about your faith too. :)
Second thing I want to mention is that per a suggestion by the headmistress of the school where my mother teaches, I have opened a YouTube account. Via this link, you should be able to view videos of some of the work I do here. However, due to the speed of my internet connection, you may wish to wait a couple days for the first video. (It has been uploading since about 2 pm today. 5 and a half hours later, we're at 75% uploaded.)
Third thing is that I had an opportunity to talk to the woman from whom I buy bread nearly every day. I had just left the pharmacy which is right next to her house/store after buying some "pomada." (I was after some cortizone, but this was the best they could offer me.) I showed her my hand and what I had bought, and she used the expression "primero Dios" which I would mostly call a "catch phrase" around here used by just about everyone. For the English equivalent (not translation), it would be "God willing." However, the woman said something that really struck a chord in me. She said that even though this wasn't what I had been looking for, if I asked God to let this medicine work, He could use it to cure my problem. (My problem is what we hope is an allergic reaction on my hands, primarily on my left hand but also affects my right hand.) So, we got to talking about religion.
My bread lady is Catholic, and I identified myself as Christian. Due to my mixed denominational background, "Christian" is about the only thing I'll call myself these days. I even explained the mix to her, and she said that her family is the same way. She wondered if she should be upset that her daughter-in-law goes to her Evangelical church while the bread lady goes to her Catholic Church. I expressed my opinion that, in the end, it's all about the same, that the denominations are mostly a method of expressing one's faith. And, for me, the only ones who might have a problem in the end are those who have been nominal Christians/Catholics/etc. In both the United States and Guatemala, there are lots of people who claim to be Christian (for me, this title encompasses all denominations and will use only it for the rest of this entry), but there are many who don't know the least bit about the religion that they claim to be a part of. What's the holy book? The Bible. Who is in it? Jesus, Mary, Adam, Eve, Peter...maybe some other people. REALLY? And I don't mean to rag on the Catholics here or in any country, but the woman who I talked to tonight knew so much more. She actually READS her Bible, studies it. Bravo. And bravo for talking to someone about your faith too. :)
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Jesus loves the little ones (Day 479)
I have returned safe and sound to San Antonio and to my regularly scheduled activities. I also returned to a killer cold. (I've actually considered the possibility of having a cold and the flu at the same time.) It put me out on Wednesday night and has pretty much kept me out for the last 3 days. A few other things happened on Wednesday as well. I'll start with the shorter story:
As I was waiting for the bus in Santiago Zamora, I saw someone washing their laundry in the public sink. (Not unusual.) The female was barefoot. (Also not too unusual.) The girl of about 3 years old managed to climb up on the edge of the sink and used a bucket to help her little arms reach down into the water. She would then proceed to scrub her little clothes using a tiny chunk of soap (which was okay because her clothes were tiny). I watched for long enough to know that she was not being assisted by any adult and, in fact, probably did not have an adult responsible for her within 75-100 feet (about as far away as I was seated). Children like this are not the reason I decided to come to Guatemala, but they are the reason I came; I just didn't know it yet.
Another little thing which happened on Wednesday was the potential addition of another member of my family here in Guatemala. Up until this week, we were a family of 6--myself, 3 cats, 1 dog, and a chicken--and if the newest member lives through the weekend, I might call it a family of 7. Sometime this week, a litter of kittens was born at the school in Santiago Zamora where I work. My co-workers and students tell me that there were 5 kittens. Apparently, on Wednesday morning, there were only 3 kittens still there (in this space between the ceiling of a classroom and the roof). By afternoon, two of those three kittens had died. It was decided by my students and co-workers that the kittens had been abandoned and that the remaining one would likely die when the cool of night set in. At 3:45 pm, my co-workers informed me of all of this. "Annalisa," they said, "you like cats, right? Wouldn't you like one more?"
Okay, for the record, I LIKE cats. I think they're wonderful creatures. I wanted ONE. I have THREE. So, when you already have two more than you wanted, what's one more?
I pulled out the screaming and hungry baby using two brooms strapped together, proceeded to teach an hour of 9th grade, and then headed home, stopping to pick up a small package of powdered baby formula on the way. I didn't figure this kitten would last the night, let alone long enough to use up much formula.
Thursday, I was supposed to be translating for a mission group who came through the church I attend here, but I woke up feeling like a semi-truck had somehow managed to park completely inside my head. (Remember that cold I was telling you about?) I was also running a fever, and my throat--while I had managed to squeak out a few words in English the day before during classes--was not going to allow talking. That being said, I canceled my translating plans at 6 am. Around 10, I started feeling okay. I mean, I still wasn't sure about the talking thing, but I figured I was strong enough to take the kitten (and Mia, one of my older cats) to the vet in Antigua. I got to Antigua on the bus, walked 8 blocks to the vet's office, and after about 5 minutes of being there, nearly blacked out. Anyway, long story short, cats all taken care of for now. It is Saturday morning. The baby is still alive, and my mucus isn't such a disturbing color.
And...that's the update for now.
As I was waiting for the bus in Santiago Zamora, I saw someone washing their laundry in the public sink. (Not unusual.) The female was barefoot. (Also not too unusual.) The girl of about 3 years old managed to climb up on the edge of the sink and used a bucket to help her little arms reach down into the water. She would then proceed to scrub her little clothes using a tiny chunk of soap (which was okay because her clothes were tiny). I watched for long enough to know that she was not being assisted by any adult and, in fact, probably did not have an adult responsible for her within 75-100 feet (about as far away as I was seated). Children like this are not the reason I decided to come to Guatemala, but they are the reason I came; I just didn't know it yet.
Another little thing which happened on Wednesday was the potential addition of another member of my family here in Guatemala. Up until this week, we were a family of 6--myself, 3 cats, 1 dog, and a chicken--and if the newest member lives through the weekend, I might call it a family of 7. Sometime this week, a litter of kittens was born at the school in Santiago Zamora where I work. My co-workers and students tell me that there were 5 kittens. Apparently, on Wednesday morning, there were only 3 kittens still there (in this space between the ceiling of a classroom and the roof). By afternoon, two of those three kittens had died. It was decided by my students and co-workers that the kittens had been abandoned and that the remaining one would likely die when the cool of night set in. At 3:45 pm, my co-workers informed me of all of this. "Annalisa," they said, "you like cats, right? Wouldn't you like one more?"
Okay, for the record, I LIKE cats. I think they're wonderful creatures. I wanted ONE. I have THREE. So, when you already have two more than you wanted, what's one more?
I pulled out the screaming and hungry baby using two brooms strapped together, proceeded to teach an hour of 9th grade, and then headed home, stopping to pick up a small package of powdered baby formula on the way. I didn't figure this kitten would last the night, let alone long enough to use up much formula.
Thursday, I was supposed to be translating for a mission group who came through the church I attend here, but I woke up feeling like a semi-truck had somehow managed to park completely inside my head. (Remember that cold I was telling you about?) I was also running a fever, and my throat--while I had managed to squeak out a few words in English the day before during classes--was not going to allow talking. That being said, I canceled my translating plans at 6 am. Around 10, I started feeling okay. I mean, I still wasn't sure about the talking thing, but I figured I was strong enough to take the kitten (and Mia, one of my older cats) to the vet in Antigua. I got to Antigua on the bus, walked 8 blocks to the vet's office, and after about 5 minutes of being there, nearly blacked out. Anyway, long story short, cats all taken care of for now. It is Saturday morning. The baby is still alive, and my mucus isn't such a disturbing color.
And...that's the update for now.
Friday, January 27, 2012
A worm, a cold shower, and dealing with drugs (Day 464)
I love having a USB modem. It allows me to update from anywhere I can get signal. I'm currently sitting on a bus waiting to head back to Antigua (and, ultimately, San Antonio Aguas Calientes).
I've spent the last week in Zacapa, Zacapa, Guatemala. I've heard that this is a very dangerous area due to how many drug lords supposedly live here. However, just as with most places in Guatemala, I have very little qualms about walking around familiar areas in the daylight. I've been here with a group called Children of the Americas, translating for their medical clinic. I start back at school on Monday.
The week has been fairly uneventful, but certainly not without things of note.
First of all, Zacapa is one of the hottest places in Guatemala. At first, the idea of a cold shower scared me. However, I've been living in cold places where the water is typically colder and the mornings are typically colder. A cold shower in Mixco is cold as you might recall from one of my journal entries about a year ago. Cold showers in Antigua and San Antonio are about the same. However, a cold shower in Zacapa--besides a tiny moment to acclimate the body to the water temperature such as wading into a swimming pool--is really nothing to fuss about. In fact, it's quite welcome.
Faint of stomach will want to skip the next paragraph...
Second, I have worms...or had worms. On the 25th, I woke up at 3:30 to go to the bathroom, and pooped out what looked like an 8-10" earthworm (along with my normal poo). Needless to say, within 5 hours I was on anti-parasite medication.
I've spent the last week in Zacapa, Zacapa, Guatemala. I've heard that this is a very dangerous area due to how many drug lords supposedly live here. However, just as with most places in Guatemala, I have very little qualms about walking around familiar areas in the daylight. I've been here with a group called Children of the Americas, translating for their medical clinic. I start back at school on Monday.
The week has been fairly uneventful, but certainly not without things of note.
First of all, Zacapa is one of the hottest places in Guatemala. At first, the idea of a cold shower scared me. However, I've been living in cold places where the water is typically colder and the mornings are typically colder. A cold shower in Mixco is cold as you might recall from one of my journal entries about a year ago. Cold showers in Antigua and San Antonio are about the same. However, a cold shower in Zacapa--besides a tiny moment to acclimate the body to the water temperature such as wading into a swimming pool--is really nothing to fuss about. In fact, it's quite welcome.
Faint of stomach will want to skip the next paragraph...
Second, I have worms...or had worms. On the 25th, I woke up at 3:30 to go to the bathroom, and pooped out what looked like an 8-10" earthworm (along with my normal poo). Needless to say, within 5 hours I was on anti-parasite medication.
Third, Klemente--one of my best friends who I met on my birthday last year--came to surprise me. He is from La Union, Zacapa, but he works in Sacatepequez (currently in Sumpango). He took some time off of work special to come up and spend some time with me and help with the clinic. He isn't bilingual, but in the pharmacy, we mostly just need to read the Spanish labels to the people. After about 4 or 10 medications, it becomes easy; you start recognizing the medications and what they're good for. We found that I was best in the pharmacy because of my lack of patience. Here is something that actually happened with me in the clinic (translated):
Doctor: Let's talk about her bloody nose.
Me: We are going to talk about the bleeding from your nose.
Patient: Yes, my nose.
Doctor: What other symptoms do you have with your bloody nose?
Me: What other symptoms do you have when your nose bleeds.
Patient: Yes, I have a bloody nose. And my back hurts right [grimacing, as she moves to point to a spot at her back] here.
Me: No, we're talking about your nose, and your nose is not bleeding right now. So, the back pain is not another symptom of the nose. We want to know what you have at the same time as when your nose bleeds. Do you have a headache? Do you have a sore throat? We are ONLY talking about the nose bleed.
Let's just say I was relieved when I was able to go back to the pharmacy. It seems that my patience begins and ends with my English students. Besides, where else can I use a toucan ring to explain medications to a 4-year old?
Doctor: Let's talk about her bloody nose.
Me: We are going to talk about the bleeding from your nose.
Patient: Yes, my nose.
Doctor: What other symptoms do you have with your bloody nose?
Me: What other symptoms do you have when your nose bleeds.
Patient: Yes, I have a bloody nose. And my back hurts right [grimacing, as she moves to point to a spot at her back] here.
Me: No, we're talking about your nose, and your nose is not bleeding right now. So, the back pain is not another symptom of the nose. We want to know what you have at the same time as when your nose bleeds. Do you have a headache? Do you have a sore throat? We are ONLY talking about the nose bleed.
Let's just say I was relieved when I was able to go back to the pharmacy. It seems that my patience begins and ends with my English students. Besides, where else can I use a toucan ring to explain medications to a 4-year old?
Klemente treated me to dinner, and then we took a walk to a school here in Zacapa where he attended middle school and high school. I got to meet the headmaster of the school and his wife. The interesting thing about this school is that it is, in a way, attached to the school where I work in Santiago Zamora. Both schools are assisted by Children's Christian Concern Society, and since learning about this school, I've felt a special attachment to it. Anyway, the bus is about ready to roll; so I guess I'll get going for now.
Friday, January 20, 2012
I am not in Honduras. (Day 457)
Although I have not heard anything directly from any of you about the Peace Corp pulling out of Honduras, I do know that some of you also read the news, and since (according to the world wide web) this story was published in some form in 463 newspapers, I can't help but imagine that some of you have heard about this and are wondering about Guatemala. For those of you who haven't heard the news about Honduras and the Peace Corp, I offer you the following article: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/01/18/honduras-peace-corp-withdrawal_n_1212544.html
For those of you looking for a response (especially you, mom), I offer the following reply written by a Peace Corp worker here in Guatemala and echo his sentiments: http://articles.latimes.com/2012/jan/16/opinion/la-oe-metzker-peace-corps-in-central-america-20120116
For those of you looking for a response (especially you, mom), I offer the following reply written by a Peace Corp worker here in Guatemala and echo his sentiments: http://articles.latimes.com/2012/jan/16/opinion/la-oe-metzker-peace-corps-in-central-america-20120116
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Good golly! I'm a teacher! (Day 455)
We are in the early days of the new school year here in the village. Students (and their parents) are still wandering in to register for school. And me? Well, I came back prepared to teach 1st-6th grades with some ideas about what I'd do with preschool and kindergarten. However, I received quite a surprise.
Upon arriving for the teachers' meeting on Monday, I was informed that I would be teaching 7th to 9th grade as well...alone. Last year, I helped another teacher from time to time as well as individually taught 3 periods. However, the school decided to let her go for reasons which I won't go into in this journal. Fortunately, I had offered a series of English learning books that I have to the other teacher as curriculum for this year. So, implementing the curriculum myself won't be too hard. Unfortunately, the problem I dealt with last year was teaching the students without knowing what they had and hadn't learned. Therefore, I stuck to mostly simple topics with a heavy focus on pronunciation. Now that I will have the students 100% of the time, I need to evaluate where they are at in their English studies, at least on a written basis. And while I have classes planned out for the 7th graders (assuming no or very little previous education of the language), I need to pre-test the 8th and 9th graders before I can make plans for them which means that I will have about 1 day to review their pre-exams, find some sort of happy medium between the top students and the bottom students in each grade, and plan an entire year's worth of lessons. I know that to some teachers that might sound a little unnecessary, but for me, if I don't plan the whole year (or at least three of our four terms) now, I'll allow the students to drag in their lessons telling myself, "Well, I didn't have anything planned for next week yet; so they can just continue this then." This would become a vicious cycle for me, and when I have to write exams, I would have very little to test them on which would result in a lot of points based on very little information.
Elementary school started this week, but as I'll be spending the next week in Zacapa translating for Children of the Americas, I'm not starting English classes officially until January 30th. I'll have 3 morning periods (40 minutes each) with the elementary students in 3/4th and 5/6th grades on each of Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. The 1/2nd graders will receive English on Mondays and Wednesdays, and the Preschoolers/Kindergarteners will receive English on Tuesdays. Monday afternoon, I'll have 1 period (30 minutes each) with each of the basico (middle school) grades. Tuesday afternoons, I will have 1 period with the 8th graders, and 2 periods with each of the 7th and 9th grades. And then on Wednesday afternoons, I will have 2 periods with each of the 7th and 9th graders and 3 periods with the 8th graders. (I could have had 2 each Tuesday and Wednesday, but the social studies teacher didn't want to leave a half hour later on Tuesday or come in a half an hour earlier on Wednesday. Yes, that was a co-worker grumble. Making a schedule isn't very easy, and to be completely fair, my class would still be interrupted by recess even if he would switch; so the 2 periods together wouldn't be a reality anyway.)
Upon arriving for the teachers' meeting on Monday, I was informed that I would be teaching 7th to 9th grade as well...alone. Last year, I helped another teacher from time to time as well as individually taught 3 periods. However, the school decided to let her go for reasons which I won't go into in this journal. Fortunately, I had offered a series of English learning books that I have to the other teacher as curriculum for this year. So, implementing the curriculum myself won't be too hard. Unfortunately, the problem I dealt with last year was teaching the students without knowing what they had and hadn't learned. Therefore, I stuck to mostly simple topics with a heavy focus on pronunciation. Now that I will have the students 100% of the time, I need to evaluate where they are at in their English studies, at least on a written basis. And while I have classes planned out for the 7th graders (assuming no or very little previous education of the language), I need to pre-test the 8th and 9th graders before I can make plans for them which means that I will have about 1 day to review their pre-exams, find some sort of happy medium between the top students and the bottom students in each grade, and plan an entire year's worth of lessons. I know that to some teachers that might sound a little unnecessary, but for me, if I don't plan the whole year (or at least three of our four terms) now, I'll allow the students to drag in their lessons telling myself, "Well, I didn't have anything planned for next week yet; so they can just continue this then." This would become a vicious cycle for me, and when I have to write exams, I would have very little to test them on which would result in a lot of points based on very little information.
Elementary school started this week, but as I'll be spending the next week in Zacapa translating for Children of the Americas, I'm not starting English classes officially until January 30th. I'll have 3 morning periods (40 minutes each) with the elementary students in 3/4th and 5/6th grades on each of Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. The 1/2nd graders will receive English on Mondays and Wednesdays, and the Preschoolers/Kindergarteners will receive English on Tuesdays. Monday afternoon, I'll have 1 period (30 minutes each) with each of the basico (middle school) grades. Tuesday afternoons, I will have 1 period with the 8th graders, and 2 periods with each of the 7th and 9th grades. And then on Wednesday afternoons, I will have 2 periods with each of the 7th and 9th graders and 3 periods with the 8th graders. (I could have had 2 each Tuesday and Wednesday, but the social studies teacher didn't want to leave a half hour later on Tuesday or come in a half an hour earlier on Wednesday. Yes, that was a co-worker grumble. Making a schedule isn't very easy, and to be completely fair, my class would still be interrupted by recess even if he would switch; so the 2 periods together wouldn't be a reality anyway.)
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
A Fond Farewell (Day 447)
Today the world says goodbye to a great man. He is a man who fought against poverty in the Great Depression, against Axis powers in World War II, to win the hand and heart of the woman he loved, to build a business from the ground up, to raise five children, for the American economy, to achieve all that he ever dreamed, and to live (and die) how he wanted. This man is my grandfather.
I remember my grandfather differently than most people, probably than anyone. Grandpa and I had different experiences together than he had with the rest of his family members. I lived in his apartment for 5 months (back in 2008 and 2009); he was, at the time, "dying." You have to realize that I believed that to be complete poppycock, and that he just died this morning is proof that I was right. I also attended church with him for the greater part of the last 4 years, and I tend to think of his church as my church even though I'm not a member there. (They are my sending church and through whom my fundraising is collected.)
I described my grandfather last night as a bouncy ball. You are likely familiar with the idea that if you drop, not throw, a bouncy ball, it will fall to hit the floor and come back, but not quite as high. My grandfather's health has been that ball over the past who knows how many years. My very first memory of my grandfather is from when I was about six years old. He, my brother, and I were going on an outing. I'm not sure if we were going to the circus, the fair, or maybe just out to eat. We had a vehicle with a bench seat (perhaps his old pickup truck which he eventually gave to our cousin Sarah), and Justin and I were seated next to my grandfather. I remember my grandfather explaining a little bit about the car to my brother. He said something about how if anything should happen to him (Grandpa) while driving that all my brother had to do--and do quickly!--was to get our grandfather's foot off the accelerator, that the vehicle would slow before too long. Perhaps my grandfather has been bouncing for the greater part of my lifetime, but it didn't become obvious until the last few years how low that ball was bouncing. He has always said to "Spend each day as though you'll live forever, but keep your bags packed." Basically, live as sin-free as humanly possible, ready to meet your Savior, but don't dwell on death.
I wrote a poem in March. I wrote it about my grandfather and the wife (who died a few years ago) of a friend. I would like to share that with you here:
I don't cry today because my grandfather is not dead. His soul is in Heaven with God, and who he was--his influence on the world--lives on. I may no longer be able to give him hugs and introduce him to new people, but otherwise, nothing has changed. I still hear his words of wisdom in my head. I still hear the stories of his childhood as I read them written down. I can still go visit him (or his earthly remains). I can still see him in my photos. And, most of all, I can continue to love him.
Anyway, this entry gets put in my blog because my grandfather has long been a supporter of my mission work. He has taken every chance to tell me that he's proud of the work I'm doing in Guatemala. From a man who I love and respect so very much, it was an honor to hear that. I know he missed me. I'm well aware that there are others among my family and friends who miss me as well. It was my grandfather's support--letting me know how proud he was of what I'm doing--which has helped me along. The man with the biggest pull in my life is the one who gave me his blessing and love to go do what I do. For that, I--and those whose lives I have touched in Guatemala--are grateful.
Dear Grandpa,
Thanks for being who you've been.
Love,
Annalisa
Dear God,
Keep taking care of him as You have been.
Love,
Annalisa
I remember my grandfather differently than most people, probably than anyone. Grandpa and I had different experiences together than he had with the rest of his family members. I lived in his apartment for 5 months (back in 2008 and 2009); he was, at the time, "dying." You have to realize that I believed that to be complete poppycock, and that he just died this morning is proof that I was right. I also attended church with him for the greater part of the last 4 years, and I tend to think of his church as my church even though I'm not a member there. (They are my sending church and through whom my fundraising is collected.)
I described my grandfather last night as a bouncy ball. You are likely familiar with the idea that if you drop, not throw, a bouncy ball, it will fall to hit the floor and come back, but not quite as high. My grandfather's health has been that ball over the past who knows how many years. My very first memory of my grandfather is from when I was about six years old. He, my brother, and I were going on an outing. I'm not sure if we were going to the circus, the fair, or maybe just out to eat. We had a vehicle with a bench seat (perhaps his old pickup truck which he eventually gave to our cousin Sarah), and Justin and I were seated next to my grandfather. I remember my grandfather explaining a little bit about the car to my brother. He said something about how if anything should happen to him (Grandpa) while driving that all my brother had to do--and do quickly!--was to get our grandfather's foot off the accelerator, that the vehicle would slow before too long. Perhaps my grandfather has been bouncing for the greater part of my lifetime, but it didn't become obvious until the last few years how low that ball was bouncing. He has always said to "Spend each day as though you'll live forever, but keep your bags packed." Basically, live as sin-free as humanly possible, ready to meet your Savior, but don't dwell on death.
I wrote a poem in March. I wrote it about my grandfather and the wife (who died a few years ago) of a friend. I would like to share that with you here:
Immortal
By Annalisa Simmer
Death is a funny thing.
All bodies die,
But not everybody dies.
Some people--
Many, in fact--
Are immortal.
We do not truly die...
At least not for a long time after we are dead.
Every photograph with a name scribbled on the back,
Every memory,
Every family story passed down from generation to generation,
Every life changed,
Every heart touched...
We do not die at our deaths;
We are only judged as to how we have influenced the world.
By Annalisa Simmer
Death is a funny thing.
All bodies die,
But not everybody dies.
Some people--
Many, in fact--
Are immortal.
We do not truly die...
At least not for a long time after we are dead.
Every photograph with a name scribbled on the back,
Every memory,
Every family story passed down from generation to generation,
Every life changed,
Every heart touched...
We do not die at our deaths;
We are only judged as to how we have influenced the world.
I don't cry today because my grandfather is not dead. His soul is in Heaven with God, and who he was--his influence on the world--lives on. I may no longer be able to give him hugs and introduce him to new people, but otherwise, nothing has changed. I still hear his words of wisdom in my head. I still hear the stories of his childhood as I read them written down. I can still go visit him (or his earthly remains). I can still see him in my photos. And, most of all, I can continue to love him.
Anyway, this entry gets put in my blog because my grandfather has long been a supporter of my mission work. He has taken every chance to tell me that he's proud of the work I'm doing in Guatemala. From a man who I love and respect so very much, it was an honor to hear that. I know he missed me. I'm well aware that there are others among my family and friends who miss me as well. It was my grandfather's support--letting me know how proud he was of what I'm doing--which has helped me along. The man with the biggest pull in my life is the one who gave me his blessing and love to go do what I do. For that, I--and those whose lives I have touched in Guatemala--are grateful.
Dear Grandpa,
Thanks for being who you've been.
Love,
Annalisa
Dear God,
Keep taking care of him as You have been.
Love,
Annalisa
Saturday, December 31, 2011
The Ending of a Year and the Start of the Next (Day 437)
(Admittedly, not one of my better titles.)
Here I sit on New Year's Eve posting an update from the frigid north of my parents' house. Due to a various number of factors, it was decided to spend the holidays in the States this year. I head back to Guatemala on January 11th.
Today marks the completion of my first calendar year in Guatemala, and in just a few days, we'll mark the one-year anniversary of my work in the department (their version of "state") of Sacatepequez. I have learned a lot in the past year: how to navigate Antigua, how to speak Spanish fluently, how to ride the bus all by myself (to Antigua, Ciudad Vieja, Santiago Zamora, and San Antonio), the cost of bread, how to make friends, how to drive a motorcycle, how to run my own home, and how to teach English (I think). There's still a lot I have left to learn including cooking Guatemalan cuisine, telling off men, finding a good housemate, taking care of a chicken, and raising more support in the States as--since the debacle with the hogar--I have relied almost completely on my grandfather's church, small as they are.
Not every battle is an uphill one. There are some things I take to more easily than others. I believe that learning to cook Guatemalan food and raising my chicken will be the easier of my list of five things. But I struggle with asking people for money, getting along with people who don't have the same logic-directed mentality that I do, and hurting feelings. So, my prayer wishlist for myself for the next year contains all these things. Thanks for your continued love and support. Happy New Year (and a belated Merry Christmas)!
Here I sit on New Year's Eve posting an update from the frigid north of my parents' house. Due to a various number of factors, it was decided to spend the holidays in the States this year. I head back to Guatemala on January 11th.
Today marks the completion of my first calendar year in Guatemala, and in just a few days, we'll mark the one-year anniversary of my work in the department (their version of "state") of Sacatepequez. I have learned a lot in the past year: how to navigate Antigua, how to speak Spanish fluently, how to ride the bus all by myself (to Antigua, Ciudad Vieja, Santiago Zamora, and San Antonio), the cost of bread, how to make friends, how to drive a motorcycle, how to run my own home, and how to teach English (I think). There's still a lot I have left to learn including cooking Guatemalan cuisine, telling off men, finding a good housemate, taking care of a chicken, and raising more support in the States as--since the debacle with the hogar--I have relied almost completely on my grandfather's church, small as they are.
Not every battle is an uphill one. There are some things I take to more easily than others. I believe that learning to cook Guatemalan food and raising my chicken will be the easier of my list of five things. But I struggle with asking people for money, getting along with people who don't have the same logic-directed mentality that I do, and hurting feelings. So, my prayer wishlist for myself for the next year contains all these things. Thanks for your continued love and support. Happy New Year (and a belated Merry Christmas)!
Sunday, December 18, 2011
God's Puzzle Coming Together Little by Little (Day 424)
It's amazing watching God slide all the pieces into place. What happened last night was a puzzle at least 4.5 years in the making, but even with how I write, I'm not sure I can articulate exactly what happened using my normal writing style. Sorry.
Who (major characters):
Annalisa--yours truly
Christina--A friend I worked with during my first two mission trips to Guatemala (2007 and 2008) who needed to do an internship in a foreign country and is currently staying at my house while she does said internship here in Guatemala
Mama Conny--A woman who lives in San Antonio where I live and works at Caoba Farms in Antigua...where Christina is doing her internship
Problem:
Mama Conny has cervical cancer. She needs to have a hysterectomy. She found someone who can do it for Q5,000 (about $650). She earns about Q60/day (according to Christina) and works 6 days/week. (Although, based on my own calculations, I think she makes closer to Q90/day.) She plans on losing her job based on the minimum 8 week recovery time. So, this woman has been saving up her money for months to have this surgery to be saved from cancer with the expectation that she will be unemployed afterwards.
God sliding pieces:
Christina struck up a friendship with most of the people at the farm. Conny invited us to dinner the other night. Christina invited Conny and her youngest daughter for tea and bread last night. I happened to be in the house but hiding out because I wasn't feeling well. (I've got a sore throat and other fun symptoms of the dry season.) However, I overhead the word matriz. Now, I've been helping out Henry and Children of the Americas enough already that I know that word when I hear it. I'm a massage therapist, not a gynecologist, but this is a word I recognize in Spanish. I didn't hear all of the problem (as it is listed above), just that she had plans to get this surgery but was saving money for it. I came out of hiding and asked some questions about when she was planning on having it done. Where? How? Henry told me to be on the lookout for anyone who needed help. Conny definitely qualifies. I got online to send him a message and ask about details, and he was here online. Mama Conny will be going to Zacapa in January to receive a free hysterectomy by some of the top doctors in the United States.
Yay God. :)
Who (major characters):
Annalisa--yours truly
Christina--A friend I worked with during my first two mission trips to Guatemala (2007 and 2008) who needed to do an internship in a foreign country and is currently staying at my house while she does said internship here in Guatemala
Mama Conny--A woman who lives in San Antonio where I live and works at Caoba Farms in Antigua...where Christina is doing her internship
Problem:
Mama Conny has cervical cancer. She needs to have a hysterectomy. She found someone who can do it for Q5,000 (about $650). She earns about Q60/day (according to Christina) and works 6 days/week. (Although, based on my own calculations, I think she makes closer to Q90/day.) She plans on losing her job based on the minimum 8 week recovery time. So, this woman has been saving up her money for months to have this surgery to be saved from cancer with the expectation that she will be unemployed afterwards.
God sliding pieces:
Christina struck up a friendship with most of the people at the farm. Conny invited us to dinner the other night. Christina invited Conny and her youngest daughter for tea and bread last night. I happened to be in the house but hiding out because I wasn't feeling well. (I've got a sore throat and other fun symptoms of the dry season.) However, I overhead the word matriz. Now, I've been helping out Henry and Children of the Americas enough already that I know that word when I hear it. I'm a massage therapist, not a gynecologist, but this is a word I recognize in Spanish. I didn't hear all of the problem (as it is listed above), just that she had plans to get this surgery but was saving money for it. I came out of hiding and asked some questions about when she was planning on having it done. Where? How? Henry told me to be on the lookout for anyone who needed help. Conny definitely qualifies. I got online to send him a message and ask about details, and he was here online. Mama Conny will be going to Zacapa in January to receive a free hysterectomy by some of the top doctors in the United States.
Yay God. :)
Friday, December 9, 2011
Safe and Sound (Day 415)
This is just a quick update to let you know that I have returned safe and sound from Caserio El Paraiso. I've been spending the last few days busy with other things and today I worked on editing some of the film I shot to have English subtitles. Tomorrow I will likely post a much larger entry about the place, but I still have a lot of research to do and will likely travel back to the caserio (hamlet or country house...that gives you an idea of how small these "villages" are) once more before I head back to the States.
Friday, December 2, 2011
"Please Help Us" (Day 408)
Yesterday, I had the opportunity to meet the parents of the young man--Edgar--who sells me cat food in the market. His parents, Camilo and Cristina, as well as the rest of his family are from Casario el Paraiso in the department of Solala. Because I am operating under the title of "missionary," his parents, who are pastors, thought that I might know more missionaries to help out their ever-growing ring of villages with needs. In all fairness, I believe this couple could be called "missionaries" in their own country, their own department, their own village.
And I do know missionaries, but most of them are already doing some sort of mission where they are and aren't really looking to expand to other locations (just because it's hard to be in two places at once). So, we got out into the parking lot of the market to have a chat away from the prying ears of the market. (Interestingly, one of my current English students saw me and asked me today all about the people I was with in the market. So much for privacy, huh?) They told me about the conditions of the people in their area and told me what their dreams were for these people. I finally had to stop them and ask some specific questions.
A: How many families are we talking about?
C&C: 5...10...probably 50.
A: How do you get from 5 to 50 so fast?
C&C: Well, it's about 5 families in each of the 10 communities. (They had been multiplying...not counting.)
A: So, what you're looking for is essentially a 2-step process. First, you're looking for money to meet the immediate need of malnutrition...
C (hesitantly): Yes.
A: And second, you're looking for people to come in and teach these people skills that they can use to raise money?
C & C: Yes
They went on to tell me that they were the people everyone came to when they needed help: rides to the hospital--very far away--to deliver babies, stomach pain, etc.
A: There is no doctor.
E: No.
A: There is no dentist.
E: No.
A: Like...none at all?
E: No. There is no one with training.
And, of course, I can go and teach massage therapy which is what I will likely do for at least one woman in each community. (Praying!) However, they need much more than that. There is, however, a very big problem.
A: The people in the community...they only speak Kachiquel. (This was a statement/question which arose from the observation that even though both his mother and father could speak Spanish with me, they sometimes directed their response to their son in Kachiquel who would then tell me in Spanish. It indicated that while they could speak Spanish, they were much more comfortable using a translator.)
E: Yes.
A: They don't speak Spanish?
E: There are some that understand Spanish mostly, but they only speak Kachiquel.
This presents an obvious problem. Even if I can bring in Americans/foreigners to work with this village, the number of people who are fluent in both Kachiquel and English are very limited. I know two (and I know of a third). The number of professionals who speak both English and Spanish (and would want to take on something like this) is pretty limited as well. Therefore, to train these people to either have a new skill or turn an existing skill into a business would be quite complicated:
The professional would explain something in English. Someone would translate that into Spanish. Someone else would translate that into Kachiquel so that the person would hopefully understand. If the trainee had a question, they would ask it in Kachiquel. Someone else would translate that into Spanish. Someone else would translate that into English, and the professional would answer what we hope is the question after a multi-lingual game of telephone.
To have someone who could translate from Kachiquel to English (and viceversa) would be incredibly useful in a situation like this as questions for clarification would not get lost in translation.
I currently have a vocabulary of about 20 words and phrases in Kachiquel. Edgar's English is a bit better, but not by much. (Spanish is a second language for both of us.) So, for the next 18 days--until I fly to the United States--we are committing ourselves to learning the native language of each other. (I will obviously not be fluent at the end of this time, but I certainly hope to be able to hold my own in idle chitchat.) Furthermore, I will be traveling to Casario el Paraiso on Tuesday to meet with families in 5 different places, to discuss options, hopes, and dreams with them along with taking photos and cataloging some stories.
What I need from you:
And I do know missionaries, but most of them are already doing some sort of mission where they are and aren't really looking to expand to other locations (just because it's hard to be in two places at once). So, we got out into the parking lot of the market to have a chat away from the prying ears of the market. (Interestingly, one of my current English students saw me and asked me today all about the people I was with in the market. So much for privacy, huh?) They told me about the conditions of the people in their area and told me what their dreams were for these people. I finally had to stop them and ask some specific questions.
A: How many families are we talking about?
C&C: 5...10...probably 50.
A: How do you get from 5 to 50 so fast?
C&C: Well, it's about 5 families in each of the 10 communities. (They had been multiplying...not counting.)
A: So, what you're looking for is essentially a 2-step process. First, you're looking for money to meet the immediate need of malnutrition...
C (hesitantly): Yes.
A: And second, you're looking for people to come in and teach these people skills that they can use to raise money?
C & C: Yes
They went on to tell me that they were the people everyone came to when they needed help: rides to the hospital--very far away--to deliver babies, stomach pain, etc.
A: There is no doctor.
E: No.
A: There is no dentist.
E: No.
A: Like...none at all?
E: No. There is no one with training.
And, of course, I can go and teach massage therapy which is what I will likely do for at least one woman in each community. (Praying!) However, they need much more than that. There is, however, a very big problem.
A: The people in the community...they only speak Kachiquel. (This was a statement/question which arose from the observation that even though both his mother and father could speak Spanish with me, they sometimes directed their response to their son in Kachiquel who would then tell me in Spanish. It indicated that while they could speak Spanish, they were much more comfortable using a translator.)
E: Yes.
A: They don't speak Spanish?
E: There are some that understand Spanish mostly, but they only speak Kachiquel.
This presents an obvious problem. Even if I can bring in Americans/foreigners to work with this village, the number of people who are fluent in both Kachiquel and English are very limited. I know two (and I know of a third). The number of professionals who speak both English and Spanish (and would want to take on something like this) is pretty limited as well. Therefore, to train these people to either have a new skill or turn an existing skill into a business would be quite complicated:
The professional would explain something in English. Someone would translate that into Spanish. Someone else would translate that into Kachiquel so that the person would hopefully understand. If the trainee had a question, they would ask it in Kachiquel. Someone else would translate that into Spanish. Someone else would translate that into English, and the professional would answer what we hope is the question after a multi-lingual game of telephone.
To have someone who could translate from Kachiquel to English (and viceversa) would be incredibly useful in a situation like this as questions for clarification would not get lost in translation.
I currently have a vocabulary of about 20 words and phrases in Kachiquel. Edgar's English is a bit better, but not by much. (Spanish is a second language for both of us.) So, for the next 18 days--until I fly to the United States--we are committing ourselves to learning the native language of each other. (I will obviously not be fluent at the end of this time, but I certainly hope to be able to hold my own in idle chitchat.) Furthermore, I will be traveling to Casario el Paraiso on Tuesday to meet with families in 5 different places, to discuss options, hopes, and dreams with them along with taking photos and cataloging some stories.
What I need from you:
- Prayers of safe travel for Tuesday
- Prayers for the people in this area
- Prayers for volunteers from the States who are interested in committing time to teaching these people
- Prayers for the language studies of Edgar and myself
- Ideas and options for the people of this area
- Use of whatever contacts you have to try to identify people who would/could commit time to teaching these people
- Share. Share this journal (http://twinklette.livejournal.com) and share this journal entry. Get the word out.
Man on the Bus: Day 408
(I'm already deciding that I'm not fond of blogspot. I wrote this whole entry once already and blogspot lost it. It just means that I'll have to take more precautions.)
Yesterday as we left San Antonio and headed for Antigua, there was a man on the bus who walked up to the front where the driver is. He didn't walk like most of the rest of us walk; he was sort of dragging his legs and used his arms a lot to keep him upright. I suppose he could have been drunk, but I think he more likely had some sort of motor problem.
Upon arriving at the front of the bus, he proceeded to block the stairway, talk to the driver, and mess with the instruments that he could reach...and even some that he couldn't really reach. This bothered me. I live in the highlands of Guatemala, 4000 feet above sea level. It is one thing to put my life--on these mountainous windy roads--in the hands of two--the driver and his helper--burly Guatemalan men. It was another to unwillingly have my life put in the hands of a man who lacks motor control should he suddenly grab and yank the steering wheel. To be honest with you, I was scared. To be further honest with you, I was hoping the driver would kick the man off the bus.
However, as we reached the entrance/exit to San Antonio, the driver stopped the bus and wrestled the man off, and we drove off, my feelings slightly changed. To see the man laying there on the ground holding his knee, I wondered if the driver had even tried to explain the dangers that this man was putting us all in, that the man needed to sit down (as there were seats available). I couldn't help but think that maybe the man wasn't treated fairly.
But I was glad that my life was back in the hands of people I more-or-less trusted.
Yesterday as we left San Antonio and headed for Antigua, there was a man on the bus who walked up to the front where the driver is. He didn't walk like most of the rest of us walk; he was sort of dragging his legs and used his arms a lot to keep him upright. I suppose he could have been drunk, but I think he more likely had some sort of motor problem.
Upon arriving at the front of the bus, he proceeded to block the stairway, talk to the driver, and mess with the instruments that he could reach...and even some that he couldn't really reach. This bothered me. I live in the highlands of Guatemala, 4000 feet above sea level. It is one thing to put my life--on these mountainous windy roads--in the hands of two--the driver and his helper--burly Guatemalan men. It was another to unwillingly have my life put in the hands of a man who lacks motor control should he suddenly grab and yank the steering wheel. To be honest with you, I was scared. To be further honest with you, I was hoping the driver would kick the man off the bus.
However, as we reached the entrance/exit to San Antonio, the driver stopped the bus and wrestled the man off, and we drove off, my feelings slightly changed. To see the man laying there on the ground holding his knee, I wondered if the driver had even tried to explain the dangers that this man was putting us all in, that the man needed to sit down (as there were seats available). I couldn't help but think that maybe the man wasn't treated fairly.
But I was glad that my life was back in the hands of people I more-or-less trusted.
Journal change
It's not so much a change as a backup, a spare copy. Today I have had considerable trouble trying to get on livejournal, and in the interest of not losing at least my posts from Guatemala, I've decided to start blogging in two places when possible (and filling in the gaps later when not possible). So, from here on out, I will try to maintain my previous blog at http://twinklette.livejournal.com and this journal. The format will be a little bit different with this blog and may be easier to read, but I'll leave that up to you to decide.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Jonathan's first birthday party (Day 392)
I once had to do this thing about strengths and weaknesses for a class. We were supposed to make our own lists, and then we were supposed to ask a family member, a friend, and an acquaintance to make lists about us as well. On my mother's lists--yes, both of them--she put the word "sensitive." I suppose I am.
Yesterday afternoon, I went to the 1st birthday party of a little boy. He is the grandson of my ex-next-door neighbor. (My ex-next-door neighbor is an amazing woman, by the way, but because of the economy, she had to go live with her daughter.) Now, the boy's mother has four children. Her husband vanished on the family about a year ago, maybe longer. Anyway, I have worked hard to develop a good relationship with the family, especially Jonathan David (the baby). At first, I was this scary white person, but after a while, I was the only one--besides his mother--who he wanted to spend time with. The family started calling me his madrina which literally means "godmother."
So, last week, they invited me to his birthday party, and my ex-next-door neighbor/good friend, Donya Juana, told me (in Spanish), "Come here right after church. Don't even go to your house first." Ideas: (a) They are excited about the party and church in Antigua goes a little late, (b) They are going to rob my house, (c) The party was actually for me at my house and they wanted some warning before I got there by sending me hiking up the side of the mountain first. And, yes, the ideas actually came to me in that order.
So, I headed to Antigua early yesterday to buy a present for the boy before church. It was a blue toy motorcycle, and I paid Q30 for it (all wrapped and with a bow). Besides my bus fare home, it was the last of my money for quite a while. But was it ever worth it...
When I got to the house, I found out it was the first present that the baby had ever received. (His sisters would go to look for something else for him later that evening as they walked me home.) But what got to my sensitive side more than that was that the baby's mother didn't have any pictures of her son. I had brought my camera, and she became very interested in this. "How do you get the pictures off of the camera?" She has pictures of all of her other children, but none of her baby boy. When I think of some of the people I know who have monthly facebook albums of their kids as babies or when I even consider my own babyhood, I found this really striking. I must have taken 20 pictures of little Jonathan yesterday as well as at least one good picture of each of his siblings.
Yesterday's mission job: photographer
And if there was any doubt in your mind, yes, the family is receiving pictures for Christmas.
Yesterday afternoon, I went to the 1st birthday party of a little boy. He is the grandson of my ex-next-door neighbor. (My ex-next-door neighbor is an amazing woman, by the way, but because of the economy, she had to go live with her daughter.) Now, the boy's mother has four children. Her husband vanished on the family about a year ago, maybe longer. Anyway, I have worked hard to develop a good relationship with the family, especially Jonathan David (the baby). At first, I was this scary white person, but after a while, I was the only one--besides his mother--who he wanted to spend time with. The family started calling me his madrina which literally means "godmother."
So, last week, they invited me to his birthday party, and my ex-next-door neighbor/good friend, Donya Juana, told me (in Spanish), "Come here right after church. Don't even go to your house first." Ideas: (a) They are excited about the party and church in Antigua goes a little late, (b) They are going to rob my house, (c) The party was actually for me at my house and they wanted some warning before I got there by sending me hiking up the side of the mountain first. And, yes, the ideas actually came to me in that order.
So, I headed to Antigua early yesterday to buy a present for the boy before church. It was a blue toy motorcycle, and I paid Q30 for it (all wrapped and with a bow). Besides my bus fare home, it was the last of my money for quite a while. But was it ever worth it...
When I got to the house, I found out it was the first present that the baby had ever received. (His sisters would go to look for something else for him later that evening as they walked me home.) But what got to my sensitive side more than that was that the baby's mother didn't have any pictures of her son. I had brought my camera, and she became very interested in this. "How do you get the pictures off of the camera?" She has pictures of all of her other children, but none of her baby boy. When I think of some of the people I know who have monthly facebook albums of their kids as babies or when I even consider my own babyhood, I found this really striking. I must have taken 20 pictures of little Jonathan yesterday as well as at least one good picture of each of his siblings.
Yesterday's mission job: photographer
And if there was any doubt in your mind, yes, the family is receiving pictures for Christmas.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Guatemalan Elections (Day 385)
This is my second post today. Look for the other down below.
This post is actually a two part post as well. The first part I wrote on September 12th or so and never posted. The second part, I'm posting live-ish.
September 12
"Guatemala had its first round of presidential elections on September 11. The idea of voting on a Sunday seemed quite odd to me at first, but I suppose it is when the most people have to opportunity to go to the polls. There is no absentee voting, and people sometimes wait in line over 3 hours to vote. Due to the number of political parties here in Guatemala, these were just the presidential primaries to narrow the vote down to two candidates, but for other offices (mayor, congressperson, and delegation to the Central American convention, among others), this was it. Those of us who could not vote, prayed. We prayed that the Guatemalan people would make the right choice for this country, that the polls would not be corrupted or compromised, and that no violence would break out. But to be fair, perhaps the most wonderful part about elections is that the political ads stop."
Today
Yesterday, we had the final elections here in Guatemala. Again, those of us who could not vote prayed. We prayed for safety, honesty, fairness. And we prayed that God's will be done at the voting booths. People held very serious concerns about both candidates. They said that Otto Perez Molina was going to bring back the killing of Mayan people, and they said that Manuel Baldizon is receiving money from drug cartels and would do nothing to stop narcotrafficking in Guatemala. An article I read said that with 96% of the votes counted, Otto Perez had 55% of the votes. For further details, I'll provide the following link: http://www.seattlepi.com/news/article/Re
This post is actually a two part post as well. The first part I wrote on September 12th or so and never posted. The second part, I'm posting live-ish.
September 12
"Guatemala had its first round of presidential elections on September 11. The idea of voting on a Sunday seemed quite odd to me at first, but I suppose it is when the most people have to opportunity to go to the polls. There is no absentee voting, and people sometimes wait in line over 3 hours to vote. Due to the number of political parties here in Guatemala, these were just the presidential primaries to narrow the vote down to two candidates, but for other offices (mayor, congressperson, and delegation to the Central American convention, among others), this was it. Those of us who could not vote, prayed. We prayed that the Guatemalan people would make the right choice for this country, that the polls would not be corrupted or compromised, and that no violence would break out. But to be fair, perhaps the most wonderful part about elections is that the political ads stop."
Today
Yesterday, we had the final elections here in Guatemala. Again, those of us who could not vote prayed. We prayed for safety, honesty, fairness. And we prayed that God's will be done at the voting booths. People held very serious concerns about both candidates. They said that Otto Perez Molina was going to bring back the killing of Mayan people, and they said that Manuel Baldizon is receiving money from drug cartels and would do nothing to stop narcotrafficking in Guatemala. An article I read said that with 96% of the votes counted, Otto Perez had 55% of the votes. For further details, I'll provide the following link: http://www.seattlepi.com/news/article/Re
A Perspective on Living in a Third-World Country (Day 385)
Just to let you know, there will be another post later today as well.
Someone asked me last night about my perspective on living in a third-world country, and to be quite frank with all of you, it's probably not the image most of you have in your head. Yes, there is extreme economical poverty...in places of the country. However, there is also economical wealth. A Guatemalan fellow who I went on a pair of dates with is currently on his family's annual trip to Disney World. That's right...every year, the family (somewhere between 6 and 10 people) gets visas for the United States, buys plane tickets, and stays at Disney World (yes, Florida) for a week. But it can be more subtle as well.
As told to D.D. last night: "I have a large metal double door to my house. That door leads to a corridor with the door on one end and a gap to my courtyard on the other, an 'exterior' wall on one side, and three rooms on the other side. Each room has a stained glass window and a door. The roof over the three rooms and the corridor is lamina, and I have red clay floors. I have running water, a heater in my shower (although, it's currently broken...should be fixed tomorrow), electricity, and drainage.
Someone asked me last night about my perspective on living in a third-world country, and to be quite frank with all of you, it's probably not the image most of you have in your head. Yes, there is extreme economical poverty...in places of the country. However, there is also economical wealth. A Guatemalan fellow who I went on a pair of dates with is currently on his family's annual trip to Disney World. That's right...every year, the family (somewhere between 6 and 10 people) gets visas for the United States, buys plane tickets, and stays at Disney World (yes, Florida) for a week. But it can be more subtle as well.
As told to D.D. last night: "I have a large metal double door to my house. That door leads to a corridor with the door on one end and a gap to my courtyard on the other, an 'exterior' wall on one side, and three rooms on the other side. Each room has a stained glass window and a door. The roof over the three rooms and the corridor is lamina, and I have red clay floors. I have running water, a heater in my shower (although, it's currently broken...should be fixed tomorrow), electricity, and drainage.
My next-door neighbor has two 'walls' of lamina around her property (one of block, the one she shares with me), and I'm not sure if she has a wall along the back of her property. Her floors are all dirt. The walls of her actual house are made of sticks as is her roof; rain regularly enters during the rainy season. She has electricity and cable TV." I imagine she has running water as well, but I don't know that for a fact.
Now, that's here in San Antonio Aguas Calientes, a 30-minute bus ride (direct) from Antigua where all the tourists are. We have water 24 hours per day and 7 days per week. If you go 30-45 minutes north of Antigua to Santo Domingo Xenacoj (does not have a direct bus connection to Antigua), they do not have water 24 hours/day, 7days/week. I believe they only have water in the mornings and for an hour in the evening, but I'd have to get that verified; I know it's not 24/7.
Up in villages near Coban--I couldn't even tell you how far from here that is, maybe a 6 hour drive in a private shuttle?--I met a girl who didn't wear pants to school because she didn't own any and the family couldn't afford any. So, she went in a t-shirt and underpants. I met a woman who cared for her three grandsons. Every day, the family had a "soup" made of 3 beans and a grain of rice. The woman gave each boy a bean with his "soup" and ate the piece of rice with hers. Yes, I've personally met hunger here in San Antonio, but the idea of that sort of self-control when one has so little in their stomach is awe-inspiring.
"Now, in a week or two, I'll be heading out--well-chaperoned--to Zacapa. I'm not sure what conditions I'll find out there. However, the farther you get from the tourism centers, the more obvious the poverty becomes. Yes, I live in a third-world country, but I have electricity, internet, running water, etc. If I had a TV, I might use cable TV (but I just don't watch much TV)."
Now, that's here in San Antonio Aguas Calientes, a 30-minute bus ride (direct) from Antigua where all the tourists are. We have water 24 hours per day and 7 days per week. If you go 30-45 minutes north of Antigua to Santo Domingo Xenacoj (does not have a direct bus connection to Antigua), they do not have water 24 hours/day, 7days/week. I believe they only have water in the mornings and for an hour in the evening, but I'd have to get that verified; I know it's not 24/7.
Up in villages near Coban--I couldn't even tell you how far from here that is, maybe a 6 hour drive in a private shuttle?--I met a girl who didn't wear pants to school because she didn't own any and the family couldn't afford any. So, she went in a t-shirt and underpants. I met a woman who cared for her three grandsons. Every day, the family had a "soup" made of 3 beans and a grain of rice. The woman gave each boy a bean with his "soup" and ate the piece of rice with hers. Yes, I've personally met hunger here in San Antonio, but the idea of that sort of self-control when one has so little in their stomach is awe-inspiring.
"Now, in a week or two, I'll be heading out--well-chaperoned--to Zacapa. I'm not sure what conditions I'll find out there. However, the farther you get from the tourism centers, the more obvious the poverty becomes. Yes, I live in a third-world country, but I have electricity, internet, running water, etc. If I had a TV, I might use cable TV (but I just don't watch much TV)."
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Change (Day 380)
When I came to Guatemala, I was not a teacher. When I came to Guatemala, I didn't speak Spanish all that well. When I came to Guatemala, I was not entirely comfortable with the idea. (However, I was sure that it was the direction for my life.) When I came to Guatemala, I could count all my Guatemalan friends on one hand.
Besides being sure of the direction of my life, all that has changed. I'm proud to be a survivor. I certainly couldn't have done it without the support of all of you, and I certainly couldn't have done it without all the good people that God has put in my life down here. I'm still not entirely the person I need to be, but I'm working on it. Thanks for your confidence in me and your love for me and your faith in God. (Or, for those of you who read this and aren't the least bit religious, thanks for believing I could make it this far. I love you guys too. :) )
Besides being sure of the direction of my life, all that has changed. I'm proud to be a survivor. I certainly couldn't have done it without the support of all of you, and I certainly couldn't have done it without all the good people that God has put in my life down here. I'm still not entirely the person I need to be, but I'm working on it. Thanks for your confidence in me and your love for me and your faith in God. (Or, for those of you who read this and aren't the least bit religious, thanks for believing I could make it this far. I love you guys too. :) )
Saturday, October 29, 2011
A Revelation (Day 376)
I seriously didn't see this coming, but it has hit me, and I'm not 100% sure how I feel about it.
I am a status symbol.
Yes, you read that correctly. I mean, I didn't notice it in the last year, but today something happened that really made me take note. I had a co-worker offer to take me home on his motorcycle. Since I barely have enough for bus fare until Wednesday when I will cash my check from today, I accepted. (Hey, that's 9 more pieces of bread and 2 tortillas! Or, if you want to split it up more evenly, 6 pieces of bread and 6 tortillas!) He offered to take me home--to my house--for lunch during the middle of the day, but I turned him down for various reasons. However, when he took me home after work, I noticed something funny. I had never ridden with this guy before, but every time that he passed a group of people (especially males), he would give them a thumbs up. I've only ever seen this when people are taking pictures. However, his thumbs up was a little past center, as if he was pointing behind himself with his thumb. And when we got to San Lorenzo del Cubo where he lives, he wanted to take me to see the church in the center of town...even though I've been to San Lorenzo once with my Guatemalan brother. When you add it all up: He wanted people to see me on the back of his motorcycle. I won't be riding with him again since the school where we both teach closed today, but he still wanted to be seen with me.
I am a status symbol. And there's no good way to explain how I feel. It's not that it's okay with me, but it's more that I just don't mind or don't care. If it is important to them, fine. It's not important to me, and I think I should probably go back to being oblivious to it (while still understanding that it exists).
Yes, you read that correctly. I mean, I didn't notice it in the last year, but today something happened that really made me take note. I had a co-worker offer to take me home on his motorcycle. Since I barely have enough for bus fare until Wednesday when I will cash my check from today, I accepted. (Hey, that's 9 more pieces of bread and 2 tortillas! Or, if you want to split it up more evenly, 6 pieces of bread and 6 tortillas!) He offered to take me home--to my house--for lunch during the middle of the day, but I turned him down for various reasons. However, when he took me home after work, I noticed something funny. I had never ridden with this guy before, but every time that he passed a group of people (especially males), he would give them a thumbs up. I've only ever seen this when people are taking pictures. However, his thumbs up was a little past center, as if he was pointing behind himself with his thumb. And when we got to San Lorenzo del Cubo where he lives, he wanted to take me to see the church in the center of town...even though I've been to San Lorenzo once with my Guatemalan brother. When you add it all up: He wanted people to see me on the back of his motorcycle. I won't be riding with him again since the school where we both teach closed today, but he still wanted to be seen with me.
I am a status symbol. And there's no good way to explain how I feel. It's not that it's okay with me, but it's more that I just don't mind or don't care. If it is important to them, fine. It's not important to me, and I think I should probably go back to being oblivious to it (while still understanding that it exists).
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Special Anniversary Post (Day 372)
I know this is a bit delayed; however, there's a good reason for it. Sadly, it's going to be a bit more delayed while I go and get the bread for my dinner. But there will be a real post here by tonight.
--<>@<>--
Apologies. The neighbor boy came over and wanted to debate with me for...2.5 hours and then go home and debate by phone for an hour. You can expect this update tomorrow sometime.--<>@<>--
Okay, here it is. (FINALLY!) The past year has been a grand learning experience for me hashed out of a lot of good experiences and a few bad experiences. There are lessons that I have learned but still haven't applied, and there are lessons that I have yet to learn as well.
Worst moment of the past year: Being told that I would receive nearly nothing of the money I raised for my upkeep when I was asked to leave the Hogar.
Worst moment of the past year: Being told that I would receive nearly nothing of the money I raised for my upkeep when I was asked to leave the Hogar.
Best moment of the past year: My students. (Is that not a moment?) I hear very often that they want me to continue as their English teacher. However, I suppose the best moment was when I was working with my normal group of missionaries in the school where I normally teach every week. I took a few weeks off to translate for the group. And in the school where I work, they customarily give each person on the mission team a few gifts to remind them of the country/their time here/ect. I received only one gift (while most people received 5-7 gifts). I will admit that I was a little upset. I mean, there's a lot that I don't have here in Guatemala, and I could really use some help every now and again. I thought if anyone was going to help me that it would be my own students, and when they gave me just one thing, I felt like they didn't want me there. However, after I finished translating, the head principal of the school came up to me and let me in on a little secret: the students didn't want to give me anything. It wasn't because they didn't like me; it was because when they give things to the people in the missions groups, those people leave. My students actually asked if they could give me nothing because they didn't want me to leave. (They were overruled because the principal didn't think it would be fair if I received nothing while I had worked all week.)
Best take-away lesson: I'm now bilingual. Granted, I speak my second language like an 8- or 10-year old, but it's just missing a few pieces now.
Worst take-away lesson: My English (spelling) has suffered.
My typical day/week: There's really nothing typical about it. I came down here to do one thing, and then life changed. So, I just sort of made myself available where needed. One day I can be introducing two similarly-focused missionaries to each other so that they can help one another out. Another day, I can be picking oranges for a neighbor. Another day, I might be debating the finer points of the Bible (in Spanish!). Another day, I might be untangling thread for a different neighbor whose eyes are too bad to see anything smaller than her weaving. Another day, I might be translating for a mission group. Another day, I might be giving massages. The common thread to all days is that I'm typically teaching English. So, baring incredible amounts of irregularity in my schedule, here is my "typical day."
Best take-away lesson: I'm now bilingual. Granted, I speak my second language like an 8- or 10-year old, but it's just missing a few pieces now.
Worst take-away lesson: My English (spelling) has suffered.
My typical day/week: There's really nothing typical about it. I came down here to do one thing, and then life changed. So, I just sort of made myself available where needed. One day I can be introducing two similarly-focused missionaries to each other so that they can help one another out. Another day, I can be picking oranges for a neighbor. Another day, I might be debating the finer points of the Bible (in Spanish!). Another day, I might be untangling thread for a different neighbor whose eyes are too bad to see anything smaller than her weaving. Another day, I might be translating for a mission group. Another day, I might be giving massages. The common thread to all days is that I'm typically teaching English. So, baring incredible amounts of irregularity in my schedule, here is my "typical day."
6:00 am: wake up, get water heating up for breakfast, let my chick out into the courtyard so that she can look for bugs and other interesting things to eat, wash some clothes and hang them on the line so that they'll dry by mid-day
6:20 am: shower
6:45 am: dry off, get dressed
6:55 am: make milk (remember that water I was heating up?), eat breakfast of hard cookie-like bread and hot milk, put the chick back into its box in my room, let the cats out, feed the cats and dog.
7:00 am: go to the bus to go to work (when I'm working in Antigua...like I said, there is no "typical"), do my daily devotional on the bus
7:50 am: buy the newspaper
8:00 am: start work
11:00 am: finish work, run errands (if in Antigua)
12 noon-ish: catch the bus to San Antonio Aguas Calientes (a.k.a. "home"), read the newspaper
12:45: arrive home, start soup cooking, take a nap
2:15 pm: wake up from nap, eat lunch (soup)
2:30 pm: Find a neighbor who needs help (usually, they find me)
4:30 pm: walk the dog/buy bread for dinner and tomorrow's breakfast
5:00 pm: return home, spend some time reading the Bible
6:00 pm: start cooking more soup for dinner, play computer games/knit/sew
7:30 pm: eat soup (dinner) with bread
8:00 pm: debate theology with the neighbor boy (this has become part of my "typical" day within the past week)
10:00 pm: send the neighbor boy home because his mother has called and is worried about him, check e-mail, catch up on facebook, sometimes read news in English
12 midnight: SLEEP!
This is actually more like a Frankenstein's monster of my typical day, but it will have to do. And, of course, whenever I find just a spare second in my day, I'm hoping on the computer so that I don't stay up so late at night. That 1.5 hour nap in my afternoon is because I only get 6 hours of sleep at night! (FYI, I'm skipping dinner tonight so that I can write this, and I'm hoping that the neighbor boy's mother sends food with him.)
This year, I've also learned what hunger actually feels like. I really don't recommend this to anyone, but it is quite the experience. Last weekend, a missionary friend gave me breakfast and took me out to dinner. I said, "Henry, this is crazy. I have just eaten more calories in one meal (dinner) than I typically eat in one week...maybe two." And yes, I felt really sick the next day from eating too much food.
My students graduate tomorrow. I'm excited...and proud.
6:20 am: shower
6:45 am: dry off, get dressed
6:55 am: make milk (remember that water I was heating up?), eat breakfast of hard cookie-like bread and hot milk, put the chick back into its box in my room, let the cats out, feed the cats and dog.
7:00 am: go to the bus to go to work (when I'm working in Antigua...like I said, there is no "typical"), do my daily devotional on the bus
7:50 am: buy the newspaper
8:00 am: start work
11:00 am: finish work, run errands (if in Antigua)
12 noon-ish: catch the bus to San Antonio Aguas Calientes (a.k.a. "home"), read the newspaper
12:45: arrive home, start soup cooking, take a nap
2:15 pm: wake up from nap, eat lunch (soup)
2:30 pm: Find a neighbor who needs help (usually, they find me)
4:30 pm: walk the dog/buy bread for dinner and tomorrow's breakfast
5:00 pm: return home, spend some time reading the Bible
6:00 pm: start cooking more soup for dinner, play computer games/knit/sew
7:30 pm: eat soup (dinner) with bread
8:00 pm: debate theology with the neighbor boy (this has become part of my "typical" day within the past week)
10:00 pm: send the neighbor boy home because his mother has called and is worried about him, check e-mail, catch up on facebook, sometimes read news in English
12 midnight: SLEEP!
This is actually more like a Frankenstein's monster of my typical day, but it will have to do. And, of course, whenever I find just a spare second in my day, I'm hoping on the computer so that I don't stay up so late at night. That 1.5 hour nap in my afternoon is because I only get 6 hours of sleep at night! (FYI, I'm skipping dinner tonight so that I can write this, and I'm hoping that the neighbor boy's mother sends food with him.)
This year, I've also learned what hunger actually feels like. I really don't recommend this to anyone, but it is quite the experience. Last weekend, a missionary friend gave me breakfast and took me out to dinner. I said, "Henry, this is crazy. I have just eaten more calories in one meal (dinner) than I typically eat in one week...maybe two." And yes, I felt really sick the next day from eating too much food.
My students graduate tomorrow. I'm excited...and proud.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Mission Moment: October 2011 Newsletter
At the time of writing this,
I have been back in Guatemala for about two weeks, and it has been
quite a wonderful two weeks for quite a few reasons. First of all is
due to a new partnership that I have. Back in 2004 (September 8 to
be exact), I started reading The
Purpose
Driven
Life
by
Rick
Warren,
a
40-day
journey
into
figuring
out
what
God
has
planned
for
your
life.
My
reading
partner
was
my
then
best
friend
and
later
fiance.
However,
sometime
around
day
17
we
had
a
fight
and
stopped
reading/discussing
with
each
other.
I
don't
know
if
he
ever
finished
the
book;
I
know
I
didn't.
But
then
in
late
July,
I
was
at
a
book
fair
in
Antigua,
and
I
saw
the
book
for
sale
in
Spanish.
I
have
a
friend,
Clemente,
who
often
talks
about
how
God
has
a
proposito
(plan
or
purpose)
for
each
of
us,
but
I
had
a
feeling
that
he
didn't
really
know
what
his
was.
While
I
was
in
the
States,
I
bought
Una
Vida
con
Proposito
(the
Spanish
translation
of
The
Purpose
Driven
Life)
for
Clemente.
September
4,
2011,
nearly
7
years
after
my
first
attempt,
Clemente
and
I
began
reading
the
book;
he,
in
Spanish,
and
me,
in
English.
Please
keep
us
in
your
prayers
as
we
continue
on
this
journey.
The
second
reason
that
this
time
has
been
wonderful
is
that
I
have
really
gotten
settled
into
my
new
home
in
San
Antonio
Aguas
Calientes.
The
people
here
have
been
very
welcoming
to
me.
One
neighbor
showed
me
where
I
should
buy
bread
and
later
let
me
know
that
the
people
charged
me
what
they
charge
her.
For
me,
that
is
extremely
heartening
as
it
means
I
am
not
viewed
as
an
outsider
in
the
community.
Although,
I
will
admit
that
I
overheard
my
neighbors
telling
all
their
friends
about
the
new
canchita
(light-haired
person)
living
in
the
neighborhood.
I
have
had
a
few
visitors,
and
I
hope
to
open
a
little
English
school
on
the
20th
of
September.
Please
keep
the
success
of
my
school
in
your
prayers
as
well.
English
provides
opportunities
for
better
employment
to
the
people
of
San
Antonio
which
means
better
nutrition
for
their
children
and,
ideally,
the
opportunity
to
have
a
sabbath
day.
Finally,
Guatemala
celebrated
190
years
of
independence
yesterday
(September
15,
2011).
On
the
14th,
my
students
had
a
program
where
we
celebrated
all
of
this.
We
had
a
civic
portion
of
the
program
where
we
sang
the
national
anthem
and
said
the
pledge
of
allegiance.
We
recognized
the
students
from
every
grade—preschool
to
9th
grade—who
had
worked
hard
to
be
good
students,
upstanding
citizens,
and
people
of
good
character.
Afterward,
we
had
a
cultural
portion
where
the
students
presented
songs
and
dances
of
Guatemala.
The
9th
graders
even
presented
a
dance
from
the
Garifuna
culture,
the
Caribbean
Africans
who
live
near
Livingston,
Guatemala.
Please keep Clemente and I in your prayers
as we continue on our 40-day journey. Please pray for the success of
my little English school in San Antonio as, with God's help, I try to
reach the people of San Antonio who need help the most. Please pray
for my regular students as the end of their school year
draws near. And finally, please pray for the recent elections in
Guatemala as the new mayors and congresspeople prepare to take office
and we enter into the second round of presidential elections.
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