Professional Development: Day 1,540

Today and Monday were busy and filled with exciting things (with more still to come this afternoon).  Yesterday, I just rested.  I was exhausted from Monday, from the weekend, from a lot of stuff.  So, you'll be getting two updates today, the first (this one) about the exciting stuff of today which isn't even over yet, and the second about Monday (which I'll probably backdate to have Monday's date on it).

Today, thanks to a college friend, Bethany, I was able to attend the morning session of a When Helping Hurts (or Helping Without Hurting) seminar at Northland Church via the internet.  Online participation was free and available to me here in Guatemala.  That was a big blessing for me.  It addressed a lot of interesting issues concerning helping the "impoverished."  The church is hoping to be able to make it available later.  If that comes to pass, I'll post the link here.  I know there are lots of short-term trip leaders who could benefit from the information presented at the seminar.  (Yes, I'm looking at you, Shawn, Lisa, and Robin!)  There will also be an afternoon session available at 3:30 EDT (an hour and a half from now) concerning microfinancing if anyone wants to attend.

In addition to having a conversation with my sending church, I'm also preparing to have a conversation with the people in my program.  I need to know what they think their gifts are, and I need to know if the program in its current state is helping the people (without creating dependency).  I need to know if they feel empowered.  I also need to find out why they are buying so much sugar with their points; they're going to need dentists soon...

In addition to the seminar, I'm going to figure out how to post pictures on my blog.  While usually there's some picture I could share, today I have one I'm excited to share.  So, give me some time and I'll be back with the other post for Monday's activities.

Into the Final Stretch: Day 1,538

Today (Monday), I went out to Solola for the third marking period review (and also to visit new families for the program which explains why I'm dressed like an American below; not that you know the difference since this is the first time I've posted a picture from a meeting).

There was very little that was normal about this meeting.  First of all, my fiance was able to attend with me, and during the course of the meeting, he explained the importance of education and shared his story about growing up in a family with resources (or a lack thereof) very similar to those of these families.  He also had a very serious talk with one young man who should be in 1st Basico (7th grade) this year about returning to school instead of working in the fields.  It was a conversation that needed to be had man-to-man.

Myself with Mercedes and Wendy

Most grades had improved.  One young man went from earning four points in the second marking period to earning FOURTEEN points in the third!  I was shocked and amazed.  His mother simply told me "It was the shoes."  Little by little the people show me that they are starting to believe in this program and seeing that their own "work" in the form of study can earn them things they want.  One person's grades had gone down drastically, and I was a little worried about it.  So, I asked the father if everything was okay.  He said that his wife had been pregnant but had then had an operation.  The boy was concerned about his mother and didn't want to let her be home alone; so he had missed a few days of school.  And then Mercedes and Wendy--the two girls in 2nd Basico (8th grade)--started pulling out sashes.  Every year for Independence Day (September 15th), all (most?) of the schools have a competition.  This competition, in most cases, is for the young ladies of the school.  It involves a number of contests which often include giving a speech about some topic, displaying cultural knowledge, participating in a traditional dance, designing an outfit based on some theme, and so on.  The judges then award prizes/places to each of the top three contestants.  To anyone who doesn't know the school, you really don't know who was 1st, 2nd, and 3rd, because the places have names, not numbers.  However, I do know that my girls took 2 of the 3 places!   (By the way, mom, do you recognize those shoes?  Donated and earned last month. Thanks.)

So, since we were already in picture-taking mode, we took a group photo as well.  We're making it through this year, and next year we'll be even better.  If you've read the other entry I posted today (which is actually Wednesday), you'll have a peek into what lies ahead for us.  We hope you'll be sticking with us as we continue this journey!

Ten parents from each of the ten families we serve here with our community contact, Manuel, and some of the children from the various families.  (Most children are in school at this time of day.)

Distance & Cultural Connection: Day 1,535

I know, two posts in two days (less than 12 hours, really).  This never happens.  So, I'm a "member" at Velvet Ashes, and by "member," I mean the person who quietly sits in the background reading but not posting much.  It's a community for women [primarily] serving [primarily] abroad, and each week they give a topic to blog about.  Maybe you'll start seeing more of these topic response blogs.  (Not all of the topics apply to me.)  This week, their topic is Distance.  So, here is my response to the prompt:

The prompt mentions two extremes and gives examples.  One missionary so detached from her home culture that she never wanted to go Stateside, and one missionary so detached from her mission culture that she spent all her time on her computer (presumably online chatting with family and friends back home?).  It asks toward which do we lean.

In the United States, the culture pushes towards independence and freedom.  This results in a loss of familial connection.  Adults see their family (outside of spouse and minor children) a few times per year.  For the past FOUR YEARS (next month), I have visited my family once or twice per year.  (My first year, 3 times.)  I feel like I've somehow completed the requirements for "good family member."  That doesn't mean I agree with that aspect of culture, but it is what it is.

I'm not going to pretend that there aren't times when I spend the entire day on the computer.  There are.  Sometimes it's just trying to keep a hold of some idea of what the US culture looks like these days.  So many things change.  For most people who know me, that isn't a problem, but I remember going to hang out with my friend Elaine one one trip back, and we went to hang out with some friends of hers and play games all evening.  At one point I had no clue what who or something was, and someone asked me if I lived in a cave (not knowing at all what I do).  Admittedly, it was a wonderful conversation opener about what I do, but it was a little embarrassing. So, I try to stay up-to-date with at least a few current events, and I do my best to know something about politics so that when someone says "Benghazi," I don't ask "Is that a new car brand?"  (No, didn't happen.)

My fiance (a man from my host country) is attached to his cell phones.  He needs them for work, and work is 24/7.  His phones, because of his job, are not nice phones; they're simply small and meet his needs.  My phone, because of my job, is slightly nicer.  It's not an iPhone or a Blackberry (although both are available here); it's not even a "smartphone" (okay, a part of culture I haven't figured out yet...are those a separate kind of phone or is that a category that iPhones and Blackberries fall into?) or have wi-fi.  I will admit that I can get internet on it, but I don't.  My fiance is connected to his work 24/7, and when I have internet, I am connected to US culture.  That's not something I want 24/7; that's why I don't have internet on my phone (and why I'm glad it doesn't have wi-fi).

It's draining.  US culture is draining, especially for someone who has grown so used to a simpler life.  Which stars are dating?  Which stars are divorced?  What's the newest product in electronics? What did President Obama do this week?  Who got shot?  What rallies/movements are big?  Who won the basketball game?  Who won the football (American football, of course) game?  Who won the hockey game?  Who won the baseball game?  What's the weather like?  What's the top song on the charts?  What happened on "Days of our Lives?" (Is that show still on?)  And probably lots of questions I'm forgetting to ask!  I can't keep up with all that.  It would consume my entire day and all of my days.  (Obviously, the rest of you have some amazing ability that I don't have.  I am in awe...but not...because keep reading.)

Guatemalan culture is so much easier.  I need to know if Real Madrid or Barcelona won their futbol ("soccer," to all you US folks) game.  I may need to know if President Otto Perez Molina (or his VP) has done something interesting, and (unfortunately) I probably need to know if President Obama has done something interesting concerning Latin American relations.  Beyond that, I don't need to know anything, and really, I can avoid the first one by just saying that I'm not into sports; that is a halfway acceptable answer.

Getting back to the question at hand, when I'm in my house, connected to the internet, I am "connected" to my childhood culture.  My visits to the US fulfill my obligations as a single, adult daughter/sister.  When I am not on my computer, I am part of the culture here.  I go to the market.  I weave.  I talk to people.  I have a "goodbye" competition with the little boy at the bakery.  I ride the bus.  I visit my neighbors.  However, because I am an introvert, I think I still interact more with my childhood culture than I do with my host culture.  It is easier for me to be in front of the computer, behind the screen.  But, guess what?  When I'm in the US, it's easier for me to be in front of the computer, behind the screen, communicating with my friends here!

The prompt also asks "What helps you in prioritizing your time and relationships?" and I think I already touched on that when I was talking about my phone/the internet.  When I am on-line, I am 99% immersed in my childhood culture.  There are some nights when I forget for a moment what country I'm in until I look up from the screen.  When I am not on-line, I am 99% in this culture.



On a random, mostly unrelated note:  I was once translating for a team and one young person had never seen a manual window (on a car).  He/She said "Wow, I never understood why they said 'roll up/down the window' before!  I just thought it was some sort of expression."  I was looking at the word "on-line" in that last paragraph and thinking "Kids these days probably don't know where that one comes from either."

Me, not the "Gringa on the Ground": Day 1,534

Just because a person doesn't talk about something doesn't mean it doesn't exist, that it isn't real.  Tonight I'm going to talk about me, Annalisa, 29-years old, holder of a bachelor degree and two associates, massage therapist, cat lover, Christian missionary, woman.  I believe that behind every person, there is a story; there is something that makes us who we are.  There is something that drives us.

I believe that I'm not good enough.  Don't mistake that as a low self-esteem.  I simply believe that on a long-term basis, people deserve someone better than myself in their lives.  Quite frankly, I don't know if any such person exists.  I recognize that I am a human being, a really flawed human being.

I have had a lot of opportunities in my life, many of which I have taken advantage of.  I had some pretty good parents as far as parents go.  At the very least, they were supportive of my brother and I and kept us fed and clothed, clean and dry.  (They're better than that, but we'll just leave that topic there.)  And besides that, I was privileged.  Maybe they didn't buy me those horses I wanted (and probably wouldn't have cared for properly), but they made sure that I had a good education, went to some camps, and was able to participate in extra-curricular activities.  We had enough money for those things.

Not everyone has opportunities like I had.  I know I'm not a real go-getter like some people.  I won't retire by the age of 30.  I don't have kids.  I don't own my own house.  I've never been in a newspaper or magazine let alone featured on the cover.  (Hey, "Kids Say" in the local paper when I was 7 years old--or however old it was--probably doesn't count.  Nor does the alumni update section of my high school alumni magazine.)  And I recognize that there are people who deserve all of that but might never achieve it, and I feel guilty.  I feel guilty for using resources to become this person with this amazingly incredible life that I don't feel I deserve.

And that's a large part of why I'm here.  I'm looking for kids who push and push to become everything they want to be, everything they are capable of being.  Kids who aren't afraid of taking the bull by the horns but aren't able to because they can't afford the bull.  I'm looking for kids who will take the opportunities I was given and the privilege I was born with and will make their future better and brighter.

And it's pathetic.  I look at the things I can do, the things I'm good at (or, rather, "the things at which I'm good," with grammar theoretically being one of them?), and I am shocked and disgusted with myself.  I could be anything I put my mind to ("to which I put my mind"...yep, not going to care about dangling prepositions anymore tonight nor starting sentences with "And" and "But"), and I wonder why I'm not more.  I wonder why I didn't become something I'm capable of becoming.  No, I'm not calling myself a failure either.

I'm engaged.  I almost called my fiance tonight and told him that everything is off.  Instead I sent him a text that simply said "I miss you" (in English, which he isn't that good with).  He is one of those people who isn't afraid to take the bull by the horns, and he's not afraid of working hard to buy the bull.  And the idea of him being stuck with me for the rest of his life is something that scares me.  But it's okay to be scared.  We complement each other, not only him and I, but also the kids I work with and myself.  He and the kids are incredible.  I might have "all the answers," but they're the ones with the drive.

I'm not good enough.  That's why God brought me to them and them to me.  We have what each other needs.

Mission Moment: September

A reminder that these are the articles I write for my sending church's newsletter.  Some of them have been edited for privacy.

 A few days ago, I went out to the village to meet with my families. It was a meeting that was supposed to take place about 2 months ago, but due to schedule conflicts, it didn't. At any rate, it gave me the opportunity to dive further into the lives of the families which I serve. Some of the things I learn, I learn by way of stories in which the people actually share something with me and know they are sharing it. Some of the things I learn are learned by deduction...and accounts from other missionaries.

One of the first things I heard upon arriving Wednesday, after everyone was all settled, was “You kept your word. You did what you said you would do, and here is the evidence.” The government here is apparently notorious for helping once or twice and abandoning the people. The people who I am serving didn't expect me to come back. I guess when the bar is set that incredibly low, two months late doesn't seem like such a big deal, but that doesn't mean it should be acceptable.

Later, as I was dealing with my two 8^th grade girls and their mothers, I had a chance to ask them what they want to do with their lives. (I actually had to give them real money to pay their school fees which is why I waited until everyone else had left.) The girls are Wendy and Mercedes, and they each have a different story and a different dream.

I know I have mentioned Wendy before on my blog, and perhaps I mentioned her in a newsletter as well. She and her little sister make baskets out of pine needles, and the family offers all sorts of handmade goods in their store along the side of the highway. They are renting the house they live in. Although poor, most of my families at least own their land. She admits that her parents don't have the money to pay for her education; so she's grateful for the help she receives through the program. Her little sister is also in school. Wendy told me that she'd like to graduate from college, possibly as a lawyer. While I would applaud any moral career choice, Guatemala needs more female professionals, especially in the legal field, especially sympathetic to the needs and culturally-placed limitations of the Mayans. I would love for her to accomplish her dreams; I think it would be a wonderful step forward for that entire region.

It's possible that I haven't mentioned Mercedes before, but if I had to pick just one person who I am doing this for, it would probably be her. Mercedes is the oldest of three children. Her little sister has some sort of undiagnosed condition (despite medical exams by American and Guatemalan doctors and blood tests which were reviewed in Switzerland) which appears to be some sort of muscular dystrophy. The young girl, Clara, is unable to talk or walk and usually struggles with holding her head up straight. I already knew all of that, but what I didn't know is that their father is an alcoholic. (Perhaps it is because he feels powerless to help his youngest child, but I'm not going to make his excuses for him.) This I learned because Mercedes showed up on Wednesday with a failing grade in one of her classes.

Passing is a 60, but I ask 70s from all of the kids because I don't want to get to the last semester and have anyone fail the entire year. So, I asked her why her grade was so low, and she told me it was because she didn't turn in a project. Why didn't she turn it in? Because she didn't do it. Why didn't she do it? Because dad had drank all the money in the house; so there wasn't any money to buy the supplies for the project. Okay...that probably also means that there wasn't food for meals or any number of other important things that people spend money on.

If I ever needed a reason to keep going, it would be for Mercedes. Her mother is exhausted. She actually looked a bit younger/less exhausted the other day, but she still looks like her years are numbered. With the father unable to make objective choices concerning if people eat or not in his household, I can't believe that he'll be the one caring for the family when his wife finally gives out. Luis, Mercedes and Clara's brother, is 13. He has finished the 6^th grade and decided that he does not want to keep studying; so he is now working as a day laborer. When there is work, he works. When he works, he can buy food for the family. When there is not work, people go hungry without another income. Basically, Mercedes is going to be her sister's caretaker the rest of their lives. Unless Mercedes can get a good job or marry well, she will have a very difficult life (even without her sister to care for). I can't guarantee that she marries well, but I do know this: if Mercedes can finish her education, she has a better chance at a good job. (She wants to be a secretary.) By staying in school, she also has a better chance at meeting and marrying an educated man who would also have a better chance at getting a good job.

I fear for the kids in my program. I read all too often in the newspaper—and hear stories from other missionaries—about what often happens in many Guatemalan households. I fear for Clara. I fear for Mercedes. I fear for Wendy. But mostly I take solace in the fact that there is a merciful God who is watching out for them and all the other kids.

Language Learning

As I mentioned in July, one member suggested that it might be interesting to learn some of the Mayan language--Kaqchikel--which my families speak. I apologize that I forgot your lesson in the August newsletter. In July, we learned “Matiox” (Ma-TEE-oush) which means “Thank you.” This month we're going to learn the logical follow-up: “You're welcome.” I am not sure how this looks written; so I will only be able to give you the pronunciation.

In English, we say “You're welcome.” In Spanish, we say “De nada” (which literally translates to “of nothing”). In Kaqchikel, we say “Ma-hoon ri ba-noon.” They laugh every time I say it, but they insist that it's the correct response.

The Care and Keeping of a Missionary

I received a lovely e-mail from Hope this month letting me know about a musical mission group that was in Guatemala. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to attend any of their concerts, but I was really thrilled to get her e-mail. Thanks, Hope! Anyone else who would like to write to me for whatever reason can reach me at asimmer@gmail.com.

As far as my prayer requests go, I'm okay as far as health care goes. I'll be able to have my appointment when I have my visit to the States. However, my friend did not get his visa; so he will not be visiting with me. He believes that God must have other plans; so we'll see what those are!

Thank you for all your support. Your prayers help keep me going, and your donations help children like Mercedes and Wendy get educations to better their own futures and those of the people around them. You can stay up-to-date (more or less) with my blog at http://GringaOnTheGround.blogspot.com. It's just like reading the news on-line, and you don't need to make an account or sign up for anything.

Racism, the US, and a reaction: Day 1,503

Some of you know that one of my main methods of communicating with friends both in the US and all over the world is via Facebook.  As I was catching up on what everyone has been up to tonight, I saw that a college friend of mine had posted an article.  (Please take a moment to click on that link as the rest of this will all make a lot more sense if you at least know what the article is about.)  My first response to her link was "I'm not average," but I was.

When I lived in the US--4 years ago--all of my friends were white.  I had one black friend from college.  I had one half-Latino friendly acquaintance. My only Asian "friends" were my adopted cousins.  And, via marriage, my family is a little more diverse than some.

Today, my "first language" is Spanish.  It's the language I draft my speeches in.  It's the language I assume everything is in when there is little context.  (I was playing a game with animals in it the other day and the mouse-over tag for one animal was "llama."  My brain processed the word as though it was Spanish.)  It's often the language I speak to my pets in.  It's pretty much the only language my fiance and his family speak.  It's the language my neighbors speak.  And it's pretty much the only language I'll respond to on the street...no matter how many times the men yell at me "Good morning, my love!" as I walk past.

Today, the majority of the friends I interact with on a daily basis are Hispanic.  Most of my neighbors are Hispanic.  The only white people I typically interact with are an interesting group of "I'm here until I'm not" kind of people.  The short-termers--people here for a couple months--and the retirees are folks who I don't hang out with because I have essentially nothing in common with them (see article).

The conversation on my friend's Facebook page then turned to people of mixed race and how they feel/see the world.  I'm not mixed race, but I do consider myself to be bicultural at this point and I recognize that my children will be mixed race.  Which is when I started typing the following response and realized all of it would make a better blog post:

I also think that it is very different for people such as myself--which is why I stated that I'm not average, but I was before I came here--who have spent substantial time in a foreign (and non-white) country.  If I were to return to the US, I might make a decision to live in a Latino neighborhood.  But, then again, I might not.  The fact is that my neighbors here understand that there is no "white neighborhood."  (Okay, there is a white city.  I lived there for 6 months.  I hated it.  I worked too hard to pay the rent and too little on the reasons I'm down here.  In the town I now live in, there's no white neighborhood.)  My neighbors accept that I do things their way because that's the way things are done here.  I feel that if I moved to a "Latino neighborhood" in Michigan (somewhere in Pontiac or Detroit?) that my neighbors wouldn't be as accepting of me...even with my (future) Latino spouse because, let's face it, la gringuita tiene muchas opciones; no tiene que estar aqui mostrando sus 'riquezas' ("The little white girl has lots of options; she doesn't have to be here showing off her 'wealth.'") or so they'd probably think.

To be quite honest, if I were in the US, I'd rather be a poor, white girl in a white neighborhood than I would a poor white girl in a non-white neighborhood.  It's a race thing that I've encountered a lot down here, especially when I was living in the "white city" or even when I go there now.  Non-white people assume that white people have money.  White people don't assume that about white people; although they do assume that most non-white people don't (except for Asians and Jews).  So, if I were to live in the US, I would prefer to live among people who don't assume anything about my wealth or lack thereof...which would lead to increased potential for white friendships and decrease potential for non-white friendships.

Which actually leads me briefly to the topic of "reverse racism."  First of all, the definition of racism is as follows: "The belief that all members of each race possess characteristics, abilities, or qualities specific to that race, especially so as to distinguish it as inferior or superior to another race or races" (Oxford Dictionary).  So, really, in my mind, "reverse racism" should take that definition and put a "not" in it.  "White people are rich" is a racist statement.  Guess what?  I don't have extra income.  I eat meat maybe once per month because I don't have money to buy it otherwise.  And, sure, I have a "Mommy/Daddy/Brother, get me out of here" button--something my neighbors don't have--that I can press whenever I want, but it's a one-way trip to a life I don't want to have, a life I wasn't called to, a life I would probably detest.

I recently read something that said that women's brains are like wires: everything is connected to everything else.  I guess that's sort of how this post reads as well...

Positives and Negatives: Day 1,491

The big negative is short and not-so-sweet: it appears that I've lost an entire community.  It's possible that it will be revived in the future--we do have all the names--but I doubt it will be the same as it could have been.

The positives were the comments made in my other community today:
1. "You did what you said you'd do."
This should not have to be listed as a positive.  So many times these people are promised help and they do not receive it, not from the government and not from the outside world.  These people took a chance on me, and they are slowly learning that I'm not here to let them down.  God willing, I never will.  Granted, the program isn't running as smoothly as I'd like it to yet, but we're all stumbling through it together.
2. "My son is whole thanks to you."
I can't really take the credit for this one, but they give it to me anyway.  As I've told others, I often serve merely as a bridge.  Some rivers are harder to cross than others without a bridge; some rivers are so wide that they seem more like oceans than rivers.  Such was the case of one of my families.  They have a daughter who was basically constantly seizing, and they have a son who was born without a hand.  (Now, I think the son was still in school thanks to not having the hand, but that's hopefully not going to be an issue with the educational program.)  When we last met, in May, the boy was still waiting for his prosthesis.  It isn't anything fancy, but he has it now and it works for him.  His mother is happy, and I'm getting the credit because I got on-line and found someone who could help him.  (Anyone know and ophthalmologist?  I need one of those for a girl and haven't had any luck yet.)  Besides all that, her son already was whole; they all just feel like he is more whole now.
3. Not a comment, but the majority of grades are improving!
This is good.  This is what we want to see.  Unfortunately, that also means that the people have more points to spend which means more funds are needed.  I had some people who said in May that they were going to help me out with this up in Michigan, but I have no update from them.  (As one of them is a teacher, I figured I'd give him time for classes to be over for the summer before I expected anything.)
4. A lot more things I'm sure, but...

One negative is that I have made almost no progress on improving my Kaqchikel.  I say "almost" because I did meet someone who said he would teach me.  It would be a Q40 round-trip bus ride to meet with him.  Maybe we can split the cost and travel time and meet in the middle, trading languages.  It's a thought.  While some of the people here in San Antonio speak Kaqchikel, it's certainly a different dialect than they speak in Solola.  I often get weird looks when I use my San Antonian Kaqchikel in Solola.  (When I use my Solola Kaqchikel, they laugh at me just because they think it's funny to hear those words coming out of my mouth, but they do understand and appreciate it.)  I would love to understand them more and in their own language.

Another negative from today was little Griselda.  She's about 7 years old, and she doesn't want to go to school.  Her mother is a widow.  She says she sends the girl to school, but she doesn't go; she goes and hides.  So, the girl failed this marking period.  So, I had a talk with mom about being in charge of the family, that if she says something has to be done, it has to be done or there are consequences.  I guess I'm as close to a truancy officer as there is around here; anyway, I hope and pray that Griselda goes back to school.

So as to not end on negatives,
5. I talked to both Mercedes and Wendy today.  They are my two girls in 8th grade. (The most advanced in the program.)  I asked them what they wanted to do with their lives.  Mercedes wants to be a secretary, and Wendy wants to be a lawyer.  The first is a high school degree, and the second is a university degree.  I'm behind these girls 100%; I hope you are too.  Mercedes's little sister is another one of our special needs girls, and she admitted today that her father is somewhat of an alcoholic.  (She had a really low grade in one of her classes, and when I asked about it, she said that because her father had drank all the money in the house, she didn't have the money to buy the supplies to do her project.  So, she didn't do it and didn't turn it in.)  That means that when her mother dies, taking care of her little sister falls on her (and her brother who only completed 6th grade and doesn't want to study any further).  It's a tough situation, and probably the only way that the family will make it through together is if Mercedes finishes school.  Wendy is the one we need the eye doctor for.  She was ill about two years ago, and since then her eyesight has been diminishing steadily.  Her mother figures the girl only has about a year to go before she would be considered blind.  Please pray for my girls.

Mission Moment: August

 June and July is when a lot of short-term mission teams come down to Guatemala, and I often am hired to translate for them. Just a few weeks of translating greatly offsets my costs for the rest of the year; so I don't hesitate to pick up the jobs as long as they're with groups I know and trust. And, as always happens, the people in these groups start asking me what I'm doing down here; so I tell them about the educational program. The question is inevitably asked if they can come down and do a week of mission work with me. I often avoid this question by simply telling them that I'm not ready for groups to come down yet, but the reality is that I'll never be ready.

Imagine that I showed up at your house with 5-20 Japanese millionaires. They all have some sort of badge on their chest which looks slightly different on each of them, but you have no clue what it says. They walk around your house—with only one or two of them even asking permission to come in—and proceed to point at stuff and talk in Japanese. Some of them are even laughing. Then one of them—who seems like the leader and was at least one of the ones who asked for permission to enter your house—asks you for a hammer in passable English. After supplying the requested hammer, one of them starts to break open one of your walls. They install something they brought with them, show what it does, and go away smiling.

The question is if you would be smiling. Did you need whatever it was that they installed? Didn't you get along fine without it before? Did you know they were coming? Did you know what they were going to do to your house which, although humble, you loved how it was? Why were they laughing? What were they pointing at? They're all things which are understood differently in different cultures, and because of the language barrier, they are often things that can be misunderstood.

And maybe, besides the money, that's why I translate for these groups because, after nearly 4 years here, I can translate the joke about as fast as they can make it; so we can all laugh together. I can explain the process and explain how the finished product works. And maybe, just maybe, I can limit the damage done by well-intentioned people.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not opposed to all groups. Medical teams are very important. People who come to teach a skill are very important. I had a neighbor missionary lose one of his special needs girls a week or two ago. She stopped breathing, and he called an ambulance to come. The ambulance personnel didn't know how to do CPR; so he went and did CPR all the way to the hospital. There are needs which Americans can come down and help with on a short-term basis, but putting stoves and cement floors in homes aren't them. And I certainly don't see myself inviting groups down any time soon.

Just one more week of translating and I'm back to my normal work. That will be nice.

The Care and Keeping of a Missionary

So, according to the Affordable Care Act, people who are outside of the country more than 330 are exempt. That means as long as I don't have more than two 2-week visits during the year, I don't need health insurance. However, as my parents get older, I want to have the option; so while I was there in June I applied for Medicare and was accepted. Now they're saying that I have 60 days to have a physical done with my new primary care physician in the US. Please pray that they'll extend the deadline for me. This does mean that, regardless of other situations, I will be back in November for a visit, dates not yet decided.

I also have a friend applying for a visa to visit the US. Please keep him in your prayers as well.

As always, thank you for your support. Your prayers and your financial donations go a long way toward helping the people. I'm looking forward to my next trip out to Solola at the end of July. Remember you can reach me at any time via asimmer@gmail.com and I try to keep my blog (an on-line journal) updated at http://GringaOnTheGround.blogspot.com.

Affordable Care Act and Foreign Living: Day 1,465

The Affordable Care Act (or "Obamacare") is something that has sparked a lot of controversy in the US.  "Every American will have health care!"  I get it.  I do.  Everyone has the right to life.  But what about us Americans who live outside of the country?  What about those of us who live in countries with health care so inexpensive that we just don't bother with medical insurance?  Don't worry...they thought about that.  Americans who spend over 330 days per year outside of the US do not need medical insurance.  (I'm still not sure how they figure that out.)  But what does this mean for me as my parents get older?  What does this mean for me if there is some emergency in my family and I need to go to the US to help take care of things?  So, from over 2,000 miles away--and with the help of my mother--I registered for Government Health Care and was accepted.  I am not proud of the fact that I now take your tax dollars just so I can be in the country for more than 35 days of the year.  I'm actually quite ashamed...that the United States is denying their own citizens the right to be in their own country.  As my own mother recently said (in reference to something else): "They can't really keep you out."  Maybe not, mom, but they sure can make it difficult to be there.

Mission Moment: July

 So, I've been back in Guatemala about 2 weeks at the time of writing this. And when I was there planning on being here, I had all sorts of plans such as meeting with my communities my first full-week back and putting the shelves in my other bookcase (which I was missing the supports to and bought while I was in the US).
Then I started reading about the bad news: tropical storm. I have a slightly leaky roof. There's no hole in it; so there's not really anything anyone can do to fix it. I tend to keep a bucket under it and empty the bucket on a regular basis...I was hoping it would survive 2 weeks of rain, but not with a tropical storm. So, I came home to a slightly flooded upstairs including my dirty clothes pile which I hadn't had a chance to wash due to my last-minute trip out of the village; that was now moldy. A neighbor boy said he'd be over to help me install the washing machine I just bought cheap from someone who was leaving the country, but he still hasn't found the time.

In the meantime, I decided to fix up that other bookcase, and I found that the pegs were too small. Using wonderful logic skills, I decided that the boards would hold the pegs in place and proceeded to put the shelves and books in anyway. The brilliant person I am, I decided to start from the top and work down. (There actually was logic to this as I would be able to see the underside of each shelf easier doing it in this fashion; why I put the books on right away, I'm not sure.) The result was two shelves worth of books smashing my thumb. Fortunately, there's a nurse on the corner who assured me it wasn't broken and splinted it for me.

Now the thumb is mostly back to normal, some of the clothes have been washed by hand and dried, and I'm swamped with stuff to get done before I spend all of next week translating for a group. The road to the village is particularly dangerous right now because of all the rain; there's a high probability of mudslides. That being said, it's probably best I can't go out until the week after this anyway. At least my oven is working properly as I love to serve my neighbors by making them baked goods.

Sometimes mission life looks a lot like regular life. I hope to have some more stories about the families for you soon!

Language Learning

One member suggested sharing with you all some of the excitement I deal with when I work with the indigenous people. Guatemala has 24 national languages: Spanish, 21 Mayan languages, and 2 non-Mayan indigenous languages. The people who I am primarily working with at the current time are Kaqchikel Mayans. Their language is Kaqchikel. So, I'll be taking some time each newsletter to share with you a tiny piece of their language. As Kaqchikel is not particularly a written language, I won't always be able to give you the spelling of the words, but I'll try to give you a pronunciation.

“Thank you” in Spanish is “Gracias” which you pronounce “Grah-see-ahs.” In Kaqchikel, it is “Matiox” which you pronounce “Mah-tee-osh.” “Matiox” was one of my first words in Kaqchikel because it's always good to be polite!

The Care and Keeping of a Missonary

It was really great seeing many of you during my visit! Thank you for your prayers. It's always wonderful to have a chance to visit with you all and share personally what I'm doing, including some of the challenges I face. I love the feedback I get from you as well! I mentioned to some of you that I might be visiting in November; I do not know yet if that will be happening. I should know by the time I write my next article; so stay tuned! God bless you all!

The Things I Won't Say...And What I Wish You Would Part 1: Day 1,428

I recently took a trip to the US to visit some of my family and friends, and as always happens, people inevitably say stuff that I have no clue how to respond to.  Sometimes it's just a question without an answer, but sometimes it's somewhat hurtful as well.

You say: How long are you home for?
I think:  First of all, I'm not home.  Some days I'm not sure where home is or, rather, if I have one, but this is not home.  Second of all, it's really none of your business how long I'm here for.  You weren't making plans to hang out with me anyway.
I say: I'm here for two weeks.

You say: It must be nice to be home.
I think: Again, I'm not home.  And while it is nice to catch up with people, I have two cats and a dog who I worry about while I'm here.  I have people who might want to meet with me.  And I have much better downtime activities in Guatemala than I do here.  I have numbers to crunch and projects to stay on top of.  Really, this trip cuts into my life, but the Guatemalan government kicks me out ever 180 days.  I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to be.
I say: It's nice to see people.

You say: I really like reading your newsletter articles.
I think: Yeah, well...I haven't written one in two months.  People haven't been scheduling the meetings like they were supposed to. I'm frustrated, and I feel like a little bit of a failure since I don't have news to share with you.  So, I just don't write.  I mean, what do you want me to tell you?  That I've spent the last two months learning to cook Guatemalan food and weaving? Do missionaries even do that kind of thing?
I say: Thanks.  You know, I write more posts on my blog as well if you want more to read. (Er, sometimes.)

You say: It must really be different being back.
I think: Whew!  At least you didn't say 'home.'  But I'm not really 'back' either.  I'm more of a traveler passing through.  And of course here is different from there.  I mean, you throw your toilet paper in the toilet here!  Your food comes out of cans and boxes!  I'm staying in a house with insulation, two freezers, and a television!  When I'm here, my parents fund my stay; they let me use the car and they buy me food.  Here I live with people instead of animals.  Here my neighbors are far away while there I have a neighbor who calls me to come over to her house by yelling over the wall.  Here I drive, and there I use public transportation.  Here I speak English and there I speak Spanish...and sometimes the few words of Kaqchikel that I know.  Here I hardly walk anywhere; there I walk everywhere.  I mean, YES!, it's as different as night and day or black and white or any other opposites you can think of.  Okay...maybe not opposites, but different, very different. I don't even know where to start explaining the differences to you.  But DIFFERENT ISN'T BAD...just different.
I laugh and say: Well, yeah, the language for one.

You say: So, you meet anyone yet?
I think: Well, sure, I meet people all the time, but that's not what you're asking here.  I just don't know how to explain to you that while there is someone super important and special in my life, that's not why I'm down in Guatemala.  That's not why I prefer there to here.  That's not related at all.  And I know you're thinking that I must be getting old.  And I know you're thinking that a woman like me shouldn't stay single.  But with my relationship track record, it's not something I'm really comfortable talking about until I know it's going to happen.  I can be as sure as I want, but until the documents are signed, I kind of figure it won't work out for me.  So, while I'd love to tell you all about him, I won't...because it's complicated being in a relationship with someone from another culture.
I say: All in God's timing.

Mission Moment: May & June

 I originally wrote this article for the May newsletter, but I didn't have internet access to send it in. I apologize and hope that you enjoy reading this article and seeing me. And then it got added to...

While impatiently waiting to hear back from my contacts in Solola to plan the next meeting with the families, I took some time to visit some new communities. These were simply just visits with friends to meet their families and get to know new places, but let's face it: most people who know me down here know what I do. So, I took a trip to a small village in the department of Santa Rosa and a trip to Zacapa.

There is something to be said about visiting new places. The first thing to be said is that one should always wear a good pair of tennis shoes or hiking boots. The second thing to be said is that it is a good idea to not stray to the left or the right...in a literal sense. Fortunately, the people who I was traveling with both times were aware that the paths we would walk were slightly dangerous, and perhaps they were even aware that I miss walking among trees. More than once, they would have to stop to make sure I didn't get too far behind. And after nearly falling a few times trying to take it all in while I walked, I even had my hand held. (I did fall once, but it was from slipping on loose, dry dirt, product of the dry season; I was watching my step that time.)
I feel very blessed that I get to work in some beautiful places among wonderful people, and every place I visit deepens my heart for these people.

So, I just got a call from my contacts in Solola asking me to head out to visit them next week, but next week, I'm on a plane to Michigan. We agreed to have the meetings both on one day early in the week; therefore it won't interfere with travel plans. I'll admit that I'm excited to see the families and see the grades. There's one part of me that is telling me to not get my hopes up too much, but this is at least going to be a measurable progress mark. I get to see their grades, and I get to give out the point booklets to the families. Every new step feels like a new beginning.
By the way, I finally came up with a name for the program. I'll be calling it “Esperanza con Educación” which means “Hope with Education.” It is a play on the word “Hope.” We know that the true hope is in the salvation of Jesus the Christ. Many people, however, will see this with a secular view of “hope for a better future here on Earth.” Even in such a religious country such as Guatemala, it's always good to gain trust of the people before just sharing the Gospel.
Thank you all for your love and support, and I look forward to personally sharing with you SOON!

Explaining Myself: Day 1,290

I never give more than I have, but I never run out of things to give.  There is a reason for that.  Many people when they talk about giving, they are talking about giving with their wallet.  My wallet is quite small.  To give with my wallet would end quickly.  Instead, I choose to give with my heart.  When a person has a healthy heart--not talking about medical health here--it is a font of love; it has no end.  It doesn't run out.

Do you give?  How do you give?




Yo nunca doy mas que tengo, pero nunca acaba lo que puedo dar.  Hay una razon.  Muchas personas, cuando hablan de dar, estan hablando de dar con su billetera.  Mi billetera es muy pequeña.  Dar con mi billetera terminaria rapido. En cambio, yo elijo dar con mi corazon.  Cuando alguien tiene un corazon saludable--y no estoy hablando de salud medica aqui--es un manantial de amor; no tiene fin.  No acaba.

Y usted da?  Como da?

Getting Better! Day 1,255

As I very briefly mentioned in January, we took some of the kids to the doctor.  I'm very happy to share this update with all of you.  I get to see her probably next week, and I am THRILLED!

Mission Moment: March

 After all the excitement of January—6 trips to Solola, 3 within the same week—I'm taking a bit of a break in February. This break mostly consists of organizing my paper notes onto my computer (which doesn't typically travel with me for security reasons) and sorting donations. I will be traveling out once, Monday, February 24th, to get one child in the program registered with RENAP (the governmental registry of persons); the mother didn't have the money to register her son when he was born (about $6.50), and now as the boy is nearly 6 years old, the fines for putting it off so long are much more than the woman has. So, a student-lawyer has agreed to help us as part of his studies, and we're hoping that with a couple witnesses we can get the boy registered as a person; otherwise, the boy will never be able to attend school, legally marry, or get contracted employment.

So, considering my down-time, I wanted to take this opportunity to share with you one of my blog posts. I know most of you don't read my blog (an online journal), and this post is particularly relevant. I wrote it on May 1st, 2013, and I have slightly edited it to reflect my current situation:

Someone commented to me the other day that she didn't know how we--her friends and acquaintances here in Guatemala--live day to day with the extreme conditions around us. No one had ever said this to me. No one had ever made me think about this. And until that moment, I hadn't thought about it.

Growing up in my family, we basically did without things unless they were a necessity. Now, "necessity" had a very liberal definition. We had a television, but we did not have cable. I don't know of anyone who needs a television, but it sure helped us not get completely shunned by our classmates for being odd. And we took family vacations every (or almost every) year, but they were road trips to interesting and educational places around the United States. I didn't fly on a plane until I was around 15, and besides Canada (which, when you live 1 hour from the border crossing, doesn't count), I didn't leave the US until the day before my 18th birthday. My brother bought our first video game system when he was about 16. Our first family computer was an Apple IIe; our second family computer was a Gateway 2000. (We may have had a Tandy in the middle, but that might have been my brother's computer.) Basically, trips, electronics, clothes, whatever, never really happened. One of my last Stateside memories of not spending money on something that wasn't necessary was going to a Lansing Lugnuts game with my then-boyfriend and his mother. We got there a little bit early; so we went window shopping in the store. I was told that if I wanted anything, that I could just ask and they'd get me a present with it being my first game and all. I really don't know what it is to "want," and I'm still pretty clueless. So, I politely said I didn't need anything and was just looking, and then we went to take our seats. (There had been a hat I had been looking at and liked, but since I couldn't justify its purchase, I didn't ask for it.) Well, from the moment we sat down, I knew I was going to have a problem. The sun was in our eyes, I couldn't see the game, and, most important of all, it's dangerous to go to a baseball game and not be able to see...never know when a foul ball will take you out. So, we went back and got the hat...not because I wanted it but because I needed it.

So when I came to Guatemala, I never thought about what I had or didn't have. There is very little in the life that one actually needs. And when we're talking about the people who live below the poverty line, those were the people who my friend was referring to when she said "extreme conditions." People in extreme poverty live on less than $2/day. I roughly live on about $4/day. I don't know what people in regular poverty live on, but I think I might be in regular poverty.

So, what am I trying to say with all of this, and how did I reply to my friend? The secret to living in the midst of these "extreme conditions" is not living in the midst of them; it's becoming a part of them. I don't live in a castle with a moat; I deal with the same things my neighbors deal with. We're all just here trying to survive one day at a time. I feel I am a better advocate for them because I not only have the passion I came with, but I also know what it is like--as much as possible, anyway--to be one of them. I don't only fight for a better life for each one of them, but for us as a community, as a whole. When you truly understand who or what you're fighting for, you're better equipped to fight for it.

See you in May!