I have been thinking a lot about books this week. Right now, I am in the middle of reading my fourth novel since leaving Seattle--a raucous, funny, kind of gross Carl Hiaasen called Sick Puppy. When I finish it, I will leave it at Cafe Arco Iris (Rainbow Cafe) or the Bagel Barn, or some other place like that for another tourist to pick up and read. This is how it is done here; we share with strangers books we have finished and don't want to lug back to where ever we came from. Here at Centro Liguistico Internacional where I live and study Spanish, there is a big, cement bin in the "internet cafe" (the expression is used VERY loosely here--there are 6 or 7 old computers, and on any given day, maybe 3 of them work. I am writing on my HP notebook. TG for wifi!) filled with all kinds of cast off novels in many different languages. My friend Jason from last year, who happened to show up again the same week I did, is finishing a historical fiction book about the war here in Guatemala and has promised to hand it over before he leaves for Boston on Tuesday. I am excited to read it. For a lot of us, anticipating a good read is kind of like anticipating an upcoming vacation, and there are plenty of people who reread favorite books, even though we know the outcome, just because we want to go there again.
All of this leads to an irony: we, who have loads of money, can read anything for free. Poor people who do not frequent places like Arco Iris, Bagel Barn or language schools do not have access even to libraries and therefore, even if they know how to read, don't get a huge opportunity to do so. Another oddity is that, for as utterly inexpensive everything is here in Antigua, books are not cheap to buy. In fact, they are often more expensive than they are in the US. All of this leads me to ponder those empty library shelves at Nuestro Futuro. I am going to try to do something about starting to fill those shelves.
Juan Antonio is finally back at school. I saw him Friday afternoon. He only stayed for an hour of the two hour session, but he was running and laughing and wearing his Vashon Island tee shirt. The school is a weird, wonderful place.
But it is also a place with lots of (melo)drama. Herbert, the director, has resigned. I don' t think I told many people this story, but last year, right before I left, he hit me up for money. "Por los ninos," he said. Bullshit. Por sus bolsas (his pockets), is more like it. I mentioned his request to the teacher, who immediately called the head office in Antigua, and Herbert got an official dressing down, PLUS a write up in his Permanent Record. I got an extremely prompt, personal apology, face to face, from the two founders of the entire organization. For us Estadounidenses, it is unthinkable that a school principle would ask for money in such a casual, nonspecifc way. And let's call it what is was--graft, payola, boodle. And stupid. My small acts of generosity must have led him to believe that I was unable to discern who was in need and who was not. The obvious reality is that in many countries, people with various levels of power have what to them feels like a right to skim from the coffers. And lets not kid ourselves, it happens in the good ol' US of A, too, just with maybe a different kind of finesse. Let us not forget the past two years. But I digress, again. Sorry!
Anyway, Herbert will be gone by August 6th, and right now, teachers, volunteers and even newer office staff are having a delightful time pondering and sharing philosophies as to why Herbert is soon-to-be history. I have it from a reliable, unnamable source that "resign" is a bit of a euphemism, and I like to think that I played a small part in what I hope will be an improvement in an already incredibly wonderful organization.
So I hope that that little story does not turn anyone off from thinking well of, and maybe donating to, Ninos de Guatemala, as I have seen first hand the good that it is doing, and the growth of the school. The kids I worked with last year who were just beginning to read and do simple math are now doing multiplication and division--two skills that I don't remember my own kid learning in the second grade. Plans are in place and funding begun to add enough classrooms to teach through the sixth grade. Here, a sixth grade education opens a few doors; not many, but some. With a bit of grace, some of these kids will make it through high school and maybe even some sort of higher education/professional certification.
I cannot find the cord thingy that connects my camera to my computer. It must be some where, but that some where may be on my bedroom floor on Vashon. I had trouble getting my big suitcase down to less than 50 pounds, and when I finally did, I zipped it up, turned it over, and discovered a foot-long slash on its underside. So with about 20 minutes to spare before sailing on the 5:45 AM ferry, I was frantically repacking. Que sera. Pics will have to wait.
Next weekend, I am traveling to a place called Xela ("Shay-la") with Shiobon (sp?!?), one of the other volunteers.
Paz a todos--
Holly
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
So E. B. White takes his kid to this nifty little vacation spot he remembers from many childhood trips that he took with his family. Much at the lake seems to have remained impervious to time as he watches his son repeat the same rituals that he himself performed as a boy: sneaking out early to fish, splashing in the lake, scooting across the water in a small boat. Yet as the adult E.B. observes more closely, he sees evidence of change in small things, such as the face of the waitress, the tracks in the dirt road made by cars, the sounds of motors. White ends his essay ruminating about death, a moment almost as shocking to the reader as the cold water is that closes around the groin of his son, causing White's somewhat morose contemplations. "Once More to the Lake" sometimes feels like White's last time to the lake, but when I read his bittersweet essay, I find myself hoping he and his son went back many times more.
In the streets of Antigua, I see many of the exact same things as I did the year before and the year before that. Of course the Mayan women, arrayed in their magnificent colorful splendor, goods piled high on their heads and their arms weighed down with more stuff, continue to offer un buen precio for whatever little thing catches my eye; countless people like me from richer countries crowd the streets and I hear German, French, what I think is Dutch, as well as Chinese, and of course a lot of Engish in its various accents; the awful tuktuks (the WORST form of mechanized transforation ever devised) are still scooting around looking for passengers. This year, my third, brought a sense of familiarity that I hadn't quite anticipated--who ever thought that this place, so foreign to every other place in which I have ever passed more than a few weeks, would include a sense of homeliness? Certainly not me.
There is of course, change, though. Some of the beggars on the street are new; others are no longer around (this is the only contemplation of death, I promise!). And out at Nuestro Futuro in Ciudad Vieja, the school now sports a second floor that contains three new classrooms, a meeting room for the teachers, and an honesttogod library with lots of shelves, and very few books. But it is a huge start. Wednesday afternoon was my first trip out there. The nineteen kids I worked with last year are down to 18, as Fransisco, the ADHD kid covered in warts, was removed from the school. He fought all the time with other kids and his family decided that, at 9, he was old enough to start working. Sigh. But there are many new, younger kids: this year's first grade includes about 15 new kids, as does the kindergarden class. I cannot even contemplate how to explain what it was like walking into that school, seeing the kids at recess and having bunches of them rush up and absolutely smother me. My goddaughter Susana attached herself to me like a mosquito bite, except there was nothing annoying about it at all.
In the past year, more has changed besides the physical plant. The most incredible change is in the actual structure of the Ninos de Guatemala, the ngo that started the school. Last year, I was the only volunteer working in the classroom during the morning, and one of only three or four who worked tutoring in the afternoon. Now there are volunteers in all of the five classrooms and at the moment there are eight of us doing afternoon tutoring Monday through Wednesday, and "Expresiones Artisitas" on Thursday & Friday afternoons. I, along with two other volunteers, are teaching rudimentary English to the first and second graders. Haylo. May nay ees Jali. Wat ees yo nay? :). Lots of fun!!!
Juan Antonio, the boy that Richard and I "adopted" as our godson, has not been at the school this past week. He is sick with a mysterious disease that the doctors had tentatively diagnosed as polio. I am choking just a bit as I write this part. Juan Antonio is, as everyone agrees, the absolutely smartest kid at the school. School is his life, he says. It gives him purpose and a way to discover who he really is, who he was designed to be in a more perfect world. I saw him Thursday as I was climbing the volcano with some of the other volunteers for the afternoon's activities. There he was, with his mother and new baby sister. What can I say? I don't know. The good news is that polio has been ruled out and he will be allowed to return once he has muscle strength in his legs to make it there and back, as well as survive a day's worth of class.
Antigua is a fantasy. It has a quality that, while not quite dreamlike, makes it seem a bit unreal. Ciudad Vieja, on the other hand, is place where kids don't get vaccines, and school libraries have empty shelves. But for us, Ciudad Vieja also seems unreal, as we don't worry about things like polio and can't imagine life without countless books. Walking the streets of Antigua, seeing all the cool stuff, and climbing the side of Volcan Agua, dodging piles of dogpoop and inhaling the constant smoke of fire wood, I am not at the lake, but I am hoping that I will be back next year. And the next.
In the streets of Antigua, I see many of the exact same things as I did the year before and the year before that. Of course the Mayan women, arrayed in their magnificent colorful splendor, goods piled high on their heads and their arms weighed down with more stuff, continue to offer un buen precio for whatever little thing catches my eye; countless people like me from richer countries crowd the streets and I hear German, French, what I think is Dutch, as well as Chinese, and of course a lot of Engish in its various accents; the awful tuktuks (the WORST form of mechanized transforation ever devised) are still scooting around looking for passengers. This year, my third, brought a sense of familiarity that I hadn't quite anticipated--who ever thought that this place, so foreign to every other place in which I have ever passed more than a few weeks, would include a sense of homeliness? Certainly not me.
There is of course, change, though. Some of the beggars on the street are new; others are no longer around (this is the only contemplation of death, I promise!). And out at Nuestro Futuro in Ciudad Vieja, the school now sports a second floor that contains three new classrooms, a meeting room for the teachers, and an honesttogod library with lots of shelves, and very few books. But it is a huge start. Wednesday afternoon was my first trip out there. The nineteen kids I worked with last year are down to 18, as Fransisco, the ADHD kid covered in warts, was removed from the school. He fought all the time with other kids and his family decided that, at 9, he was old enough to start working. Sigh. But there are many new, younger kids: this year's first grade includes about 15 new kids, as does the kindergarden class. I cannot even contemplate how to explain what it was like walking into that school, seeing the kids at recess and having bunches of them rush up and absolutely smother me. My goddaughter Susana attached herself to me like a mosquito bite, except there was nothing annoying about it at all.
In the past year, more has changed besides the physical plant. The most incredible change is in the actual structure of the Ninos de Guatemala, the ngo that started the school. Last year, I was the only volunteer working in the classroom during the morning, and one of only three or four who worked tutoring in the afternoon. Now there are volunteers in all of the five classrooms and at the moment there are eight of us doing afternoon tutoring Monday through Wednesday, and "Expresiones Artisitas" on Thursday & Friday afternoons. I, along with two other volunteers, are teaching rudimentary English to the first and second graders. Haylo. May nay ees Jali. Wat ees yo nay? :). Lots of fun!!!
Juan Antonio, the boy that Richard and I "adopted" as our godson, has not been at the school this past week. He is sick with a mysterious disease that the doctors had tentatively diagnosed as polio. I am choking just a bit as I write this part. Juan Antonio is, as everyone agrees, the absolutely smartest kid at the school. School is his life, he says. It gives him purpose and a way to discover who he really is, who he was designed to be in a more perfect world. I saw him Thursday as I was climbing the volcano with some of the other volunteers for the afternoon's activities. There he was, with his mother and new baby sister. What can I say? I don't know. The good news is that polio has been ruled out and he will be allowed to return once he has muscle strength in his legs to make it there and back, as well as survive a day's worth of class.
Antigua is a fantasy. It has a quality that, while not quite dreamlike, makes it seem a bit unreal. Ciudad Vieja, on the other hand, is place where kids don't get vaccines, and school libraries have empty shelves. But for us, Ciudad Vieja also seems unreal, as we don't worry about things like polio and can't imagine life without countless books. Walking the streets of Antigua, seeing all the cool stuff, and climbing the side of Volcan Agua, dodging piles of dogpoop and inhaling the constant smoke of fire wood, I am not at the lake, but I am hoping that I will be back next year. And the next.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Today the world stopped for about 2 1/2 hours to watch. Here in Antigua, bars and restaurants filled up with people from all over the world to witness Spain win the World Cup. The bar I was in was 100% for Spain and we groaned and cheered and groaned again, and finally we all claimed our questionable ancestral rights to call ourselves championes and joyfully screamed ourselves hoarse. Enthusiasm is infectious. My new friend Caroline from Scotland admits to not being a big futbol fan, and I, typical American, don't know much about the rules or teams, but we cheered along with everyone else and got utterly swept up in the excitement of what was truly a thrilling game. Drinking Moza (the best dark beer in the world) helped a bit.
Last week I read an editorial in Time Magazine about the lack of success futbol (okay, "soccer") has in the US. The gist was that most Estadounidenses (people from the US--you can't really say "North Americans" b/c that includes Mexico) don't have the patience to watch athletes play so damn hard for so many minutes, yet with little to no actual scoring. If you think about our national sports, basketball probably comes closest to futbol in the level of constant exersion on the part of the athletes. Yet compare the scores: basketball scores are often close to 100 point per team, whereas today's game ended with 1-0, with the one score coming in the last 5 minutes of the second overtime. For those of you who watched, you probably noticed that MANY times, one team or the other almost scored. Frustrating, very very frustrating, but probably more so for the players. (I also found myself wonding if part of the professional training inclues instruction and intense practice on how to grab one's shin and writhe in agony after being felled by a player from the other team. But I digress.) Yet it was exciting, very very exciting. No time outs, not clock stops when the ball went out of bounds or someone got a free kick; just relentless, hard-driven play. Who couldn't love that? I am not 100% sold on the the point the Time editorial was making. Maybe I was simply infected with the fervor of a futbol-loving country watching its cousins kick ass, but , damn, it was worth every second!
Last week I read an editorial in Time Magazine about the lack of success futbol (okay, "soccer") has in the US. The gist was that most Estadounidenses (people from the US--you can't really say "North Americans" b/c that includes Mexico) don't have the patience to watch athletes play so damn hard for so many minutes, yet with little to no actual scoring. If you think about our national sports, basketball probably comes closest to futbol in the level of constant exersion on the part of the athletes. Yet compare the scores: basketball scores are often close to 100 point per team, whereas today's game ended with 1-0, with the one score coming in the last 5 minutes of the second overtime. For those of you who watched, you probably noticed that MANY times, one team or the other almost scored. Frustrating, very very frustrating, but probably more so for the players. (I also found myself wonding if part of the professional training inclues instruction and intense practice on how to grab one's shin and writhe in agony after being felled by a player from the other team. But I digress.) Yet it was exciting, very very exciting. No time outs, not clock stops when the ball went out of bounds or someone got a free kick; just relentless, hard-driven play. Who couldn't love that? I am not 100% sold on the the point the Time editorial was making. Maybe I was simply infected with the fervor of a futbol-loving country watching its cousins kick ass, but , damn, it was worth every second!
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Note to self: Deep Woods Off only works on the body parts to which it is applied. Hmmm, I thought I had already learned that one. Today's mosquito bite count is 3, all on my feet.
If you have paid any attention to happenings in Central America, you probably know that the weather here has been unkind recently. Hurricanes, mudslides, errupting volcanoes and a lot of rain--not to mention a GIANT sinkhole in the middle of Guatemala City--have caused some damage and taken some lives. But today, as I wandered around Antigua to get my bearings and take care of a few essentials, such as food and buying a new Movistar phone (phone plus 75 minutes to any where in the world cost me 214 quetzales--about 28 bucks. Take THAT, Verizon!!!!!), the sun shone and only a few rain drops fell. The people here at Centro Linguistico remembered me, and so did the guy at Antigua Gimnasio, which I have again joined for the 6 weeks I will be here, and I am sleeping in the same room as I did last year after my friend, Anne, returned to the States. All of this means that I feel, not as though I have come home, but at least a strong enough sense of familiarity that I feel at home. I find myself wondering how many returns to the same place make it truly one's own. I am not sure 3 is it, but the proverbial charmed number does bring with it less of a sense of awe and more of a sense of being able to maneuver with some facility.
Not much to report as of yet. Monday I will go to the main office of Ninos de Guatemala, the NGO that runs the school in Ciudad Vieja. I will also start a week of intensive language instruction so that I can communicate with los ninos.
Thanks to everyone who has responded so far.
!paz a todos!
Holly
If you have paid any attention to happenings in Central America, you probably know that the weather here has been unkind recently. Hurricanes, mudslides, errupting volcanoes and a lot of rain--not to mention a GIANT sinkhole in the middle of Guatemala City--have caused some damage and taken some lives. But today, as I wandered around Antigua to get my bearings and take care of a few essentials, such as food and buying a new Movistar phone (phone plus 75 minutes to any where in the world cost me 214 quetzales--about 28 bucks. Take THAT, Verizon!!!!!), the sun shone and only a few rain drops fell. The people here at Centro Linguistico remembered me, and so did the guy at Antigua Gimnasio, which I have again joined for the 6 weeks I will be here, and I am sleeping in the same room as I did last year after my friend, Anne, returned to the States. All of this means that I feel, not as though I have come home, but at least a strong enough sense of familiarity that I feel at home. I find myself wondering how many returns to the same place make it truly one's own. I am not sure 3 is it, but the proverbial charmed number does bring with it less of a sense of awe and more of a sense of being able to maneuver with some facility.
Not much to report as of yet. Monday I will go to the main office of Ninos de Guatemala, the NGO that runs the school in Ciudad Vieja. I will also start a week of intensive language instruction so that I can communicate with los ninos.
Thanks to everyone who has responded so far.
!paz a todos!
Holly
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
In 43 1/2 hours I will be on a plane headed back to Guatemala, this time for six weeks. I am heading out alone this time. Richard was supposed to join me for a week or so, but his company is VERY busy making skimmers that are going to help clean up the CF in the Gulf of Mexico. So solo it is.
Right now, my intention, after a week of intensive Spanish learning (it is true--use it or lose it. Sigh.), is to again spend many of my waking hours volunteering at Nuestro Futuro. Last year at this exact time, I was headed off to the same country with only a vaguely formed idea of volunteering somewhere that would make use of my many talents, talents that most definitely did not include health care of any kind nor working with severely handicapped kids. I know my boundaries. What I did not know was that I would become so smitten with a bunch of grubby-faced kids who didn't have the conventional sense to hate school. I am very excited to see them. During this last year, Richard and I have stayed in sporadic touch with the two kids we "adopted" as godchildren--Susana and Juan Antonio. They are second graders now. Someone who was a longer term volunteer started an EFL program for the first and second graders, so maybe I will help teach English. I don't have a real preference; I just want to GET THERE.
I am eager to see Antigua Guatemala again and make new, if temporary, best friends with people of all ages from all over the planet. Well, I don't recall anyone from Africa, although one cool guy I met last summer who was working on a Master's in Library Science did say that as an undergrad he was an "Africanist." (Hi, Steve, if you are reading this:)). I am not sure if I will d o any in-country travel this time. I have no set agenda, other than those kids.
Here is the short list of things I am trying to remember:
Mosquitos love me. Deep Woods Off is the ONLY thing that will keep me from going nuts.
I have a double prescription of the antibiotic that will keep me from wasting a way, should I (again) get travelers' troubles and will take it at the very first sign of distress. If it is grumbling, it will 99% mostly likely erupt.
Toilet paper goes in the basket, not in the actual toilet.
Don't touch the electric shower. Ever.
I don't need to pack so much. I mean really, the rain boots came out only once and mostly only on principle. Wet feet when it is 78 degrees F do not get chilblains.
If I have anything to say, I will post, and for those of you who are on my email list, I will let you know if/when there is something new to read. Last year, I loved getting comments from anyone who took the time or felt so moved. Even if I don' t know you, write me if you like!
!bueno verano a todos!
Amor,
Jali
Right now, my intention, after a week of intensive Spanish learning (it is true--use it or lose it. Sigh.), is to again spend many of my waking hours volunteering at Nuestro Futuro. Last year at this exact time, I was headed off to the same country with only a vaguely formed idea of volunteering somewhere that would make use of my many talents, talents that most definitely did not include health care of any kind nor working with severely handicapped kids. I know my boundaries. What I did not know was that I would become so smitten with a bunch of grubby-faced kids who didn't have the conventional sense to hate school. I am very excited to see them. During this last year, Richard and I have stayed in sporadic touch with the two kids we "adopted" as godchildren--Susana and Juan Antonio. They are second graders now. Someone who was a longer term volunteer started an EFL program for the first and second graders, so maybe I will help teach English. I don't have a real preference; I just want to GET THERE.
I am eager to see Antigua Guatemala again and make new, if temporary, best friends with people of all ages from all over the planet. Well, I don't recall anyone from Africa, although one cool guy I met last summer who was working on a Master's in Library Science did say that as an undergrad he was an "Africanist." (Hi, Steve, if you are reading this:)). I am not sure if I will d o any in-country travel this time. I have no set agenda, other than those kids.
Here is the short list of things I am trying to remember:
Mosquitos love me. Deep Woods Off is the ONLY thing that will keep me from going nuts.
I have a double prescription of the antibiotic that will keep me from wasting a way, should I (again) get travelers' troubles and will take it at the very first sign of distress. If it is grumbling, it will 99% mostly likely erupt.
Toilet paper goes in the basket, not in the actual toilet.
Don't touch the electric shower. Ever.
I don't need to pack so much. I mean really, the rain boots came out only once and mostly only on principle. Wet feet when it is 78 degrees F do not get chilblains.
If I have anything to say, I will post, and for those of you who are on my email list, I will let you know if/when there is something new to read. Last year, I loved getting comments from anyone who took the time or felt so moved. Even if I don' t know you, write me if you like!
!bueno verano a todos!
Amor,
Jali
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