Happy Thanksgiving!!

In 1621, the Plymouth colonists and Wampanoag Indians shared an autumn harvest feast which is acknowledged today as one of the first Thanksgiving celebrations in the colonies. This harvest meal lebration, it was actually in keeping with a long tradition of celebrating the harvest and giving thanks for a successful bounty of crops. Native American groups throughout the Americas, including the Pueblo, Cherokee, Creek and many others organized harvest festivals, ceremonial dances, and other celebrations of thanks for centuries before the European conquest of North America.

Thanksgiving in Xela was the ultimate feast. About 20 of us gathered, mostly from the U.S. but also Europe and Guatemala. We weren't able to get our hands on a turkey, but we had more than enough to induce a state of food coma. We had salads, mashed potatoes, stuffing, mac and cheese, sweet potatoes, green beans, chicken and at least five different pies and desserts.

Thanksgiving day we also had an artisan/fair trade fair during the day and some women from a womens' association of indigenous artisans ended up staying the night here, since they live in a village a few hours away. They enjoyed their first typical american meal tremendously and also, were very curious about this tradition of ours- día de acción de gracias- especially when exactly we were going to give thanks, which never really happened because we were a large group of people of diverse backgrounds, beliefs and religions and so instead of an observable group thanks, it was more of an individual and internal thanks.

Las Aventuras Guate-Mex

México Lindo y Querido

Si muero lejos de ti

Que digan que estoy dormido

Y que me traigan aquí

Vinieron mis amigos, Marissa y Josafat, una parejita muy simpatica a Guatemala la semana pasada. Unos aventureros de muerte, igual se montaron en más de 20 camionetas, chicken buses, mientras estuvieron aquí. Despues de recorrer medio Guatemala y con los traseros ya morados, vinieron a Xela unos días. Esta parejita se convirtió en los gemelos de Gallo en pocos días. Fonda del Che, Black Cat, Fuentes Georginas (aguas termales- ver arriba) y por su puesto- Kokoloko's. Al final hasta nos lanzamos a México. Despues de más camionetas, una estafa que otra, unas hostias potenciales y problemas para pasar la frontera a México, llegamos y disfrutamos al maximo las menos de 24 horas que pasamos ahí. Playita, olas de miedo, cocteles (ceviche), montar en triciclos y la mejor comida. NICE! Un viaje que merece la pena hacer otra vez.

My friends, Marissa and Josafat, (a cute couple) came to Guatemala last week. They are die-hard adventurers, they must have ridden on more than 20 chicken buses while they were here. After seeing half of Guatemala and with their butts sore, they came to Xela for a few days. This couple turned into the Gallo twins in just a few days. Fonda del Che, Black Cat, Fuentes Georginas (thermal spas- see above) and of course- Kokoloko's. In the end we decided to go to Mexico. After more chicken buses, some swindles, potentials blows and problems crossing the border, we got there and enjoyed to the max the less than 24 hours in Mexico. Beach, scary waves, ceviche, riding tricylces and the best food! NICE! A trip worth making again.

El Alquimista

El leido el libro El Alquimista de Paulo Coelho tres veces ya y cada vez me ayuda a reflexionar sobre la vida y me llena de animo, fuerza y valor. Esta vez no dejo de pensar en la siguiente frase del libro y pienso que es un reto demasiado comun que hay que superar: “Cuando todos los días parecen iguales es porque las personas han dejado de percibir las cosas buenas que aparecen en sus vidas siempre que el sol cruza el cielo.”

The 90210 rooftop party

Look what I discovered! This is the rooftop of my building where I live. It's total Beverly Hills 90210. Last Sunday was a gorgeous day. Balthazar (a.k.a Balta and Blablazar) called me up that morning to do something and we decided on a party on my rooftop. The party started at 2:00pm. after Balta fulfilled his duty of voting. We ate, drank, learned french (yes, really!), and made some great commercials, mmmmm well mostly Balta. By the end of the night it was nearly official that Guatemala elected Alvaro Colom as their new president (more to come on this...)

Vea aprendiendo frances: http://youtube.com/watch?v=rU2IoA6fBlM

Dia de los Santos, Dia de los Muertos

Este Halloween, Día de los Muertos, Día de los Santos, etc. no hubo ni dulces, disfraces, ni calabazas de miedo para mi. Estuvo mejor todavía! Fui a Huehuetenango para la famosa Serenata del día de Los Santos que se lleva a cabo el 31 de octubre de cada año. Ya en el camino a Huehue empezaron los boleros. Estaba oscuro afuera, nadie en el bus hablaba, algunos dormían y yo empecé a cantar en voz baja con los boleros que sonaban de la radio.

Un poquito de historia: Uno de los iniciadores fue Don Rodrigo García Soto, un gran intérprete de la marimba. Don Rodrigo nació en la ciudad de Huehuetenango en el 1914 y en su vida de estudiante, en la ciudad de Quetzaltenango, se perfeccionó como intérprete de marimba y se hizo un enamorado, un apasionado de la marimba. Fue un pequeño grupo de artistas del que surgió la feliz idea. En el 1940 se inició formalmente y con marimba esta serenata y Don Rodrigo volvió tradicional la Serenata desde 1940 hasta la fecha.

Pues gracias Don Rodrigo pase toda la noche bailando al ritmo de boleros, rancheras, cumbias, y marimba y cantando con los tríos y pensando en mi mama...lo hubiese disfrutado mucho.

Bueno, aunque no se me había ocurrido, la noche tuvo que llegar a su fin, como a eso de las 2 de la mañana.

Al día siguiente como es la tradición en todo el país, fuimos a visitar al cementerio aunque con otros motivos y mucho más tarde en el día. Empezando como a las 4 o 5 de la mañana, la gente van a los cementerios a visitar a sus seres queridos ya difuntos para limpiar y pintar las tumbas y llevan ramos y coronas de flores. A veces llevan comida y las familias se pasan el día reunidos, comiendo y recordando.

Después de estar unas horas paseando por el cementerio, a comer fiambre se dijo. La base es un encurtido de vegetales, con diversas carnes y embutidos. Es una mezcla de todo lo imaginable-remolacha, pacaya, rábano, cebolla, zanahoria, repollo, elote, coliflor, aceitunas, jamón, queso, mortadela, salchichón, etc., etc. De acuerdo al antropólogo e historiador Celso Lara- el fiambre es una de las mejores expresiones de la tradición guatemalteca y representa la pluriculturalidad y multiculturalidad de nuestra raza. Los habitantes mesoamericanos aportaron las verduras y los castellanos los embutidos, que a su vez habían tomado de los árabes. Pero la combinación peculiar se efectuó en las cocinas guatemaltecas.

Unos días para conocer y disfrutar más a fondo la cultura de Guatemala....y pasar unos días increíbles.

NYC in the house! De Nueba Yol a Guate

Caren, Mary and Erica come to visit for two whole weeks! They definitely left an impression... Here we are at the Pre-Halloween benefit bash at EntreMundos on October 19. Let's get this party started right....This was just the beginning of our reunion and a glimpse of what the future would hold for us.

Finca La Florida - 2a Ronda

El 13 de octubre fuimos un grupo de seis personas de Xela otra vez para Finca La Florida, pero esta vez con un misión fija: cortar (o también se dice tapiscar) café. Es justo en octubre cuando empieza la cosecha de café. La última vez que estuvimos ahí fue en junio y al final no hicimos nada mas que pasear, jugar fútbol, comer y pretender ser valientes frente a los mosquitos y animales nocturnos que se meterían a nuestras camas.

Pues el primer día descansamos para el próximo día. Pude conocer a mi familia del fin de semana- Josefina, su esposo y el muñequito de un año, Sergio David. Trate de hacer tortillas pero resultaron un desastre y después de hacer cinco decide retirarme. No sería la única vez que le viera a Josefina hacer tortillas de maíz, ya que las hace tres veces al día y usualmente empieza a las 6 de la mañana. Me contaba Josefina de una celebración que iba a haber esa noche. Resulta que el primo de su esposo iba a pedir la mano a su novia. Pero el no iría solo, como es de costumbre, estaría acompañado de toda su familia- padres, hermanos, primos, etc.- y con un montón de comida y guaro (alcohol) a la casa de la novia, quien también estaría con toda su familia. Que pena tener que perder la fiesta, pero nos tocaba trabajar temprano al día siguiente.

Madrugamos a las 6:15 y desayunamos con nuestras respectivas familias. Me llené de pacaya, frijoles y tortillas y lista para trabajar. Para llegar a los cafetales era una buena caminata como de una hora y ya con nuestras cestas amarradas por el cinturón. Siendo una adicta al café por muchos años ya, fue muy interesante poder cosechar los granos de café y experimentar este no tan fácil trabajo. Y que te digo, pues no duramos más de dos horas y media. En cambio los campesinos normalmente trabajan unas 6 a 7 horas o más en la época de cosecha. Bueno, creo que hicimos lo que pudimos y aunque sea contribuimos unos granitos de café.

An ex-guerrillero tells his story

At last week’s conference, Ronaldo came to speak to us about his life and experiences as a guerrillero during the civil war (1960-1996).

In Guatemala, guerrilla groups began to emerge in the 1960s in response to the increasing repression of the military regimes, rampant discrimination, inequality, unequal distribution of land, and total neglect of the rural and indigenous communities.

Completely unfathomable: During the height of the repression, between 1978 and 1988, more than 600 communities were completely erased off the map. To this day, more than 10 years since the war ended, secret cemeteries are still being found and undergoing the process of exhumation.

At the age of eight, Ronaldo fled to Mexico with his family. His father was kidnapped and tortured, simply for being a leader in the community and speaking out against social injustices. His father survived and is still alive today.

Ronaldo, very demure and soft-spoken, joined the guerrillas when he was just 20 years old and was an active combatant for five years. He recounted the harsh living conditions they endured during their struggle. They slept on a tarp on the ground with just one thin blanket to cover them. Everyday they walked for 8 to 12 hours loaded with heavy backpacks, the men usually carrying 100 lbs and the women 50 lbs. For hours on end they would climb volcanoes with barely anything in their stomachs. Many days they did not even eat and would hike for hours in the pouring rain and slept in the same soaking clothes. And these were the “good times,” when they were not in combat.

During times of combat, they would walk at night, all night from about 7 pm until 3 am and would sleep two or three hours, with their only nourishment being mostly rice once a day. Sometimes Ronaldo would spend days with out eating. It seems that today he can’t believe it either, but he says that during combat, you didn’t even think about food. There was no compensation for their sacrifice, what kept them strong was the abundance of solidarity and social conscience.

It blew my mind away just hearing this snippet of his life and can’t even imagine all the horrific details, not only of his personal experiences, but also that of the hundreds of thousands of victims, that he probably left out since we only had about one hour. It made me reconsider all my ridiculous ranting from last week because we spent three days of non-stop rain here in Xela. Yeah, it was cold, dark, gloomy, damp and just plain old nasty, but at least I knew I could eat whenever and whatever I wanted, take hot showers, sleep under two blankets and wake up the next morning safe and sound.

HOT WATER!

For the past five months since I’ve been in Guatemala, really the only thing that I have missed and longed for, and perhaps dreamt about a few times, is a hot shower. Well I am happy to inform you that I almost burnt myself in the shower today. It was wonderful! I went from electric to gas heating and my life has changed.

I moved to my new place over the weekend, I could hardly wait to jump in the shower. I had to abandon my other place because I was going on almost a month with barely even tepid water. I didn’t even want to take a shower anymore; I felt like the bratty child that never wants to take a bath.

Well, the shower didn’t happen the first day, because the first day I moved in there was no water AT ALL in the apartment. Quite comical I thought.

What else didn’t happen on the first or second or third night was sleep. This weekend was the beginning of festivities in honor of the Virgin of the Rosary. All weekend long there were concerts, fireworks, and some sort of bombs going off every hour at the central park, which is only a block up from my house. And to my surprise and dismay, the festivities will continue on the weekends for the rest of the month.

I hope to find a good pair of earplugs and may the hot water continue to fall!

Traditional Mayan Dress

At EntreMundos we hold weekly conferences on various social, political, and culture issues in Guatemala. Last month was dedicated entirely to Mayan culture and we learned about traditional Mayan food (learning to cook some pretty mean dishes!), Mayan women and discrimination, values and rights of Mayan people, as well as typical Mayan clothing.

Leti came to speak to the group about the traditional Mayan dress (traje) for women, its history and significance. The history of how it was initiated was quite surprising.

One of the most distinctive and ornate pieces of female traditional clothing is the blouse known as the huipil - a large shirt made of two rectangular pieces of heavy cloth sewn together with no tailoring or shape other than a hole for the head. It seems that the huipil has been worn long before the Spaniards arrived in the 16th century, but it was the Spaniards who imposed and instituted different huipiles to identify people from villages and to establish class and slave organizational structures.

According to Leti, Mayan women began to alter these imposed "uniforms" and adapted them with different shapes, forms, and colors that reflected the Mayan cosmovision.

The huipil's design creates a cross with the hole for the head in the center, which symbolically places the woman at the center of her universe, and is surrounded by levels of meaning and symbols.

The corte, or large and long rectangular piece of cloth worn as a wraparound skirt, is also decorated with bright colors woven into complex patterns. Leti explained the corte she was wearing that day. The skirt is divided into four main points which represent the four cardinal directions- north, south, east and west. In addition, the skirt is further divided by lines into 260 parts which represent the 260 days of the Mayan spiritual calendar.

The prices of the traditional dress are astounding; making it economically inaccessible for many Mayan women and girls. A huipil can range anywhere between 400 and 2,000 quetzals ($50 and $263) and cortes usually range between 800 and 1,200 quetzals ($105 and $157)!

The rampant oppression and discrimination during the 36-year civil war and which resulted in the deaths of 200,000 civilians, mostly indigenous communities, had a tremendous impact on Mayan traditional dress. For fear of being persecuted or even indiscriminately killed, many Maya either wore the clothing of other regions or completely abandoned their traditional dress. With the signing of the peace accords in 1996, for the first time since the Spanish conquest, the Mayan people of Guatemala were recognized as equal under Guatemalan law. The accords stated that their constitutional right to wear indigenous dress must be respected and guaranteed in all areas of national life. There is still much to be done to combat the discrimination and racism that persists and put into practice the respect for the Mayan culture. But at least the accords have created a space in which Mayan communities are relatively free to promote their culture and women (and men) can feel relatively secure and proud in expressing their identity through the use of the traditional dress.

Presentacion de Bachata Xela, Guatemala

12 de septiembre de 2007

Salsa performance - Xela, Guatemala

12 de septiembre de 2007

regime a l ail , raquel et jess

Antigua, agosto de 2007

Sin mas....

Amo a la Humanidad, lo que me revienta es la gente -Susanita, una amiguita de Mafalda

11 DAYS

What a way to begin the festivities of the 2007 Central American Independence Fair taking place here in Xela! Starting this past Wednesday and for 11 days there will be parades, concerts, fairgrounds, street vendors, theatrical events, and absolute madness in the city! Saturday the 15th, Guatemala will celebrate 186 years of independence from Spain.

Wednesday, just the beginning. At Kokoloko's, one of the most popular salsa clubs here in Xela and which I tend to frequent quite often, the music was pumping and the girls from Brahva beer were there too! When they are around it seems to be a pretty big deal, especially for the men.

After one month of rehearsing and not sure how we would fare, a group of us put on a dance presentation that night at Kokoloko's- my first! It included salsa, cha cha cha, bachata and salsa- casino style. It was pretty hot! (As soon as I figure out how to reduce the size of the files I will post on Youtube). I have realized that I love to dance much more than I thought I did. I think that was just my first of many dance performances to come!

Elections on Sunday

Or as my friend said "Elections or Deceptions?"

We’re in the final stretch before the presidential elections this Sunday. I have to admit it’s made it quite an interesting time to be in Guatemala. I think many people would differ as they are just bored with the same old rhetoric, the promises, the slogans and logos plastered all over the place, the vehicles driving by with the blaring music for one party or another. All in all, most of the Guatemalans I have spoken with are not very enthused, especially the youth who demonstrate the most indifference.

Above and beyond the “same old”, it’s been the most violent election race since the end of the 36 year civil war. Amnesty International has called on presidential hopefuls to condemn the 40 plus local candidates and activists that have been killed. (In addition, there are also 158 congressmen and 332 mayors to be elected.)

There are approximately 15 candidates for the presidency. Some of the most notable are Otto Pérez Molina and Alvaro Colom, both leading in the polls, and Rigoberta Menchú, whose chances of winning are slim to none. Pérez Molina running with the right-wing Partido Patriota (Patriot Party) is an ex-general and former head of military intelligence. His very popular and catchy slogan is the MANO DURA (strong hand) against violence and corruption. The song goes something like this: Mano dura, cabeza y corazon (strong hand, head and heart). You here it all over the place, I even catch myself singing the tune now and then.

Alvaro Colom is a businessman and industrial engineer by training and is representing the social democratic party, UNE- Unidad Nacional de la Esperanza (the National Unity for Hope). Pérez Molina likes to refer to him as MANO AGUADA (weak hand). Colom’s response “…a Guatemala of harmony and solidarity, where poverty is substituted with prosperity, and the strong hand is substituted by a hand of solidarity.”

Rigoberta Menchú is the only indigenous woman that is running for president and the first woman to do so. She is with the more leftist Encuentro por Guatemala (Encounter for Guatemala). Despite receiving the 1992 Nobel Peace Prize and being indigenous, in a country where approximately 40% of the population is indigenous, she does not have a strong backing at all. I’ve heard informally here and there that she is just out to benefit herself and since receiving fame in 1992, she has done very little for her people. Her candidacy and disdain by many has shed much light on the prevalence of racism and machismo in the country.

If none of the candidates get more than 50% of the vote, a run-off election will be held on November 4th. This seems the most likely scenario as Pérez Molina and Colom currently stand at 31.8% and 31.7%, respectively, in the polls.

The elections are being monitored by the European Union, the Organization of American States and non-governmental organizations. I am excited to say that I will be an international electoral observer. I’m not sure what to expect; I just hope Election Day is calm. My orientation was interesting. It was a two-hour long session to inform us on how things will be set up and what we are expected to do. Basically we will sit there observing, making sure everything runs smoothly, that there are no irregularities, people are able to vote with no problems or obstacles, and making sure they receive the proper assistance if needed. Sounds easy enough! I can’t help but mention the gentleman who is coordinating this particular group of observers. He spoke rather eloquently and was dressed in a suit and tie that day, and I just couldn’t help but notice all his gold jewelry- rings and bracelets. The comic relief of the morning came when his phone rang, while he was speaking from the front of the room, I said to myself “gosh, I really know that tune.” Oh yeah, and many of you would too! It was the song from the Godfather. Yes, the Godfather! And not only did his one phone ring to this tune, but he had a second phone with the same music! Need I say more?

Now here is an interesting tidbit about the elections, as with most Latin American countries (I believe), there is something called the Ley Seca (Dry Law). This means that of this Saturday at noon it is strictly prohibited to buy or drink alcohol. The law will stay in effect until Monday. We don’t want any drunk or hungover voters …or observers.

Livingston- Welcome to paradise!

Upon arriving to the dock in Livingston, you feel as if you have left Guatemala and been transported to a tropical island somewhere in the Caribbean. I was immediately mesmerized by this town, with such warm and smiling people and their tranquil rhythm of life.

Livingston is located on the Caribbean coast of Guatemala and is only accessible by boat. This town of 6,000 is home to the Garífuna, or black Carib people, who are strung out along the Caribbean coast from Southern Belize to Northern Nicaragua.

The Garifuna culture is deeply rooted in music, dance and story-telling and has its own form of religion consisting of a mix of Catholicism, African and Indian beliefs. Because of their difference and independence, the Garífuna have been feared and discriminated against by Guatemalans, accused of devil-worship, polygamy, voodoo and speaking a secret language.

Despite having their defined geographic area, language, and culture, in contrast to the other 23 Guatemalan ethnicities, it was not until the mid 80s that they were officially recognized as a group and after the signing of the peace accords in 1996 they finally began to gain legal space.

In 1996, Garífuna Settlement Day was especially important. The government of Guatemala officially recognized the importance of the Garífuna community and President Arzú paid an official visit to the town of Livingston.

A very brief history of the Garifuna:

The Garifuna trace their history back to the eastern Caribbean island of St. Vincent. In the late 15th century, the Kalipuna tribe from South America invaded the island and conquered the inhabitants, the Arawak Indians. Eventually, the inhabitants became the union of these two tribes. The word "Garifuna", which means "cassava eating people", is probably descended from "Kalipuna". The Spanish called these people "Caribes" (Caribs) which means cannibals and also the word from which "Caribbean" is descended.

In 1635, Nigerian slaves shipwrecked on the island of St. Vincent and found refuge there. The intermarriage and mixing of these peoples created the Garífuna culture; they were also known as black Caribs.

At that time, St. Vincent was a British colony. Over the years tensions escalated with demanding English colonists and this eventually led to war. With the victory of the British, they began to exile the Garífuna in 1797, first to the island of Baliceaux and then the remaining survivors to Roatán Island off the coast of Honduras. Eventually, the Garífuna migrated, some as soldiers for the Spanish, to mainland Honduras and thereafter to the Caribbean coast of Belize, Nicaragua, and Guatemala.

For more info, here’s a great article from National Geographic: http://www7.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/data/2001/09/01/html/ft_20010901.6.html

While we only spent one day there, my fascination with the town and culture will certainly lead me back there very soon and I can share with you more about the culture, especially the cuisine and music.

Guatemala City

A few weeks ago, with the folks arriving, it was time to make the dreaded journey to the capital, Guate as it is commonly referred to. You can’t help but lack enthusiasm about the trip. It can last anywhere between 4 and 7 hours. On top of that, you have the incessant comments about how you must be extremely careful and alert once you arrive in the capital. The daily headlines in the papers about the rampant violence- that alone can be alarming. You try and tune this out or else you’ll be on edge, looking petrified, and you become the perfect target.

The bus ride from Xela was smooth sailing. Of course from time to time, I feared for my life by the way the driver was taking on those curvy roads and inhaling dust and smoke, but I am building up my tolerance.

I slept most of the way. It was either that, watching a Keanu Reeves movie or observing the landscape, which these days can be sensory overload, as it is saturated with posters, painted trees and rocks, signs anywhere and everywhere imaginable of the presidential candidates for the upcoming elections in September.

Upon arriving in Guate, I ask one of the bus attendants if he could tell me where I needed to get off to take the urban bus that could take me to the airport. What was I thinking? Everyone was very adamant and insisted that I shouldn’t do this because it was very dangerous and on that particular route a lot of robberies occur. I finally gave in to taking a taxi to the airport.

But first, I decided to take a small walk and drink a coffee before heading to the airport. While sitting at a coffee shop, a slight anxiety set in. I wasn’t sure how or where to place my bag- on the counter right next to me, on the floor between my feet or would I be totally paranoid and place it on my lap. I began to calmly drink my coffee with my bag on the floor between my feet. Despite all the warnings and scaring tactics, my feelings of unease eventually subsided.

A man sitting next to me started up a conversation. He told me about his time in the U.S., living in California, Illinois and Florida and we talked about living in Xela- nothing too involved or profound. He proceeded to finish his coffee, asked for his bill, paid and told me he had already paid for my coffee and sandwich and not to worry about it. He gave me his card in case I ever needed anything and politely said goodbye. That was my Guate experience and I was pretty amazed.

I’m sure my next trip to Guate won’t be so dreaded.

"The American Dream"

What follows is a very different story of the “American Dream.” I contemplate what this dream is exactly, the complexities and contradictions of this concept and I wonder whose dream we are talking about.

It’s unbelievable that we are going on 4 ½ years since the war started and hundreds of thousands of lives have been lost, senselessly! U.S. military fatalities are nearing 4,000.

One of the first U.S. soldiers to die was not even an American citizen. In the first few hours of the war, Marine Lance Corporal Jose Antonio Gutierrez died.

Gutierrez, just 22 years old, was an orphan from Guatemala who survived on the streets until he made his escape on freight trains and eventually entered the US illegally from Mexico at the age of 14. His mother had died when he was three and his father when he was eight. He was forced to abandon school and work a series of odd jobs so that he and his sister could survive. Once in the US, he slept on park benches and ate at shelters until a social worker was placed Gutierrez into a foster home. His fourth placement with a foster family finally worked out and in 2000, he came to live with Nora and Marcelo Mosquera (themselves immigrants from Costa Rica and Ecuador).

He attended high school and then played soccer for Harbor College where he studied architecture. He sometimes joked to his family that someday “people will know my name.” He never forgot his sister in Guatemala, calling her and sending her money.

He had a strong faith in God. In a poem he wrote in 2000, “Letter to God,” that was read at his funeral, Gutierrez wrote in Spanish, “Thank you for permitting me to live another year, thank you for what I have, for the type of person I am, for my dreams that don’t die… May the firearms be silent and the teachings of love flourish.” Gutierrez also loved America and talked about giving something back by enlisting in the Army. A few months after Sept. 11, he surprised everyone by announcing he'd joined the Marines.

Jose Antonio Gutierrez overcame much adversity and pain throughout this life and ultimately died for a country he loved and hoped to give back to, but that was not even his. Gutierrez was finally granted his American citizenship posthumously.

His life story has been made into an award winning documentary called, The Short Life of Jose Antonio Gutierrez.

Note: A recent study on the war dead and where they come from suggests that the notion of “rich man’s war, poor man’s fight” has become a little truer over time. Among the Americans killed in the Iraq war, 34% have come from communities reporting the lowest levels of family income, 50% from middle income communities and only 17% from the highest income level.

News from Guatemala

This front-page story, from the Guatemalan daily paper "La Prensa Libre" impressed and shocked me and even more so the fact that it didn't seem to make the news in the U.S.

8 de agosto de 2007

Muere en EE.UU. hijo de pastor deportado
No permitieron a padres permanecer durante agonía

Salt Lake City- Raúl Corado y su esposa, Magdalena, pastores bautistas guatemaltecos deportados en abril pasado, lamentaron que las autoridades de EE.UU. no les concedieran visa humanitaria, para acompañar a su hijo José Corado, quien falleció el lunes en Utah.

José Corado, de 24 años, también tenía orden de deportación y debió abandonar el país junto a sus padres el 30 de abril recién pasado, pero permaneció en Estados Unidos con un permiso especial de seis meses, para continuar con su tratamiento de quimioterapia.

La semana pasada, al enterarse de que a su hijo le quedaban pocos días de vida, debido a un cáncer, los Corado infructuosamente trataron de obtener una visa que les permitiese viajar a Salt Lake City para estar junto a José.

“Rogué a Dios y a las autoridades para que por lo menos dejasen viajar a mi esposa. Dios sabe lo que hace, y yo confío que algún día volveré a ver a mi hijo, ya que él compartía nuestra fe”, comentó Corado.

Los Corado llegaron a EE.UU. hace 16 años y solicitaron asilo político. Aunque esa petición les fue negada, las autoridades federales le otorgaron a Raúl visa como trabajador religioso, y desde entonces se desempeñó como pastor bautista en Colorado y en Utah.

Pero el abogado, que gestionó la visa religiosa, sólo incluyó a Corado y no a su familia, al parecer, no mencionó ese hecho al pastor, tampoco informó a las autoridades del cambio de domicilio de éste.

Por eso, en febrero de este año, el Servicio de Inmigración y Aduanas les dio 60 días a los Corado para abandonar el país, y anuló la visa de trabajador religioso. Corado dijo que, por no prestar atención a los detalles de su visa, “después de 16 años de tramitar una presencia legal en Estados Unidos, un día, repentinamente, uno descubre que es un inmigrante ilegal, a punto de ser deportado”.

Con los servicios de otro abogado, su hijo José recibió una extensión de seis meses para permanecer en Utah. La sede en Denver de la Asociación Bautista del Sur y otras congregaciones hispanas de Colorado y de Utah, colaborarán con los gastos del transporte de los restos de José Corado a Guatemala.


Son of deported pastor dies in the U.S.
Parents are not allowed to stay during the agony

Salt Lake City- Raúl Corado and his wife, Magdalena, Guatemalan Baptist pastors deported last April, lament the fact that the U.S. authorities would not grant them a humanitarian visa, to be with their son, José Corado, who died on Monday in Utah.

José Corado, 24 years old, also had order of deportation for last April, but he remained in the U.S. with a special six-month permit to continue this chemotherapy treatment.

Last week, after finding out that their son had just a few days left to live, the Corados tried to obtain a visa to allow them to go to Utah to be with Jose.

The Corados arrived in the U.S. 16 years ago and applied for political asylum. That petition was denied, but the authorities granted Raul a visa as a religious worker, and since then he has been carrying out his role as a pastor in Colorado and Utah.

But the lawyer that processed the visa only included Corado and not his family. It seems that he did not mention this to the pastor, nor did he inform the authorities of Corado’s change of address.

Because of this, this past February, the INS gave the Corados 60 days to leave the country and annulled the visa. Corado said that because he did not pay attention to the details of his visa, “after 16 years of living in the U.S. legally, all of a sudden one day, one finds out that they are an illegal immigrant, about to be deported.”

With the services of another lawyer, Jose was able to receive an extension of 6 months to stay in Utah. His remains will be sent to Guatemala with the help of several Baptist congregations in Colorado and Utah.

Just something to think about

Something I've been contemplating lately and wanted to share:

Henry Ward Beecher: It is not what we take up, but what we give up, that makes us rich.

A day in my not so everyday life

I woke up on Saturday morning to no power...oh well, these things happen. It seems this was due to the construction they are doing on the highway.

As I am sitting in Ricca Burger (yes, Ricca Burger) waiting for my usual order of eggs, refried beans and cheese, I begin to contemplate the busy day ahead.

Inside I am whimpering like a child because of the flea bites on my arms and waist. I am hoping the situation was resolved with some deadly spray. I really hope tonight they are not waiting for me. I want to sleep alone!

First thing this morning, it’s off to a hill right on the edge of town to go pick up trash from the street. It seems that the community there has been pushing the municipality for TRASH CANS, but to no avail......

From there, there is only one thing to do- FUTBOL. The Gold Cup match between Guatemala and Canada (Ends up the power still didn't come back in most parts of the city and so, another unforgettable fútbol experience, running around town trying to find somewhere to watch the match. Mind you, we were very close to watching it on the sidewalk)

After that (a terrible, depressing match in which Guatemala lost), a little bit of everything- go to the fruit and vegetable market, paint, and prepare for a benefit party tonight. This will involve me being bartender for part of the night :) Yet again, something new for me......I don't ever know what I may be doing the next day or week and surely I am clueless as to what may come next month. There is no everyday here!

La Florida

This weekend it was definitely time to get out of the city. I decided to venture out with a group of people to a farm a few hours away called La Florida.

Living in Xela you can sometimes forget where you are. It's a pretty large city with all the major amenities. It's no New York, but you can definitely live very comfortably here. Also, there is a rather large population of foreigners that come to Xela to volunteer and study Spanish. You can end up speaking more English than you would want to at times.

I've visited a few small communities already with work and it’s been unbelievable. People living in the communities are so extremely warm and receiving and to be able to bond with the families and children is invaluable.

The farm we visited has quite an interesting history. In 2002, a group of landless campesinos (farmers) made up of 50 families left their homes and occupied the abandoned farm of La Florida. During the more than two years of occupation the members lived in makeshift homes of bamboo and plastic. Finally, in 2005, after years of negotiations, the community received a loan from the government to buy the land and they became the proud owners of their own land for the very first time.

The farm is a cooperative in which the land is owned and farmed collectively and in addition, each family gets their own parcel of land. The spirit of community and gender equality is abounding.

I was very excited to be able to get to know this exemplary community, but I'll be honest, I was a bit SCARED. I was not only going to partake in the community activities, but also in their rustic way of life. After being in New York for eight years I became tough in many ways, but such a wimp in others. From the beginning of the trip, I decided to designate myself as the role model of "what NOT to do."

We arrived at La Florida on Saturday around mid-day. It was a group of six of us. We received such a warm welcome from Rosaura, one of the leaders of the community. Our original plan was to do some sort of volunteer work at the farm, but when we arrived it ended up that there was nothing to do. These things happen. We basically would just hang out, walk around and take some tours of this massive farm.

Our tour up the river was the first test of my bravery. Not much to brag about in this department. I was a wimp and all I could think of was when this tour through the jungle would be over. After a good 45 minutes, it got better and I could appreciate this incredible tour of nature, birds, trees, plants that I had never seen before.

When we got back to the village itself, we had a whole lot of time to kill before dinner. Hmmm, I could either stay at the guest house and observe all the insects, spiders and other creatures that I might be sleeping with that night or I could go out and talk with people from the community. I opted for the latter. Before I knew it we were playing fútbol – the ultimate bonding experience- with a group of young boys from the community. We must have played for at least 2 hours or so and since I had already injured myself within the first 15 minutes of playing, I decided to retreat. I felt absolutely dehydrated and let myself have some water, although not too much. After seeing a huge black, unidentifiable animal in the bathroom, I planned on drinking as little fluids as possible so that I wouldn’t have to use the bathroom.

For dinner, each of us from the group was to eat with a different family not only for dinner that night, but also for breakfast and lunch the next day. I was excited about eating with Carlos' family, we had bonded earlier in the day playing fútbol. I got to meet his mother, Leonarda and his three brothers and one sister. Dinner was more than sufficient, tamales, but really the best part was the company.

It was already pitch dark outside and it was time to head back to the house where I would be sleeping that night. All I can say is that I was so tired from the trip, the game, and the tour that I couldn't care less what was going to bite or attack me that night. I needed a full night's rest for the following day in which we were going to take a full tour of the farm. I put on my long sweats, socks, jacket, hood and hid under the covers.....

7 am the next day it was rise and shine. I headed over to my family’s house for breakfast. I was in awe when I saw Carlos, 12, and his two older brothers already dressed and ready to go somewhere. They were headed to the corn fields to collect husk which they use for the tamales.

Around 8:30am we began our tour. It was unbelievable to say the least and I can't even begin to tell you how enormous the farm is. We saw coffee plants, banana trees (at least three different kinds), beans, infinite fields of corn, avocadoes, cacao and much more. And to think that this small community worked all of these fields…

I had only one last chance to eat with Carlos and his family. Around noon, he and his brothers were just getting back from the fields, looking pretty tired and famished. We ate the best meal ever I have to say- rice and beans- and took tons of pictures. They love pictures! I have to keep my promise about bringing them the pictures. I could send them with someone, but for some reason I wouldn’t feel right about that. I’ll make another journey out there soon. Maybe next time I’ll be more valiant.

A final note about the trip: It seems that I wasn’t the only one lacking in a certain department. When we were leaving the farm, one of the guys from the group, very tall and thickset, revealed that the night before he was scared to even close his eyes and go to sleep because he didn’t know what creatures might attack that night…..

In Search of an Adivinador

On Sunday I ventured to Zunil with a friend, whose last wish before heading back to the U.S. the following day was to visit an adivinador (fortune teller, shaman, medicine man, etc.) who he had heard about. I was a bit hesitant at first because over the years I have become less impressed with my visits to these fortune tellers, but I decided what the heck. If anything, it would be a cultural experience and besides, I was to serve as the interpreter.

Zunil is a small agricultural and market town about 10 kms away from Xela. It was a busy day in Zunil, with villagers coming from far away to sell their vegetables, fruits, and flowers. After getting turned down when I asked a group of women if I could take a picture of them with their lovely flowers, I resorted to sneaking in a few pictures. Once that was done, it was time to proceed with the original purpose of this visit.

There was a slight problem, the only thing we knew about this adivinador was that we was on the hefty side and had long hair. We didn't have a name or an address for him. Not much to go on, but we figured that being a town of only 6,000 inhabitants people would know exactly what we were talking about. Well, not really...we started asking around and got plenty of strange looks and negative responses. After a while, this was becoming an absolute joke. Here we were about the only non-Mayans in sight, asking ridiculous questions and to top it off, my friend with very passionate, yet fragmented Spanish, saying things like:

"Estamos buscando por un hombre...un hombre muy especial...es poco gordo y tiene pelo largo" ("We are looking for a man...a very special man..he somewhat fat and has long hair.")

After over an hour, we managed to track down the home of this adivinador. He was very inviting and receptive to speaking with us, despite the fact that it was a Sunday afternoon and he was with his family.

Our first lesson: He was not an adivinador, but a Mayan priest. He has been a Mayan priest for over 30 years and during this time has intensely studied the Mayan calendar, performed ceremonies, etc. By this time I am feeling like a complete idiot....

The priest began to give my friend a reading based on his birth date, place of birth, etc. No cards, stones, or palms, just based on this information he determined his day according to the Mayan calendar. It’s a bit difficult to understand and hence to explain, but according to Mayan beliefs, from birth, one's destiny is determined based on their calendar.

What I found particularly interesting was when he began talking about politics and other religions in Guatemala, predominantly Catholicism and Evangelicalism. He became very fervid, talking about how these religions have divided the Maya and treated them like the devil if they don't adhere to their religions. During the 36-year civil war, Mayan communities were a primary target of persecution and ceremonies had to be held clandestinely. Following the peace accords in 1996, the situation has improved, but he fervently maintained that these religions are divisive.

He shared with us a little bit about his life: His grandparents were also Mayan priests. There were about 7 or 8 times in his life that he came close to dying, but they conducted ceremonies for him and saved his life and told him that his calling was to do the same.

I was blown away by the whole experience and intend to visit him again in the near future to learn more.

Food- Comida!!!

I have officially been here for a week already, although for some reason it seems like much longer. Llevo oficialmente una semana aquí ya, aunque por alguna razón se siente como mucho más tiempo.

I have been enjoying the food immensely, as I knew I would. There are few foods that I do not relish. He estado disfrutando inmensamente de la comida, como yo lo sabía. Hay pocas comidas que yo no disfruto.

Almost every day I’ve indulged in huevos, frijoles, platanos, crema and tortillas for breakfast. Now that’s the way to start off the day! Casi todos los días me he dado el gusto de huevos, frijoles, plátanos, crema y tortillas para el desayuno. Eso si que es buena forma de empezar el día!

Tostadas, tacos, and pupusas galore. The taco place up the street, ORALE, has three tacos for 10 quetzales (approximately $1.30). Tostadas, tacos, y pupusas en cantidad. El lugar de tacos mas arriba, ORALE, tiene tres tacos por 10 quetzales (aproximadamente $1.30)

I’m working on the fruits and vegetables, although I am doing this with some caution. I want to wait a week or two before I get sick. There are avocadoes; you find them anywhere and everywhere. An avocado a day…hey and for 1 quetzal (20 cents)… Poco a poco estoy tratando con las frutas y verduras, pero lo hago con mucha precaución. Quiero esperar una semana o dos para enfermarme. Si hay aguacates; se encuentran en todos lados. Un aguacate al día..y por un quetzal (20 centavos)...

Mmmm, I’m very hungry right now, time to go to ORALE! Ayyy que hambre, no puedo más, es hora de ir a ORALE!

How could I forget Pollo Campero-fast food chicken- it's huge here! I heard they are expanding to China! Well, I haven't tried it yet, but I will be sure to give a full review when I do.

Tomorrow I might just break down and visit the local Mc Donalds.

1st day in the highlands- another world

The 4 ½ hour bus ride to Quetzaltenango- known by locals as Xela- was much better than expected, considering that I expected up to a 7 hour ride of inhaling smoke and dust because of all the massive work on the roads.

Along the way, I noticed that I was becoming increasingly tired the higher we rode up into the mountains. By the time we arrived in Xela, I was feeling dizzy and short of breath- rather common symptoms for those not accustomed to the altitude of 7,775 feet.

Xela, the second largest city in Guatemala with a population of 300,000, is the center of the K’iche Mayan people, who make up approximately half of the city’s population.

My first day in Xela was straight to work. There’s no time to waste- setting up workshops, meeting with local organizations and planning benefit parties. It’s going to be a busy next few months.

1st day in Guate

After sick passengers, rush hour on the runway, missing my connecting flight in Miami and staying the night in Gloria Estefan land, I finally made it to Guatemala on Tuesday.

I know this for sure because there was huge sign for Hooters that said "Welcome to Guatemala." You can count on those hooters girls for anything!

Poor Guatemala City, it has such a bad reputation. Most travelers just land here and then immediately leave for their next destination. I'm glad I decided to enjoy the day here and wait until the next day to head out for Quetzaltenango.

I met a girl from Philadelphia staying at the same bed and breakfast, who coincidently was also headed to Quetzaltenango the next day, and we quickly became friends. We decided to explore some of the capital. It seems that our options by that point were rather limited- we ended up at the zoo, a very impressive and well-kept zoo at that.

It took a while, but eventually, amidst all the Mc Donald's, Pollo Campero, and other fast food chains, we found a place to get some typical food- beans, plantains and of course, Gallo beer.

At 6:30 it started to get dark so we quickly made our way back to the B&B. Hmmm, we knew what bus to take, but really had no idea where to get off. A woman on the bus said she was getting off where we were and that she would show us the way. She did more than that, we talked for a bit, she showed us her lovely house and then showed us the way back to the B&B.

It couldn't have been a better first day in Guate: monkeys, frijoles and amazingly warm people.

Intro

I have officially begun a new chapter in my life, full of learning, observations, and lessons in life. After living in New York for the past eight years, I was desperate to see life through a different lens and live my life in another way. I was becoming way too spoiled in every way imaginable and feeling increasingly uncomfortable with that because I was losing touch with what I have known for so long that I have wanted to do- help those who are less fortunate and be a part of their struggle for social justice.

This is where I not only want to be but where I need to be: Quetzaltenango (Xela), Guatemala

To a certain extent, I am spoiled for being here. I did not leave my family and friends behind due to arduous economic or political circumstances. This was a choice I made. I am fortunate to have the opportunity to do this and to know that I can go back whenever I want.