martes, 29 de julio de 2014

A little bit o' history

So now that I am home for a few weeks - I finally have the chance to take a deep breath. . . and write more blog posts!  I've had a stock pile of things I've wanted to talk about, but between all the curriculum that needed writing and the women with stories to tell and the kids to be played with and the tortillas to be eaten, I just didn't have time.

First on the list. . . . the very uplifting topic of genocide.  Did you know that there was a genocide in Guatemala in the 80s and 90s?  I didn't until a friend handed me a book that I read on my way down, and was surprised and horrified by the things the country I was about to call home had been through.

I have been known, a time or two, to blindly jump into things.  This has driven everyone in my life crazy.  I hear a good idea, and I'm in.  Once in the Dominican Republic, a bus driver told me I should come stay at his house for 3 nights.  I thought approximately 5 seconds and decided it was a good idea - clearly. That turned out to be my favorite travel memory ever!  Rocking chair mornings on the porch with his wife, swimming hole afternoons with his daughter, and late evening strolls through pig farms to chomp on sugar cane and hack down coconuts with my "body guard" - the 75 year old neighbor.

When I found the job in Guatemala, I saw "Women's Co-op" and "Teacher" and said "Si!"  Sign me up.  On my way to Guatemala, I realized I didn't actually know much about where I was going.  I had blind faith that it was the organization I hoped it was, but told some friends it might be possible that I was headed straight into the sex trade.  They were on the lookout for SOS messages from me.  But, my disregard for common sense safety measures aside, learning the history about a place is actually super important.  I tend to do it upon arrival.  Had I learned more about Guatemala before arriving, I would have been a little quicker in understanding the power and significance of the community I live in.

On my flight home last week, I sat next to a pleasantly chatty guy who filled up 4 hours of flying with conversation.  At one point he asked me what the reasoning was for the genocide in Guatemala.  I responded, "What is ever the driving force behind genocide? Hate."  He told me that was the easy response, and proceeded to tell me the history of genocide in the bible, and we together relived the holocaust.  So, while I still believe that hate and fear are the underlying reasons for any killing, I will opt for the more winded task of telling you a bit more.

Civil war in Guatemala had been present since the 60s, with people protesting the usual political, social and economic injustices.  In the 70s, indigenous Mayan groups became louder with their protests, wanting equality and language and cultural inclusion in educational and governmental institutions.  As guerilla groups banded and fought the fights that guerillas tend to do, the government feared a communist coup.  Because guerilla groups were generally made up of the indigenous Mayan people fighting for their rights, the government began going after any and all indigenous Mayans.  The repression and killings began first in the highlands of Guatemala, in the beautiful, green-rich highlands that are prime for guerilla base camps.  The killing spree led people to flee to other parts of the country, and up into Mexico. A 1999 UN report of the civil war said, 'The Army's perception of Mayan communities as natural allies of the guerrillas contributed to increasing and aggravating the human rights violations perpetrated against them, demonstrating an aggressive racist component of extreme cruelty that led to extermination en masse of defenceless Mayan communities, including children, women and the elderly, through methods whose cruelty has outraged the moral conscience of the civilised world.'

Over the course of the many years the government was enacting these fear based atrocities, some horrible statistics racked up.

-626 villages were attacked
-Over 200,000 people were killed or disappeared
-150,000 people sought refuge in Mexico
-1.5 million people were displaced

My community of La Esperanza is a community that grew out of those displaced souls.  It started as a squatter community where people came to hide, survive, and wait.  Esperanza is one of my favorite words, and I love that this community is named "Hope."  Every women has amazing and heartbreaking stories about their journey to live in hope.  Cristi's parents were both murdered after neighbors ratted on them for potentially corresponding with the guerillas.  Angela's family lived out of a box for their first few months in the community.  Genocide is a horrible, hateful, fearful tragedy.  But an important history to know about the lives of the people I am living with.  Note to self: be a little less ignorant, and a little more researchy before jumping headfirst somewhere in the world.

My family and friends in La Esperanza never cease to amaze me.  Their fight, their grit, their ability to stand after the waves of heartache that have knocked them down.  Their love and hope inspire and humble me on the daily.


sábado, 26 de julio de 2014

Courtney Bailon-Perez

My last weekend in Guatemala has been my favorite in the last 7 months.  My good friend Deborah and I decided to treat our family to a peaceful weekend getaway.  Our family has been through a lot in the last month.  Between losing 3 family members to gang violence, having a son go missing in the states, financial trouble at work and gang extortion making its way into our neighborhood. . . . it's been 3 too many visits to the cemetery and far too many tears shed.  Living in our house, it's impossible to escape the nightly reminders of pain - with the gunshots and screams and staring at the empty bed where someone should be sleeping.  

Friday after work, we packed 10 of us up and headed out on an adventure that took us up into the mountains above a town called Antigua.  The drive up alone filled my heart with so much joy that our time could have ended then and I would have been happy.  Many of the family members had never even been out of Guatemala City, so our 4 hour journey was huge.  It was dark when we were headed up the mountain, an amazing lightening storm lit up the sky, and we could see the whole town below.  We stopped 3 times for everyone to take pictures, and as I taught them about making wishes on stars, Sara said, "This is a vacation we will never forget."  

We arrived to a delicious dinner waiting for us, and Angela said such a beautiful prayer, thanking God for bringing her 2 daughters to help heal her heart, that Deborah and I were full of tears. We had 3 cabins all to ourselves, with hammocks that looked over the side of the mountain. The only snafu of the whole weekend was when I accidentally walked up to the wrong cabin, and surprised a couple having sex.  I unfortunately made dead on eye contact with the guy and screamed, and then avoided him like the plague for the next 2 days (unfortunately he was the cabin next to ours, so there were MANY opportunities for us to see each other).

We spent all day Saturday playing corn hole, soccer and badminton.  We ran and laughed, and took naps in hammocks and enjoyed the beautiful volcanoes.  I taught the kids how to build a fire, and we used the sauna.  Half of our group were so terrified that they would get cooked in the sauna, that they just stood outside while we went in, ready to save us . . .  just in case.  It was so refreshing to have the kids away from the TV, out of the sadness of our routine life in the slum - and seeing them play their hearts out for 2 days straight.  The adults breathed deep sighs of peace for the first time in a month.  

On our last night, just before dinner, they had a surprise for me.  Everyone had made me cards, and while we sat around drinking mango cocktails, everyone made a speech about me. I love this family so much, that my heart hurts and my eyes get teary and I wonder how on earth I will ever leave them. They called me their daughter and sister, and little Steven who I love most of all, told me "Now you are Courtney Bailon-Perez."  Officially part of the family. 

We headed down to Antigua the next day for mass at the cathedral, and time hanging out in the park to see all the fun touristy things.  Silver robot statues that terrified 2 year old Layser, hair beading, hoards of white people, live music and a book fair.  Everyone had the best time, and it makes me so happy that we could give them those beautiful, smiley moments together with the gift of space from their sadness.  



domingo, 6 de julio de 2014

Continuing the Roller Coaster

The last two weeks have felt like an eternity!  Probably the longest two weeks of my life. 

Catholic tradition following a death here in Guatemala is as follows:
-Having the body in the house for 2 full days, with people coming in and out to mourn and pray and share food
-On the 3rd day, there is a funeral for the burial
-Each evening on the following 10 days is spent doing a rosary prayer service
-On the 11th day, everyone heads to the cemetery to give flowers and last prayers.

It is a long grieving process.  I sway between thinking it's beautiful to be honoring the dead for so many days, and feeling exhausted of being sad.  Every prayer service is full of tears and tight hugs and a heavy sense of loss.  The hardest part for me is free prayer time at the end, where everyone stands up and shouts their prayers to the world.  The sound of all that sadness and hope being cried into the air reverberates in my lungs and makes me feel as if all the woes of the world are inside my chest, ready to explode. Seeing my little buddy Steven's 7 year-old eyes full of tears and anger every day during these services is an image I know will stay with me forever.   I am there every day, for all the tears and cups of coffee and prayers to support my family - but the gigantic achy hole in my heart is just so exhausted of being sad.  

The day that the shooting tragedy happened, my new teachers arrived.  So between the rosaries and flower buying and funeral attending, I also ran a training all week.  I felt like a newscaster.  One minute experiencing an intensely sorrowful, heart wrenching pain . ..  and the next, plastering on a smile to inject passion and inspiration into the new blood of UPAVIM.

My birthday quietly passed during that week as well.  We were invited to an Indigenous Mayan village where we learned a Mayan religious ceremony, ran around with chickens, and tasted incredibly potent homemade wine. The journey there and back took 7 hours. It was actually a lovely day, but I found myself just wanting to be back in La Esperanza - where I could play with kids and chisme with my favorite women and get my fill of birthday hugs.  When we returned at 9 pm - even though it was past our curfew of when it's safe to be outside - I stomped through the community and knocked on doors, asking for birthday hugs.  When I knocked on Dona Dina's house and told her I needed a birthday hug, she yelled into the house and immediately 11 people came filing out of the house to give me hugs.   Probably the silliest, selfish birthday thing I've done - but I just needed it.

What else has happened here in my new 29th year?  School started back up and I got my fill of hugs and kisses and love.  I found that I even missed their shouting and climbing over the tables and throwing their food, which tells me I'm getting used to life here.  Sadly this week, my house mom lost another family member to gang vioence, and the community lost 2 more boys that night. In the span of 2 weeks, Angela lost 2 nephews and a cousin, and the week continued with more wakes and rosaries and funerals - today another 2 men were killed, and I unfortunately saw one of the dead bodies as it was carried away. So many life changing images on the reel of my experience here.

One of the most precious women had her baby!  And she is a beautiful bundle of joy and hope.  One of my teachers was bit by a dog, and has had to get a series of injections to prevent rabies (News caster face - and happy, and sad, and happy and sad).  I got my first round of head lice.  And by round, I mean infestation.  Two rounds of medicine, three sessions of people picking at my head like monkeys, and a week of lice shampoo still hasn't killed it all.  Nothing like a week long fight with head lice to keep you real good and humble. In the last two weeks I have become obsessed - for the first time in my life! - with a televised sport.  El Mundial. . . me encanta!  I have craned my neck to peer through windows to watch games, screamed and hugged random strangers over goals, pretended to be Messi from Argentina as I'm playing in the street, and during one game yesterday when I couldn't find a TV- I even went online to read the minute by minute play-by-play. I did a world flag unit with my kiddos and we made really cool soccer ball art.

Today I visited the cemetery with my family, and it was the first day in two weeks that felt light on the heart. With the sun shining and wind blowing, we put flowers on the graves and sat around laughing and taking deep breaths - the first sound of laughter in 14 days, and it has been the best sound of my life.  Back home, my bestest friend here had her birthday - and I channeled my dad's party planning magic to throw her a themed party around her favorite movie. . . Frozen. Snowflakes, crowns and capes and snowman building contests.  It was a really wonderful day at the end of a really hard 2 weeks, refreshingly full of laughter and WAY too much candy.  Just what el doctor ordered.