I haven't written for so long, because I was home for the holidays (courtesy of Roy. Thanks hun!). Anyhow, all I can say is that I am so happy to be back. Well, at least I am happy to be back in Antigua. I feel so much more in my skin and in my element in Guatemala. Being home was weird. Things that made being home weird:

WalMart has shopping carts the size of a small NYC apartment. People actually stand in lines and don't cut the line because they feel like itMy bathroom has a selection of 4 different shampoos, various soaps and face washesMy sister has a CRAZY wardrobeI THROW MY TOILET PAPER INTO THE TOILET BOWLI was even able to use a toiletI don't have to worry if there will be toilet paper or not or if I will have soap to wash my hands after I take a crap. Everything looks nice and everybody looks richToo much packaging on everything and too much garbage productionToo many artificial sweetnersToo much food on my plate at a restaurantI don't have to spend 3 hours on a weekend afternoon to wash my clothes. I just pushed a button and come back an hour later.I don't have to hike anywhereI went running on a paved road and didn't fall once. Furthermore, the altitude was low and I ran 4 or 5 miles very easilyI had to drive everywhere and there were no small men yelling "Temux Temux"So much wealth and money that I can understand why everybody wants to come to the USHonestly though being back home was an incredibly strange feeling. Everybody looks at my work in Guatemala as so charitable, and can't possibly see the experience in the light that I see it in. I am not here to do charity work. I am here to form my identity as much as I am here to make a real change. I think seeing this experience as charity and in the light that I am making so much positive change would be denying the reality of what I am actually living. Guatemalans are giving me way more than I am giving them.

Also, as much as life was easier and I might have daydreamed about what life would be like for me if I stayed, I realized there is nobody to relate to. My support network and my closest friends are in Guatemala. I am defined by this experience and leaving it would stop exactly the thing that I feel so defined by. I never realized until I went home how much my time in Guatemala defines who I will turn out to be and how I can relate to people forever after this. It wasn't until I left here did I realize how attached I am to my Peace Corps experience.

Now that I am back, I feel much more in my element--much more at home, believe it or not. I guess I can't really speak until I arrive at site, but that is how I feel right now that I am in Antigua. I am attached to my work and have been working nearly everyday during my vacation to market these women's bags. I found a fairtrade shop to stock our items. SCORE! Life is good.

My last health talk, I invited my Q’anjob’al teacher for clear translation to clarify with the women what will be happening to me in terms of relocating communities. It was a hard decision and it I was not my decision solely. This has been an incredible cultural learning experience, because of how much I just have to comply to cultural norms, even if that is completely feedings into taking no responsibility, blaming others, complying to all stereotypical gender roles of not being able to make a decision as a woman, and perpetually continuing the non transparent and corrupt nature of the culture here. Was that a great statement for me to make in terms of positivity?

Anyhow, at the meeting, initially the women were confused and thought that my moving to a new community would mean that I would not continue my work here. They turned to the only man in the room, who was my Q’anjob’al teacher and told him as the man to tell them what to do. He clarified that he is only translating and has no decision making abilities. I clarified that this meeting was for us as women to unite and take leadership into our own hands and make our work possible without the support of the men leaders, who have withdrawn from their responsibilities. I also explained that I am actually leaving for the benefit of this community. If I continue to work with leaders that show no support for my work and don’t attend the health talks, then it is a logical conclusion that when it comes time to open a community bank account for funding or doing extra more difficult task, they will be unwilling as well. They were all feeling good and saw my dedication at the end.

I was very proud of my efforts, because I found my own translator and scrabbled to find someone to announce my health talk and over 30 women came. I can spearhead my own efforts. I found an official woman translator in the group who willing stepped up to the plate. I will give English classes in return for translators. We are going to make it work. I will never give up. At the next meeting I will organize home visits again and conclude on how we as women can lead our own efforts. We just can’t afford to sit back and wait for the men leaders to show up when they feel like it and rely solely in them. It obviously hasn’t been working.

The unfortunate aspect was that the day before my counterpart called a meeting for all the leaders that are suppose to work with me, and nobody came except for one woman that attends everything I put on. My counterpart decided from that, and obviously so, that there is no support for my work, if they can’t make it to a meeting my counterpart traveled 45 minutes to get to, so they would only have to walk across the street. Yet, they still had other more important priorities. Therefore, Peace Corps and my counterpart decided, and of course with my agreement, that it is best for me to work here, but also in another community that will show support for my work, whose bank account I can use for infrastructure projects. It was certainly a logical conclusion that my counterpart told me not to share. He basically told me to forget about honestly and to tell everybody that it was a decision made for me from the Capital, with no information as to whom actually made the decision or really why. I don’t know if I can really live with it, but that is how it works here. The education gap is so large and the bureaucracy is so large that people just accept that answer given from above. I am sure religion helps facilitate this reality as well. “Only God knows” is a common saying. I didn’t understand that until I dealt with the men leaders who didn’t know that I was leaving, because they didn’t attend a single meeting. My counterpart told me that he would contact the men leaders, and he didn’t, so I was stuck doing so.

I went at 6:30 AM (that is how we roll here) with 2 women leaders to the President of the Peace Corps committee’s house to tell him what is happening. The women made it very clear that I would be doing all the talking, because that is what they are most comfortable with. I told him basically that I am leaving the community out of my decision. I told him that I can’t work here without support, and I feel that way, since he did tell me that he no longer wants to attend the health talks nor do home visits with me (which is exactly what he told me). I tried to provide solutions for him to send his nephew, whom he said “walks around” in the afternoons and doesn’t have time. Anyhow, but from that comes all the cultural realizations that I feel like women in my community live every SINGLE days. He denied my reality and told me that he never said that. Then he blamed the fact that we haven’t done home visits on me, because I went away for Thanksgiving. Although we haven’t done home visits in 2 months. This is what women live here. Their reality is denied and manipulated into acting and believing what the man says. He blames them and they become so self-blaming and self-loathing. Anyhow, he then proceeded to say that this kind of decision can not be made without his authorization or consent, despite the fact that he didn’t attend any of the meetings he was personally invited to to be apart of the decision making. He then blamed the 5 other people for not attending, because he had “business” to take care of. From that interaction, I then realized why my counterpart told me to just tell the men leaders that the decision was made for me (from God knows who) in the capital and that I have no control. That answer works for people that deny the truth, don’t accept responsibility, and see only what he says as the truth, which is that he will work, even if he has never lifted a finger. Also, I as a woman can not possibly show discontent or make a decision for myself to leave anywhere. My husband, father, or male boss needs to make it for me. I struggle with this everyday.

Nothing belongs to me, but the male volunteer before me. I know I am not faultless in this whole situation, but rather need to recognize what I can better do to deal with these kinds of situations. Anyhow, these are incredible learning lessons for which I am so thankful, and for which I could not possibly understand until living them. No explanation would have made it clear. The experience as a woman here alone without a man to defend me is the only possible way to truly see how a woman is expected to behave and treated within this culture.

This past week has been a roller coaster of emotions and events. There has been some really good things and some really BAD things. I guess I can organize this blog in my favorite format: numbers and bullets. I’ll stick with just numbers for this one.

1) Health Talks At my last health talk the president of the Peace Corps committee in my town came to my health talk and immediately upon entering told me that he will no longer be able to translate or do house visits. He told me that I need to do what the last volunteer did and find a translator. However, that is the job of the committee. Plus, as leaders they are expected to attend the health talks. I am not suppose to be there alone. Okay, so anyhow I agreed to attempt to find a translator to appease him. He didn’t seem happy that I called him to translate, and expected me to choose someone that instant to translate. However, most women do not have a high enough level of Spanish to do the translating. At my next meeting with the women from the co-op I asked them for their support in terms of attending and helping me translate, if that is an issue. That also seems like a fair arrangement, since I am putting more effort into running the co-op that I am at doing my primary job. I will be starting English classes and asked for support from the various men that want to improve their English to help translate.

2) Community Meeting with my CounterpartI informed my counterpart of what happened at my last health talk with the president of the Peace Corps Committee saying that he is no longer available to help. My counterpart works in the main municipal town and he called a meeting to “reanimate” or re-energize the Peace Corps Committee, or if worst comes to worst ask them if they no longer want to work. The meeting was called and low and behold only 1 person came, it wasn’t even the president. It was a woman that usually attends my health talks. It was obviously decided, since they wouldn’t even attend a meeting, that they are no longer interested in working with me, and I will therefore be moving to a community that has been begging me to work there since day one. However, I will not abandon the 15 dedicated women that have been working. It also makes life easier in that we can use my future community’s bank account for funding purposes. That was the reason my current community didn’t get projects, because the leaders didn’t establish a bank account. So, the previous volunteers left to work in the neighboring community that showed more interest and dedication on the part of the leaders. Unfortunately, the women that did all the work suffered as a result of bad leadership. I am still very adamant and will fight to work with the women that have attended the health talks consistently. I will find my own translator and other people to announce my health talks. This is also ironic, because I did have a very iffy living situation with what happened in my house while I was gone (what the last blog was about).

3) Women’s Artisan Co-op (www.temuxmayanartisans.com)This is the best part of my work. I love it. I have been talking to local seller and doing a lot of on the ground research. I have sent all the shoulder bags to the Xela market and select bags will be sent to Mexico, where there is a larger tourist market. I also got the women to expand what they make. I am getting them to make things that take less time and can get a higher profit margin in terms of material and time. They are making bracelets and wristlets. They are beautiful!!! When things take less time, less material, and therefore cost less, people don’t have to think as much if they want to spend 10 quetzales verses 200. Plus, Guatemalans in cities would also be more likely to afford a 30 quetzales wristlet or 10 quetzales bracelet. I am also especially excited about the wristlet idea, because I haven’t seen the design I taught the women to make anywhere in Guatemala. I am really really really excited for our product expansion and the future growth towards sustainability. As soon as I find a good and reliable local market, I will start to put more of the management responsibilities into the women’s hands. More and more women are joining. Great start!

I have been away from site for Thanksgiving break and rather than writing about how wonderful thanksgiving break was and my host sister's first communion, I will talk about the cultural realizations I had made while I was away and mainly ones right after I came back.

While I was away on break, I have come to realize how comfortable I have become traveling around this country. I don't walk around with fear of being robbed or question how to navigate this country. I walked with ease and assurance that comes naturally with 8 months of experience. I brought Puchica with me everywhere! We went to the beach, to Guatemala's second largest and beautiful city, Xela. Puchica visited my host family, and we even went to Antigua and the Peace Corps office. She is a well traveled dog. She is a very good traveler and just falls immediately to sleep while on the chicken buses. I didn't appreciate or understand how well behaved she is until this trip. She is growing up to be a finely trained dog.

Another realization that I have is no matter how comfortable I am in Guatemala, I will NEVER get use to the annoying, harassing, and macho men here. I have for the past 2 weeks been absolutely man hating every single Guatemalan man. (which I feel bad about stereotyping, but it has just grown intolerable) They whistle at you and call you sweetheart. When you tell them to stop, they tell you that they heard that American women like to be called sweetheart. DUDE, wtf?!?! Not by a fat, old, ugly, and disgusting man, I don't!!! Anyhow, not only the harassment, but very sexist things happen like squeezing 5 women in the back, while the men sit comfortably with only 3 people to the row with their legs spread out in the front. Fuck that shit! I can't get over it. Or throwing the pregnant and elderly women on the side of the highway during a car break down, while all the men jump on the next micro--leaving all the vulnerable women stranded in the middle of nowhere. Me voicing my opinion is an outrage. Then to top it all off, I come home with my Peace Corps boss to a trashed home. It was so embarrassing.

Apparently, the man of the family, the dad, decided when I was gone that people can sleep in my house. However, they didn't just sleep, there was broken glass, dirty dishes, old food on the counter and dirty towels. Apparently, my knives, bowls, and cook ware was borrowed. I talked to him and he blamed the young girls and said he was going to punish them. He also said that this is a problem amongst women and this is women's drama, even though he was the one that gave them the key. I don't really understand their logic, but I have concluded that blaming and faulting makes the logic disappear. Blaming and faulting of mostly women is so culturally ingrained. I just respond with silence, disbelief, and a completely dumbfounded lack of understanding.

At first, I spoke to the women, who told me to talk to the man. I wanted to just voice my frustrations. I was not accusing them of stealing or trashing my house. I was just simply embarrassed, because my boss was visiting and I purposely left my house spotless. I looked bad and in turn made the family look bad too. I was not blaming the family, but rather wanted an answer for how the key I entrusted with them slipped out of their hands and how could this have happened? However, women here are so subservient that they always have to have the man speak for them. In addition, they can't deal with me expressing my frustration and think I am blaming them. They are only use to people dealing with the men and then the men come home and punish them. They have never had to fight their own battles and are use to being blamed and punished by their spouses and sons. Thank GOD I am an American woman. I have no man here to fight my battles or express my frustrations. That being said, I know they are strong in other aspects that makes it possible for them to cope with their life circumstances.

I am not trying to say this about every Guatemalan family, but rather this exact family and my experience. I know about the punishment of the women, because they often voice to me that the will be punished. Anyhow, the point of this blog entry is: no matter how comfortable and use to certain aspects of Guatemala I become, there are others that I will simply never understand because I am an outsider that has been culturated differently, and basically in this culture I am a man. I am a man because I wear pants, I fight my own battles, and I express my opinion. I try not to take shit, and may seem ridiculous at times, but I know I do gain respect for it at the end of the day(at least from the men). I have to be compassionate though, because I have no understanding of what life would be like if I were in the women's shoes-- if everything I did was wrong, or if I had to take the responsibility for EVERYTHING that went wrong-- in addition to being responsible for washing, cleaning, cooking, and carrying wood for a family of 15. I am too far removed to get it, even though I live here. I try to sympathize, and know that I will never really truly understand what it takes to be a Guatemalan woman in my community.

Today was a day that made my service meaningful. The busy days or the “productive” days in conventional terms are not what make me feel like I am actually making a difference. For example, a busy day would be a day I am actually giving a health talk or preparing for a health talk. The days that are the most meaningful are the days that are the “slow” days or the days that I don’t have anything written in my agenda book, they are the most typical days.

An example of such a day is: I wake up to someone banging on at door at 6:45AM or rather screaming, “Cata, Cata”, then they switch to “Lina, Lina” in case I might respond to that one. I take a good 15 seconds while they scream to contemplate whether I should actually respond. Usually I decide to answer back, “siiiiiii”, because it might be early to me, but the children and families are up and running around already. After I attend to whatever they want, which might be to just see what I am doing (sleeping still) or stare at me for 5 minutes; I drink my coffee, make some breakfast and think about what I feel like my day should consist of. It usually consist of doing dishing, maybe washing laundry, then perhaps sunbathing with a good book and my Puchica on the grassy area outside my wooden shack. Then after a while, I go visit the health post to talk about the latest health happenings and ideas for my upcoming health talks. I leave after chasing Puchica out of the health post about 25 times during my visit. She just doesn’t stop following me. Then I come back with a bare bone outline of my health talk and then it is usually lunch time, so I eat and then go visit some women’s homes or walk around my community. That usually takes until sunset, because I end up talking, crocheting, and playing with the children and Puchica. I come home and make some dinner, and think about how I want to spend the rest of my day relaxing. That might be eating dinner with my family or preparing dinner and skyping with my Roy Boy.

I talk about my typical day today, because I learned a bit of Q’anjob’al, and when I came home to a woman (who I will keep anonymous, but I will call Lisa, since there are no Lisas in my community that I know of) who came to visit me. Lisa asked me where I have been all days. She said she had come by about 3 times and I was never home. She is in the women’s artisan co-op and used her bag as the reason she came over, but I could tell she had something much more serious to talk about. I don’t know how we ended up coming to the topic of family planning, but we did. I had visited her home before. On my visit to her home, she mentioned that she didn’t want to have anymore children (she is 27 and have 4 sons. It is especially hard with sons bc they aren’t expected to help with the house chores, bc that is a “women’s job”). I asked Lisa if she had thought about using some form of birth control. She told me that she had learned from the previous volunteers about birth control. She stated that before the previous PC volunteers she didn’t know that you could even control how many children you had. However, she stated that she didn’t know enough or have the courage to go to the health post to ask for birth control.

Well, she came by today to tell me that because of my encouragement and telling her exactly when to go and who to talk to, she is now on birth control. She did however have questions since she thinks she wasn’t using the birth control properly. I also informed her of all the birth control options in Guatemala in case she isn’t comfortable with taking the pill. Also, Lisa and I connected a lot on a few encounters, because of all the marital problems she was having. Her husband left her and her four children for another woman. Lisa told me she has minimal financial support and is struggling, so I invited her to join the co-op. (Women here really bond over their problems with men, I have concluded.) I also think she came to me because she doesn’t want anybody to know she is having sexual relations even though she and her husband aren’t together anymore. Others in the community might look down upon her.

Anyhow, I went to visit Lisa’s house when I was on a simple afternoon walk with Puchica. Lisa asked me if I wanted another dog, since her dog just had pups. After our first heart to heart talk at her house, I concluded that Lisa was my first real Guatemalan friend. Lisa was the first person in my community to share her inner pains and struggles on a very intimate level. I wasn’t on a work house visit that I ran into Lisa. I wasn’t even thinking about talking about health or doing anything related to my job, but inevitability those are the time that count the most and make the most impact in people’s lives. Indeed, the simple days, the days when I have no “work” scheduled are the days that I value the most and feel as though I make the most difference.

I have been taking Q'anjob'al classes for about 3 months now. It isn't like I have class everyday or even every week, but I want to just "get" the language. I don't know if it has just been so long since I have been a newbie at a language, but I am starting to feel overwhelmed with frustration. So much of my frustration stems from the criticism I get when I attempt to speak. PLEASE....for the grace of God don't criticize the little I know. I am making an effort, can't that count?

Anyhow, I know it is cultural to dwell on the negative and the idea of positive reinforcement just doesn't exist. I also think the Catholic notion of fault and blame are just cultural here. I spoke about this in depth in a blog entry on a beauty contest I helped judge. I want to share a typical interaction, so you understand where my frustration stems from: Se xhi, tzet chonej? (Hey, what's up?) At first there is excitement that I can say anything in Q'anjob'al, and I see faces light up and laughter. Then, they state that I speak Q'anjob'al. (Most people don't understand struggling with a language. Their idea is that you either speak it or you don't, black and white, hot or cold. There is no grey area or maybe she only speaks a little or she is learning.) So then, I respond, "japshan chwabe k'ax japshan q'anjab'i", which means I understand a little and speak a little. Then, they ask in Q'anjob'al if I am studying Q'anjob'al, and I reply that I am taking classes. Then, that is when the conversation usually goes downhill, when I get a comment such as, "well, you might learn to write, but you sure as hell can't pronounce anything." It's like, give me a fucking break! How is your english pronunciation. I don't actually say that though. I actually say, "well, I think I am doing a good job."

Anyhow, so to turn this negative reflection into something positive that I am actually trying to do is that I now i try to have at least 2 to 3 interactions in Q'anjob'al each day with people I trust will help me out. I am also making a conscious effort to spend less time on the internet and more time out. I want to crochet a morral or a Guatemalan traditional shoulder bag, because I want to actually truly know and understand the time and hardship of making each bag individually-- the time it takes, the ache in the hands, the devotion of each stitch to be done to perfection (otherwise it will be redone) is something I want to actually get. I am running a women's artisan co-op and want to be even more of a part of it. So, now I go to crochet at women's homes and try to interact as much in Q'anjob'al as possible. I hope it eases the frustration and helps me learn at a faster rate and integrate more. It is harder to be down when you are surrounded by people that despite their situation are happily crocheting and opening their home, and teaching their talents. This is what I love best about my site.

I just need to look around and see where I am--the beauty of the mountains, breath in the clean air, and be grateful for getting to learn about the world's struggles in first person, rather than through a 9-5 desk job. By the way, check out this recent Economist article about malnutrition in Guatemala: http://www.economist.com/node/14313735

S'mores and a Hot Flame,

Cata

PS- That is my new name, not Lina.

I was away from site for awhile for vacation and additional training at the Peace Corps head quarter. It is a culture shock to be back. I know I am heading closer to my site when I run into the following things:The women start to have fewer and fewer teeth.People start to reek more of smoke and musk from cooking with an open fire indoor.A woman literally sat on my lap with her child on her back touching my faceThe camioneta (chicken bus) literally breaks down and everybody dashes as fast as they can off the bus.People are shorter in general.A lot of men are wearing cow boy hats and boots.People criticize my Q’anjob’al when I attempt to speak it saying things like, “You are learning Q’anjob’al, but apparently not how to pronounce it.” I want to say, but I don’t, “Give me a fucking break! I am trying….how is your English accent.” There is no form of positive encouragement in this culture. But what I did end up saying was, “I will give myself a pat on the back to say good job, since this culture doesn’t do that.”More people throw garbage out of the van window.Twenty-five people are expected to fit into a micro bus that holds 15. Don’t forget to count the 2 people hanging onto the back.People laugh at me for traveling with my dog.The micro bus drivers honk their horn perpetually to alert people they are passing their houses.I come back really excited that I found a local market to sell the morrales for the women’s co-op I am running, and they ask me how many bags I sold. I told them 7 in the past 2.5 weeks, and they say, “That’s it? Why so little?” I think to myself, “AWWWHHHH, I just wanted someone to share my joy, not tell me what I did was menial.” I really say, “Well, I think that I did a good job, even if you don’t think so.” I swear criticism is the way to show love here.I come back home to a holy (many holes) wooden house when it is freezing cold outside and feel a draft inside while all the windows are closed. (Never listen to a former volunteer that tells you there is no where to move to or that you won’t move, and spend 2/3 of your moving in allowance on a majority of stuff you can’t bring with you. We are all different and prefer different things. I don’t prefer to burn wood in a house that isn’t insulated for environmental and financial reasons. We had different situations.)Come home and my host family tells me that the family member that just graduated 9th grade (18 years old) decided to move in with a man and will no longer continue her studies, because her husband will not let her.Children running around bear foot in the street and have very dirty faces.Come back to ask the carpenter that I asked to make Puchica’s house 6 weeks ago if her house is done, and he makes up every excuse why it isn’t done, even though he said he would complete it in 4 days.The father’s of the family are constructing a second level of the school. The municipality doesn’t pay for labor.Missing Roy.People opening ask if you and your boyfriend have slept together, and if the answer is yes, then you are husband and wife, not girlfriend and boyfriend.Everybody expects that your boyfriend bought them a gift while he was visiting from the states.Dog collars have become a new trend.Most importantly, I came home to my dooooogggggyyyy!

More updates soon….I promise. I know it has been awhile.

Pancakes and Bananas,Catalina

Rebecca came to visit me these past 2 days. She came to help me with my domestic violence workshop we gave to the local middle school students. The workshop overall was a success. We started the workshop with an audio clip of an emergency phone call made by a young child, who was reaching out for help as a man was literally slaughtering her mother. It was disturbing, but it sure got the point across that this is common in Guatemala and can happen to any of us. Guatemala is third in all of Latin America for the number of femicides, despite the fact that Guatemala is the size of the state of Tennessee. It was overall a very hard topic, because so many aspects of victim blaming is cultural, since the man can't do anything wrong of course.

I really started this blog post to highlight the genuine great time I have with Rebecca. She has come over twice this month and we talk a lot. Rebecca is very analytical and I always love her insight into what I am thinking or feeling. Peace Corps has the full spectrum of Americans from personalities, to regions, to political views, which was surprising to me. I thought I would find more people with whom I share more in common. I say this because although I got to know Rebecca a little during training, I really could not have imagined how much I would have come to appreciate all her help in terms of work, but also appreciate her personally. She helped with the workshop and helped me insulate my wooden house. We basically stuffed the holes between the planks with foam, and basically garbage. Good thing the last volunteers left a lot of it in the "attic". Isn't that great that we recycle? Considering this is the only recycling system in Guatemala is to reuse the trash.

Beyond that, I also had a magnificent time in the nearest town over with Kelly. We did some PACA shopping, which is basically an equivalent to scrounging through Salvation Army, but worse, since they just throw everything into piles. I got Puchica a pink fleece onesie! It is for a 6 month old, so she better start liking it before she grows out of it! Anyhow, Kelly wrote a great blog about our time. It is funny!!! Guaranteed: http://kellyknapp.blogspot.com/2010/10/pacas.html

Oatmeal no-bake cookies and Dark Chocolate Molley and Mommy sent me,

Catalina

PS- Roy comes this Saturday!!! I am going on vacation and will be gone for a while! Hope to show-off some vaca pics when I get back! My community is so excited to meet Roy.

I had a couple house visits this last Thursday. However, of course the Peace Corps Committee community member that was suppose to go with me forgot, so it was rescheduled for Friday. Then comes Friday and I call him when it was past the scheduled time. However, he was in the main town, 45 minutes away, and told me that it would not be possible to do home visits. So, I asked somebody else. The somebody else was on his way to a meeting, so he said we can go on Monday. Well, guess what! Today is Monday. He wasn't around and decided to call his grandson. His grandson would have been fine, except his grandson didn't exactly know whose house we were suppose to go to, and that is the reason I need the accompaniment in the first place, besides the language barrier. I try to keep my post anonymous, but here is the perfect reason that a teenager that lives all his live in the same village has no idea where the woman's house is.

Imagine me saying, "Well, todays visit will be at Jane Doe's house." So, he took me to Jane Doe's house alright, but apparently there are the following combination of Jane Does that live here: Jane Doe, Jane Doe Doe, Jane Doe Smith, Jane Smith Doe, Jane Doe Doe Smith, Jane Smith Doe Doe, Jane Smith Smith Doe. WTF?!?!??!!!?!?! F my life! Everybody is family and everybody has the same name. There might be a Jane Green Smith Doe, but still no wonder we went to the wrong house. We got there and apparently Jane Doe wasn't home, so the family called her on her cell phone. We waited for 30 minutes for Jane Doe to comes home and as soon as she was walking towards the house, I knew we had the wrong Jane Doe. We wanted Jane Doe Doe. 1) How was I suppose to know that? 2) How was the teenage boy bringing me suppose to know that? On top of waiting, Jane Doe lived literally a 40 minute walk away, so there went almost 2 hours. Her house did have the most stunning view though, on a cliff of the mountain. Beautiful, but dangerous. Then a meeting was called into session and I didn't even get to do the other house visit. Apparently, the following family I was suppose to visit didn't realize they had a meeting until I walked there from Jane Doe's house.

This is a perfect example of what life in Guatemala is like. This of course all happens after I was told by the health post staff that we will have this meeting where Kelly, Becca, and I are suppose to do an HIV/AIDS workshop. So, I was called at 6:30AM to be told we will not be having the meeting. Then at 11:30 I was told that we would have the meeting. Then there was a confusion about whether the meeting would happen, and then finally at 2PM, it was confirmed that the meeting will happen. This is after I called to schedule another activity for the day, and then had to cancel it. Who knows? After all this preparation for the HIV/AIDS workshop, I would not be surprised if I arrive in town, a 45 minutes bus ride from here and be told we are no longer having the meeting. SABER in Spanish, Tzet Xami in Q'anjob'al, who knows in English?!?! On the bright side, if I come late or don't show up, I would always be completely forgiven, as it is part of the culture. There are benefits. If I don't feel like doing anything for a week, or a month for that matter, everybody would be completely understanding. This is the beauty, and after the initial frustration I always see the beauty.

Curried Green Beans and Egg over rice. YUMMY,Catalina

I made my first real friend in my community. I guess I just have really high expectations for a friend here and that is hard. I can't actually expect to have a deep emotional connection or understanding with the locals here, since we are so different and have different values. For the most part, people are religious and place a lot of emphasis on right and wrong as per their religious views. As I age, it gets hard and harder for me to label things as good or bad, but rather see a causal reason to why something "bad" is done. For example, drinking may be labeled as bad, but the person is usually an alcoholic and has some very deep emotional reasons that make him (usually men only) need to escape from reality. This is an example. And of course there are many other such examples. However, there are many cases in which culturally women are blamed. For example, if a man leaves his family behind to be with another woman, it is of course that other woman's fault. The more I am here, the more I have come to accept that it is the way it is. Although, I often times question the person talking whether they think the man has any fault. The response usually is, that the man is responsible for a little, but that"bitch", or whatever other bad and demeaning word they can come up with, is responsible since she knew he was married. Did she really know? And if so, didn't he know even more that he was married? Isn't he the one that made the commitment to the family, and not the other woman?

I bring up this very specific example of women blaming, because that is how I made my first friend here. It isn't 100% sure yet that we are "real" friends, because I always have to be cautious of alterior motives. Anyhow, my friend was left behind to care for her 4 children after her husband left for another younger woman. (PS- My friend is only 27, this new woman is 20) The husband occasionally comes back to trash their home, where he no longer lives. I became her friend, because I listened and showed support for her. It is unfortunate that she has only sons, because that makes all the household responsibilities her's alone, as boys are not taught to help their mothers, because it is a "woman's job." I encouraged her to join the artisan co-op to make money with her craft making abilities. Here is the site if you are interested: www.temuxmayanartisans.com (I will be posting new bags this coming Sunday (10/10/10.) I also bought some farm fresh eggs from her, something people only sell to you after they view that you are worthy of their chickens' eggs. So, I think I found a real friend with whom I formed a deeper emotional connection. Let's see how it goes.

My new friend also asked me if I would ever be interested in "buying a child". I learned a lot about how poor Guatemalan's deal with children they can not support or children young girls must hide from their parents. If a woman was raped or even if she had consensual sex outside of marriage, her parents would chastise her. A way to avoid this is find someone who will buy the child for 3000 quetzales. This is a little under 400 dollars. This is so sad, because usually what happens is, whomever buys this child would probably make the child do all the laborious chores. The child probably wouldn't get to go to school. Anyhow, this is not the first time I was asked if I was interested in buying a child. I can barely take care of a dog, what makes people think I can handle a child. I guess they see me as rich and have the money to pay for the child. Plus, how would I explain to the US customs upon entering the US where I got this child from. It would clearly be human trafficking. I want nothing to do with this, although it is important to know what the reality of unwanted children are in developing country, as i am sure the same happens in other developing countries.

On a brighter note: Gum drops and Cinnamon Buns,Catalina

Happy Birthday to my little sister Dianne! She is finishing her last two year at the United World College in India and I miss her dearly. Check out her blog if you are interested in her adventures at: diannekai.blogspot.com

Also, I sold my 4th bag for TemuxMayanArtisansThis Sunday there will be a whole new inventory, since the women will be turning in more bags.Please check out our website: www.temuxmayanartisans.com

Roy comes to visit me on October 23! I am so excited! We are going to do touristy things. I hope to post some pictures after the trip.

I have been in site for almost 3 months! Isn't that exciting? I have been feeling out my work and hope to start Health Promoter Groups soon.

Bye for now,Cat Cat

Anyhow, I had a request from an anonymous comment today to hear about my daily work routine and the people I meet.

Daily Work Routine:There isn't one. I make my own schedule. I either do afternoon home visits or afternoon health takes. In the mornings, I either work with the health post or do house work. With the health post, I usually go to schools and give health talks or go to vaccination drives. I am doing 8 different health talks in the month of October. There are weeks where I have language class twice for 4 hours in the morning.

Women's Artisan Co-Op:I usually meet with this group of about 10 women (it is growing) weekly. They have questions about their bag designs or colors. We talk about what is marketable outside of Guatemala and brainstorm ways to make the co-op more sustainable, so it can still run after I leave.

People I meet:I meet people off and on, but generally in the main town when I go in. Otherwise, in my small community, I generally greet the same people over and over. It is always good to make conversation, although it is difficult to relate or have deep relationships, since we are from completely different worlds and can barely communicate in each other's languages. My language being Spanish and their's being Q'anjob'al. I swear I am working on my Q'anjobal.

Otherwise, life here is full of time to think and reflect how this experience is changing them or time to question whether they believe in development. That is the point that I am at. I don't think development from outside is possible. It has to come from within.

Peanut Butter and Chocolate Chips,Cathaleen

I posted an entire album of Puchica on facebook! I normally never post pictures, but Puchica is so worth it! My pride and joy. Here is my favorite! I love my baby.

I am running an artisan co-op. Please check out the website: www.temuxmayanartisans.com

I will post the pictures and the bags. Please go to the site for further details on the bags. They are made by the women holding the bag and 100% of the money goes to her and her family. If you are interested, we can even custom make bags. Let me know!Thanks!This is Magdalena

Eulalia Ana

I did my first series of home visits for the project recipients yesterday. The saddest part is the conditions in which the children are subjected to. A young girl (around 13 or 14) that attends my health talks with her mother has never gone to a single day of school. (I am not using names to have them remain anonymous.) She is the oldest girl and she was expected to talk care of her younger siblings, cook, and clean. She has a younger sister and two younger brothers. I asked the father why she doesn't attend school and he said because they can't afford it. I don't really understand that argument, since the local school is free. They don't wear uniforms because the families can't afford it. So, perhaps they would have to pay for some notebooks and help chip in for the school's electricity. Anyhow, so I left the first home thinking maybe I don't really understand the true cost.

I spoke to the community leader that was accompanying me for the home visit and asked about why he thinks that the oldest daughter can't go to school. I wanted to ask him, because he himself never attended school, yet he sent all 8 of his children, including the 4 girls to school. One of his sons is known for being one of the best obstetricians in all of Guatemala. Granted the elder son emigrated to the states and sent money home for his younger brother to go to medical school. Only the privileged in Guatemala can become doctors, since it cost a lot and the concept of a student loan doesn't really exist here. So, his response was basically, not having money is not an excuse. He didn't send her to school, because he didn't think she needs to go to school. He didn't want to send her and it is his fault. It is interesting to get a local, man's perspective.

It is interesting. I will meet a couple. The man will look young and handsome, mostly because he has all his teeth and they are white. You can tell he takes care of himself well; whereas, the women will look 20 years older, because they will have no teeth or they will be rotting. The men are more educated and take care of themselves better. You would think they would instruct or help their wives. I am convinced it is a way to control them and have dominance over them. They keep their wives down. I heard a recent story from another Peace Corps volunteer. A woman in her town had cataracts in both eyes and couldn't see. There was a medical fair of doctors from the US doing free surgery and the volunteer recommended that she go. The husband threatened to leave her if she went. He wouldn't be able to beat her or have her be completely dependent on him if she could see. It turns out she went and told him she doesn't care if he leaves her, she would go live with her mother. He got the cataract surgery and now runs her own business, selling snack foods outside the health center. This was a happy story because she stood up for herself, which is often NOT the case. Girls and women are often treated this way. Not that all boys have it easy.

The second house I went to was the house of an abandoned mother. Her extended family let her live there for free, while her 16 year old son hopped the US border to work illegally to support his mother, younger brother, and younger sister. He is a minor in the US working to support a family. The mother stated that she plans to get her own property has soon as her son in the states sends back enough money. Can you imagine this? A minor in a country away from his family, where he doesn't speak the language, understand the culture, and the danger of crossing the border, all to buy property for his family, so they have a place to live? It is crazy to me! Wow. I asked her if her son goes to school and she says sometimes. The hardship of these people's lives and the responsibilities this young boy has. Wow, I wonder what will happen if Children's services gets wind of all this? This family might starve. On top of it, the family has no latrine, and has to walk a distance to get water. They live in a home with a dirt floor. These conditions make it hard to avoid illness.

This are stories you can't even imagine, because they are so horrifying. These are stories to me, but these people live these stories. They are real, not just a story. I would never have known or understood what the people of my community go through, until they invite me into their homes and share their lives with me. I am grateful and understand how privileged I am. I admire the people in my community for their bravery and courage to let a complete outsider into their lives and share the most intimate details of their struggles just to live.

Yesterday was an interesting day indeed. I gave my first health talk to a group of 22 women and 4 men about what the 5 most important things they can do to prevent a diarrheal disease. I did it using a story it took me 4 hours to color in. The story is about a little girl name Mariquita Cochinita, which means Mariquita Ms. Piggy. Something like that. Anyhow, it was fun. They answered all my questions. By they I mean about 4 of them. The rest of the women lack the confidence to speak up. I tried to do as much encouraging as I could. A prominent community leader translated my health talk. I live in the same family compound as his family and I didn't even know it was his birthday.

He was spending his birthday translating my health talk and I didn't even know. Oh course he didn't mention it. I went home and ran into his wife who said....by the way, it is Nas' birthday, so we slaughtered 2 lambs and invited part of our family. I thought when she said part of the family, I was expecting like 10 more to the usual 15, but it was like a room of 50 people. Birthday celebrations here are very wordy and traditional. Everybody got up and gave him a hug and of course dar palabras, which means gave words. The men did most of the talking. Nas talked about how he values education and there was no school when he was growing up, so he wants all the youngsters to continue with their schooling. It was emotional and how can we forget about God. There was a lot of God thanking for his 60 years of life and a prayer at the end.

At the end Nas turns to me and said, "It's my birthday and....your dog ate my socks." I immediately apologized and wondered when that happened since I was gone all day. It turns out in the "mañanita" (early morning). So, Puchica woke me up at 5:00AM, because she needed to pee. I was not about to go stumble around outside sleep walking, so I just let her run out on her own. She normally does this and comes home when she is ready for breakfast. I let her out so early that nobody was awake yet. Puchica buried a hole under the wooden kitchen walls into their kitchen, which is attached to the bedroom. She went into the bedroom under the bed, where Nas' socks happened to be. She ate them to her heart's content and left. When he left, one of the family members saw her leaving under the kitchen wall. They later discovered the eaten socks. I no longer let her out on her own. Sometime I want to disown her.

The day was really long. Q'anjob'al class, health talk, and then a surprise huge birthday celebration where everybody is expected to say something. Wow, what a day. I ate the freshly butchered sheep and it was delicious!

Long time no write. It has been a really long week. Mainly due to the fact that I was agonizing for the 4 days that Puchica did not eat. The added pressure of everybody telling me my dog would die did NOT help either. At a certain point I was convinced myself. Puchica got really skinny and couldn't move. She didn't eat a thing, but somehow managed to puke. No food, only stomach vile. I force fed her water every 2-3 hours on Saturday, because she had to live until Monday when I would take the 5 hour drive with her to the nearest vet. We did just that. Despite being so ill, she still followed me. She still maintained her friendly puppy nature. Finally, we arrived at the vet, whom she gave a lick of affection. Puchica had a throat infection. I got her some antibiotics and as soon as she got a shot for the infection, she completely changed to her normal self. I was so relieved. The 5 hour bus ride back was hard! I mean since she drank after the vet, she had to go potty on the bus several times. I was prepared though.

People kept on telling me, "Don't worry if she dies you can just get a new dog." I just tell them that that is not how it works for me. I love Puchica. I have a lot of emotion invested in her and she is like my child. I guess since I go extra lengths they wouldn't go for their children or couldn't afford to go for their children, I am strange to go those lengths for my dog. I state, "she is my only family in Guatemala. I have to take care of her well." I say in Q'anjob'al, "I have no child, only a dog". All the locals burst out into roaring laughter. The idea of substituting a child for a creature that has no worth to them is completely crazy. They will never truly understand, thus I am still the weird Gringa......surprise surprise. I can't wait to dress her in some bright red flannel pajamas (Man, it gets cold here in the winters). I like being weird, since I would be anyway. Why not just be completely crazy, outlandish, and out of this world strange? I like going all the way. Plus, I use to judge people in NYC for dressing their dogs, now I am joining the world wide club of dog dressers.

New developments: Puchica is getting too big to fit in my lap . She is getting too big to fit in her Girl Scout cookie box. She knows the following tricks: sit, shake, down, stay, come, let's go, go potty. I am proud of my around 3 month old dog. Really smart. I mean it can't get better than pottying on command. She still follows me everywhere and likes to dance with me. Cutie pie. Makes me really happy.

Doggies, Pies, and Whip Cream,

CathaleenI woke her from her afternoon nap in her Thin Mints Box. She is clearly outgrowing her little house.Isn't she photogenic? Posing for the picture this time. She is proud to show off her toy, bone, and blankie.

I decided that it would be a good day to run. 1) Because I already watered my garden, 2) I think the community is familiar enough with me that it shouldn't be a harm, and 3) Because it is about time I did some cardiovascular exercise. I was putting it off, because I am at such a high elevation, that I know it will be a struggle to catch my breathe. Boy, was I right.

I decided to let Puchica run without her leash. I heard dogs are more emotionally healthy when they have their freedom, so lately I let Puchica run out and come back whenever she wants. Plus, I don't feel like waking up at 5:30 AM sometimes when she needs to pee. I think it is good she can ran with the big dogs. Puchica has been gaining more and more acceptance by the family dogs. The play with her instead of just growl. So, she ran behind me the entire way. I was really impressed. People thought it was so cute. Anyhow, I ran only for about 20 minutes and I came back with 2 pieces of bread, called pan dulce (sweet bread), a sugar cane stock, two cans of juices and a tamale. Man is generosity so part of this culture.

I went to a store on my run to recharge my cell phone minutes. I stayed for about 10 minutes, tried to converse in as much Q'anjob'al as I knew, learned new words, and after spending 20 quetzales on minutes, the store clerk (a woman in her 20s) gave me the bread, the juice, and a tamale. Wow, how can she make money if she gives the products away instead of selling them? In the opposite sense, she is a good business woman by being generous. It makes me want to come back. Anyhow, I ran a little more after asking if I can pick up the items on my way back. A woman at another store offered me a sugar cane stock and some more juice. Next time I go running I need to bring a backpack to carry all the food products I will be bringing home. They didn't even think about how I could carry it and run, because people don't usually run. I was a proud mom, the Puch followed me home successfully for a big lunch and long nap.

This is Puchica in her Thin Mints Girl Scout cookie box. She use to fit, now she doesn't at all. The box is now virtually flat. She also has the added amenity of her blankie. Puchica doing the shake command when I was taking her picture outside of our wooden shack.Here is me with Puchica (on the bottom) and her sister Lubu. Lubu is Kelly's dog. Courtesy of Kelly for this picture. I was totally not expecting to be in the pic.

I went to Xela, which is Guatemala's second largest city for a long weekend. It is an entirely different world. I felt culture shocked, even though I was in the same country. The architecture is amazing. The culture is more progressive. There were actually tall Guatemalan men. They grow them big in the cities. There is also a large foreign hippie population. I ate Indian food, went to a hookah bar, and had several hot showers. Wow, the world of difference.

I also realized that I have a lot of fellow Peace Corps friends that experience this city life on a weekly or bi-weekly basis. This makes their experience so different from mine. They shop is Hiper-Paiz, which is Wal-Mart. They party, dance, and even date Guatemalan men that don't think they should stay home and cook all day. Our lives are difference and as a result we are shaped by our completely different experiences in different ways. I can't go for Yoga classes 3 days a week in a city 45 minutes away. I can't escape that easily from my Peace Corps experience.

I went dancing 2 nights in a row. One of the nights, I went to a dance club that was a movie theater. It was one of the coolest dance club settings ever. They played the movie videos on the screen, had flashing lights, and served alcohol.

The real adventure in this experience was my way back from Xela to my site. Becca and I leave nice and early. Everything goes smoothly from Xela to Huehuetenango. Then we go to catch a camioneta.

A postcard I bought with all the cool camionetas. They are chicken buses, which are US school buses turned into the Guatemalan public transportation system.I was already hesitant to buy the tickets in a store, rather than on the actual bus. The guy asked me for more money than I was anticipating. Then as soon as we give them the money, the ayudante (the man that collects money on the bus) tells us the bus will leave in an hour. I flip out, since I was under the impression we would be leaving soon. Otherwise, why was he trying to hurry me to buy the ticket. I complain that it wasn't cool business practice to say 11:30 and then under his breathe 12. A man that collected my money immediately gave it back, since who wants a pissed off gringa on their hands? We rush to this microbus, which looked like it was going to leave soon. The driver, who was the fattest Guatemalan I have seen, told us that we would leave in 5. Of course 5 turns into 20. Becca was like, "great, I get stuck the fat smelly driver".

We have 2 fellow volunteers that were in a really bad car accident. Three of their health center staff were killed. They were badly injured. So, we freak out about the prospect of sitting in the front. I hustle to find the seat belt and buckle us both in. Thank god they make those belts for really big people. Despite the fact I was half choking from the seat belt, I felt content. That only lasted for about 10 minutes. We leave Huehuetenango to the neighboring town, Chiantla. They apparently had a feria or town celebration going on. We got stuck in travel in a really hot microbus. The driver gets out and of course starts to eat street tacos and drink a sugary beverage. We finally get out of the hour long traffic, thank god for the breeze, and were generally content once again. However, only for a spit second. Five minutes later, the micro starts stalling up the large hill. It breaks down. They ask us all to get out. They didn't refund us the full price. While I was worrying about the money. Everybody else hustled for the passing micros. Of course, all the men shoved their way to the front. We were abandoned in the middle of nowhere on a deserted highway with a pregnant woman with a child, and an elderly lady with no teeth. Of course the two foreigners get stuck behind with the most vulnerable population in all of Guatemala. We attempted to hitchhike, but people just made naninina faces and felt happy they were not us. It begins to rain of course while we think....of course this all has to happen. This is what makes life interesting.

Low and behold the camioneta, whose ayudante I royally bitched at comes by. We get on and they joke about the irony of our situation. He tried to overcharge us, as I am sure I would have too, if these bitching gringa ultimately had to get onto my bus. I proceeded to argue that we already got ripped off, stuck in traffic hot as balls, and stranded on the side of the highway. Can't you just have some sypathy, man? He talks to the driver, who speaks in Q'anjob'al. I just give him the money feeling a sense of defeat, and he gives me back the extra. He charged us less. I felt proud. I gave him such entertainment for the day that he let me pick out the movie that the entire bus was going to watch. I picked out 2012, because it seemed to be the least violent of all the more violent selections. I got back exhausted and glad to be home.

One thing I am learning for sure in my time in the Peace Corps is that good intentions do NOT lead to good results. What inhibits good results? The idea that I learned about in anthropology in college, that of which I am realistically experiencing, is our own projections onto other people. We project our idea and imagine the "other" (not ourselves or our own social/cultural group). Also, as young American, who are often idealistic, we come with values and visions of what our service will be like or we envision what the people we are serving would be like. It doesn't take much life experience to know that those imaginations are NEVER correct. How many things turn out in life exactly as you expect? I dare to say rarely, especially if it involves a totally different culture and location. Anyhow, I am getting long winded, but the point is these imaginations of what we THINK works doesn't actually and can lead to BAD results, even with those initial good intentions.

I am not commenting on any specific failure I have experienced as of yet (not that I am perfect), but rather preparing myself to be ultra flexible and listen to what the people here are saying. I vow to change my plans, compromise, and listen to what the local leaders tell me. They know their culture and village better than I do. I say this, because my community has had bad experiences, in which they attended many health talks and never received projects (I am not commenting or putting blame on the exact cause, since I wasn't here.) Somehow, along the line good intentions for one reason or another never led to good results for this specific community. I find myself having to promise my community on many occasions that I promise to work in this community.

I am so excited, because today was the big day in which I planned a lot of my work. I will bullet point them:A series of 18 health talks to infrastructure project recipients. They are mostly women. I will give 2 health talks a month. These women will be infrastructure project recipients as long as they fulfill my requirements I put forth to make the project sustainable. They will also have to contribute money. The part I am most excited about is that I am doing 2 health talks a month in the local middle school of students ranging from 13-22. In 3 months or so, I would like to start an official health promoter's group with a diploma and identification card as a Health Promoter. This is so the community has leaders in health education and facilitation. This is so health education can be sustainable after PC leaves.I am also continuing a project started by the past volunteers, a women's artisan co-op. I hope to make changes to the co-op. I want to make a stronger small business education component as well as make it a little more self-sufficient. I don't want to have to go 5 hours to mail each bag and handle the budget myself. It is a difficult task ahead, but let's see what happens. Let me know if you are interested in any bags. The women can custom make them. There is quality control. Check out the website the last volunteers started: www.temuxmayanartisan.comMy counterpart is really excited about expanding the health post using mostly plastic bottles instead of cement. All the 5 volunteers in this municipality will be working on the health post construction using plastic bottles. We will utilize the plastic bottle construction as a model for future construction of schools and other health post. This is so incredibly awesome, since people here burn their trash. Imagine how many pollutants will now NOT go into the atmosphere.Let's see if it all goes as plan. I doubt it, but I am always open to change for the better, before failure becomes inevitable. Also, let's see if I add anymore projects on. Ultimately, this is about what they wants, not what I want. They live with the results(good or bad), whereas I leave in 2 years.

Hugs and Chocolate donuts,Cathaleen

There was a lot that happened this week. The northern region of the department of Huehuetenango's health centers had to elect who will represent them in the Ms. Salubrista beauty contest. This was a very fun event. It started out with some soccer competitions. Then we went to dinner at a comedor (which is a Guatemalan style restaurant), where the doctor (the big wig) cooked our dinners and paid for Kelly and my dinner. It was nice to see a Guatemalan man doing something not stereotypically what a Guatemalan man would do. Then we proceeded to the beauty competition, which was an interesting event. There isn't much to comment on except it was very questionable how the contestants were judged. Then after the competition and an hour long of thank yous, the party finally started. There was a dance party. It felt so good to get my boogie on. Kelly danced with a man that looked like he was having a heart attack while grabbing her hands really tightly and moving them at the speed of light. It was so funny that it made my night.

Beyond that night, the next day I was scheduled to do an HIV workshop at the local middle school. Wow was that indeed an interesting experience. I probably learned more about the culture in rural indigenous Guatemala than the teenagers learned about HIV. I don't mean to put myself down like that, but it was so shocking. It was apparent from the questions that the teenagers wrote down that they have never learned anything about their body or about puberty. I say teenagers, but the students were from 13 to 22. We got questions like, "where is the penis?" and "what is a homosexual?". Homosexuals don't exist in their world. After we answered, the teacher proceeded to ask us if homosexuality was a result of nature or nurture, and I just told him that this moral argument is out of the scope of this workshop. Homosexuality exist and so does anal and oral sex. Yes, oral and anal sex transmits HIV, but outside of that, whether being homosexual or having oral sex is good or bad is not part of the HIV workshop.

The most shocking question was from a boy asking, "at what age can I rape?" In America, the question would have been more like, "At what age can I start to have sex." However, the culture here basically dictates that women have no choice. They have sex when the man wants it. I gave a woman empowerment speech stating that women have a choice and at no age is it appropriate to rape. I repeated the question and asked at what age is it okay to rape and all the women said, "jamas", which means NEVER EVER, and the boys said Tomas. They refused to say never. When the teacher wasn't listening I told the class that if you treat a woman right and show her respect she will want sex, maybe even more than you boys. The giggling response showed that the concept did not exist to them. And for good reason, why would a woman want sex if they were forced? You can tell from their facial expressions, that these students were often shocked and have never had any one talk to them in such a direct manner. I wasn't embarrassed to say the word penis. I wasn't embarrassed to act like a man with a hard on for the condom demonstration. Kelly wasn't embarrassed to play the role of a prostitute in a miniskit. They were utterly shocked, but you can tell there was some feeling of "Is this girl crazy? She may be crazy, but she is so cool at the same time." I don't really know how much they learned about HIV since it can be a complicated issue, especially if they don't even know what vaginal fluid is. However, if anything I hope the 20 girls/women, out of the class of 38 learned that they deserve respect and that the choice to have sex or not is their right. I plan to go back for many more workshops. It was such a real and rewarding experience. You don't know what to expect from these kinds of things until it happens.

I hope to go back because these student are at the most impressionable age, where it is possible to change their views. I did a family planning talk to groups of women in 5 different communities and the consensus from the women goes as follows: 1) They don't have the choice of when to have sex. The men decide to have sex and the women must submit2) Women do not determine the family size. If men want more children, they rape the women. (I am not saying this for all women, but most that I asked about this issue)3) Men refuse to use a condoms. 4) Men often do not let their wives use birth control. (It is a sign of manhood to have as many children as possible. It shows dominance and masculinity. Despite the fact that the child might not get enough to eat and all grow up malnourished.)5) If the women use birth control without the husbands consent, they will often get beaten. (I am not saying this for every case, but it was often the response I got when I asked, "What would happen if you got the depo provera injection without his consent?")6) The word for pregnant in Q'anjob'al literally means bad woman.

What can these women do? They come to view sex as something negative that is only done to reproduce, often against their will, to have children they might not even want. What are these women destined to if they are forced to borne children, but at the same time they then become a "bad woman". If a woman wants to leave her abusive husband, it might not even occur to them, but if it does then it is their fault for being a bad wife. Where I live the maternal and child mortality is the highest in all of Guatemala. Their chance of death is really high during child birth already, but then if you can't control the number of children you have and have 12, then the chance of death is almost certain. It is a vicious cycle that saddens me and makes me want to go to those middle school students and let them know that life can be different. I just want to tell them, "You may not know if, but not all women live like this." I make it a point when woman ask me why I don't have kids (I am an old maid by now) that I want to live my life and experience many things before children. I say, "maybe when I am 35". They are often amazed and respond in a way that shows they never were given a chance to think about it. At the end of the workshop, I told the entire class where I live and told them to come to me with any questions, about anything, and I will answer them as best as I can and keep it confidential. I want to build a relationship with their kids....they are the future of this village.

Death is everywhere here! I am living in the department (which is equivalent to a state but smaller) with the highest maternal and child mortality rate. In the month I have been here, I have heard of 5 maternal mortalities. That is more than one a week. There are many factors, such as the cultural mistrust of conventional medicine that would require them to go really far to the nearest large health center (not even hospital) to give birth. Second, most health care providers don't speak the language, which innately creates mistrust if you can't communicate. Also, the fatalism here is so prevalent. Families believe that if the woman is dying then perhaps God wants her to die. Also, we are so far away from any medical access that in the time it takes to get to medical help, the mothers die. SO SAD! All health surveys ask how many children do you have that are living and how many have died. If you ask a woman a simple question such as, "how many children do you have?" The answer will most likely be something like this, "Six are alive and 2 died." I use to be completely stunned and ask why. For the most part, they died from preventable diseases, such as diarrhea or acute respiratory infection (ARI). A simple thing like a latrine and hand washing would prevent diarrhea and a stove that doesn't smoke the whole room would prevent ARI. Can you imagine dying from dehydration because you shit out all the liquids in your body because mommy didn't wash her hands before she fed you with them?

This makes death a completely normal and expected thing around here. People ask me all the time, "What are you going to do when Puchica dies in the two years? Are you going to bring another dog back to the US with you?" I don't know how to respond except say that she will not die. I don't want to be jinxed DAMN IT!

Beyond death...GOD this blog is getting to sound really dark and negative. Anyhow, about that negativity. I have decided in general, life here can be really dark and negative, even though they are always smiling (except if you point a camera anywhere near). They don't smile in pictures. I forgot to mention last week I was suppose to do an HIV workshop at the local school for the teenage students. I was told the day before that it has to be cancelled because there is a beauty pageant for Ms. Quince de Septiembre (which is like Ms. 4th of July in US terms). I thought, "what? how could this be so important that they didn't know about it 3 weeks ago when I scheduled the workshop", then before I had time to think about what it all meant, they asked me to be a judge. Oh boy was that an experience!

The girls don't understand that part of beauty is confidence. They stared at the floor and it was rare to see a single contestant crack a smile (I know it is cultural). I didn't understand why they lacked self-esteem until the winner was decided and a fellow judge, who is also a teacher, goes up and basically states a variation of the following: There can only be one winner. The rest of you are losers. You were just not good enough to measure up to the winner. You scored such low points that I will have to ask you to be escorted off the stage. Please dance off the stage though. All though you were poor dancers according to your scores, you might have a chance to impress us by dancing off the stage in step this time. End of what I perceived as what was said.

The "losers" started crying and I almost cried too. How could this female teacher not realize the psychological damage and self-esteem issues she is causing these girls to have? I wanted to stand up and shout they all did a magnificent job and beauty is only in the eyes of the beholder and that they are all beautiful and gave magnificent speeches. By the way, the speeches counted for a tenth of the dancing and outfits. I contested this and got it changed. I stated that what a woman says and her intelligence matters as much as how she moves her butt or wears her hair. Well in a more polite, less crude, and more culturally sensitive manner. I was proud of that accomplishment, even though I left the event depressed. WOW!

More about the negativity, I joined the woman's soccer team. The culture doesn't make team spirit a necessary component of team sports here. If you don't make a goal or the goalie doesn't catch the ball, they yell things like, "OOHHH, that was your ball CATALINA!!" There is no congrats or happiness if you make a good kick or goal. It makes playing soccer, especially since it is a new sport to me (except when I was like 9) really really hard. There has to be some incredible amount of self motivation and positivity to make it through the game. I promise the next post will be all about happy things like chocolate, flowers, and cute puppies.

I promise to put up some pictures up soon! I am so bad about taking pictures. I rather live the beautiful moments live instead of through a camera lens. I hope my readers understand.

I live in the mountains where everybody including me lives an agrarian lifestyle. (I have a green house and planted carrots and cabbage. I am so excited!) So, I figured since there are ducks, turkeys, sheep, cows, and chickens running around everywhere, I should be able to get some fresh eggs that are not from a factory. You would think, right? I don't know why it has been so hard to find. I finally found a house that will sell me their eggs, but of course without the ritual greetings, dinner invite, and so forth.

I climb up a mountain or large hill rather (whatever it was, it was enough to make my heart rate increase) with Puchica, who insist on stopping several times to pee or take a side trip into somebody else's house. Of course, Puchica is the town celebrity for several reasons, one being that she fashionably walks on a leash, and second of all, because nobody can forget her name! Puchica the name makes people wants to roll on the ground with laughter. Who names their dog a Guatemalan expression that is equivalent to oh shit!!! besides the weird gringa in town. Anyhow, so for that reason the town's people constantly call Puchica and offer her all kinds of junk food. (No wonder she had diarrhea today, but I figure if it is rude for me to decline, it must be rude for me to decline for Puchica) So, I finally get to this house. They insist that they do not have eggs to sell, after Puchica and I almost eaten alive by their starving and ferocious dogs. Oh course Puchica barked at them, like her 1/8the-the-size-self could even stand a chance at protecting us. I have to give her credit though for being so self confident like her mother.

So it goes like this, "We don't have eggs." I respond, "what do you mean, last time I past here you said you sell eggs." Then I speak in the few words of Q'anjob'al I know and she starts talking to me in Q'anjob'al. I was impressed with myself. I understood her. It hit me like a brick, wow, I am actually semi-communicating in this language I have struggled with so much. So, she was impressed and invited me into the house. I washed my hands, she served me dinner. Then I got up and ran because I realized I left beans cooking on my stove in my house. I darted out of the house and ran back. Twenty minutes later I returned to Puchica eating so many raw tortillas her stomach was bloated to 3 times the size. I showed off Puchicas tricks like sit and shake. They gave me a new bowl of food because they insisted that mine was cold (even though it wasn't) I made tortillas with the ladies in the house. They gave me chili peppers and all these tortillas to take home. I practiced more Q'anjob'al. They finally brought out the eggs about 2.5 hours later than the original moment when I was cooking beans and thought I would leave for a quick second to get eggs. They said, "Here are the eggs. They are a gift." I said, "No, I will pay for them." They said no. After going back and forth for about 5 mintues, they finally agreed to let me pay for 2 out of the 4 eggs. Although, I did leave money for 3 eggs in the end without saying anything. Then they insisted that I spend the night in their house. I told them I have to meet my mother on skype. They insisted on walking me home. Then they called to make sure I settled in fine. This is such a great culture! In the states it would never take 3.5 hours to go buy 4 eggs, pay for 2, and come home with all these free goodies. Plus, they invited me to church and dinner again tomorrow. Loving it here! Who wouldn't?

Dear my readers:

sorry it has been so long since I last blogged. I was out of internet for a while. Not only that, but I celebrated my Huehuetenango department welcome party. I had a really good time. We went to swim in some pools and then went out to a club called Club Escape (you pronounce the E at the end, letters aren't silent in spanish, plus it sounds way cooler). Club Escape is renowned for being the best club in all of Guatemala (or at least that is what I was told). Anyhow, I believe it. The DJ was amazing and I can't remember the last time I danced like that. I might have been 17 and in Costa Rica. The first time I was hit on by a woman happened at Club Escape. Interesting that it happened in Guatemala though and not the 6 years I lived in NYC.

So, beyond that I would like to announce to the entire world that I got a PUPPY! Her name is Puchica, which means WOW! to Guatemaltecos or Oh Shit! Which ever context is most fitting. Beyond the utter laughter and shock factor I get when I announce that my puppy's name is Puchica, it makes so much sense. Puch in English means doggy and chica in Spanish means girl. I think the name is profound and has a double meaning. I am loving it. Plus, what do they want me to name her? Juana Maria Fernandez Jose?Please! (I will mention no names, but there is a cat with that name here!) That is not the only thing every single person laughs at when I tell them my pups name is Puchica, they laugh became I walk her on a leash. That is unheard of in Guatemala. She has a collar. She doesn't have fleas. Oh my gosh, the best part is that I don't feed Puchica tortillas and potatoes. Oh better yet, I don't beat her with a large stick or kick her for entertainment. Anyhow, animal abuse is normal here and Puchica came into my home last night a starving little pup. She is about to turn into a gringa, get fat, and be potty trained! Imagine the shock!

Roy took this picture of Puchica and me over skype when I was introducing her to him! Aren't we cute?Puchica is exciting news. However, I have some other interesting bits to mention about my life. So please guess how many times I have to go to the bank to get my online account to work? Don't only count the times I went to the bank, but the hours I waited each time. That is a whole other cultural aspect that I will have to get into in another blog. Well, it is for sure more than 4 times and many more than 4 hours. It still doesn't work. (side note: I now know why Peace Corps requires 2 years of service, you spent 1 year waiting around and the other actually getting a little done.) The online account boots me off because it says I have the wrong password. I belong to Banco Industrial. It is suppose to be the best Guatemalan Bank, the only bank that the US government would ever consider giving their money to to pay volunteers' salaries. Well guess what, it f***ing sucks! I went into the bank and attempted to act like a raging gringa and bitch about all the problems with their online system. Well, it is getting harder and harder to be direct and complain like I use to be in states. Obviously I wasn't bitchy enough because my stupid online account still doesn't work. Someone could be embezzling all my money, which is highly possible, and how in the world would I know? As they say here in Guatemala....saber?!?!?! It basically translates to who knows? In this case, who does really know? If it isn't me then I guess nobody knows.

Today is Monday and it was my first day of work after a week of intensive language classes. I realized that I am starting to understand what people are saying a little bit, like a baby that is just starting to pickup words. The little I understand I get so excited about. I can't help myself.

I went into the Health Post today. Nothing exciting happened during the morning shift, except for one boy came in with a badly cut finger. Rather, I got to know my co-workers. There are 3 staff members, 2 permanent and one hired on a contract. Only one nurse can speak the local language, the other two come from the main town, a 5 hour bus ride away. The two nurses that don't live here are utterly shocked that I LOVE living here. In Guatemala, if you are of upper class that don't live in the rural area you would never want to "regress". I guess they don't see the beauty around them, but rather all the health and infrastructure problems. Of course there are problems, but what keeps me here is the beauty I have come to appreciate and the difference I hope to make. Let's see if I get there by learning the language. By the way, what would be your incentive if your contract is 6 months? I heard that they will be able to relate to me more than non-indigenous (ladino) Guatemalas after I have integrated.

On a side note: The reason it is hard to find health center staff that speak the local language is because it is rare that someone from here can afford to study to become a nurse. The only school is 5 hours away. One has to be VERY fortunate or have family that lives in the states and sends them money. End of side note.

So, in the afternoon, I went on my first home visit. We went because the household has a malnourished 1 and 1/2 year old. She only weights 15 pounds. I knew what the problem was right away after the mother claimed that she eats. I was right, the problem is the child has constant diarrhea. (Diarrheal disease is the top 3 killer in the developing world. That is why I am so excited about sanitation and hygiene education.) The family has no latrine and goes number 2 in the open air. The flies are vector and when I entered the home, it was clear that they don't cover their food nor wash the vegetables. If you get your food and water from the same place you shit then there will obviously be parasitic problems. On top of that, the mother is pregnant with her 7th child. The nurse that speaks the local language asked if she ever thought about family planning and her response was that her husband will absolutely not allow her to use any birth control methods. The children are malnourished, most of them don't go to school, and she is having another child. The nurse told her that after she has her next child, she can come into the health post and get a depo provera injection at the same time the child get his/her shots. We explained that she has the right to chose and that he doesn't have to know. Let's see what will happen. I am going back in two weeks to play a hygiene memory game and make liquid soap with the kids. That should be more fun than all the lecturing I felt like the 3 nurses were giving today. Who is going to remember it all? Plus it felt a little condescending for 4 people made up of 3 outsider to lecture this woman.

So, many things have happened and I need to seek permission from some people before I blog about it. However, meanwhile I would love to talk about market day. YES! Today is Sunday and Sunday is market day here. What does that mean? That means every vehicle within a 2 hour radius of the main town has to try to come into town. Tables are set up along all the streets selling anything from fresh produce to super glue. There were live birds, men on loud speakers speaking in a language I don't understand, plastic goods, cooked food, and A LOT of pushing and shoving. I am twice their size and yet they push and push. When people shove I just stand still. Since I am so much bigger, I act as a boulder. The culture is very indirect, so I can't say stop shoving, but I can just stand there. jaja. I guess it is part of the chaos of market day. There are no such things as lines or order. It was chaos, exactly the market scene in Aladin (I don't know if anybody can relate to that.) You dodge people, animals, and cars. Whatever it takes to not get ran over. So far I am not a fan of this aspect of market day, but who knows it might grow on me. I might go back in 2 years and start shoving people when I am in a large crowd.

By the way, as soon as I get a memory card reader I will start posting some pictures.

On a lighter note from the previous blog, one of the biggest fears about becoming a real live volunteer was the idea of being lonely. I have to say I have been adapting quite well. (Of course I have to give the world wide web a little credit, but still) I always thought the idea of going from bustling Manhattan to the middle-of-nowhere-Guatemala would present me with almost a life threatening level of alone time. (I might actually get to reflect on my days and thoughts, which was not something I had time for in NYC.) I must say my fear was blown way out of proportion by my own running thoughts. I live in a family compound of 20 other people. I struggle to get along time. I have at least 5 kids knocking on my door. I have music blasting in the room over(right now as we speak). I have a family to run too when I feel like I might go crazy. Not that that has happened, but the fact that they are there is so reassuring. I am becoming more and more part of the community. I love it!

In fact, I think my new best friends are a 12 year old girl and an 18 year old boy. All women my age are married with at least 2 kids. The 12 year old and I can relate. (I think she might even have more responsibilities than I do.) Girls have to do A LOT of household chores, especially if they have a lot of brothers. They practically serve their brothers and do all their laundry. I feel like we are on the same page. We are going to bake a cake this weekend! The 18 year old boy is my buddy. He tells me the town gossip. Since he is a male, he is allowed in on the "manly" affairs such as town halls and family disputes about"business". That and he helps me move my furniture when I want rearrange my room. My outlook on companionship and friendship is really different here. I mean in the states I might be considered a sex offender to have a 12 year old best friend at the age of24. Oh boy....

Hot chocolate and Hershey kisses,

Catalina.Damn is it really cold here!

As I was surfing in the internet, I decided to type in the word encouragement to see what the world's take on it is. So, of course the first listing that comes up is the definition and it is listed as "n. The act of encouraging. The state of being encouraged. One that encourages." How useful that is in terms of actually understand what encouragement means is a whole other topic. Anyhow, the second link is a list of quotes, and who doesn't love to read quotes? So, I read them and there was one in particular that stuck out to me. I feel as though it is so powerful and defines my entire reason for joining the Peace Corps and working in this community. I liked it so much and it meant so much to me that I posted it on the side of my blog. It is "Nine tenths of education is encouragement." I finally feel as though I fully understand Peace Corps theory of development, which is "capacity building". If 9/10 of education encouragement, then my job is to encourage! It makes so much sense! People resist change, because they lack the courage or the knowledge that they have the courage. Especially women. Women here are cultured to remain quite and let the men speak. Sometimes they can't even look you in the eyes. They lack the encouragement they need to be in power of their health and their children's health. Women need the encouragement, since they are the the caretakers and practically do everything! This was such an important realization to the central part of my job that I had to share this. To build capacity is to encourage. When the community has gained knowledge and courage through encouragement, they will have more capacity to make their own changes. Capacity building is no longer just a theory and I just understood how better to utilize my efforts.

There are so many simple things that I have really come to appreciate in my 10 days here.They are:

1) A good bath. The Q'anjob'alenses bathe in a stone sauna. They exfoliate with a sandy rock. It is amazing. You could never imagine the amount of grime and dead skin cells on your body until you try it. You bath after mixing the right ratio of cold to boiling water. Then throw some cold water on the stones to steam it up. But, don't be impatience and throw too much water, otherwise you will suffocate, which I almost risked my first time. They are wonderful! However, the down side is they are made for people their size, hence I have to stoop A LOT to get in.

2) The beauty of the gravel road against the mountain valley view. It's like in movies! I hiked 2 and half hours yesterday from the main town to get back to my wooden shack after Q'anjob'al class. The roads were closed for construction. I wasn't mad , but instead I got so excited thinking all kinds of thoughts, such as I'll be able to bike the paved road soon and that the microbus commute will take 20 minutes instead of 45. However, I came to find out that the municipal government donated sand to even the gravel from the passing riverlets. The community men had do all the manual labor. Isn't that nice of the local government to donate sand? However, on the positive side, it was amazingly beautiful. The cascades, rivers, pine, green, sun, grazing animals, and the best part is that I said good afternoon to every single person I passed, including stumbling drunks. I definitely got a lot of stares, some laughs, passing cars that stopped to practice their English, and ultimately a ride an eighth of the way from a construction truck that stopped and asked me if I wanted a "jalon", meaning a free ride. I said sure. I took his number and called him for another free ride today! Man is it easy to make friends. Being American is cool here and everybody would love to practice the few words they know, even if it is "I rove hu."

3) A clean river that passes by my house. I have to appreciate the river, because it dries up for 3 months out of the year. I wash my dishes, wash my hands, and go to sleep to the sound of crashing water. It is wonderful! Although there is no official water caption to my wooden shack, can you believe I have mobile internet? That makes number 4.

4) Mobile internet. It keeps me sane by being able to communicate with the outside world and update my blog.

5) Free range meat. I had a Thanksgiving feast last night. We ate the annoying turkey that runs around the corn field. I love to eat the turkey or chicken that actually got to move before it was killed! Thank god I don't have to kill it though. You eat the meat and feel good the bird lived a happy life.

6) A latrine. I have to appreciate a latrine, since a nearby volunteer doesn't have one....yet! She is hopefully getting one soon, but you never know what soon means. Meanwhile, she runs 30 meters to her host family's latrine. I am pretty sure she has to hop over a stream and risk getting bitten by several dogs and apparently a goose or some large bird. So, for that I am thankful.

I have more, but I think that is all I will post for now. Ice cream and cake,Catalina!

Yesterday two men came over a loud speaker to make an announcement to the entire community. Mind you, the entire community can hear it and they make the announcement at the school, which is right across the street. It is unavoidable. So, they announced that the father of every family must contribute 10 quetzales to pay for the school’s electricity bill. There apparently were some fathers that didn’t pay. They stated that the electricity will be turned off if not all fathers contribute. I only understood bits and pieces, the bits in Spanish. It was announced in Q’anjob’al and my host family translated. I think it is so interesting that these families are responsible for things I could not have imaged while I attended elementary school. In elementary school to go home and say, “Dad, you owe the school 10 quetzales.” Granted, in the states we pay taxes, which covers the school’s electricity bill. The children in the school are also responsible for the daily cleaning of their classrooms. Girls are way more responsible for the cleaning than boys. Girls clean and boys play. Isn’t that great? I observed this on the visit I made to the school to schedule a HIV talk. I forgot that the teachers scheduled a meeting and left the children unattended at the school that day. Well, they were watched over my “interns”, who are basically older kids. Speaking of the strong gender roles that were apparent in the schools, nobody can get over the fact that I am here alone. Granted the volunteers before me were a married couple. I will refer to them as John and Jane. People constantly ask, “So, John left?” I reply, “Yes, John and Jane both left.” They will usually proceed by saying something like, “John worked here or John did this.” Everything is about John. I never hear about Jane. The family with whom I live mention Jane a lot, but outside of that people only talk about John. Why? The family or couple is a unit, defined by the man. Then they will ask, “Where is your husband or compañero?” which implies man. I will tell them I am here alone. They will then ask if I am married. If I have been asked one too many times in a day, I will say, “I am here to do the work, John’s work, a man’s job.” They still can’t grasp it. I will show them that women can do work too, since there is no man here to define me or my work. I stand alone: strong and brave. I am already weird here. For God’s sake, I wear pants! I might as well continue challenging their every notion, with respect of course! I asked the father of the family, who is also a well respected community leader, if he knows how to install additional light bulbs and he stated, “No, John did that.” I told him, “Well, it looks like I will have to learn how.” He replies, “You are a woman, how will you learn to do that?” The funny thing is that the response didn’t surprise me or offend me, especially after my experience abroad. You just have to laugh it off and learn what a great privilege it is to be an American woman. I cherish the opportunities to work as an equal to a man. I value the women’s rights movement. There is still work to be done in the US, but we have made progress.

This past Wednesday I had a meeting with the community. All I know is that there are some tough challenges again. First off, there are some projects that were started in which I question the sustainability and how I will go about dealing with those. I will talk more about those later. The biggest dilemma that I will have to deal with is that the community has lost faith and trust in Peace Corps, and what the community perceives as a break of promise from the Associate Peace Corps Director, as well as the Technician in Rural Health, who also happens to be my local counterpart. The community believes they were promised infrastructure projects at the end of all the health talks. However, there are several requirements of project recipients, one of them being that the community has to have a bank account. The donors will not directly put money into anybody’s hands. Anyhow, the community leaders did not open the bank account and the money was not granted. On top of that, from my understanding, one community leader went around collecting money from people in the community and apparently stole it to take his lover out for one expensive night in town. That isn’t all of the problems. In order for a development project to be sustainable the community must contribute a portion of the cost in labor or materials. Free gifts are not sustainable, because everybody will want an extra latrine if it is free. Then the resources will not be wisely spent, and will be delegated to those that really don’t need it. Identifying need, education on the importance of the sanitary infrastructure and how to properly maintain it are important components to sustainable development. Anyhow, the community started to complain that they didn’t have money. “We are poor” is something that is often said. Bullshit! I didn’t tell them that, but I thought it. You have a nice church. You pooled money to build part of your school. Not only that, but they eat freshly raised, organic produce and meat that people in the states would pay a ton for. They live on uncontaminated land with an abundance of water and clean air. (I didn’t have that living in NYC all those years.) They are rich in culture, in history, and in so many bigger things that count more than a TV or cars. They only see wealth as material though. They don’t value the toilet or the cement floor. You can walk around and see really really nice cement houses that appear to be like mansions. The money is from relatives in the US, but that same mansion doesn’t have a latrine or a drainage system. It is all about appearances. (Not that America is any different) Anyhow, I understand the community’s anger and frustration. It isn’t their fault the community leaders didn’t fulfill the requirement and stole from them. I have a plan on how to deal with it! I need to gain their trust, by creating transparency and show them my good intentions of working with them. I will not quit when times get hard and go to another community, but this means they have to do their part too. There will be 12 talk requirements for the education component, and 3 of them will be about money saving. I will get the newly elected and trusted community leaders to collect money at every health talk, so it can be like a payment plan. I will not ask them for a huge chunk at once, so there will be no excuses. Let’s see how this works. This is all I have thought up of for now. Meanwhile, I better learn some Q’anjob’al. I start intense classes this coming Monday.

I have just been assigned my site in the department of Huehuetenango. It is the land of the mountains. Most people wouldn’t think that Guatemala can be cold, but I am living at 2600 meters or around 8500 feet. This is almost twice as high as Denver, Colorado. I can’t even begin to describe the beauty of the mountains and rivers. I live in the middle of a corn field overlooking luscious green mountain side. My green homey wooden shack is often cloud covered. Cold water from a spring at the very top of the mountain flows past my house. This serves as my drinking and washing water. Although I will be living at an incomprehensibly high elevation, the weather is great! Cool or cold at night and often sunny in the day. It does rain a lot, but it is nature’s garden being watered, which is the reason everything is green. There is little contamination and little trash as compared to where I was previously living. Beyond the drastic climatic change from where I was previously living. I am going to live in a town that in 100% indigenous. The people are just as important if not more important than the climate and the surrounding beauty. They speak a Mayan language called Q’anjob’al (Kanjobal). The language has guttural sounds and some intonation. It seems as though the language barrier will be the greatest challenge. Children start to learn Spanish in school, but most women have very little education and don’t speak Spanish. Speaking of a school, I live across the gravel road that sometimes doubles as a river from the school and the health center. The health center is newly constructed. The municipality provided the money and the community build it. Well, a similar situation happened with part of the school. Can you imagine being told you have to build your own health care facility or school? If people are desperate enough, they will do it themselves. It is good to see the community spirit at work. Perhaps, I can invoke this same understanding of need for health and sanitation. We’ll see.

People steal municipal garbage cansRemember those yellow school buses? Ever wondered what happens to the old one that no longer meet US safety or environmental standards? They are sold to Guatemalans, painted over and make up the Guatemalan public transport system. Nice, old, and billow out black smoke! YES! They are called camionetas or chicken buses. Why chicken buses? Because they pack you in like chickens in a poultry factory.The post office runs out of stamps.The post office doesn't have a scale.The post office worker runs to the packed market and weighs the package on a butcher's scale that was just used to weigh red, raw meat. YUM!All the garbage in the river breaks the bridge when the river rises.Goat keepers walk around with a goat on a leash with cups yelling "goat milk" "goat milk"They put all animals on a leash, including cats, cows, and goats, but no dog will ever be found on a leash.Used American clothes from KMART cost more than new clothes because they are "American"There are no traffic signs, they just paint traffic signs, such as one way, on the side of private residences.Cell phone companies paint schools or homes with their logo on them as a form of advertisement in exchange for free paint. They don't really use billboards.Health Centers often don't have soap in the bathroom. Isn't that ironic?People are you how much you weigh with no shame.A way to start a conversation is to ask your religion and if you are married. MORE TO COME SOON!!!

One would think that an explanation of how Peace Corps works or Peace Corps’ approach to development would be one of the first blogs I would have written. However, as much as I would like to answer it, the whole answer to Peace Corps’ approach to development is inclusive in the entire Peace Corps experience. The experience has been difficult for me to grasp entirely, since I am in the first initial steps. It is like asking a 5 year old what the purposes of a college education or the objectives of a college curriculum. One step at a time baby! I am still a baby in terms of my Peace Corps experience. I’m still in training!

This is what I do know though: Peace Corps’ approach to development is capacity building, hence the title to my blog. (Don’t worry I didn’t understand it initially either.) Each volunteer works on a community’s and individual’s capacity to help themselves. We do not come with hand outs or money.We come with information and an outside perspective on how to approach a community’s problem. We don’t fix the problem, but rather provide education to further understand the root of the problem. An example of this may be: Imagine reading over your english paper out loud 4 times before turning it in to make sure there are no errors. However, what you see on the page isn’t the same as what you read or you made some minor spelling or punctunation errors you simply missed.This is the reason all books have editors and all colleges (well that I know of) have a writing center to provide those secondary eyes. What the writer thinks is crystal clear and well articulated may come off as a minor detail and not as crystal clear to the reader. Hence, as volunteers we come in and provide those outside eyes to assist health centers, schools, municipalities, or farmers. In my case, I am working in a health center. (What qualifies me to do such a thing has to be answered in another blog post.)

In health centers, I give dynamic and short talks, based on a participatory style, on various aspects of basis hygiene and health to community members, mostly indigenous women.They bring back the information to better care for their family, especially their children. I hope to let these illiterate and uneducated women, who are also the back-bones of their homes and communities, know their value and their potention to help themselves in disease preventention. They can do basis things like wash their hands regularly and use a condom to protect themselves from illnesses such as Hepatitis A, HIV, and diarrhea. They do not have to put their health or fortune ONLY in God’s hand, but know they have an abiliy to do more than they know.

They can speak and I will listen; they can have a voice and participate; they can for the first time many of their lives pick up a pencil and draw; they can laugh at my puppet show that has farting and barffing pigs (depict symtoms of diseases). They will apply the “experience” of an activity we do together to their own lives and take an important message home to their families. By the end, the shy and timid women that were so at the beginning are now boisterous and bold, shouting out ways to prevent dengue or HIV.

Such experiences lead me to believe that I might not know what my entire Peace Corps experience may add up to in terms of defining development for now, but what I do know is that Peace Corps is teaching me to be an effective facilitator in adult education methods. Adult education makes learning about health fun, memorables, and practical to the daily lifes of Guatemalans. This is something I believe is a blessing to me and to those that never believed they have the potential to learn, to share, or to know that their health is in their hands, & can not be left to fate.

And yes, I believe this is the only effective way to development, not throwing millions of dollars at them or building everything for them. Development has to come from within. Guatemalans have to know and desire the change. Without this, development simply can not happen.

The street is like the bed of a silt river. Every time a car zips through town, dust flies sky high and hurts the eyes of every passer by.

My eyes are red and my nose is runny; and there are no questions asked, we pinch our noses as we scurry to our destinations. Despite it all, in the name of integration, I join the people as they corral to sweep the streets to clear the dust. The lack of wealth makes the community effort substitute the street sweeper, and the amicable neighbor substitutes a town garage as they kindly house your car, because formal infrastructure or government services are non existent. So many aspects of the community define Guatemala’s informal economy. You don’t hire the boy next door to cut down your falling tree, you give him some homemade tamales for his family and he does it for free—a barter system if you will.

Beyond an informal economy, there is a helping hand and a constant smile, even through the series of natural disasters and destruction. It makes me really believe that life circumstances are all about your attitude, and gratitude for what you already have. What do you already have, a friendly neighbor or a supportive mother? One might not be able to trust the police or government officials, so they substitute it with a positive attitude and a communal spirit that clearly pushes them through many hard times.

President Alvaro Colón declares that Guatemala is in a state of calamity—Volcano Pacaya erupts followed by Tropical Storm Agatha.

The capital is covered in volcanic ash, but less than 12 hours later torrential storms carry on for 2 days straight. Man, when it rains, it pours here. The streets flood, the rivers overflow, and then the already flooded streets turn into rushing rivers. The river takes on a life of its own; where the river use to curve, the muddy water no longer makes that turn, but rather cuts through the entire town. What use to be a creek, rose 3 meters in one day and carried away homes as if they were sticks (due to the lack of developed infrastructure they float away like the rest of the debris and trash in the river).

The garbage gathers under bridges and threatens to break a small town’s route to the outer world. Big CATS scooper vehicles come in to swoop away the mess, as all stand staring at the effects of not a single garbage can to be found in town. Not that the people are solely to blame, but perhaps a campaign to beautify Guatemala can be presented to the municipality by my simply stating, “Remember what happened to all the garbage in the river during Agatha? It broke your bridge”

Thank God for the team work as women sweep out the water seeping into their homes, while the men gather in the street to unclog the drains of candy wrappers and plastic bags. Every neighbor watches out for the other, a sense of team work and community has never been stronger.

Two disasters at once isn’t enough? Again, Volcano Pacaya tremors the earth and erupts amidst the torrential rains--volcanic eruptions, Tropical Storm Agatha, the earth quakes, followed by another eruption. Amidst the natural drama of my first month in Guate-buena, I learn about Peace Corps security alerts and evacuation plan for real, instead of in practice. Unlike most that wonder where they will go if their homes drown, I am shielded from that same worry. Peace Corps trudges through the former street now river in a 4 x 4 into my small town to pick up the 4 gringas on site. While everybody works to unbury their home from the inundation we, Americas, peace out, or as properly stated, we are evacuated. I felt sad to leave my family behind in the uncertainty of what might happen. I question Peace Corps when they say that we must live at the level of the locals, if we are always provided with special protection and zipped away upon any looming danger. Perhaps, we are guaranteed US security measures to which no Guatemalan is entitled? (SAD, but told as it is)

I am glad to have mother’s day be my first real cultural celebration in Guatemala. (Mind you, there seems to be a celebration at least once a week, but this is the first real BIG one) It is marvelous! Mother’s day is equivalent to the 4th of July in the US (well, at least it feels like it to me). It is celebrated and talked about long before the actual day. There are fireworks and serenades. There are parties and religious celebrations. I am glad, because mothers are truly important, especially here where mothers run the household and the communities. They cook, they clean, and they care for the young and the old. Mothers do everything! It makes me feel so guilty for what I didn’t do for my mother when I lived in the same country. Children put on plays, and all the macho men turn soft and make cards or works of art for their mothers to express their gratitude.

I went to a Catholic celebration with my host family, where a woman was preaching about Mary, the example mother, and what she did to carry out Christ’s word after his death. I saw the ceremony as a way to empower women and make them know that God included women in his plan to preach and teach as an equal peer to men as mothers. Being a mom is truly a blessing and having one is even a greater one.(This is especially true in Guatemala where the maternal death rate during child birth is one of the highest in Latin America.) Mother’s day makes we realize how being religious is part of the culture, but along with it comes great appreciate for all the small things in life. No matter how poor a person may be, they smile and give thanks for everything, before and after each meal and profusely if you offer to help with any small task.

The celebration bought me to tears, as it did many men as well, who at this point started to hold there mothers and spouses. (Men cry in public here.) The emotions made me so thankful, and make me reflect how I have not been thankful enough. I am sure I share this sentiment with many Americans, since by virtue of being American we have so much handed to us without a single thought. We turn on the faucet and take for granted that the water is clean (if one even has a faucet, and if you do, only 13% of communities have chlorinated water), we don’t have to think about where we will dump our trash today, in the river or behind our neighbor’s house? We don’t have to worry about pasteurizing the milk we drink by boiling it 3 times before pouring into a bowl with our cornflakes in the morning*. And until one is in the thick of such an experience, one can never imagine what it is like. This is why I am here and despite it all, I am having a blast. People enjoy the simple things in life. Everyday I wake up more than 10 minutes before I have to race to work. I have been sleeping 8 hours or more, exercising, and taking my vitamins everyday. I never accomplished all these things in one day in the states.

* I wanted to briefly state for those who read this that not all milk is un-pasteurized, and that not all Guatemalans live in the state of poverty. Guatemala has one of the highest income inequality rates in the world. Fifteen families own 70% of the land and run almost all big companies in Guatemala. The rich are really rich, and live in heavily guarded-gated-communities in Guatemala City. They travel by helicopter to their vacation homes on the beach, and do not use travel on country highways. I wonder if they have any idea what the state of their country is like outside of those gated communities? (I don’t want to make any conclusions)

Guatemala is rated as having the world’s third best coffee. That means that only two other countries have better coffee than Guatemala. I can certainly believe that, since Guatemala is a mountainous country with many volcanoes, which makes the soil rich in minerals and perfect for growing organic coffee of the highest grade. It’s placement in the top 3 makes Guatemala a place that a coffee-drinker would deem a heaven. Well, that is what I initially thought. Little did I know, but all the good coffee is exported to the developed world, such as the US and Europe. Sad but true, Guatemalans are left with the bad broken beans at the bottom of the bag. Not just broken beans, but those of the lowest quality. Guatemalans take this, process it further, and sell the grinds as instant coffee. A culture that thrives on coffee at least twice, if not three times, a day drinks bad coffee!

The good stuff is sold at market price (even if you wanted to buy it). Remember the last time you went into Starbucks, do you remember how much that bag of coffee was, like $15? Well considering that 59% of Guatemala lives in poverty, which means they earn $1 or less a day, it is highly unlikely that they could dream of ever tasting the product of their own soil and labor. The average laborer (without a college education) makes 54 quatzales (around 8 quatzales to a dollar) a day, which is equivalent to around $7. This is if they can even find a job. Guatemalans simply can’t afford their own coffee. I am dying for a good cup of coffee. Perhaps when I travel to the tourist destination I can find a cup for the price of a Starbucks coffee. Oh, luxuries we never knew we had.

Before I start a blog, there are some philosophical questions I have answered to come to the conclusion of why I decided to start a blog.

The most important to the myriad questions I asked myself was, “Can I really express myself without misrepresenting the culture I am trying to integrate myself into?” I think the answer is no. So, I remind people to take these experiences I document as no conclusion of the culture as a whole, but as my interpretation and my opinion.(Of course not that of the US government or the Peace Corps) You may as well have a completely different experience. There are many factors that make my experience unique. First off, I am really tall by Guatemalan standards, I am Asian, I am a woman, and I am clearly GRINGA (what they call those of US American* decent). I dress like one, I talk like one, and I am tall.

The second question I must ask is, “For whom am I blogging?” I am only blogging 20% for myself. It isn’t really a journal, since I can not truly articulate every nuance of how I feel, as 1) this is public and 2) I do not want to put Guatemalans in a bad light, especially since I tend to make premature conclusions. I decided that blogging would be 20% for myself, 30% for my family and friends (do my friends and family really care what my experience is like? Will they even read this blog? How much are they really interested?), and 50% for future Peace Corps volunteers that want to see what being a Peace Corps Volunteer in Guatemala is like. This is important to me as one of the missions of Peace Corps is to take our experience back with us, as stated, "Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans."

*In the future when I refer to American, I mean US American. This is noted as a means to recognize the existence of all American people, including South, Central, and North Americans that are non-US Americans.

I will break my blogs up into phenomenons of self-discovery. Please excuse my bad English at times, as I am half thinking in Spanish and have limited internet access to type up these blogs.