Good Vibrations

To be honest, I had a pretty rough time last week. It could have been partially due to my return from the land of plenty, but mostly because I had my first negative encounter with my Guatemalan counterpart. For the first time since I've been here, at least since my difficult first few weeks, I had to ask myself if I would really make it through the end of my service. That is a very dangerous question to ask yourself here. It's not like the Army, we are volunteers who have the right to leave whenever we want for whatever reason. So, after coming back from home and seeing all the friends, family, people, places, and things, I'll just sum it up by saying it was a tough week. I made it through the week, however, and ended things on a good note. Then came Saturday and a return of vicious conspicuous Guatemalan micro-organisms who reeked havoc on my body all night long. This continued into Sunday and my only thoughts were about how terrible this week was going to be. Monday came, and suddenly all was well. It has turned out to be a great week, and couldn't have happened at a better time. I've been getting my hands dirty in the school gardens, teaching the kids about fungus, insects, and the importance of thinning crops and fertilizing. I've been talking with women's groups, and I really think that I've finally found some consistent work that seems to excite everyone. I'm going to be working with their chickens, helping control diseases and improve their coops. I've spent more time with my counterpart and we are making great progress improving our communication and just getting to know one another better. I've also gotten my bike back in good running condition, and seem to have rid myself of some annoying mice. I relearned this week that its all about being positive. There were a few things that happened that could have ruined my week if I hadn't kept my head up. Yesterday, I woke up at 6:00 so I could run down the mountain and try to catch an early bus to get me to Cajalinquia. This is the place that volunteers have referred to as the Peace Corps Triathlon, and with reason. On a normal day, it's an hour and a half bike ride through the mountains, crossing a stream, and then hiking straight up hill for half an hour, to do it all again on the way back, tacking on an extra half hour for a few more uphills. This is why I chose to catch the early bus. However, it was pouring rain when I left my house, already a bit behind schedule. As I'm biking down the steepest hill, the hood on my raincoat falls down into my face and covers my eyes, blinding me to any obstacles in the road I might need to dodge. I lifted the hood off of my face only to find it was the obstacles just off the road that should be concerning me, as I was heading straight for a group of boulders. I caught a rock that was flush with the ground on my side, and it literally acted as a bike ramp, catapulting me into the air. I came crashing down, but somehow managed to dodge the boulders, making it back on the road before I was able to come to a stop. I was proud of myself for keeping my balance and not skidding down the hill, and also thankful that no one had seen my comical stunt, but in the process, I had taken the chain off the gears and lodged it securely in between the pedal and the frame. I repaired the chain, which was interrupted by a call from Roberto wondering where I was, and got back on the road. In all of the excitement, I failed to notice that I had slammed my kneecap into the frame of my bike while regaining control. I arrived at Roberto's house and told him what had happened and he asked my if anything was hurting. "Just my knee, but it's not bad," I said, lifting my pants to reveal that it was already starting to swell. Since I had arrived a little late, Roberto decided it was best if he go alone on his motorcycle, and that I go to the school in Nuevo Pinal with another volunteer from Ireland, Joe. We hiked the 40 minutes to the school and then back. My knee did not take the hike well and I had to return that afternoon to the same community alone, so I decided to take my bike. This didn't agree with my knee either, and after the hour long ride back to my house, my knee had doubled in size. I rested last night and when I awoke this morning, my knee was feeling much improved. Off to work I went, and by noon I could barely move my right leg. Now, I'm back at my house, resting my legs, taking pain medicine, testing out a homemade anti-inflammatory pomade, and writing about how it's all about a positive attitude. I could look at my purple knee and cuss at every step I take, but its not my knee that preoccupies my thoughts right now. Yesterday, I saw a school garden that was in the best shape out of all the school gardens. The kids have really been working hard and it's showing. I wanted to teach them about fungus, insects, how to thin, how to clean, but standing in their garden all I could say was, "Great Job." So I discussed the possibility of making organic fertilizers and encouraged them to keep up the good work. At the women's group, I had an open discussion about their chickens and what we can do about the problems they are having. They all seemed really eager to work on improving their coops and next week we are going to make the chicken feed that I have already done with some of the groups. I'll admit that the chicken feed hasn't taken off like I hoped it would, but I'm really pushing it with the groups that have already made it and I think that my persuasion is beginning to take effect. Today, I spent the morning with a local pre-school, and can say with enthusiasm that I respect the teachers that work with small children. It was quite the learning experience, but it turned out to be great. Then the week culminated in the completion of my first eggshell water tank! These tanks are amazing. Without all the resources we are accustomed to in the States, it's really ingenious at how the tanks come into fruition. We mix all the cement by hand with freshly sifted sand into a concrete volcano of sorts which allows us to add water as needed. Then it's into the giant hole, which was hand dug and requires a ladder to enter and exit for the pasting of the dirt walls. After a few layers in the hole, a dome is constructed with a wooden floor and an impressive amount of sawdust, which is all covered by nylon sacks and chicken wire. The dome is reinforced with shredded nylon and chicken wire, mixed into the layers of concrete. It will catch rainwater off of the roof and fill up before the dry season, at which time a makeshift PVC pipe hand-pump will allow for the removal of water. Roberto, Joe, and I have been working on this tank for two weeks and this afternoon we put the final layers of concrete on the dome. In a Peace Corps world, one rarely gets the chance to see a finished product of such importance. This tank can hold up to 10,000 gallons of water, and it will support the family's water needs during the dry season. Seeing the actual tank being finished was one of the most rewarding experiences I've had so far. We, along with the family, made our marks in the wet concrete with smiles on our faces after a light-hearted but hard-worked day, and although my knee was killing me the whole time, it was the last thing on my mind. I finished something today, along with my co-workers and a Guatemalan family, that I could come back and see in twenty, thirty, or forty years from now. I'll be able to reach down and touch my weathered initials as I visit with Don Catalino about how his family is doing, who married who, where they are now, the harvest of last year's crop, and how we can't believe this tank has lasted all this time. It's the day's like today that keep me going, and I know it's been one of those weeks that I'll be able to look back on someday and say, "That was the time of my life."

Weird... I Thought This Would Be Weirder...

I am back in the land of chicken buses and latrines after a quick trip to Texas. I admit, I was a little nervous flying in. I was expecting some sort of culture shock being around all those iPhones, new cars, restaurants, hot water heaters, and flat screen TVs. I was expecting to have lost some common ground with old friends, thinking maybe my time here had changed me a little and that I wouldn't be able to relate to anyone anymore. Generally, I was expecting everything to just be really weird. As my plane flew into Texas, I looked out my window and thought about how long it had been since I'd seen U.S. soil, my family, and my friends. I started telling myself things like, "Don't make a scene in the airport," or "Hold it together. You've got this." Then the plane landed at DFW. It was almost instantly not weird at all... Suddenly, all those months that I had been gone felt like nothing. Everything that I had been missing sooo much, all the small things, again felt small. I did appreciate things more, but not quite like I was expecting. This all worried me a little bit, but I talked to an RPCV while I was home who told me that it really takes a couple of weeks for the weirdness to settle in. Overall, I had a great trip. It was busy, hectic at times, but it was great to see everyone. Thanks to Grey and Jessica, I was able to see friends from high school and college that I may not have gotten to see otherwise. After my nine days back home, I felt like I had just about seen everyone I could have possibly seen and done just about everything I could have done. In the blink of an eye, it was time to come back. Coincidentally, the day after I flew out Guatemala was hit with a slurry of natural disasters. Volcanoes, earthquakes, Tropical Storm Agatha, and (the most newsworthy in the States) the sinkhole in Guatemala City. I'd just like to mention here that the media in the States really disappointed me, not because there wasn't enough coverage of the things that were going on in Guatemala (I understand that we live in a big world), but the fact that the most newsworthy incident back home seemed to be the sinkhole (which did kill one person, but had absolutely no comparison to the devastation on Agatha). Anyways, I was unsure of what I might have been coming back too. On top of it all, I was more worried about the culture shock of coming back after being in the States, and what kind of effects that would have on me. The last thing I wanted was a post-vacation depression. My plane landed in Guatemala, and I was pleased to find that it was almost instantly not weird at all. I made a couple of new friends getting off the plane as I was trying to find out about micros to Antigua. Speaking Spanish after a nine day hiatus felt pretty good. Even the airport here has a uniquely Guatemalan feel to it that I didn't realize until I got back. I wish I could describe it better, but I think its one of those things that you just have to experience yourself. I guess it would be kind of like when I used to go on Christmas break during college. The drive back onto 19th Street in Lubbock always felt kind of relieving. Now I'm back here in Huehuetenango, talking to neighbors about the crazy weather, settling back in from a long trip, and it somehow feels like I never left... Weird... I want to say thanks to everyone I saw back in the States, it was great to see everyone! I also wanted to say "Next time!" to everyone I missed. I'm still a little tired from the journey, but I feel like my batteries did get a recharge in many ways. I'm looking forward to this week especially, and have a feeling that I'll hit the ground running tomorrow. This week's agenda: Rabbit Cages and Fungicides!

Believe, Believe

I don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression; that every day is a good one, that it’s easy being positive or optimistic all the time, or that everyone here is thrilled with my presence. Peace Corps is not an easy job sometimes. That might be due to the fact that it is a 24/7 gig. I’m doing Peace Corps when I get on a microbus that seats 15, but apparently can fit up to 28 (in my experience thus far). I’m doing Peace Corps when a 7 year old shoeless girl comes up to me on the street selling bracelets and scarves so she can get a hot meal, when she should be in a school somewhere. I’m doing Peace Corps when a man cuts in front of me at the window of a tienda (store), or when a woman pushes past me in the market to get her tomatoes. I'm doing Peace Corps when I'm too sick to go farther than 50 feet from my latrine. I'm doing Peace Corps when I'm homesick. To be honest, from time to time, you can get a little Peace Corps’d out. Some days and some moments will always stick out in a negative way. Occasionally, the difference you are trying to make can feel miniscule. I heard a story when I first came in about a couple of guys who did Peace Corps decades ago. They eventually returned to their old site to visit years later, and although by the end of their service the difference that they felt was made seemed small, they found that, with time, their impact had grown exponentially. I think the town had even named a bank or the main street after them. Peace Corps tries to prepare you for instances of low morale. To remember this lesson; that change can be a long slow process, or that after two years your difference may be immeasurable, but eventually can become something great, is really important in the day to day. I’ve been telling myself this when things get tough, and it’s been helping me keep things in perspective. I’ve really started to believe this too. If I can make a positive impact on one person, that impact can be shared with others. If I can change the tiniest of things for the better, that can create a domino effect. I may not see the difference when I leave, or even 5 to 10 years from now, but I’m sure that someday I will be able to see great changes taking place, and that my contribution helped. It’s a generational thing, I really believe that. The other thing I have learned is that, if you don’t believe this, you will drive yourself absolutely crazy... I'm doing just fine.

Goodbye Dust, Hello Mud...

Well, the rains have decided to grace us with its presence here in Guatemala once again, and let me tell you buddy, when it rains, it pours. This is really my first rainy season, although, when I arrived in country it was "technically" rainy season. The last one was a little peculiar, only raining once or twice a week as opposed to every day. This year, the rainy season began as I was leaving a women's group that was a 45 minute hike from my destination. At first, only a sprinkle. I thought, "This will be over soon." Then, little by little, the sprinkle turned into a torrential downpour. My site mate, Amy, was with me, along with her parents who were visiting from the States, and also were the only ones who thought to wear rain gear and bring umbrellas. Amy shared an umbrella with me, which proved almost completely useless below the midsection, for the hike down the mountain. At one point I looked over at Amy's Dad and said, "It's about 30 more minutes from here." To which, being of a Peace Corps background himself, he replied, "Only 30 minutes?" We lucked out 10 minutes later and caught a ride on a chance bus with 35 wide eyed Guatemalan men. When we got off, I left a puddle behind in my seat. The reason I was not decked out in rain gear on this day was because the rains came early this year. I believe mid-May is the appropriate time for the rains the check in, and this happened during the first week of April. It's been raining ever since. Not every day, but pretty frequently. I for one, welcomed the rains. My village, as I have mentioned, has one faucet to serve everyone. During March, the faucet became less and less reliable to the point of not giving more that a slow drip for two weeks. My family has a decent sized water tank that also was running on fumes. So, for the sake of my empty pila and pile of dirty dishes, the rains were great to see. Also, the dust had been relentless up to that point. There is still a layer caked on miscellaneous rarely used items in my house. This time of year is referred to as "invierno" (winter), although it isn't nearly as cold (no ice). It will last for roughly 6 months, with at least one break of 15 or more days in June (typically). I will soon begin planting vegetable gardens with all of my women's groups and schools, utilizing the compost we have been working on for the past three months. Amy and I will be working separately, combining different aspects of our program that compliment each other. I will be working with the gardens, chickens, and compost, while Amy will be teaching the women and children about nutrition (balanced diet, vitamins, minerals), and how to use the vegetables in the kitchen. With the coming of the rains, I can finally work towards fulfilling my projects goals, and I look forward to leaving my house every day (rain coat on my back and mud boots on my feet) to teach what I can to those who are willing to learn.

Oh Yeah, I Remember This!

It's funny how you can become accostumed to certain things. I've been sick for around a month straight now, which I feel is finally turning around. I suddenly have endless energy and motivation. I feel like running, jumping, flailing my arms about, and washing my dishes (which have piled up lately). I had forgotten what it felt like to feel normal, and now that I am almost there, normal is feeling so so good. I hope this trend continues! My "To Do List" can't take it anymore.

Hanging On

Life isn't always fun. Things aren't always fair. I can't always breath... At least as of lately. I've been quite ill. Bronchitis I believe, still not sure. For a spell, I thought it might have been pneumonia, and for a bit just an average cold. Nonetheless, I've been hacking up unholy globs of disgustingness for around three weeks, and combined with the wind, dust, pollution, and altitude, it's been taking quite the toll on my ability to transport myself up the slightest of inclines. This is fairly unfortunate because I happen to live near the top of one of these inclinations. I lose my breath pretty quickly, and so I breath faster and harder, which loosens a lot of things in my chest, which brings on a cough, which is like stirring the oxygen tanks in Apollo 13, which, if you remember, ruins the mission to the moon with a crippling explosion that leaves the crew struggling to breath. Only the crew of Apollo 13 had a team of brilliant MIT PhD's putting square pegs into round holes, building world class air filters out of tube socks and paper clips, and I am in Guatemala. I've got nurses I can call 24/7, who are one micro, one city bus, and three crowded chicken buses, that seat 36 but jam in 70, (6-7 hours) away from me. The trouble of getting to them would probably make things worse. Now, I don't want to worry anyone out there, I'm feeling better now and am confident that I'll be back in true form in the coming days. I just wanted to say, it's been a little rough lately. I can't even get excited about getting groceries. It's been nearly impossible to work because, 9 out of 10 times, that requires hiking and biking, which completely drains and destroys me. I feel like my counterpart, who has been understanding and supportive during this gripe fuerte (very strong cold), is beginning to get frustrated with me... That brings me to today.

This afternoon, there was supposed to be a meeting with the group in Los Angeles, i.e. my house. It was scheduled by Amy, who had to leave today for a training session at headquarters. I was supposed to take over, but my counterpart called me this morning and informed me that it had been cancelled, and that WE were going to another group, Nuevo Comunidad, close to my house, to make chicken feed from scratch. After that, I rested some more, and prepared myself by reading over all of my chicken stuff from training. I got to the group about a half hour late, still ahead of 90% of the women and Roberto. Its just plain bad integration to be on time anywhere in this country. After another half hour, however, all of the women had arrived and were ready, but still no Roberto. So I called him to see if he was close by. The conversation went a little something like this:

"Where are you?"
"I'm in Nuevo Pinal, there's a new group here."
"Really, so then it's just me here all by myself?"
"Yes."
"So what should I do?"
"Give a charla."
"I don't have a charla ready today, and all of the women brought ingredients for your chicken feed."
"Then make the chicken feed."
"Ok, I have a recipe here, tell me if it's the same: Corn, Beans, Bones, Eggshells, Salt, and Ash."
"No, it's different: Potatoes, Beans, Bones, Eggshells, Salt, Water, and Chicken Poop."
"Chicken poop?"
"Yes, week old chicken poop."
"Wait, wait, I'm confused, did you say chicken poop?"
"Yes, you mix it in."
"Well, how much of each ingredient should we use?"
"All of everything they brought."
"All of it?"
"Yes, all of it."
"Ok."
"Schedule the next meeting for 15 days (2 weeks, 8 days means one week here too, don't ask me why), and call me if you need help."
"That's Semana Santa, we have to wait another week"
"Ok, make it the week after."
"Ok."
"Ok."
"Ok, talk to you later."
"Good, take it easy."
"Thanks, you too."
"Bye, then."
"Bye."
"Take care"
"You too, bye."
"Bye..."

So I gathered the women around, who were just listening to the entire conversation. I explained that my recipe was a little different, so this was new for me, but similar enough to work. I had them add all the ingredients together, most of which have been ground down to powder, except the potatoes, which I had them hand mash. I explained to them what each ingredient was for as they added in in. "The potatoes," I said, "are for energy. The eggshells, bones, and ash are for the formation of minerals and rich in calcium. The beans are for muscle growth and strong eggs. The salt is for the nervous system. And, throw the chicken poop in your compost pile. I have no idea what that's for, but it can't be good." All of the women laughed and joked, they were all a little confused by it too, and suddenly the group was full of energy. We decided to leave the water out of the recipe too, and went outside to test it. The chickens had all roamed away to an empty pasture across some rock walls and the women began a chorus of chirps and random bird calls to lure in the unsuspecting hens. I threw a handful of our creation on the ground and the birds all walked past. Then one of the women did the same and after a minute or so the chickens all dove in. Thirty seconds later, they all backed off, rubbing their beaks on the ground and leaving much of the feed behind. The women laughed again as I explained why the chickens didn't like the feed. "You have to portion out all of the ingredients. It needs less bone and eggshell and more salt. We should have done that before, but Roberto did not have portion sizes in his recipe and in all the confusion, I forgot too." I gave them the proper portion sizes for each ingredient, and then I asked them how their chickens had been doing. "Not good," one woman said, "my chickens are dying. They have diarrhea and some have colds." I asked if their chickens had trouble "para hacer huevos" (which I thought meant making eggs, but it turns out means "to grow a pair" which got blushing giggles). "Si," they said, "para poner huevos es dificil a veces." I told them that I could vaccinate their chickens fairly cheap, but then I asked to see a chicken coop. "It's right there." I turned around to see a large wooden doll house on stilts with a makeshift chicken ladder leading to the door. There was no coop. In fact, it's like that almost everywhere in the cumbre. All of the chickens roam wild and free during the day, and perch in these tiny houses on stilts (and in at least one house I've visited, only in the trees) at night. This goes against everything we were taught during training. So today, amidst all the confusion, poor planning, and impromptu mayhem, a light bulb went off in my head. Amy is at headquarters taking classes on how to solicit funds and plan extensive projects. The people here can't afford to build proper chicken coops, and as a result have high mortality rates with their populations, basically losing money for not having it. Why not plan a project?!

So, with this new revelation, I'm going full steam ahead. I've got plenty of time and need a project to occupy it. Somehow, three lousy weeks and a potentially disastrous meeting turned into one of the better meetings I've had since I've been here, on top of maybe finding a project that is worthwhile for the long term. Something that could really help. Worry not my friends. Life isn't always fun. Things aren't always fair. And I may not be able to breath so well, but things are looking up just around the bend. I may have fallen off of one wave, but I can always catch another.

Honey, I'm Home!

Well, tomorrow will mark my 6 month anniversary of arriving in Guatemala. I will head off to Reconnect to meet with my entire training class in Santa Lucia so we can have more technical training, Spanish classes, and discuss our first 3 months in site. It's sort of a Peace Corps milestone, and to talk about a recent milestone of my own, I must first backtrack a tad. On August 12th, my plane left American soil for Guatemala. Nerve racking enough as the plane ride was for me, being only a world traveler through encyclopedias, having rarely left the ground, and having never left the country, I was still optimistic (scared half to death with a smile on my face). I kept a journal almost obsessively at first, and it just so happens that I passed the time on my flight by writing. I will momentarily delve into the private sanctuary which is my journal with an excerpt from the flight.

"After Staging, Alex, Jared, Stephen, Micheal, and I went out for some classic American food (instead of Thai like most of the others) for our last meal at a place called Stan's. Among the items ordered were jalapeno poppers, cheese sticks, chili, burgers and fries, and fish that smelled overwhelmingly but apparently was delicious. Afterwards, I went back to my room and caught a couple hours of sleep before waking up for our 1:30 AM checkout. Peace Corps has a 4-hours-early-to-the-airport policy. We arrived two hours before it was even open. The bright side is that we got to mingle and bond. I've only been with these people for 24 hours and I already feel like I know some of them very well. I am excited and anxious about the next few days, but I am most of all confident that things will work out well for me, which is a great feeling. I was even able to carry my guitar on all three flights! Right now I am going from Miami to Guatemala City, running on a few lousy hours of sleep, but too excited to get anymore..."

Then the plane landed on the tarmac. Suddenly there was a buzz about the air, a very unfamiliar buzz. Everyone stood up and began rapidly firing off Spanish. I immediately came to the harsh realization that I couldn't speak a word. Even my fellow trainee two seats away from me stood up and joined in on the conversations. I first thought to myself, "She knows Spanish?" My next thought was, "What have I got myself into?" The next three days were a complete blur. Six months later, almost to the day, I hit a milestone. I, yes I, gave a series of relatively complicated directions to a far away lake, in Spanish, to a Guatemalteco and his family. "Stay on this road. You will go through 4 curves and then you will drive straight for another minute or two. When you see a yellow house on the left, take a left, and then your first right. Follow this road until there is another right and take it. This road will take you to a sign that says "Laguna Magdalena 15km" and you will take a left there. That is as far as I know." Granted I have no idea whether that family made it to the lake that day, but regardless, I was proud of my directions. Especially in a country where you can ask four people for directions until you end up back where you started. The best feeling about it all, however, was that I finally felt like I was home. Not my home in the sense of home, because nothing can replace that feeling of walking into the house you grew up in, to your family, dogs, photos, or that familiar smell, but a different kind of home. I live here now! I've been here for three months, I've got 21 left, and this is now my home. My little two room, cinder block, tin roofed, uninsulated home. When I ride my bike through the mountains, people yell, "David" instead of "Gringo." Well, I still get gringo calls, but I am hearing more and more David's these days. I've been invited to birthday parties, celebrated Christmas in a small room with 40 strangers (who accepted me as one of their own for the holidays), and have seen simple "Good afternoons" turn into hour long conversations until "I have to go before the sun sets." I can't promise that things will always be this good, or that I will always be positive or happy here. I will, though, heed the advice of the volunteer I replaced. He told me to, "Ride the wave." That is what I'm going to do. Hang-ten.