Weeks 7 & 8 Panajachel/ Goodbye to Guatemala

On the way up to Pana, I remember thinking there was no way that this place was going to eclipse my amazing experience in Xela. After pulling off to the side of the road to stop at the mesmerizing Lake Atitlan, my doubts were momentarily silenced. We arrive to the town with streets bustling with markets at every inch, street-side restaurants at every corner and gringos from all over the world. As it always is with Team Esperanza, we immediately engage in a provocative discussion with what we want to eat that night. The possibilities were really endless but we finally decided to settle down with this nice Uruguayan restaurant that has an awesome ambience—a pianist playing frank Sinatra, completely open air, endless garlic bread portions and last but not least a server named Raul who would sneak up behind me and yell “CHINO!” If you’ve been reading my blog, you probably know by now that I have become legitimately numbed to that word. Honestly, I don’t mind as long he keeps the huge portions for me going—we even ended up eating lunch together on my last day in Pana.

Kids on the street of Santander

The minute we sit down at the Uruguayan restaurant, a mentally challenged boy approaches us with about 20 woven bracelets in his hand. 5 queztaesl, he says. I smile and mumble a no gracias. Ten minutes later, he is still there except this time he is desperately saying “un queztal, por fa por fa” and now continues to ask for a smoothie, a sandwhich, and basically everything on the menu. We left that restaurant thinking this boy was perhaps the most annoying kid we had ever met. Turns out that this similar interaction would happen almost a hundred times throughout the next few days.

After about the third day, I was thoroughly desensitized—I ignored venders and kids when they spoke to me and waved my hand as if I felt molested. I was able to happily stroll the streets of Santander towards my morning coffee. Then I think it was one night where we found that very same boy sleeping in an atm machine at around 10 p.m. where I really just started to feel uncomfortable with myself—with the way these interactions were going. How could I forget that as christians, we’re called to be in relationships…with God and each other. I have yet to totally form and articulate my thoughts about this subject...talk to me later.


Desensitization and disconnection in San Ann.

We arrive to San Antonio on campaign day early morning to set up when an older lady suddenly falls hard on her side a few meters from us. We stand there in shock as she writhes and contorts her body around on the dirt floor. Petrified, we look up to see women on the streets in their guipiles gesticulating to their heads and waving their fingers. “No. No ayude, su cabeza es mala.” Basically, what they meant was not to help this lady—she was mentally ill and apparently did this often. We finally noticed that her fall had been worse than expected, a pool of blood already about a foot in diameter was forming underneath her body. What the fuck, I’m sure all of us were thinking. Still the villagers were shaking their heads telling us to back off, leave her alone. Amanda immediately knelt down and grabbed her hand while I ran to the farmacia with Annie to get hydrogen peroxide and lots of bandage wrap.

Cleaning the wound, I was inundated with thoughts of incredulity…but more than that, confusion. What was wrong with these people. What had happened to this close knit community, it doesn’t matter if this lady was mentally ill. Later we found out that this lady was prone to seizures and one time even fell into the fire while making tortillas. I remembered learning about the power of social pressures and how they can lead to desensitization in psych ap. The lesson had radically materialized here before our very eyes, the whole town had deemed the lady “loco” and was ready to ignore her and possibly even let her bleed to death. The incident reinforced the idea for me that I have to continually think for myself—to see things through my own perspectives. More importantly, I have to never stop treating people…well, like people. Needless to say, this was not one of our greatest campaign days.

CrediCapaz & Grameen bank

As most of you already know, chris, pav and I have poured in hours and hours over these past few weeks into our modified ROSCA savings model. When Greg approached us and told us that he was planning on launching our first cycle on September 1st, the model really came alive for us. This was something real, something tangible that was going to happen. I don’t know, it feels unreal to actually have contributed something—after years and years in academia, to actually derive something out of our education, our in-depth analysis and our effort and translate it into something that can make a substantial economic impact to the rural constituents of Guatemala. I definitely am going to be emailing SolCom in the coming weeks to find out the progress of CrediCapaz. I’m staying involved for as long as they let me!

Rewind about a week and there we were: me, Chris, pav, and Annie in the headquarters of Grameen Bank, Guatemala branch! (for those of you who don’t know, Grameen Bank is the first microfinance institution started in Bangladesh by Muhammad Yunus). We had a very intriguing conversation with the regional manager about microfinance, its scope, success indicators, and the formation of solidarity groups among the villagers. It was effin’ awesome.

The conclusion of Team Esperanza
It’s funny to think that after you spent every day of 2 months with the same 8 people, you will suddenly probably never see them again. Heading back to Antigua to rejoin the 20 or so other SEC interns for our final week in Antigua, it finally hit us that this was it for Esperanza, the craziest and greatest team on the face of this earth (half joking). There is literally too many memories to list here—from all those nights at the club where we went f*cken NUTS to Calle Ocho, to the 7 hour car rides where we never had a boring minute. I’ll never forget these guys, they were honestly some of the most zealous, brightest, dedicated, and charismatic individuals I have even worked with. I love California, there’s no other state like it, but as the only west coaster out here with Hannah, some part of me almost wishes that I went to school or lived in the East so I could see some of these guys again. Chris, Pav, Annie, Amanda, Kaveh, Tracey, Marjorie, siempre están en mi Corazón!.

Guate Guate, te amo.

8 weeks flew by like no other. I blinked twice, and it was over. The next thing I know, Hannah and I am sitting there in Miami International among LCD screens and English speakers with a hotdog and bag of chips in our hands. I’m going to miss everything about Guatemala, the good and the bad. The perpetual volcanoes and mountains layered across the blue skies, pollo buses, churrascos, the anarchy of the roads, the bucket baths, reggatone, bargaining at the markets, Yolanda (Antigua homestay mom), Isolina (nebaj homestay mom), Xelapan, Jeffrey, Gallo.

Torrance Blues

I touch down in LAX and finally reunite with my family and friends. I ate delicious Chinese sea food, had coffee with Rob, zhich, funyun, Elena, shayna. The reunion was happy times, but I can’t ever remember feeling so out of place in my life. The only way I can describe it is….right now, everything is just.... muted. The conversations, the 405 traffic, the restaurants. I feel like Frodo Baggins when he finally returns to the shire after his entire quest to destroy the ring and just feels incredibly out of place in midst of the normalcy and the merriness of his old town. "How do you pick up the pieces of an old life? How do you go on? When in your heart you begin to understand, there is no going back."

I guess the question is what to do I do now? I can’t seem to “just chill” like I thought I would be able to. I have about a month till Cal, not enough time to get a job. I’ll probably spend some part of the day reading books, studying some Spanish ( I have enrolled in Spanish 3), to IV leadership summer reading, spend time in prayer, try to figure out how to mobilize kids at cal to make a social impact overseas.

And so here ends the story of my summer in Guatemala. About 2 months ago, I was a depressed and parasite infected boy having diarrhea in my bathroom stall who would give almost anything to be back in the states. Now I can proudly look back and say…it was worth it, holy crap, it was so worth it. Thanks everyone who followed this blog, for the prayers, for the thoughts, for the support. I hope that some of you, through vicariously experiencing my trip to Guatemala will be encouraged to venture out and explore! Get uncomfortable, ] and push yourselves out to the uncharted. I don’t just mean to a foreign country, but just throughout life in general. Take risks, live passionately, get diarrhea!

un abrazo,
Iueh

NUMBERS

50+ The number of times that we saw something so ridiculously absurd that all we could say was “It’s Guate”
50+ The number of times a Guatemalan has pointed incredulously at me and said “CHINO!”
6 The amount of toilets I clogged in Guatemala
15+ The amount of toilet rolls I ended up finishing in my homestay in Guatemala
100+ The number of times Calle Ocho or Te Amo was played on the chicken buses in Antigua.
2 number of visits to Antigua Hospital
30+ Amount of meals consisting purely of beans and tortilla
60+ Amount of ice creams consumed either from Pollo Campero or Saritas. (notice multiply ice creams a day)
50+ Amount of soda bottles consumed(many places cheaper than clean water).
10+ Hikes to beautiful caves, waterfalls, crystalline spring waters, hot springs, etc.
1 Marriage Proposal
3 Drunken sunday homestay parties
1 late night skinny dipping session