the edit version

Ite, some of you I think already received this. It has been edited for more crass coommentary as my sponsor is on the email list. Gotta love when our development money is going to cut down forest next to a national park to make cattle pasture, yep. I am tired of hippies too. they are all over the place here, hanging out, and talking about stuff they know nothing about. a little long, but worth it. Good luck getting to that wedding Jon and getting back...


Last week I spent on the Rio Dulce, and literally spent a good half of my time on it boating around. The Rio Dulce is a river that exits into the Caribbean and is at the moment half salt water/half fresh water. Rich Guatemalans have bought up most of the “river” front, but you still have the occasional hold out, so you have large mansions next to shacks which look like they ready to fall off their stilts and into the river at any moment. The area is mostly populated by indigenous of Mayan ancestry and reminded me of Panama; hot, rainy, and sweaty. While there, I visited three communities where Trickle Up (for whom I am interning, www.trickleup.org) has projects with the organization, Ak’Tenamit. Ak’Tenamit (AT) is interesting as it is almost all composed of indigenous workers and is currently run by a 23-year old. AT was started by a Gringo 25-years ago and has since grown substantially. It now runs a vocational school (where the 23-year old graduated from) for 370 students and has a multi-year and million dollar contracts to provide health services for the ministry of health and community organization development funded by the Danes. They are new to the Trickle Up program, so there was plenty of work to do.

One highlight was supposed to be a traditional Mayan celebration, but was more the locals getting partying. It probably didn’t help that I had the Giardhea (sp?) and had only eaten a couple of pieces of bread in three days and plenty of 7-Up. The same Giardhea hit my travel partner, but as our counterparts from AT said the community especially requested our appearance for the ceremony, we agreed to attend. We though that it would occur soon after are early evening arrival and that we would be soon off to a restful sleep, but that was not to be had. The ceremony wouldn’t start until 11ish and not finish until mid-night we were eventually informed, so we requested a place to sleep/rest before arising again for the ceremony. They set us up with hammocks in a neighboring shell of a future or past house. Unbeknownst to us, they had us set up our hammocks in what became the nursery and later the cafeteria. First as I settled to get some rest, a women set up her hammock right next to me and laid down what must have been a toothing baby because it didn’t stop crying for a good hour. That was from 9-10pm. Two small girls also decided to lay down right under my hammock, so I almost stepped on them went to exit the hammock at 11pm when I had set my alarm. The ceremony was a bust as it was just the locals sitting around a drinking with our counterparts. There was some incense burned and an older gentlemen circled the store sprinkling water and chanting a bit, but that took all of 5-minutes, during which the rest of their men continued on their mission to get drunk. After realizing I had seen the ceremony I returned to my hammock, 11:30pm. At 12:30pm I was awoken again by my now semi-drunk counterpart announcing another meal. As groggily watched, a table was brought in and bowls of chicken soup were placed on it. Once the table was full of bowls, all of the semi-drunk men grabbed a bowl and started eating, tossing the chicken bones to the ground in the normal chicken eating manner. They eventually finished their food and exited allowing me and my partner to lay down once again. That lasted all of an hour before the pigs and dogs arrived to scavenge the strewn chicken bones. Pigs rooting around are not quiet and neither one of us had the energy to chase them off, so I laid awake listening to the dogs and pigs battle for the chicken scraps for another hour. Finally, to sleep around 2am only to be awoken at 5am by my now fully drunk counterpart to rise and start hiking to catch our 6am launch, that of course arrived an hour late. That is a night that I won’t soon forget and as my travel partner stated, is why he earns comp time while in the field.

I sit here in bed with a full stomach. I ate some kind of Guatemalan “taco”, or at least that is what the lady told me it was. It looked nothing like a Mexican or US taco. It had been fried and was filled with potatoes and meat and covered with salsa, cilantro, and crumbled queso blanco. I added to that a chicken tostada and two cups of some kind of sweet warm corn drink. I only wanted one cup, but she gave me two and charged me for two, so there I was the Gringo double fisting styrofoam glasses of sweetened corn meal. In general, I am tired of the food as it mostly consists of corn tortillas and beans. I am a fan of beans, but I prefer mine with rice. Breakfast consists of eggs, beans, and tortillas. I have eaten eggs for breakfast the last two weeks. Today’s variation was ranchero, or covered in a tomato salsa. Probably my favorite variation so far. The orange juice wasn’t the fresh kind I usually get at other locations and more of the SunnyD variety, which I am not a fan of.

Since I have arrived, I feel like I have seen a good portion of the country. I started out by staying in Antigua, which is Gringo(a) central (Gringo(a) for those of you who don’t know is Central American’s name for those from the US, not to be confused with Canadians). We pass each other in the streets trying not to notice each other, but it is pretty hard when a third of the population seems to have white skin, not brown skin like the Chapines, or Guatemalans. Antigua is supposed to be a great place to learn Spanish, so there are 20 or so Spanish schools and with it being summer break, there seem to be plenty of college aged kids down to brush up on their Spanish and get some culture. Most of the culture though has been sucked out and what is left is the typical Westernized pseudo culture that permeates other formerly culturally beautiful cities or spots in Central America. Not that I don’t find using the Wifi very convenient in the Bagel Barn while munching on my pesto bagel, but with every other store front being an internet café or travel agency, the town quickly loses any originality. That was my first weekend and I returned there for another couple of days as it was where my partner wanted to stay.

I am now in the town of Coban though, a much more Guatemalan town as the weather fouler, which keeps away the Gringos. I am staying at Posada Don Pedro, which occupies a corner. I have a huge room to myself with three other beds and I think actually the whole Posada, less Don Pedro and his family which occupies one side of the building. There is a nice courtyard with the requisite fountain and where the laundry hangs. The bathroom is shared and the hot water is courtesy of the suicide shower variety water heater (attaches to the shower head and heats on the spot). The suicide shower at my hotel in Antigua actually gave me a decent electric current through the shower nob if I wanted to change the temperature or turn it off. I had to be pretty quick about it. Don Pedro is charging a whopping $5.50/night, the best deal I have found so far. The laundry service thought isn’t a deal at roughly $.70/pound. As half of my clothes are still semi-humid with sweat, I don’t feel like I am getting a deal even though they fold your laundry for you. I have searched for coin operated machines, but I guess they don’t trust guests with their own laundry.

Coban is in the coffee country. I haven’t seen the countryside yet, but that will be tomorrow and the next day as I will be out working or visiting the villages. The area is known as the world’s leading cardamom spice producer. Town is 80% indigenous with most of them selling food from little stall or just baskets from the sidewalks. Unfortunately, I took an extra long siesta yesterday and missed the crowning of the town senorita, which had promised to be quite the beauty pageant. Today was spent cheering on the US team in the Gold Cup final with who I think is Don Pedro. The Chapines don’t like the Mexicans and were all cheering for the US.

The week before last week was spent with my direct report at Trickle Up being introduced and touring the other projects there are. I saw some of the poorest people I have ever seen. Hurricane Stan, similar to our Katrina as I understand it (same year at least, 2005), washed their village down the mountain side. The government or some official agency decided on top of the mountain would be a good place for them, so now they live in the clouds at 8000ft. The landscape is very eerie as it is barren from them having cleared it for fire wood and to plant the milpa, or beans and corn. “Town” was set up by all the big relief agencies: CARE, Mercy Corp, World Food Program, USAID, and UNDP. It has square blocks and everyone’s house is the same, less some individuality that is now starting to creep into the buildings. Think US cookie cutter suburbia, less the McMansions and more like 10x15 block buildings where 8 people live squeezed. The people were remarkably resilient though and are making a go of it. The Trickle Up seed capital is going to be invested by the women in thread and material so they can weave the traditional blouses that they will then sell. For coming to visit they made us chicken soup. The most amusing thing was that they bought us cans of Pepsi as refreshment. A luxury to them, but the last thing I wanted to drink. Ah, American consumerism. There I am in a displaced person’s camp, one of the far and poorest corners of the earth, and Pepsi had arrived…

Finding a humorous note in their situation from some USAID tarping. I assume it was originally supposed to be used as walls for structures, but was now being used for many different things. Under the large USAID brand which was stamped every two feet on the tarp was written in English, “Donated by the American people.” Less then 10% of the population spoke Spanish and maybe .1% a couple of words of English. A great example of what I learned in one class… that the US’s motives are often grand and just, we just screw up the details and execution.

Other than getting to see a ton of different development projects, one of the coolest parts is that the people are so grateful for the help, that they usually give you a meal as that is their way of showing appreciation. As most or subsistence farmers, the food is home made and quite tasty. Some even give elaborate weavings (nothing to valuable, but still very interesting). Of course it is nice to receive things, but as I didn’t donate the money nor do any of the trainings to help them start the building, it is a little awkward.