FBT

 

 

 

Pictures from FBT

 

 

 

Pictures from FBT

 

 

 

 

Field Based Training

So, I’ve just returned from Field Based Training, which was quite an interesting experience, to say the least. As a group, we left around 7:45 on Tuesday to get to the department of Sololá before 11 AM to meet with a PC Volunteer stationed there. Miraculously, we were on time, despite various delays en route, which included land slide road blocks and one prolonged stop at the Burger King drive through (which is quite popular here, I might add.)

We arrived at the hostel, where all sixteen of the sustainable agriculture volunteers (eight of marketing and eight of food security) were housed for the week, set our stuff down and set off to explore the market in the capital city of the department, as it was a market day. Market day typically happens two to three times per week depending on the size of the city, and since we were in the capital, the market was particularly extensive. Exploring the market in Sololá, which was not too different from the market in Antigua, with which I’m more familiar, one can find everything from live chickens to custom made indigenous garb to dried fish to pirated DVDs. The motto of one of the staple stores in my old town of Waconia – Duebers - comes to mind: “If we don’t have it, you don’t need it.” I’ll be sure to include pictures when I get a chance.

At this market, I first encountered the male version of traje – or indigenous dress (Tra – Hey). Previously I’d been told that it was very uncommon to see men in traje, but not only was it there in an overwhelming presence; there was a proportionate lack of Spanish. Most of the people were spitting back and forth in K’aqchiquel, the majority Mayan dialect of Solola (there are 22 recognized dialects in all of Guatemala). I’m told that each region’s traje is distinct, and that each is particularly proud of its own version. I witnessed this first hand in one of the small villages in which we were working when I encountered a crucified Jesus Christ donning the regional traje of Sololá in a Catholic Church.

We got a chance to work with some of the small producers that were so common in the market on Wednesday, when the Marketing Group gave four successive charlas, or presentations, to a local co-op of K’aqchiquel farmers. My own topic, “What is Added Value?,” entailed discussion of sanitation and packaging, and was geared towards gaining higher prices for their respective harvests. Apparently it wasn’t as riveting as I had anticipated it would be; I had two shameless sleepers, in the front row nonetheless. But it could’ve been worse, I suppose.

Aside from our presentations, we were set to harvest onions and prepare them for export, to get our hands dirty, but unfortunately that never panned out because when we went to meet with our willing farmer, he was nowhere to be found. Instead we readied ourselves to blanket the nearby tourist hub of Panajachel to speak with managers and owners about their current vegetable purchasing and to probe the interest in local products from the surrounding villages. That was actually pretty cool, I must say. As pairs of gringos, we were pretty well received and it was good Spanish practice. My partner and I made it to about ten hotels and restaurants before our progress came to a screeching halt with the arrival of a heavy rain

As a group, we stayed in Panajachel to watch the debate, which, despite our location in the middle of Central America, hours removed from even the center of politics in country, was displayed with a projector on an entire wall of the bar while all other noises were silenced. Needless to say, it was a pretty big event in Panajachel that night.

Now, I’m back in my town, in my own bed and thankful for three square meals a day.
Until next time..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Field Based Training

As I mentioned before, I’m headed to Field Based Training this week, at a Volunteer site near Lake Atitlán, a huge tourist attraction in Guatemala. It’s basically a normal lake, but (and excuse the bad grammar) way awesome-r. It’s surrounded by volcanoes (of which there seems to be abundance in Guatemala). I’ll be sure to include pictures once I get back.

Atitlán is in the province of Sololá, which is largely composed of indigenous populations. The tourist city on the lake is Panajachel, where I plan to be making a stop. The lake is also known to have several hippie communities in San Pedro, an area which is, not surprisingly, off limits to us.

Aside from the excitement of the impending Field Based Training, my group of 8 marketing volunteers was told the 8 sites we’ll be receiving October 9th – remember this date, because it’ll either be a day of celebration or a day I’ll need to be talked down from the ledge (as my dad puts it) depending on my assignment. These 8 sites are as follows, 3 in the department of Chimaltenango (only an hour and a half from the office/relative civilization), and one in each of the following departments: Huehuetenango(8 hours), El Quiche (made famous by Rigoberta Menchu, 6-7 hours), Quetzaltenango(10 hours), San Marcos(10 hours) and Alta Verapaz (5-6 hours). Though these names may not mean much to you now, they all scream one thing to me: lack of Spanish speakers. So, at this point in my training I’m a little nervous about my sight assignment. It mainly depends on the nature of the site, not necessarily its geographical location. If I’m assigned to a village site, it’ll be very different from a city or a suburb. But, looking on the bright side, there aren’t many things that will further differentiate my resume from others than fluency in a Mayan dialect. Although, oddly enough, this provides me very little consolation.

Lastly, my individual marketing project has officially taken flight. I’ve been working with my host mom to start a jam-making business and we made our first batches of Pineapple Carrot and Strawberry Jam to sell this weekend. As I have very little jam making experience, (Wait, who am I kidding? None whatsoever) I felt like the blind leading the blind. I figured anything with lots of sugar was sure to sell, so I erred on the side of very, very sweet. Luckily, it came out very well and sold quickly. But, I suspect competition. I have reason to believe that one of my site mate’s sisters has taken a liking to our idea and is planning to make her own jam and undercut our price. I’ll report back after an undercover investigation. Sabotage might be in order. Just kidding.

Or am I?
Until next time..

Urban vs Rural

Waking up to an abnormally torrential rain this morning, my site mate and I had to trek all the way to the bus station, and as I am still waiting on my pair of rain boots (on their way from California as we speak, I hope) the only defense I had against the characteristically Guatemalan weather was a chinsy TIGO (one of three Guatemalan phone carriers, possibly the most obnoxious) umbrella, that I received for free with the purchase of my chinsy TIGO telephone, together with a very thin rain jacket that I brought with me in case of stuck-up-the-river-without-a-paddle type of situations. I’ve now come to use that jacket almost every day while also fully exploiting that free umbrella - definitely beyond the use that it was meant to withstand. Come to think of it, I’ve also been using a Claro (the second largest phone carrier) lunch bag to bring homemade lunches to the training center and Aura’s got a few Movistar (the third) shirts that she wears pretty often. I suppose the promotional products abound in these parts as incentive to the country folk to purchase strange products from the city (like cell-phones and stoves) and the savvy Guatemalans take full advantage of them.

I don’t mean to complain at all; it’s just that this experience seemed almost metaphoric after a day trip to the capital. I found myself subconsciously comparing the city life of Guate to the suburban life of San Juan Alotenango (only about an hour and fifteen minutes away by car) and even the rural life of a few other towns I’ve passed through – none of which, I must note, even compare to the true rural Guatemala in terms of poverty and indigenous populations.

In Guate today, our field trip consisted of a visit to the Ministry of Agriculture, a government agency in which we met with an inspector charged with doling out sanitary certifications. He was very helpful and answered plenty of our questions about obtaining a sanitation license, and the process of preparing operations for an inspection. After that, we had a quick lunch at a typical Guatemalan eatery (in one of the many forbidden parts of the city) and took a trip to a private export organization (that had its evident financial success prominently displayed throughout the building). Afterwards, we headed as a group to Paiz, a Guatemalan grocery chain bought by Wal-Mart in 2005, to do some research in preparation for our Field Based Training next week.

Although I had been to another Paiz supermarket a few weeks ago when we first went to the capital, this particular visit was a cold bucket of water dumped on my tiny little match of excitement [at readily available M&Ms].

Now, I’ll break it down for you in the best way I know how; straight numbers. Let’s start with my own pay; I won’t be bashful about it, maybe “pay” isn’t the best word. Stipend, we’ll say. Peace Corps gives my host family 60 Quetzals a day (The exchange rate is somewhere around Q7.5 to $1) which covers my room and meals. Additionally, I get Q26 as “walk-around” money. In Alotenango, a can of Diet Coke costs about Q4, a pound of black beans costs about Q7 and a hardy meal in a small restaurant will run you about Q20. So, I don’t have a whole lot of leeway there, it’s pretty easy to spend all my money in one place (but I have all my meals provided and haven’t eaten this well in years, just to be clear). Now, let’s look at the average Guatemalan salary: the minimum daily wage is about Q40/day (which doesn’t include the room and board that PC graciously provides for me) with which the average Guatemalan has to pay for utilities, water, food, private school for their children, and transportation. For that amount, the Paiz supermarket can offer you these things: a 12 oz jar of JIF, ½ kg of locally roasted coffee beans or a small container of freshly baked cookies from the bakery. For the same price, you could get frivolous and opt for a bagel sandwich from the deli, a Cosmopolitan Magazine or, if you’re really feeling crazy, roll-on deodorant.

The point is, I walked into Paiz, took a quick glance at the prices and immediately thought, who can afford this? It’s not that the prices are too far from those in the US, they’re probably pretty similar. But, the compensation here doesn’t even come close. An average laborer scrapes to support his family and he’s lucky if his home has a front door that locks and a hot shower. And, I know for a fact that there are still large fincas (plantations, if you will) that pay much less than Q40/day. But at Paiz, you can buy a 1 kg gourmet bag of coffee for more than the amount of money that a family of four spends on a week’s worth of food (I know because I sneakily keep track of Aura’s expenses at the market). The reality of the situation here is that there a stark division between the rural way of life and the way of the city. And, I’m just saying, it’s not like the city is even glamorous. I mean, yeah you can buy basically anything you need, but it’s pretty hectic and dirty, not to mention thoroughly commercial and extremely dangerous.

Analyze this situation as you like, but at this point I’d take my village over Guate any day of the week.

Until next time..

Independence Day

So I write to you all today on Guatemala’s Independence Day, a grand occasion if I’ve ever seen one, I must say. On this day in 1821, Guatemala declared its independence from Spain, entering into country-hood only 55 years, two months and eleven days after the United States of America. In the past week or so, many of my discussions with Guatemalans and fellow trainees alike have centered on the festivities surrounding this national day of celebration. Thus, it’s been brought to my attention just how little people know about OTHER countries’ independence.

Take me for example. Until a few years ago, it never occurred to me that not only was U.S. Independence Day not celebrated elsewhere, but that other countries (even Canada and Mexico, go figure) had their own, distinct independence days. I’ve since learned to distinguish national holidays, like Thanksgiving, from global holidays by envisioning the history taking place as they were taught in elementary school. For instance, when I picture the Pilgrims and the Indians, decked out in their respective buckled hats and feathered headbands, sitting down to a bountiful cornucopia, I can’t imagine it happening anywhere else in the world. (Now, as to whether or not the history actually happened that way, who’s to say?) Many of the trainees agreed that we hadn’t considered the idea of another country’s independence, because even though we may have learned about a few here and there, they were never significant enough to warrant a celebration that rivaled the 4th of July.

Now, for an example from the Department of Sacatepéquez, Guatemala - a town not far from Alotenango where a friend of mine is stationed. He lives with a very nice, and for the most part, in-the-know family. When he broached the topic of independence with his host father, a very proud Guatemalan national, naturally the first question the man had was, “So, do you celebrate the 15th of September in the United States?” My friend, being the culturally sensitive and well coached trainee he is, noted that although we do not celebrate Guatemalan Independence Day on the 15th of September, we do celebrate the day of our own independence, July 4th. He went on to say, “Every year on the 4th of July, the US celebrates the anniversary of the day it declared independence from...” Here, his host father didn’t miss a beat; “ah yes, from Hitler.”

My friend, speechless at this apparent confusion, politely corrected him, “Actually, the U.S. declared independence from England. We were once a colony of theirs.” He went on to say, “Our first president George Washington,” and his host father stopped him again to clarify, “you mean, George Bush?” From here, I think the conversation quickly dissolved, mostly due to the imposing language barrier. But, I don’t doubt that he was happy to use the language deficiency crutch to excuse himself from that situation.

So, in an ongoing effort to overcome my own cultural ignorance and integrate myself into Guatemalan culture, tonight I accompanied my site mate and his host family to a celebration of Independence – the Antorcha, a spectacle of sorts. Towns from all over the country rally their schools to put together a group of runners to represent themselves, with several students carrying a banner bearing the town’s name and one or two more carrying lit torches. They travel from town to town in school buses, stopping just outside the town to get off, running en masse through the town, soliciting cheers and, more frequently, buckets of water from the crowds gathered around the main streets. Even as a spectator you’re lucky to come out dry - so, I wore my raincoat. Regardless, I was happy to sip some arroz con leche (a hot Guatemalan beverage like Rice Pudding) on a cool night while watching the sporadic stream of runners. It was nice to blend in a little, or at least try. I’m still a gringa..

Until next time..

Leanrning about (very) recent conflict

I’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t found the time or the energy to write. With impending training deadlines and projects due, I’ve been going a little crazy. Although, several occurrences, very representative of Guatemala so far, have happened in the past week, so - I’ve had plenty of things to mull over and have been eager to share them.

First, last week we were fortunate enough to get permission from the Peace Corps to visit Guatemala City (with chaperones of course), or Guate, as you would say to appear as less of a foreigner. (With blond curly hair and pale skin, it’s kind of a long shot as it is, but I’ve got to try :) ) Due to safety concerns, we were only allowed in to see the two obnoxiously large and modern malls, situated next door to each other and a few important landmarks. From the malls we took a taxi – forbidden to ride the public transportation within the city – to the US Embassy. After getting a good look at the façade of the building, we took a short walk to the hospital we patronize as volunteers. From there, we took another taxi directly back to the malls, where we had a classic Guatemalan lunch in, yes you guessed it, the food court. Most people ate, of all things, Taco Bell. I had a good laugh about that.

After the exciting trip to Guate on Monday of last week, we had a full day of training on Tuesday which entailed a technical session with David, the marketing trainer with impeccable, but pitchy English – a very funny combination if you’re ever lucky enough to hear it, a health session devoted entirely to, and I’m going to put this nicely, gastrointestinal concerns, a security advisory session regarding incident reporting and a video about the very recent internal conflict in Guatemala.

The war to which I’m referring ended – on paper – in 1996, which, to me, seems unfathomably recent. I’ve never witnessed a war first hand, (I’ll reserve all possible comments about George Bush’s War on Terror.) Quickly generating an interest in the subject, I borrowed a memoir titled “Searching for Everardo: A story of Love, War and the CIA in Guatemala.” To sum up the book, a middle aged human rights advocate fell in love with a Guerilla Commander in the volcanoes of Guatemala while interviewing female guerillas on their struggle (to write her other book, “Bridge of Courage”). The unlikely pair married and spent two short years together in and out of Guatemala, Mexico and Texas. When the commander returned to Guatemala to resume leadership of his troop of guerillas, he was captured and tortured for over a year before being confirmed dead by the Guatemalan Army. In the process of trying to find him and have him either released or confirmed dead, in a little over three years she staged one seven day hunger strike and then a longer one lasting 32 days outside the ministry of defense building in the capital - during which she receives very little support from the US and even less from Guatemala. Ultimately she received confirmation of his death and has since launched a foundation in his name benefiting guerillas and indigenous rights in general.

When my host dad, Jaime, saw that I was reading Searching for Everardo, asked me my own position on the war and U.S. Politics in general. I was embarrassed at how little I knew. He then went on to tell me that amidst the decades- long struggle of the civil war, his family, of K’aqchiquel indigenous descent, had an evacuation plan which was basically composed of a hole covered by a rug in the back yard in case of Army invasion. Scary, right?

It really puts things into perspective for me, being a guest in this country that has suffered such recent political, military and social conflict. I couldn’t possibly understand why the McDonalds is staffed with a shotgun-armed guard or why we’re not allowed on the public buses in the capital. So, I listen to Peace Corps –as much as I feel like I’m on a leash. Other than that, I make sure I’m home before dark and try to soak up as much as possible while I can.

Until next time..

Field Trips Galore

This weekend began like any other; without reprieve from the ever-vocal roosters or the incessant tortilla slapping. But it continued in a pleasant fashion. The four of us in my site were lucky enough to receive a lesson in making tire gardens (the ingenious solution to the lack of land space for personal gardens and excess of abandoned tires) from a group of Food Security volunteers. We were also joined by a group of 3 more Marketing Volunteers from a different town, bringing our group to a party of eleven volunteers, two Spanish teachers and two Guatemalan men, cutting and flipping tires en masse. It’s hard to visualize the ingenuity of this solution, but trust me, it's a cool idea. I've posted some pictures to facebook to give you an idea, along with a video that captures our struggle to flip a tire inside out.

The tire garden is one of the food security group's essential tools in encouraging healthier family nutrition and personal consumption. It’s easily constructed by 1) cutting the rim off a tire of any size, 2) carving handles for easy transport, 3) covering the bottom with two sticks for support, 4) canvassing the bottom with an easily drainable swatch of plastic or a used sack and, 5) filling with a mixture of soil, sand, compost in which to plan the seeds of your choice. I’m amazed at solutions like these that I see around every day that are incredibly resourceful. Not only do the people employ these tire solutions, but I’ve seen old pots, buckets and egg shells housing seedlings and household plants.

Aside from the excitement of implementing my tire garden (from which I’ll soon be expecting cilantro, parsley and radishes, by the way), I also had the chance to climb a [very active] volcano on Sunday. Volcan Pacaya is located about an hour away from the central town of Antigua, from where most tourist excursions depart. At a rate of about $6 US per person, almost half of my training class got to the National Park that houses Pacaya and back, a modest weekend splurge.

We were accompanied up the mountainside by a seasoned guide, who somehow beat us up each steep climb, but also found the cardiovascular resistance to chain smoke while he was at it. He finished off a pack of Marlboros, no sweat, (literally) while the rest of us were trailing him, wheezing.

It was a tough climb, but short climb and we made it to the top in about two hours, where we scaled the side of the volcano to reach a spot where active lava was flowing. When we arrived at the source of the fresh lava, it felt as though the temperature had gone up about 20 degrees, to the point that we were actually able to quickly roast marshmallows in the crevices surrounding the lava flow to make s’mores. Visibility quickly became limited as well by the steam surrounding the flow in combination with the impending afternoon rainfall. Although we were in need of a longer break at the top, we were rushed out by our nervous guide, who sensed an oncoming surge of lava from the source we’d found. Yelling orders in incomprehensible Spanish, cigarette dangling from his mouth, he hustled us back down the face of the volcano. All in all, it was a great time and definitely a nice break from work and training.

Until next time..