Gangs, Immigration and the Power of Community

Last week we celebrated the 156th anniversary of Suchitoto (the city where I live). Students and employees of various institutions got to participate in a parade, and the city hosted various events in the plaza (including 156 fireworks at 4 AM this morning). I didn´t stay to watch the parade (they weren´t throwing candy, so what´s the point?) because I had a mission to get a volunteer signed up for Spanish classes, with the hopes of starting her this morning. While walking around town to get to the Spanish school, to lunch, and everywhere else, it was incredible seeing the huge crowds of people lining the streets of Suchi for the parade, or hanging out in the plaza listening to music and eating elote (sweet corn). Normally during a week day, the plaza is nearly empty, devoid of tourists (international or Salvadoreña), and seeing it overflowing with people really changed the atmosphere. Even into the evening, when people typically retire to their homes, the plaza was fairly hoppin´.

Suchitoto is not devoid of gang problems, and unfortunately their presence and (perceived) power is growing. Many people do not feel safe at night, even when travelling by car or bus. When I first came to Suchi, I was advised against being out after dark, especially alone, and to not wander into the residential areas of the city, sticking mainly to the center plaza area. This has been disappointing for me because Suchi is fairly residential, and once you´ve been around the center a few times, you know it pretty well. Several times I´ve had to warn uninformed tourists to turn around when the road starts to dip (this typically indicates a residential area, which could be dangerous). The office where I live and work sits on the border of this "boundary"; it´s close to the center, but just before the road bevels. There is a known pandilla presence about a half block from where I live.

Luckily for me (a white, American "tourist"), I´m not typically a target (except for occassional petty theft). This doesn´t mean I´m not cautious, by any means, so folks at home, keep cool. I´ve had all the lectures I could possibly want. Unfortunately for young Salvadoreño men, however, it´s a different story. Many of the guys I work with on the land don´t go into Suchi because of the pandilla presence here. For them, there´s a high chance of being approached and asked to join the gang, and if they refuse, are likely to be killed. Many of them know better, and so stay away, but this fear provides fuel for the gangs, to the point where police aren´t asked to get involved.

Many of these guys have family (usually male family members) that have already left for the U.S. in search of work or a better life. Some have told me they plan to do the same. As much as I want to tell them, "Don´t go", I will never be able to comprehend the struggles they face-- the difficulties of getting an education, finding a job (even WITH an education), and how to stay out of the gangs´ ways while still living life (there are two prominent gangs here in El Salvador: MS-13 and Barrio 18). I want to tell them, if all the well-intentioned, well-educated Salvadoreños keep leaving El Salvador, it´s never going to get better. I want to tell them that the journey is difficult and dangerous--you might not make it--and the $7000 USD you paid for your "ticket" north (a.k.a. coyote-guided trip) probably isn´t worth it. But I don´t really know. I never will.

Hearing about the nearly 40,000 unaccompanied minors fleeing to the U.S. from this side of the border has a different flavor to it. I see children leaving their home countries, searching for their parents working in the U.S., escaping the violence of gangs and corruption, going on the false belief that they will be granted permisos to stay in the U.S.. While I don´t have an answer, it´s heart-breaking to hear about people wanting to immediately deport these children back to where they came from. First and foremost, these people (children or not) are people, and should be treated as such. I´m not interested in a political debate, but I think that´s something that should be considered.

Seeing the crowds that gathered for the anniversary celebration made me wonder about the power of community-- how can Suchitoto take back its community, how can it become a place of safety and prosperity? How can it be more than a tourist destination, but a place to live peacefully and happily, without fear of death or danger?

Change of Scenery

My last post was somewhere around four months ago. I had just gotten back from being in the States and still wasn´t feeling any different about my project placement. Even after lots of "searching"-- asking the wisdom of others, reading, meditating, and some traveling, I still wasn´t sure what I wanted to do. I was held back mostly by fear, a fear of regret (either of leaving and deciding I shouldn´t have, or staying and remaining miserable). Eventually, however, something came to fruition.

(from my journal)

Yesterday while I was reading, I heard a voice within myself bubble up. It was quiet, but my head had stopped buzzing and churning from earlier, so it didn´t have much to compete with. It was soft and new, just born, this thought. After a day of labor had passed within my head, there it was.

“It´s time to leave. It´s okay.”

It took a second for it to sink in, but once it did, it felt good. It felt right, and I could breathe again. A chance to let go of everything I´d been holding in.

A few days later I called Todd and let him know. Two weeks later, we were planning to have our Central American BVS Retreat in El Salvador, and after that, I was going to attend a 10-Day Silent Meditation Course in the capital. We decided it would be best if I finished my time in Nebaj before I left for the retreats, so I had two weeks to pack up and say my goodbyes.

While it was difficult to leave in many ways, it was also exciting to be going to a new place (even though at the time, I didn´t know where). The BVS retreat was in El Salvador, where there were three other potential volunteer projects I could choose from, so I visited them after we finished our time together. All ended up being impressive, and as I went into the 10-Day Meditation retreat, I was still undecided (again because of fear, but it was smaller this time). After the meditation retreat, I hung out at Todd´s house for awhile, where I finally decided where I wanted to be.

And here I am. For the next year and a half (at least), I will be working as the volunteer coordinator at the Permaculture Institute of El Salvador (IPES) in colonial Suchitoto. My job consists of mostly office work-- responding to e-mails of potential volunteers, posting on the Facebook page, and updating the website. I am also repsonsible for the volunteers that come to help work on the land (IPES has a demonstration site where they train and educate people in permaculture practices), making sure they are safe, comfortable (for the most part), and have their needs met. Occassionally I will be able to get my hands dirty and help with those who are working on the land (I even get to participate in the permaculture design course for free!).

El Salvador is HOT HOT HOT and the mosquitoes are vicious, but I like it here so far. It feels good to be here. The comida tipica are pupusas, which are tortillas (usually made from corn or rice flour) filled with beans and cheese, various greens, meats, or vegetables (my favorite is cheese with ayote, a type of squash). There´s lots of pineapple and mangoes, but not many vegetables that are grown here (I´m told that El Salvador imports a majority of its food; 90% of all vegetables, 30% of beans, 30% of corn, and 70% of rice). Food security, poverty, and environmental degredation are all large problems here, but that´s for another blog post.

Pupusas!

I´m excited to be on a new adventure, and welcome visitors to come ANYTIME they want. I´d love to hang with you.

Peace,
Jess

Home and Back and a Little Bit of Language

After finding a good price for a plane ticket to the States and back, I decided I would make a trip home. I stayed for a week and a half, which in hindsight wasn't enough, but certainly better than nothing. It felt strange to be going home after being away for a little less than five months (my host mother was afraid that I wasn't going to come back and I think my mother was afraid I would), but now that I'm back in Nebaj, I'm feeling energized and more hopeful about my time here. My Spanish has improved immensely, to the point where I don't have to think-translate-conjugate-speak (though, not always in that order, sometimes I speak before I conjugate, and then stumble over my various attempts at correcting myself). At this point there are moments when it comes out before I've had time to think it over. Since being here, however, there have definitely been some struggles along the way (in Spanish AND English). I’m about to share some of those with you all.

     -About a month into my time here, we were having dinner at Caty’s (Todd’s wife) parents’ house. Yanna (Todd and Caty’s daughter), had been getting on my nerves (she often felt like a little sister to me) and was fooling around at the dinner table. For some reason, she started chewing on her plastic spoon and I (for some reason) tried to tell her to stop in my beginner’s Spanish. In my frustration, however, it came out a little differently.
            “Yanna, no esta bien a comer tu cucaracha.”

The word for “spoon” is cuchara (koo-CHAR-a), and the word for cockroach is cucaracha (kooka-ra-cha). So I ended up saying that it’s not good to eat your cockroach. And, of course, she burst out laughing and continued to ignore me, so I gave up.

     -The day before I moved to Nebaj, Todd and I went to do my visa run in Mexico (I have a tourist visa, so I have to leave Guatemala every three months to renew it). We decided to stop for lunch at a comedor (com-eh-door, a small eatery, with typically two or three options to choose from). We went inside a large building where there were several comedors packed in like cubicles in an office building. All of the women (typically women own and operate the comedors here) were trying to get us to come to their comedor. “Pasa adelante. We have beef soup, chicken soup, or vegetable soup.” Most of them offered the same options. While we were deciding, Todd advised me that it’s best to go to a comedor where there’s already a good number of people—it typically means the food is good. Personally being rather passive and sometimes even timid in new situations, I told him, “I’d probably just go to whoever molests me the least…I mean bothers me, hahaha.” Luckily, as a Spanish-English speaker, he knew what I meant. In Spanish, the word for “to bother” is molestar (moll-es-star). It does NOT mean to molest.

      A common mistake English speakers make while learning Spanish is wanting to say “I’m embarrassed,” but actually saying, “I’m pregnant.” The word for “pregnant” is “embarrazada”, but it’s a false cognate. Be careful what you say, folks. Learning Spanish has made this fast-speaking extrovert slow down and think quite a bit over these past few months.

Hope you all are doing well. I am currently visiting a permaculture site located near the INCREDIBLE Lake Atitlan. It’s a lake surrounded by mountains, and some of the fruits and plants that grow here are: banana, papaya, avocado (new favorite for the Indiana girl), coffee, among other things. I hope to write about my experience here later.

Peace and Growth.

Home

This past month has been a struggle in adjusting, but my feelings about being here are growing to be more positive and the desire to flee home has more or less dissipated, at least until now. A wise friend reminded me that home is always ready and waiting for me when I return. Hearing this has made it easier for me focus on being present here, rather than dreaming and wondering what’s going on in all the places other than here. But the world still spins, time still turns, and home is going to change. When I was preparing to leave to come here, I would silently pray that everyone would still be here (there) when I got back. 

But the world still spins, time still turns, and home has changed.

How does one practice being present when home is hurting? I feel so called to be somewhere else, feel so called to be home (which has come to mean far more than a single place, a single person). And I would go, instantly, without hesitation, if it weren’t for the cost to fly (if only I could Apparate…). Know that although physically I am here, miles and miles away, mentally and emotionally I am reaching for you, that I am with you. I love you so much.

Go like water, come like water.

photos8.com

Nebaj Part II

I'm in Nabaj, Guatemala, which is about four hours from Ixtahuacan, passing over from the Mam region into Quiche/Ixil region. Regions are more or less divided based on the native languages. Here, in Nebaj, the language is Ixil. Quiche (key-chay) is the capital of the region, where Quiche is spoken. Although I'm only a few hours away, there are definitely cultural differences here that I've been adjusting to. Thus far, they've only been minor, such as greetings and thanking everyone individually after finishing a meal (in Ixta, we just said a general thank you). I imagine there will be more once I feel settled in.

In my time here, I've missed, along with my human family, my cat and my dog. Luckily where I am now, there are always lots of animals around, and the cat here loves attention, so we've gotten along well. Pet culture (I suppose that's what you could call it) doesn't exist here. Well, sort of. Many people have dogs specifically to guard the house or warn if someone (or something) is coming. The dogs are not allowed inside (most of the time) and are fed the scraps of leftover food. In the city, there are hundreds (maybe that's an exaggeration, but in any case, a significant number) of stray dogs or dogs who spend the day wandering the streets, as some of them have owners. It's a little overwhelming, but luckily, most of them are afraid of people or at least, not aggressive toward people. I feel terrible when there's a female dog in heat and there's literally a pack of males following her...

Michelle

Mali

They were hungry and came to let me know.

The one that is perched was cold and was trying to sit
beneath its mate, who wasn't interested in warming him up.
This is from my bed.

Nebaj is a little colder than Ixta, and a lot wetter. There's a lot of mud and not many roads are paved. It's been getting warmer, though, as we're entering the dry season, but it can still be cold at night. We've had several chicks die because they wandered from their mothers during the night (though, the two mother hens don't care for them very well).

I still miss home quite a bit. Since I've been in Guatemala I've seen lots of interesting t-shirts and other clothing from the States (clothes that don't sell at Salvation Army etc eventually make their way down here). Most interestingly I've seen a few from Indiana specifically: Indiana Hoosiers, Notre Dame University (10 minutes from where I grew up), a few from Indy, and one that said Manchester Township (not quite Indiana, but close enough for me). I'm not sure if the Universe is calling me home, or if it's trying to tell me that home is here...

P.S. Something I've learned recently: the term "ladino" (previously misspelled ladrino in an earlier post) is an offensive term for those of mixed culture. If you were to look up the word in the dictionary, you would find "robber" or "thief". I'm told the term originates from back when the colonialists first arrived, when a Spanish man would father a child, whose mother was indigenous, and neither the father nor the mother wanted the child, because it was associated with the other parent's culture. So in order to survive, they became thieves. I apologize for using the word so loosely earlier, but I suppose that's part of the learning process. The proper term to use is "mestiza", or mixed, for anyone who's curious.

Thanks for reading.

Nebaj (nay-bach)

In my last post I talked about choosing a site for my two years of service, and since then I have chosen a site. Unfortunately because of the time crunch, Todd and I were only able to visit Nebaj, which is where I am now. Along with BVS, I am working with a Guatemalan organization called CIEDG, which stands for Conferencia de Iglesias Evangelicas D..? Guatemala, or Church Conferences of Guatemala. CIEDG works on a local scale, giving presentations on the basics of business, women’s rights, importance of hygiene, among other things. CIEDG has also provided greenhouse plastic (and sometimes the wood or PVS for the building structure) for several groups of families here in Nebaj as well as the surrounding aldeas (towns outside of a city). When I visited Nebaj the first time, I got to know who is now my host mother, as well as her immediate and extended family. While originally I was hesitant to agree to come here, once I found out that I would stay with Cata, I felt a lot more excited about being part of this community.

As a result of the civil war (which I will talk about later, after I learn enough to say something), many of the Ixil people were either killed or displaced and are now living in unfamiliar places, where they do not always know how to grow food. This is one reason for the greenhouses. The greenhouses serve as another source of food or income, if there is excess, during the winter months here. While a Guatemalan winter is not the same as a winter in Indiana, it is still difficult to grow food during this time. During my first time in Nebaj, it rained every day except the last and for the week I was there, there were four days without sun (The weather definitely contributed to my hesitation to stay here. I am definitely sensitive to ‘winter blues’).

Now that I am here and it has stopped raining, I am growing to like it. I live in one of the aldeas called Visajcub (vee-sa-coobp). It is about a 15-30 minute walk from the town depending on if you are camindando or paseando. It is beautiful here, and there are three green houses on Cata’s family’s property (she only participates in caring for one of them). While I am happy to be here, it has also been a struggle, even in these few days. I never really felt called to be here in Nebaj, and I may have misread a ‘sign’ to even come to Guatemala. Although I am still in Guatemala, Nebaj has a different set of cultural norms than Ixtahuacan, which I am still figuring out. In terms of gender norms, Guatemala is rather traditional, which has been frustrating for me, as I tend to be a little more masculine (especially in the way I dress). Here, appearance is incredibly important. People have outfits specifically for going into town, and most people are keen on looking sharp. I did not bring dress shoes nor sandals, and my baggy jeans are a sight sore, but it is what I like. It is difficult wanting to fit in, but at the same time being (at my core), radically different from this culture.

I have also been struggling (again) with language. I’m not sure if there is a different dialect here, but I’ve been having trouble understanding people, as well as expressing myself. I find myself dreaming of going home, what I will do once BVS is over, and even catch myself looking at other BVS sites as though I would change. I am determined, at this time, to stay here for at least six months. If it hasn’t changed, then I will work on an alternative plan. I need to be more proactive and participatory until then…

Adios.

Ixtahuacan (eeks-tee-wah-kahn)

I apologize for the time lapse between posts-- normally I’m not so conscious of my time on the Internet, but when you’re limited by how many gigabytes you upload/download within a month (Todd and Caty pay for four per month), the goal is to do what needs to be done first, and frankly, ‘blogging’ comes last.

I am currently living in Ixtahuacan, Guatemala. It’s a small town on the central west side of Guatemala and the local language is Mam. I’ve been in the country for two months as of Monday, and will likely be here for one more. Culture shock has come in waves, and occasionally still it shows up, but I’ve certainly grown accustomed to being here. Lately there have been women telling me that I’m going to end up marrying someone from here (the same as Todd), and I’ve even been proposed to a few times by drunk men, but luckily I have someone back home.

In Ixtahuacan there are two cultures: the indigenous and the ladrino, or mixed cultures. The indigenous culture is typically marked first by the dark skin and hair color, second by the Mam language, and third by the clothing style. They also tend to be more reserved in their social interactions. The traditional clothing is more obvious in the women, as the men have slowly adapted to wear more Western clothing, but some accessories and outfits are still used for everyday or ceremonial occasions. The women wear what is called a traje, which is a woven whipeel (a type of shirt) and a corte (a type of wrap skirt). The material is heavy and sturdy, similar to canvas, but not quite as rough. (I will post a picture of me wearing one later.) The ladrino culture is much more outgoing (I can definitely see some residue of Spanish culture), and the women greet each other with a besito (a kiss, on the right cheek). The men also greet women this way, but it is much more common amongst women, as far as I can tell. Ladrinos typically have lighter, olive skin with fine hair (I’ve seen one boy who’s as light as me with blue eyes, which is incredibly rare here. Perhaps this sounds strange to a U.S. American, but it’s definitely something that is noticed here.) Those raised in the ladrino culture usually only speak Castellano (Spanish), where the indigenous know both Castellano and Mam.

In general, the biggest struggle has been the language. I am learning that I understand far more than I am able to express, which means I need to speak more Spanish when I can. With the family, I speak both English (to Todd, Yanna, and John Diego) and Spanish (to Caty), but it can be tempting to go to an English-speaker first when I need something. Something I have come to appreciate, however, is being forced to speak Spanish, being forced to express myself in a language that feels strange. My Spanish has increased much faster in the two months that I have been here than in the four I was in Spain studying the language, because I am forced to speak it. While studying abroad in Spain I was with a group of 30 or so other U.S. American students, whom I spent most of my free time with. It was too easy to speak English. Here, other than Todd and Yanna, there are a few men that have spent some time working in the States and know a little English, but it’s far easier for us to converse in Spanish.

I mentioned earlier that I have one more month here in Ixtahuacan. Right now I am looking at two potential volunteer sites (where I would spend my two years as a BVSer), one in Totonicapan (toto-nee-ka-pan) and the other in Nebaj (nay-bah). Both would be working with a women’s group that focuses on food security and educating locals how to grow food to support their families. Todd and I are hoping to visit both sites sometime next week or the week after, and then I would choose which site I like (if I like either of them) and spend my time volunteering there. It’s a little tricky because Caty is pregnant and due in early December, so we’re definitely a little crunched for time, especially if the baby decides to come early.

All in all, I’m doing well here. I miss home sometimes, but I’m happy to be here and to have this experience. I’m always craving something but I have no idea what it is. I’m adjusting to the smaller portions of food here, but also learning the difference between want and need. How much do I really need to eat?

Les vaya bien (may you all go well),

Jess