Varied Miscellania, Part II

So I'm heading into my last two weeks of class. It's a bit wierd to be finishing up, but I'm also ready to get out and practice my Spanish more. I'm not speaking as well or as much as I'd like, so I think a change of scene to one that isn't so conducive or accomodating to learners might push me closer to speaking with greater ease and fluency. I've always been generally impatient with myself when things don't come easily, and I have to remind myself to keep at it and have more patience with my progress. After only having been here for two months, my ability to understand much of what I hear, and come up with what I want to say, even if it takes awhile, is pretty great, so I just have to keep that in mind.

Two things are going to help me, I think. The first is that I've decided to move. My homestay has been alright, but I've been unhappy with a couple things, the main one being that I rarely speak with them, which means I end up speaking almost no Spanish outside of class. I was talking with my teacher last week about it, and she said that her family has hosted students before, and from the way she described their relationship with the family, it seemed like a situation much more like what I'm looking for. So when I finish at the school I'll be moving in with her. She lives with her husband's family, and several of them are Spanish teachers, so hopefully, I'll get a lot of good practice and assistance there. I studied with her for five weeks, and we got along really well. I'm looking forward to feeling more at home, and less like a boarder.

The other way I'm expecting to practice more is when I start a volunteer position. I haven't decided exactly what that will be yet, but I have a few ideas. One is a clinic funded by the Quetzaltrekkers, the group I hiked up the volcano with. A friend of another student here works as an administrator there, and this week I'll hopefully be meeting with her to see about volunteering there. They see hundreds of walk-in patients daily, but what I'm really excited about is their traveling camping clinics. A group of people from the clinic will hike up to remote areas and camp out until they've seen all of the people in the community. Working with the patients and other doctors will not only give me a great opportunity to practice Spanish, especially medical Spanish, but also an incredible experience with public, community medicine. I am hopeful that that will work out.

A couple weeks ago, we went to a cultural center in the city to hear a conference on Mayan culture and history. There's a lot to be said and shared about that, but one of the more unique things we learned was a pretty fun Mayan math trick (nerdy, I know, but also pretty awesome). The Maya were pretty mathematically advanced, being one of the first cultures to use zero, and used their mathematical prowess in pretty incredible astronomical calculations. Unlike our number system, which is based around multiples of 10, the more significant numbers for them were 20 and 13. This trick is for multiplying 6x6 up to 9x9. I'll do my best to explain, and I'll use 7x8 as an example, because it's the one I can never remember. Using your left hand with your fingers spread, count to 7 lowering a finger until you have all your fingers down, and then raising a finger until you reach 7. At the end, you should have two fingers up and three fingers down. Do the same with your right hand up to 8, until have three fingers down and three fingers up. Add the number of fingers up, two on your left, and three on your right: 5. Multiply that number by ten: 50. Next multiply the number of fingers down on your left hand by the number down on your right: 2x3=6. Add that to the number you got from the fingers up, 50, and you get 56! They used 13 other significant joints (wrists, elbows, shoulders, etc) to do more advanced multiplication, but the man giving the lecture told us his teacher left for Mexico before he learned how to do that. I think the multiplication with fingers was pretty neat on its own, but I'm a self-admitted nerd, so I'm bound to be into that kind of thing.

Chicken Buses and Weaving

This past Saturday, a group of students traveled to a small village about an hour outside of Xela to visit a weaving workshop. The family that owns the workshop is one of the many people that come to our school during break time to sell their wares, so we'd seen them and some of their goods before. I'd had my eye on one of their blankets for a couple weeks, and it was neat to go to their house and buy it from them after having seen the whole process.

Before I show you that, though, I want to give you a better idea of what the chicken buses I'd mentioned before look like.

We took one from the main market in Xela, and while we were waiting to get moving, I took some pictures of the other buses in the terminal. They are all this brightly painted or even more so. On the top of the windshield, most of them say some variation of "Jesus Lives," "Lord, Guide Me," "God Is Love," etc. Inside, above the driver is often painted something along those lines as well. They are invariably old school buses from the States, and on most of them, the district information is still posted. The bus we took that day was a Blue Bird bus from somewhere in Virginia. It is fascinating and troubling to me that whole sectors of the economy here are based on cast-offs from the States, be it transportation, electronics, clothing, etc. I see so many people wearing t-shirts or sweatshirts from US universities, summer camps, sports teams, company conferences, and the like.

You're out of luck if the bus going where you're going is at the end of the line. We waited at least a good half hour for the buses in front of us to move on. On the left, you can see a man loading stuff on the roof. These men are called ayudantes, or helpers, and they collect bus fare once the bus has left the city, and help to load and unload luggage. It's not uncommon for them to be climbing up and around the bus while it's barelling down the street. Once I was on a bus and I saw the ayudante leave through the back door and come in the front door while we were winding through the mountain, and those rides can be scary enough sitting inside the bus.

Here is one of four looms in the workshop. Five generations of the family work here, making carpets, blankets, and all manner of wonderful, handmade textiles. They own their own sheep and do all the processing themselves from shearing the sheep to the actual weaving. They were very intentional in telling us that the entire process is all natural without using any chemicals to clean or dye the wool.

Here I am spinning the wool into thread. I was surprised by how easily and quickly a lump of carded wool can be made into usable thread. Luis is helping me. My camera ran out of battery before I could get a picture of the rest of the family, which is too bad because they were so nice and very hospitable. If you can get a bigger view of this picture, check out my shins. The bedbugs here have been a little too friendly with me, and I think I may have brought back more with me on the blanket I bought. Just when I had gotten rid of them! Oh well. I guess it comes with the territory. On our family evaluations for the school, the manner in which the family dealt with bedbugs is a question on its own, so it seems like a fairly common issue.

Like many things here, the mechanism for spinning thread is pieced together using whatever extra scraps are around. On either side you can see the soles of old shoes holding the needle on the wheel.

After spinning the thread, they use this to wind it into bigger bundles like...

these. All of these colors come from plants, rocks, insects, or the natural color of the sheeps' wool.

Here are some examples of what they use for dye.

We got to practice weaving on this loom with a fairly detailed pattern. Each of those strings are pulled by hand through the loom, and then using the pedals you can sort of see at the bottom, you switch the threads, and pull the bar on the left back to knot the row in place. It's tedious work, and Luis said that each of these little panels takes a week to complete.

This is a view of the entire workshop. It's hard to see through this loom, but you can sort of pick out the other three in the other corners. The workshop dropped off into jungle, so I couldn't get a broader view. After we had seen the process, they took us back to where they were selling completed textiles and then they fed us freshly made tortillas with beans and cheese and a really good tea with cinnamon.

Dos Iglesias y Un Cementerio

A couple weeks ago, we went to see the oldest church in Central America (though after looking into it, I've found a couple others that claim that title). Built in 1524, it has two names, the Hermitage of the Conception and the Hermitage of the Conquerors. Recently, a bank in Guatemala put together a list of the seven wonders of the country, and this church took second place.

Last week, we went to see "the most colorful church in Central America" (how they've come to decide that, I don't know) in San Andres Xecul. Most churches here, while the facades are often ornate like the one in the Central Park in Xela, are not painted or exuberantly colorful. The church in this place, though, is brightly painted according to the colors used in the indigenous women's dress from this area. Each region of the country has distinct traditional dress with distinct color schemes, so the colors you see on this church are representative of the colors from this region.

Up a little ways from this church is a smaller chapel, also brightly painted. They were decorating it for Semana Santa, and the greens on the outside are part of that. The three yellowish things hanging around the doorway that at first look like corn are bundles of very fragrant flowers. They were all over the inside, and it was a pretty heady scent to be standing in. The boy on the left of the church in this picture was ringing the bell at the top left of the church incessantly. They were apparently calling people to the procession they were having on Friday, but since we were there on Tuesday, I'm not really sure what it was for. A grown man took over for a bit, so it wasn't just a game, like we had originally assumed. The sun was setting behind the mountain, which gave this picture a pretty cool glow, I think.

Looking down from that church onto the rest of the city. You can see in the middle a bright yellow spot which is the other big church.

Next to the smaller church was a small dirt patch with three crosses and some ashes. The indigenous people here, while largely Catholic, still practice Mayan rituals here.

It was interesting to see a place of traditional ritual that not only has symbols of Christianity on-site, but is also right next to the church. It reminded me of the Mayan crosses we saw in Mexico last year. They were all over the countryside and stood out because they were painted bright turquoise. When the Spanish came over and forcibly converted the indigenous population, the Mayans melded Christian worship with their traditional practices by painting the crosses that color and painting ears of corn, a big part of Mayan spirituality, on the beams. This place is another example of the effort to reconcile the two traditions.

Anywhere we go, we attract attention as obviously foreign, but this trip, we took this trolley to the church, and stood out even more. The school had reserved it for us (I'm not sure why), and it was quite possibly the most touristy thing I've done since being here. There was a bell on the back that clanged everywhere we went, it beeped when in reverse, and the driver blew the whistle more than a few times. All the locals laughed at us as we passed, so if nothing else, we were at least entertainment.

Last week I also went to the big cemetery in town. It's really close to my house, and I've heard so much about it that I'm surprised I hadn't been before. It was amazing! It goes on and on, and you could spend hours wandering around it. It may be one of my new favorite places in the city. Unlike cemeteries in the States, it is colorfully painted and almost entirely made up of huge and opulent mausoleums. In most cemeteries I've been in, there are a few mausoleums, but not like these and not so many. The whole front section is just giant monuments.

On the left when you first enter, is Vanushka's grave. There are differing stories about her, but the most popular goes like this: Vanushka was a gypsy whose family arrived in Xela from Europe. She fell in love with a young man from one of Xela's wealthiest and most powerful families, but because she was a gypsy, his family did not approve, and heartbroken, she died at 17. The other story I've heard is that she died at 45 of hepatitis, but the dates on the tomb say 17, and the first story is more intriguing, so I'm going with that one. People come and write requests to her on the side. If she grants their wish, they come back and leave a flower. Someone will mysteriously come in at night and repaint the tomb. You might be able to see it on the left curve where the layers of paint have been chipped away. It's a great place to practice the subjunctive, the verb tense used for requests or possibilities.

As you walk through the cemetery, a lot of the marble statues have been partially dismantled. People will come in at night and steal heads, limbs, or whatever will come off and sell them as scrap marble. In this picture you can see several headless, armless statues.

However, no one messes with the Angel of Death. This one isn't even missing a toe. They're pretty superstitious about it, and I saw several perfectly intact examples throughout the cemetery.

There are rows and rows like this.

This section is full of Germans. During the beginning of the nineteenth century, a lot of Germans came over and bought up huge swaths of land, and many fincas are still owned by their descendants or still bear their names. This spot, though, holds some more recent arrivals. Apparently, several Nazis came here after WWII to escape prosecution, and these may be some of their graves.

If you walk far enough into the cemetery, you pass through the more opulent graves to the smaller, more simple ones. More simple relative to the earlier mausoleums, anyway. The one in the middle of this picture seemed to be decorated with bathroom tile, and it wasn't the only one like that we saw.

This picture doesn't do the view justice, but from up in this section you could see down into the main section and it looks like a miniature, colorful city. I love how bright, colorful, and celebratory the cemetery is.

More of the smaller area.

This is the grave of a former Guatemalan president, Manuel Estrada Cabrera. He was president from 1898 to 1920, and during that time, United Fruit Company became a major force in the country. UFC is often cited as a big player in the reasons for the civil war, and his role in bringing them such influence is less than appreciated here. There were several revolts during his presidency and he was finally forced out of power by the military, citing mental incompetence. He also is remembered for having a strange fascination with the cult of Minerva, and he built several Grecian temples throughout the country. There is a big one that clearly serves no purpose at the edge of a big market in Xela. Hence the shape of his grave. There used to be several busts of him around the edges, but they've all been stolen, and people still come here and leave mean graffiti on his grave. Most presidents are buried in the capital, but they didn't want him when he died, so he's here.

University Murals

This morning during class, I went with my teacher and another teacher-student pair to the public university in Xela, San Carlos de Guatemela, to see the student-painted murals. They are all in reference to the 36-year Guatemalan civil war that officially ended in 1996. I'm not going to go much into that, but it was an incredibly brutal, horrific period in the country's very recent history. There is plenty of information out there if you're interested in learning more about it.

Most of the murals were in the building where students of agrigulture, medicine, and human rights study. I think that's an interesting and perhaps very fitting combination of disciplines. I'll do my best to translate and explain the murals when needed. A common motif in the murals is a person wearing a robe that looks a bit too much like a KKK robe for my taste. The students here wear these robes, especially during Semana Santa, as a way of symbolizing their assumed role as speaking for the people. In these murals, they represent that voice or the people in general. Another common symbol is a skeleton. Unlike in the States, this is not a scary or evil symbol, but rather a symbol of protection or as a way to commemorate the dead in the war.

This one reads: "Farmer, farmer, they changed your hoe for a worn out rifle. Your strength lies greater in your heart. What they could not destroy is your incessant struggle for a better homeland that still does not end." A big motivation for the war was the issue of land distribution and land reform, and so the campesinos (farmers) were big players in the conflict, actively and symbolically.

This one at the top says "Honor Rights." The big man on the right is Efrain Rios Montt, the president of Guatemala from 1982 to 1983, who presided over the most brutal period in the war. He is still involved in politics here, currently serving in the Guatemalan Congress, which I personally find appalling. He is standing on top of a farm worker, symbolizing his repression of the poor landworking majority. The man in the middle is Alfonso Cabrera who was president after Rios Montt. The people here called him pollo ronco, or hoarse chicken (I'm not sure why), which is why he has a chicken's body. Rios Montt is holding puppet strings because the people accused him of continuing to control the country even after he was out of power. The students on the left are holding a torch to illuminate the situation, and the one on the right is flicking off Cabrera and Rios Montt.

"No more will we produce to earn money, but rather to supply our needs. Now let us work for ourselves, not to make others rich. If one needs food, all will need food. If one has excess or surplus, it will be for all." This one looks like an import from the USSR.

"There are those who struggle one day for justice. There are men who struggle many days for justice, and these are better. But, there are MEN who struggle for justice all their lives, and these are the indispensables. Freedom and Peace!"

"We would shout stronger so that our voice would be heard to the last corner of the earth. However, we do not because we know that our message will arrive further than the universe from the simple fact of speaking the truth."

This picture was next to the writing above. In this picture, a student and the skeleton are putting Rios Montt and another president - I'm not sure which - in the trash.

I took this picture through a window, so it's not as clear, but it reads: "The ghost of the pueblos has no greater monument than the bones of their martyrs." It looks like it's a quote from Che Guevarra.

This mural was in the section where medical students study. It shows two of the presidents of Guatemala who have been accused of stealing huge amounts of money from the government getting away with the cash, being led of course by Rios Montt. A robed student is stopping them, and the skeleton is following their footprints.

This is of a woman weeping among headstones representing the villages most seriously affected by the war. She represents the sorrow of all mothers in the war.

This was on the outside of the psychology building. It says:

We only reclaimed the land of Cajola (a name of a village)
Let’s walk the homeland; I will go with you.
I will go down to the abysses you tell me.
I will drink your bitter cup.
I will stay blind so that you can have eyes.
I will stay without voice so that you can sing.
I will die so you will not die.
It has to be this way, without question.

It was written by a former student at the university. On the right, there is a gas mask of a National Policemen, and reflected in the visor is a group of people holding a banner which says the beginning lines of this poem.

It was neat to see such creative displays of resistance and witness. The students here take very seriously their voice and their ability to speak out for the people. The robes are a really important part of that, giving them more of an "everyman" quality. They are still unsettling for me to see, but I appreciate their meaning here.

On the Roof

Carnaval at night a couple weeks ago.

Anneke on the roof with our two dogs. The big one is Clifford, and the tiny one, I think, is something like Dolfi, or Delfin, but I'm not sure.

Procesión

Last week on Sunday, I ran into another student from my school who was going to a procession with her host family. Neither of us were really sure what that meant, but I decided to go along. It turned out to be a large procession for the first Sunday of Lent (Cuaresma), complete with a platform/float (I'm not sure what to call it in English. Your thoughts are welcome), banners, lots of people, and lots and lots of incense. I thought processions like this only happened during Holy Week, so it was a treat to see one so early.

Here is the front of the procession. Everyone was wearing purple or black, the colors of Lent.

There was a big group of girls in what looked like First Communion dresses. I've always been a bit uncomfortable with how bridal these outfits look on girls six or seven years old. It was also much too cold that day for such lacy dresses.

Here comes the platform/float (again, your suggestions for what to call it in English are welcome), called "un anda" in Spanish, which literally means, "it walks." It looked pretty incredible coming around the corner towards us cloaked in all that smoke. All that weekend, they were celebrating or commemorating the three times Jesus fell while carrying the cross, and this anda was a mix of that and the story of the Good Samaritan.

I count 28 men on this side, so it took a little less than 60 grown men to carry it. The people lining the street in robes took turns carrying the anda according to height, and when a group of pretty little women carried it, I counted almost 40 on a side.

This is during the first change of carriers (these hats were my favorite. they look a bit like something from Dr. Seuss or Munchkinland). They supported the platform while changing with those metal poles you can see in the picture before. We noticed about halfway through the procession that the groups of people wearing each type of robe were around the same height, so that when they carried the platform, it fell at about the same point on their shoulders. Clever, yeah?

A band brought up the rear.

From the back.

The platform was pretty tall, and the power lines in Xela hang low, so this man followed alongside and lifted them over Jesus and the cross.

As I said, LOTS of incense.

Each of these banners seemed to represent a certain religious society or brotherhood. There were maybe fifteen of them in front of the platform. You can see paper pinned on these men's robes with a number to let them know where they fell in line to carry the platform.

Here's the front of the float. The low banner in the center says "The Good Samaritan" with the Scripture reference. On the left side it says: "Maestro: ¿Que debe hacer para conseguir la vida eterna? (Teacher, what must I do to attain eternal life?)" On the right: "Jesus le dijo: ¿Que dice la Biblia, que lees en ella? (Jesus said to him, What does the Bible say, what do you read in it?)" Along the other sides, it gave man's answer, and Jesus' final response.

Some little boys from the Children's Brotherhood of the Buried Lord of San Bartolome.

The procession ended in the Central Park. There was a large crowd and the obligatory market selling the tackiest religious paraphenalia you will ever find.

There will be more processions like this throughout Lent, and then even bigger ones during Semana Santa (Holy Week).