My time in Guatemala is coming to an end. Me quedan 12 dias, solamente. That means I have only 12 dinners, 12 mornings to wake up to roosters crowing, 12 nights of falling asleep to the crickets chirping and 12 afternoons to stare out at the palm trees from my bed after work. Most importantly I only have 12 more evenings with my friends and a handful of days in the office with my compañeros de trabajo.
My experience in Guatemala has been amazing, and I still have 12 more days to make count. I have learned so much about so much from International Human Rights law to Indigenous land issues and issues surrounding women's rights and domestic violence. Equally as important, I have learned how to make tortillas, how to get around this beautiful country and how to converse fairly fluently in Spanish.
I feel as though I know a few parts of Guate intimately, but none as much as Rabinal. I remember my first day, as I apprehesively moved through the market, staring in awe at the baskets of spices and the live turkeys walking around. Now I move through it as though it were second nature, knowing well in what areas I can find what things I am looking for. I exchange bueños dias, with many of the men and women who work there every day, and the sincerity with which their greetings are offered usually brighten my smile as I continue on my way.
I will miss more than anything the people who are here. I have met so many fantastic people doing inspiring work in many different areas of society. The artist, the human rights accompanier and the Peace Corps volunteer are all doing important work. And then are the my two Rabinalero maestros, who hold unique and dearly important places in my heart. My experience here would not be the same without them. I have learned immeasureabley from them about all that other stuff that composes life- culture, family, food, friends, and perhaps ultimately, that as much as things are different across all of humanity, so much is the same.
These last 12 days lay ahead of me, ready and waiting. I still have time. Much can be done and shared in 12 days. To those in London, I will see you on the 25th, and to those in Victoria, on the 3rd. To those here in Guate, I will see you tonight, and tomorrow and the next day, and for 10 more after that.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
A world without bananas?
A friend recently blogged about the world's banana predicament, as discussed in this article. The author gives the mass-produced Cavendish banana another decade before it is wiped out by Panama disease, the result of cloning and unsustainable food practices. "What will the world taste like without bananas?", she asked. My immediate response was to say that without bananas, the world will be less sweet. We will lack an important source of potasium and the essential ingredient for banana bread, banana chocolate chip muffins and banana splits. The staple of breakfast, afternoon snacks and late night hunger cravings will be missing from our lives. Yes, significantly less sweet, but for who?
I guess it never seemed odd to me to be chowing down on a seemingly unending supply of bright yellow tropical fruit in the middle of February in Canada. The banana, like chicken or milk, is simply an integral part of my diet. It is rare that I, and many of us I'm sure, pause to consider where they came from. The fact is that most come from here, or quite nearby. Guatemala is among the leading exporters of bananas in the world.
The article points to the Central American political struggles over food production, and cites bananas as the cause of the 1954 American overthrow of the first democratically elected Guatemalan government in history. Agrarian land reform, heavily implicating bananas, was definitly a leading factor causing the begining of the internal armed conflict. I wonder if any other fruit leaves a trail of such intense and widespread political struggle?
Last night I was sitting on my roof thinking about what it would be like to eat in Canada as they do here, that is, to only eat foods that are in season. The arrival of each fruit and vegetable would be eagerly anticipated, making it even more delicious upon its arrival. You would only get the best of the best, each type at its peak of flavour and texture. Sure we wouldn't have bananas, mangos, or pineapple, but each apple the in fall, each June strawberry, July tomato and August peach or concord grape would be so tasty, so worth the wait. Sure winter would be a bit problematic, but the rest of the year I'm sure we could live off the food produced within a couple hundred kilometers of where we live. Food for thought at least, while you go enjoy those bananas while they last.
I guess it never seemed odd to me to be chowing down on a seemingly unending supply of bright yellow tropical fruit in the middle of February in Canada. The banana, like chicken or milk, is simply an integral part of my diet. It is rare that I, and many of us I'm sure, pause to consider where they came from. The fact is that most come from here, or quite nearby. Guatemala is among the leading exporters of bananas in the world.
The article points to the Central American political struggles over food production, and cites bananas as the cause of the 1954 American overthrow of the first democratically elected Guatemalan government in history. Agrarian land reform, heavily implicating bananas, was definitly a leading factor causing the begining of the internal armed conflict. I wonder if any other fruit leaves a trail of such intense and widespread political struggle?
Last night I was sitting on my roof thinking about what it would be like to eat in Canada as they do here, that is, to only eat foods that are in season. The arrival of each fruit and vegetable would be eagerly anticipated, making it even more delicious upon its arrival. You would only get the best of the best, each type at its peak of flavour and texture. Sure we wouldn't have bananas, mangos, or pineapple, but each apple the in fall, each June strawberry, July tomato and August peach or concord grape would be so tasty, so worth the wait. Sure winter would be a bit problematic, but the rest of the year I'm sure we could live off the food produced within a couple hundred kilometers of where we live. Food for thought at least, while you go enjoy those bananas while they last.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
A brief glimpse at Rabinal
Here are a few prime examples of the beauty of Rabinal. I have fallen in love.
This was my first time entering Rabinal via the windey road through the mountains from Salama. The glowing orange sun was beginning its descent as I arrived in the town. A stunning welcome.
Rabinal's sunsets are incredible. This photo captures maybe a fraction of the actual beauty of that evening during my first week. It was one of the most stunning sunsets I have ever seen.
This was the same night. It had been raining earlier in the day, but not for the past couple hours. I had been watching the sun drop behind the mountains and the constantly changing colours, when I turned around and saw a rainbow stretch across the sky above these palm trees in my backyard.
More from the sunset that night.
The beauty here sometimes masks the horrors that occurred a quarter of a decade ago and the daily hardship of life for many. But the beauty remains, maybe as a beacon of hope, offering a sense of pride, tranquility or escape for those who remain. When its gets difficult here, the mountains and palm trees remind me of the beauty that exists; not just in nature, but in most people, in so much work that people are doing, and especially in the hope and strength that emanates from each person.
This was my first time entering Rabinal via the windey road through the mountains from Salama. The glowing orange sun was beginning its descent as I arrived in the town. A stunning welcome.
Rabinal's sunsets are incredible. This photo captures maybe a fraction of the actual beauty of that evening during my first week. It was one of the most stunning sunsets I have ever seen.This was the same night. It had been raining earlier in the day, but not for the past couple hours. I had been watching the sun drop behind the mountains and the constantly changing colours, when I turned around and saw a rainbow stretch across the sky above these palm trees in my backyard.More from the sunset that night.
The beauty here sometimes masks the horrors that occurred a quarter of a decade ago and the daily hardship of life for many. But the beauty remains, maybe as a beacon of hope, offering a sense of pride, tranquility or escape for those who remain. When its gets difficult here, the mountains and palm trees remind me of the beauty that exists; not just in nature, but in most people, in so much work that people are doing, and especially in the hope and strength that emanates from each person. Tuesday, July 8, 2008
More on the delicious Guatemalan food
I feel like its time for another entry about food. I have been reading people's Sunfest entries from a fantastic London Festival and its about time. Also, today in the oppresive heat on the way back from a delicious lunch at La Cobanera, I stopped to buy helados because the sun was just too strong to walk in it for too long. There are places where you can get real ice cream here, but these helados are more like frozen fruit juice (refresco). They are so sweet and fruity and delicious, and though they probably add sugar because it is Guatemala, its all natural. So good!
My thoughts are already approaching my dinner options for this evening. Usually I alternate between four market options.
1.Dobladas. They are these thim tortillas with potato and vegetables inside and fried. The woman puts guacamole and this red sauce on top and its muy rico. Sometimes she has these fried plantains with beans inside of them. Also a delicious desert. A whole meal for 5Q (less than a dollar).
2. Gringa Man. He is so friendly and happy and has a gentle smile. These are wheat tortillas like at home (very different from the corn tortillas I speak of most of the time). He fries it just enough to melt the cheese and then adds the beef which comes in a tasty sauce then adds his mixture of onion and cilantro. I always add the red tomotoey sauce and the green cilantro or avacado sauce and sometimes a bit of lime. The Canadians used to have Gringa Wednesday, but I get them any day of the week.
3. Chef. These is a kind guatemalan man who barbeques in the market and wears a chef uniform. His barbeque is to die for. I usually get chicken which is always so moist and tasty. The meal comes with a tortilla on the botton, barbequed green onions salted and with lemon juice, the meat with his tomoto sauce on it, 2 tortillas and a side of beans or avacado- whatever he has. All for 10Q (just over a dollar), though I just discovered that you can get a 5Q portion.
4. Pizza. Its a good fall back and they make a decent slice. It only has pepperoni and ham but the dipping sauce combination of ketchup, mayo and picante make a perfect combo.
Sometimes I will go to Cobaneras for a breakfast for dinner also. Gautemalan breakfast is like no other- its the perfect start to a day of hiking or exploring, but too much for a day at work. It involves beans either whole, in liquid form or refried, crema, which is kind of like sour cream meets creme fraiche that most people mix into their beans, cheese which is kind of dry and salty but not so bad, and eggs any way you like. I have only recently tried eggs again for the first time and I'm back on board as long as they are scrambled with onion and tomato, covered in the bean/cream/cheese mixture and stuffed in a corn tortilla. Overall guatemalan breakfast or dinner is a wonderful thing.
Accompanying dinner, I usually go for a liquado. This is a fruit smoothie made with fresh, local, sweet, delicious fruit. The lady I always go to has three options- strawberry, banana or fruta (a mix of melon, pineapple and strawbery and sometimes blackberry). I alternate between fruta and strawberry with milk so its like a yogurty smoothy, or so I can convince myself I'm getting more vitamins and minerals. Occasionally if the power is out, I have to only have a refresco of either blackberry (mora) or tamarindo, but they are still really good.
I will leave you in suspense for my tales of the other individual ingredients that are used like cilantro and avocados. All guatemalan food adventures have been flavourful and delicious beyond words. There is more than one reason to use foods and ingredients that all come from less than 100 miles away.
My thoughts are already approaching my dinner options for this evening. Usually I alternate between four market options.
1.Dobladas. They are these thim tortillas with potato and vegetables inside and fried. The woman puts guacamole and this red sauce on top and its muy rico. Sometimes she has these fried plantains with beans inside of them. Also a delicious desert. A whole meal for 5Q (less than a dollar).
2. Gringa Man. He is so friendly and happy and has a gentle smile. These are wheat tortillas like at home (very different from the corn tortillas I speak of most of the time). He fries it just enough to melt the cheese and then adds the beef which comes in a tasty sauce then adds his mixture of onion and cilantro. I always add the red tomotoey sauce and the green cilantro or avacado sauce and sometimes a bit of lime. The Canadians used to have Gringa Wednesday, but I get them any day of the week.
3. Chef. These is a kind guatemalan man who barbeques in the market and wears a chef uniform. His barbeque is to die for. I usually get chicken which is always so moist and tasty. The meal comes with a tortilla on the botton, barbequed green onions salted and with lemon juice, the meat with his tomoto sauce on it, 2 tortillas and a side of beans or avacado- whatever he has. All for 10Q (just over a dollar), though I just discovered that you can get a 5Q portion.
4. Pizza. Its a good fall back and they make a decent slice. It only has pepperoni and ham but the dipping sauce combination of ketchup, mayo and picante make a perfect combo.
Sometimes I will go to Cobaneras for a breakfast for dinner also. Gautemalan breakfast is like no other- its the perfect start to a day of hiking or exploring, but too much for a day at work. It involves beans either whole, in liquid form or refried, crema, which is kind of like sour cream meets creme fraiche that most people mix into their beans, cheese which is kind of dry and salty but not so bad, and eggs any way you like. I have only recently tried eggs again for the first time and I'm back on board as long as they are scrambled with onion and tomato, covered in the bean/cream/cheese mixture and stuffed in a corn tortilla. Overall guatemalan breakfast or dinner is a wonderful thing.
Accompanying dinner, I usually go for a liquado. This is a fruit smoothie made with fresh, local, sweet, delicious fruit. The lady I always go to has three options- strawberry, banana or fruta (a mix of melon, pineapple and strawbery and sometimes blackberry). I alternate between fruta and strawberry with milk so its like a yogurty smoothy, or so I can convince myself I'm getting more vitamins and minerals. Occasionally if the power is out, I have to only have a refresco of either blackberry (mora) or tamarindo, but they are still really good.
I will leave you in suspense for my tales of the other individual ingredients that are used like cilantro and avocados. All guatemalan food adventures have been flavourful and delicious beyond words. There is more than one reason to use foods and ingredients that all come from less than 100 miles away.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Canada Day Guatemala Style
Happy Canada Day everyone at home! I hear the weather is beautiful in Ontario and decent in Victoria. Here it is hot and humid, though it sounds like the rain might arrive any minute to cool things off for a bit.
Though I am now the only remaining Canadian in Rabinal, we are celebrating Canada Day in style. This morning I stopped at Rico Pan and bought a donut (not quite the same as Tim Horton's but an adequate replacement nonetheless) and pan dulce for everyone in the office. There was coffee on when I arrived so it was the perfect Canadian breakfast.
This evening we are having a dinner, and while there will be no barbeque with hamburgers and corn on the cob, we are going to make macaroni and cheese, vegetable stirfry and tostados with beans, guacamole, tomatos mixed with Cilantro and cheese. And though there will be no fireworks across the street or cake served by the mayor, my Canadian playlist is set to go with Tegan and Sara, Feist, Jill Barber, Metric, The Weakerthans, the Hip, Barenaked Ladies, and a dash of Alanis. I'm pretty excited about tonights festivities. Even the guatemalans are excited...or at least they are pretending for my sake.
I'm going to gush just a bit about Canada. When people here ask me about it, I always have good things to say. I speak about its beauty: the mountains, the coasts and oceans with the accompanying beaches, the lakes and the trees. When people ask if there is work, I say yes there is. We have a good economy, though reports of the coming recession are out. We have four seasons, depending on where you live. We are free to live without significant state interference. We get to exercise our rights and freedoms daily. I like Canada, or at least some aspects of it.
If I were in a different region of Guatemala, I might not be so excited about Canada Day. If I were in San Marcos, there would be a lot of poeple who would equate my nationality with the mining companies who have come into the area in the last few years. They might resent me for being associated with "the capitalists" who have entered, taken their ancestral land, and asked them to work in the mines for a pitance. Surely, I would be less eager to celebrate this aspect of consumerist-driven Canadian international "development".
If I were of a different race in Canada, I may not be so eager to be celebrating Canada Day. If I were indigenous, I would be fully aware of Canada's shameful history regarding the treatment of my people. I would know about how my cultural traditions like the potlach were prohibited, then criminalized. I would be familiar with the government's dealings in past and present treaty negotiations. I would know a bit about the Supreme Court´s often oppressive interpretation of Indigenous rights under S. 35 of the Charter. My community would have recently received the governement's apology for residential schools. I would still face racism in many aspects of my daily life. No, I might not be so eager to celebrate Canada Day.
So tonight, when I am sitting at the table amongst my friends from Guatemala, Puerto Rico, Scotland and the United States, I realise I don't have a flawless country to be toasting. But of the other nations represented, I'm glad that I was born where I was and that I get to be Canadian.
Though I am now the only remaining Canadian in Rabinal, we are celebrating Canada Day in style. This morning I stopped at Rico Pan and bought a donut (not quite the same as Tim Horton's but an adequate replacement nonetheless) and pan dulce for everyone in the office. There was coffee on when I arrived so it was the perfect Canadian breakfast.
This evening we are having a dinner, and while there will be no barbeque with hamburgers and corn on the cob, we are going to make macaroni and cheese, vegetable stirfry and tostados with beans, guacamole, tomatos mixed with Cilantro and cheese. And though there will be no fireworks across the street or cake served by the mayor, my Canadian playlist is set to go with Tegan and Sara, Feist, Jill Barber, Metric, The Weakerthans, the Hip, Barenaked Ladies, and a dash of Alanis. I'm pretty excited about tonights festivities. Even the guatemalans are excited...or at least they are pretending for my sake.
I'm going to gush just a bit about Canada. When people here ask me about it, I always have good things to say. I speak about its beauty: the mountains, the coasts and oceans with the accompanying beaches, the lakes and the trees. When people ask if there is work, I say yes there is. We have a good economy, though reports of the coming recession are out. We have four seasons, depending on where you live. We are free to live without significant state interference. We get to exercise our rights and freedoms daily. I like Canada, or at least some aspects of it.
If I were in a different region of Guatemala, I might not be so excited about Canada Day. If I were in San Marcos, there would be a lot of poeple who would equate my nationality with the mining companies who have come into the area in the last few years. They might resent me for being associated with "the capitalists" who have entered, taken their ancestral land, and asked them to work in the mines for a pitance. Surely, I would be less eager to celebrate this aspect of consumerist-driven Canadian international "development".
If I were of a different race in Canada, I may not be so eager to be celebrating Canada Day. If I were indigenous, I would be fully aware of Canada's shameful history regarding the treatment of my people. I would know about how my cultural traditions like the potlach were prohibited, then criminalized. I would be familiar with the government's dealings in past and present treaty negotiations. I would know a bit about the Supreme Court´s often oppressive interpretation of Indigenous rights under S. 35 of the Charter. My community would have recently received the governement's apology for residential schools. I would still face racism in many aspects of my daily life. No, I might not be so eager to celebrate Canada Day.
So tonight, when I am sitting at the table amongst my friends from Guatemala, Puerto Rico, Scotland and the United States, I realise I don't have a flawless country to be toasting. But of the other nations represented, I'm glad that I was born where I was and that I get to be Canadian.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Mangos, Pinol, and other deliciousness
I feel I should briefly explain how mangos got into my blog title. I was trying to think of things that defined my experience in Guatemala up to that point. I didn’t want to belittle my work experience in any way, but I did want to emphasize the importance of food and culture in my time here.
Having just returned from lunch, I am full! I finally had my first pinol today. I have been told of the deliciousness of pinol since my arrival, but I mistakenly believed you could still get it for dinner. Every time I have tried to go, there is never any left. So today, after I ate my tamales de flor de arroz, I ventured up to the market with my own bowl (as I had been warned that the pinol ladies sometimes used sketchy water to wash the dishes) and made my way through the maze of stalls to find the evasive pinol. I knew it was a soup of some sort but I really did not know what to expect other than that. After asking a few people, I arrived at a stall and asked for a 3 Q portion. The woman tore off some chicken and put it in my bowl then added the broth. It is a thick, corn based broth that is fairly salty and has lots of spices. At the least I could locate pepper and chile, but other than that I could not decipher the blend. Along with the tortillas and a liquado, it was the perfect Guatemalan lunch. Yum!
Normally for lunch, I make the trek from way down at the office up to my favourite comador (aka eatery) La Cobanera. Everyone who works in the kitchen is really nice, and the food is pretty standard but definitely good. There are only ever two options, which change daily, but they involve chicken prepared in some way and beef prepared in another. Along with it there is always rice and tortillas and then some sort of vegetable. I like when they make the mix of carrots and this Guatemalan squash stuff with a little bit of mayonnaise, though the field cucumber doused in fresh lime juice is a tangy, refreshing treat too. Sometimes there are beets, other times stewed squash, and once there was avocado. Oh- also its so good when there are yellow corn tortillas instead of white ones. They are sweet and somehow just more delicious.
For breakfast I usually pick up a bit of pan dulce (sweet bread) in one of its many shapes from a panaderia on my way to work. One of my former housemates commented on the fact that really all the bread tastes the same, with the exception of their version of French bread; it just comes in different shapes. I think his observation is fairly true. Upon entering the bread shop, the only question I am really left to ponder is which bread looks the freshest. It doesn’t matter if it’s the little round bread with the blob of sugary confection on top or the longer bread in the shape of a tree leaf with sesame seeds and sugary confection on top, its going to taste the same. Sometimes it will be so stale that its barely edible, and others it will be fresh out of the oven, there really is just no telling.
While that doesn’t really sound like a very substantial breakfast, it is usually supplemented with mangoes at the office. Who knew there were so many different varieties of mangos? The ones that come from the tree at work are medium to large- sized and are amazingly sweet and juicy. They are so flavourful! I used to think that mangos tasted like peaches mixed with the flavour of pine, but now I realise that analysis is symptomatic of my limited mango exposure via imported mangos in Canada. These ones actually taste like honey. They are perfect. Lately, the woman who cleans the office has been bringing in a basket of little mangos from her house in the nearby community of Pichec. They are called mangos de leche (milk mangos), though to me they taste nothing like milk. Sandra always squeezes them to mush inside the skin and sucks out the sweet juice. However, now that it is rainy season, you have to be careful about worms, so I peel them like a normal mango and chow down. I learned that this is important strategy when I was eating a big one at work and I felt a worm crawling up my arm. Worms or not, when they are still warm from being sun kissed, they are such a wonderful treat. Sadly, mango season is coming to and end. It has been sweet and delicious while it has lasted, and I have definitely had my fair share. I will miss my 11 o clock mango break, but apparently the infamous Rabinal orange season is around the corner.
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This post has gotten really long, and I still haven’t discussed the glories of a Guatemalan breakfast. Or avocados, cilantro, guacamole, barbequed green onions, barbeque in general, gringas, dobladas, or market pizza. I will leave you drooling with those thoughts as I head up to the market to get my favourite after work snack- tortillas filled with onions and meat, grilled and topped with ketchup, mayo and piquante. Mmmm!
Having just returned from lunch, I am full! I finally had my first pinol today. I have been told of the deliciousness of pinol since my arrival, but I mistakenly believed you could still get it for dinner. Every time I have tried to go, there is never any left. So today, after I ate my tamales de flor de arroz, I ventured up to the market with my own bowl (as I had been warned that the pinol ladies sometimes used sketchy water to wash the dishes) and made my way through the maze of stalls to find the evasive pinol. I knew it was a soup of some sort but I really did not know what to expect other than that. After asking a few people, I arrived at a stall and asked for a 3 Q portion. The woman tore off some chicken and put it in my bowl then added the broth. It is a thick, corn based broth that is fairly salty and has lots of spices. At the least I could locate pepper and chile, but other than that I could not decipher the blend. Along with the tortillas and a liquado, it was the perfect Guatemalan lunch. Yum!
Normally for lunch, I make the trek from way down at the office up to my favourite comador (aka eatery) La Cobanera. Everyone who works in the kitchen is really nice, and the food is pretty standard but definitely good. There are only ever two options, which change daily, but they involve chicken prepared in some way and beef prepared in another. Along with it there is always rice and tortillas and then some sort of vegetable. I like when they make the mix of carrots and this Guatemalan squash stuff with a little bit of mayonnaise, though the field cucumber doused in fresh lime juice is a tangy, refreshing treat too. Sometimes there are beets, other times stewed squash, and once there was avocado. Oh- also its so good when there are yellow corn tortillas instead of white ones. They are sweet and somehow just more delicious.
For breakfast I usually pick up a bit of pan dulce (sweet bread) in one of its many shapes from a panaderia on my way to work. One of my former housemates commented on the fact that really all the bread tastes the same, with the exception of their version of French bread; it just comes in different shapes. I think his observation is fairly true. Upon entering the bread shop, the only question I am really left to ponder is which bread looks the freshest. It doesn’t matter if it’s the little round bread with the blob of sugary confection on top or the longer bread in the shape of a tree leaf with sesame seeds and sugary confection on top, its going to taste the same. Sometimes it will be so stale that its barely edible, and others it will be fresh out of the oven, there really is just no telling.
While that doesn’t really sound like a very substantial breakfast, it is usually supplemented with mangoes at the office. Who knew there were so many different varieties of mangos? The ones that come from the tree at work are medium to large- sized and are amazingly sweet and juicy. They are so flavourful! I used to think that mangos tasted like peaches mixed with the flavour of pine, but now I realise that analysis is symptomatic of my limited mango exposure via imported mangos in Canada. These ones actually taste like honey. They are perfect. Lately, the woman who cleans the office has been bringing in a basket of little mangos from her house in the nearby community of Pichec. They are called mangos de leche (milk mangos), though to me they taste nothing like milk. Sandra always squeezes them to mush inside the skin and sucks out the sweet juice. However, now that it is rainy season, you have to be careful about worms, so I peel them like a normal mango and chow down. I learned that this is important strategy when I was eating a big one at work and I felt a worm crawling up my arm. Worms or not, when they are still warm from being sun kissed, they are such a wonderful treat. Sadly, mango season is coming to and end. It has been sweet and delicious while it has lasted, and I have definitely had my fair share. I will miss my 11 o clock mango break, but apparently the infamous Rabinal orange season is around the corner.
This post has gotten really long, and I still haven’t discussed the glories of a Guatemalan breakfast. Or avocados, cilantro, guacamole, barbequed green onions, barbeque in general, gringas, dobladas, or market pizza. I will leave you drooling with those thoughts as I head up to the market to get my favourite after work snack- tortillas filled with onions and meat, grilled and topped with ketchup, mayo and piquante. Mmmm!
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
What are you doing in Guatemala?
As the rain pours down outside near the end of another day at the office, I thought it was time to write a little about my work here in Rabinal.
Before coming, I knew little about Guatemala other than its rich cultural Mayan history in the Pre-Colombian era. After first year law exams ended, I spent some time in Victoria reading the Recovery of Historical Memory (REMHI) Report written by Bishop Gerardi called Guatemala: Nunca Mas-Never Again. It was released in April of 1998, and 2 days later Bishop Gerardi was violently killed in his home in the capital. When I arrived, I read more in the UN sponsored Clarification of Historical Memory (CEH) Report and a lot of info about the massacres that occurred here in Rabinal and the surrounding communities. I feel better informed, but I'm sure there is still so much more that I don't know. My tenuous grasp on the situation in Guatemala becomes more concrete every day, but I still feel like I'm at the base of a mountain of information to scale. Nonetheless, I am here, working in solidarity with people in hopes attaining some semblance of justice.
Often my work feels divorced from the people with whom I interact every day. I do a lot of research on the international system we are using regarding specific questions posed by the lawyer with whom I work. My Westlaw password is once again ingrained in my memory and my USB chip is filled with jurisprudence of the court and commission. But every so often, just as I am beginning to become frustrated with the unstable Internet connection or feel like I am not making a concrete contribution, I get a refreshing reminder of why I am here.
A week and a half ago, I went to a meeting in one the nearby communities. We were at a woman´s house and on the porch area maybe about 30 women from the community were there. Each one had lost a husband, son, or brother in the massacre in their village. We were there to say that we wanted to help bring their case before the system we are using to seek justice. We couldn't promise money or anything other than the State's recognition of the wrongs that occurred 26 years earlier. These women all were totally on board and as we went through the list of names we had (I think they were from the exhumations or other petitions that have been filed), they all knew which relatives belonged to which victim and the dates of their death, or exhumation, or whether they were disappeared. I was sitting beside this woman who just exuded wisdom and strength, and the first name on the list was her husband. Mi esposo. It was so intense. And yet, these women didn't show sadness. They were laughing and sharing amongst each other, clarifying dates and places. Since the woman who was doing a lot of the speaking is pregnant, I was writing the names on the chart paper, which was an interesting experience in Achi orthography in and of itself, and I think the women were laughing with me at this attempt. Even though I had no clue really what they were saying, their laughter, smiles and strength made the same spread through me. They asked questions, made decisions...no holds barred. Their strength was incredible. I think it is one of the most profound experiences I have had so far, and likely one that I will never forget.
When I speak about my position to family and friends at home, I say I am doing an International Human Rights Internship. I feel like human rights is a term that gets thrown around and its significance becomes lost in the shuffle. What counts as a human right? How are people deprived of them- what does that entail? There are declarations and conventions, yes, but what does it mean in terms of how one lives everyday. In Canada, its sometimes hard to envision living without certain fundamental securities that many of us take for granted. At home, it is unlikely that I will ever receive a death threat for the work that I will do there. I don't imagine I will be persecuted for my political affiliations or my views of the world. I probably won't be killed just because of the colour of my skin, my gender, or my sexual orientation. If I did receive a threat or was to be persecuted, I could report it to a competent judicial body, it would be investigated, and those responsible would be punished accordingly. As a woman, I will likely face systemic discrimination at various points along my journey, but I have many fundamental freedoms that I exercise daily without notice. I have a post-secondary education. I have access to medical care, birth control, clean drinking water and housing. I have the freedom to chose any partner I desire and marry that person if I wanted to, regardless of gender. Not everyone in Canada can say all of the above. I try to be aware of my privilege, and to accept the responsibility that comes along with it.
But here, the situation is not even remotely close. What brought me here to work was the genocide of the Indigenous Mayan population. Racism, sexism, and homophobia are everyday realities. Fear still grips the population, as evidenced by the streets that are empty everyday by 8 pm. People are killed without reason, investigations are not conducted, and impunity reigns supreme. People live from meal to meal. For this reason, everything is available in small quantities. You can buy one egg, one piece of bread, one cigarette. It takes incredible courage and strength to subvert the status quo, confront fear head on, and fight for what is right.
The people I work with are all doing amazing work; they are courageous people and inspire me everyday. Returning from lunch today, one of the women who works in the women's office told me that she went to a play this morning put on my a group of women from Huehuetenango in the western highlands of Guatemala. It was called A Knot in my Throat and it spoke of one woman's story of rape during the conflict. The woman with whom I work said that even though it was the story of this particular woman, it is the story of so many women she knows and who come to the office everyday, and of thousands (possibly hundreds of thousands) of women across the country. The act of speaking, of telling the story, of breaking the silence, is so important, so significant.
So a month in, those are my thoughts thus far on what I am doing here. I am grateful for the chance to be here and to contribute where and what I can. The people of Rabinal show such strength in the face of adversity, and lead such rich lives amidst gripping poverty, again demonstrating the two distinct faces of life in Guatemala.
Before coming, I knew little about Guatemala other than its rich cultural Mayan history in the Pre-Colombian era. After first year law exams ended, I spent some time in Victoria reading the Recovery of Historical Memory (REMHI) Report written by Bishop Gerardi called Guatemala: Nunca Mas-Never Again. It was released in April of 1998, and 2 days later Bishop Gerardi was violently killed in his home in the capital. When I arrived, I read more in the UN sponsored Clarification of Historical Memory (CEH) Report and a lot of info about the massacres that occurred here in Rabinal and the surrounding communities. I feel better informed, but I'm sure there is still so much more that I don't know. My tenuous grasp on the situation in Guatemala becomes more concrete every day, but I still feel like I'm at the base of a mountain of information to scale. Nonetheless, I am here, working in solidarity with people in hopes attaining some semblance of justice.
Often my work feels divorced from the people with whom I interact every day. I do a lot of research on the international system we are using regarding specific questions posed by the lawyer with whom I work. My Westlaw password is once again ingrained in my memory and my USB chip is filled with jurisprudence of the court and commission. But every so often, just as I am beginning to become frustrated with the unstable Internet connection or feel like I am not making a concrete contribution, I get a refreshing reminder of why I am here.
A week and a half ago, I went to a meeting in one the nearby communities. We were at a woman´s house and on the porch area maybe about 30 women from the community were there. Each one had lost a husband, son, or brother in the massacre in their village. We were there to say that we wanted to help bring their case before the system we are using to seek justice. We couldn't promise money or anything other than the State's recognition of the wrongs that occurred 26 years earlier. These women all were totally on board and as we went through the list of names we had (I think they were from the exhumations or other petitions that have been filed), they all knew which relatives belonged to which victim and the dates of their death, or exhumation, or whether they were disappeared. I was sitting beside this woman who just exuded wisdom and strength, and the first name on the list was her husband. Mi esposo. It was so intense. And yet, these women didn't show sadness. They were laughing and sharing amongst each other, clarifying dates and places. Since the woman who was doing a lot of the speaking is pregnant, I was writing the names on the chart paper, which was an interesting experience in Achi orthography in and of itself, and I think the women were laughing with me at this attempt. Even though I had no clue really what they were saying, their laughter, smiles and strength made the same spread through me. They asked questions, made decisions...no holds barred. Their strength was incredible. I think it is one of the most profound experiences I have had so far, and likely one that I will never forget.
When I speak about my position to family and friends at home, I say I am doing an International Human Rights Internship. I feel like human rights is a term that gets thrown around and its significance becomes lost in the shuffle. What counts as a human right? How are people deprived of them- what does that entail? There are declarations and conventions, yes, but what does it mean in terms of how one lives everyday. In Canada, its sometimes hard to envision living without certain fundamental securities that many of us take for granted. At home, it is unlikely that I will ever receive a death threat for the work that I will do there. I don't imagine I will be persecuted for my political affiliations or my views of the world. I probably won't be killed just because of the colour of my skin, my gender, or my sexual orientation. If I did receive a threat or was to be persecuted, I could report it to a competent judicial body, it would be investigated, and those responsible would be punished accordingly. As a woman, I will likely face systemic discrimination at various points along my journey, but I have many fundamental freedoms that I exercise daily without notice. I have a post-secondary education. I have access to medical care, birth control, clean drinking water and housing. I have the freedom to chose any partner I desire and marry that person if I wanted to, regardless of gender. Not everyone in Canada can say all of the above. I try to be aware of my privilege, and to accept the responsibility that comes along with it.
But here, the situation is not even remotely close. What brought me here to work was the genocide of the Indigenous Mayan population. Racism, sexism, and homophobia are everyday realities. Fear still grips the population, as evidenced by the streets that are empty everyday by 8 pm. People are killed without reason, investigations are not conducted, and impunity reigns supreme. People live from meal to meal. For this reason, everything is available in small quantities. You can buy one egg, one piece of bread, one cigarette. It takes incredible courage and strength to subvert the status quo, confront fear head on, and fight for what is right.
The people I work with are all doing amazing work; they are courageous people and inspire me everyday. Returning from lunch today, one of the women who works in the women's office told me that she went to a play this morning put on my a group of women from Huehuetenango in the western highlands of Guatemala. It was called A Knot in my Throat and it spoke of one woman's story of rape during the conflict. The woman with whom I work said that even though it was the story of this particular woman, it is the story of so many women she knows and who come to the office everyday, and of thousands (possibly hundreds of thousands) of women across the country. The act of speaking, of telling the story, of breaking the silence, is so important, so significant.
So a month in, those are my thoughts thus far on what I am doing here. I am grateful for the chance to be here and to contribute where and what I can. The people of Rabinal show such strength in the face of adversity, and lead such rich lives amidst gripping poverty, again demonstrating the two distinct faces of life in Guatemala.
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