The words “road trip” evoke sentiments of adventure, uncertainty and camaraderie. Something about being confined to a small space with a gang of cohorts for an extended period of time always induces unexpected and memorable events, if not a good story line, like the one I'm about to unfold.
I recently had the pleasure of going on a “road trip” with four male members of my cooperative. I was one female in a car full of men- the first sign that things were going to get interesting. We had a 9am meeting in Jalapa with SAT- the IRS of Guatemala- to review proper financial reporting specific to Cooperatives. The drive to Jalapa is about 4 hours each way.
At 4:30 am Julio and the gang picked me up from my house in Don Edgar’s beat-up 1990’s maroon Mazda. Being gentlemanly, the guys gave me the front seat. I actually prefer not to take that coveted seat up front because seat belts are as common in Guatemala as side-view mirrors (read: not common) and I’d probably be the first to fly through the windshield if we got into an accident- luckily i’m still here to tell this tale. Speaking of seat belts, I caused some early morning chuckles when I took my throne up front and instinctively reached my arm back to grab the “seat belt” which of course wasn’t there. Moises, seeing this automatic reflex, gave a little giggle from the back seat and said, “You’re not going to find one of those here, hahaha.” “reeeeal funny.” I thought to myself.
And so the trip began all of us in high spirits. Julio was our chauffeur, I was manning the radio as co-pilot and Adan was sandwiched by Moises and Jamie in the back seat. Our first interesting incident occurred at about 5:30 am. We were making our way up the mountainous terrain just outside of a town called Moyuta when the car started to jerk. Immediately Julio says, “I knew I should have put gas into the car yesterday.” I look at the gas gauge and we are literally running on empty. I start to get a little worried, we had quite a bit of upward climbing left to do and there was no sign of civilization. Nevertheless, I kept my anxieties to myself. We continued our ascent, chugging along in an epileptic seizure-like motion for a good 10 minutes. It didn’t help that coming from the back seat with every jerk Adan would peep a, “whoop” and Jamie would follow with a, “Nope, not going to make it.” Miraculously, we did make it to the top of the hill just outside of Moyuta and below us I could see a gas station. “Saved!” I thought to myself. Julio pumped the gas pedal one more time and we sped down the hill towards the town. But, as we neared the gas station I noticed he wasn’t slowing down to turn into its lot, we got closer and closer and I just looked longingly at the lonely gas pumps as we whizzed by. “What are you doing!” I exclaimed “We need to stop for gas!” “Yeah but the gas station up the road is cheaper.” was Julio’s reply. After two minutes more of jerky driving we were filling up the tank.
My favorite part about Julio is that he hasn’t quite figured out yet that I understand Spanish. Instead of talking to me like a normal human being, he speaks in choppy phrases using animated hand jesters to ensure that I understand what he is saying. So instead of saying something like, “We are going to drive to Jalapa,” He’ll say, “Drive car Jalapa” while grabbing an imaginary steering wheel. So when we were nearing Jutiapa he turns to me and says, “Hungry? Coffee?” which of course means, “Are you hungry? Would you like to stop for coffee?” The consensus was yes and we pulled off at a roadside stand.
We piled out of the car and as we began walking to the muchacha with a red cap who was setting up her venta for the morning, I noticed Moises had a huge wet spot covering his entire rear-end. I brought this to his attention and he said, “The backseat is wet.” That was that and he spent the rest of the day with a soggy toosh.
We ordered our coffee and pan tostada from the woman in the red cap and I sat enjoying my breakfast as the four men, all married mind you, began flirting with the woman and her three daughters. They were playing the game “Us three are married but Jamie is single.” The small talk was nauseating, “So how many beautiful daughters do you have?”, “Is your husband going to come here and beat me up for talking with you?” Don Jamie left the stand with a napkin containing the red cap lady’s phone number.
When we arrived at the SAT office we filed into the meeting room and took our seats. The presentation was of the powerpoint variety and was quite informative although I could tell the information was in one ear and out the other for most of the audience. There is a reason my Coop hired an accountant to take care of all of their financials. At the end of the presentation we all handed in an evaluation form in exchange for a “Diploma.” There are few things more coveted by Guatemalans than a diploma. It’s hard evidence of achievement. So we all left with a piece of paper affirming that we had participated in the “tax-paying obligations of cooperatives” course.
Back in the car Jamie took the wheel for the drive home. We were all a bit worn out from the morning ride and subsequent three hour lecture. Nevertheless, every time we passed a young girl walking on the road in tight jeans Jamie would give a little honk of approval. The guys obviously unconcerned with the company of a female in their presence maintained a steady conversation about women the entire ride home. Some aspects of human nature are universal. At one point, after passing a particularly attractive young female Jamie gave his little tap of the horn and murmured, “Como dice Don Edgar, “Si es el diablo, que me lleva”” (Like Don Edgar says, If its the devil, let him take me).
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
Mine
Early last month Veronica brought baby Mia into the world. The name is a variant of Maria and also means "mine" in Spanish. It was one of the names I suggested during our 
little naming game in August that you may remember me writing about. When the bun was still in the oven I would always part with Veronica by saying, Hasta mañana, Vero" (until tomorrow, Vero (short for Veronica)), then waive to her stomach and say, "hasta mañana, Mia". When I first went to go visit the baby I asked what name Veronica had given her and she said, "We gave her the name Mia, a little remembrance of Annalisa." I was flattered.
A few weeks after Veronica gave birth to Mia, Eslin confided in me that she too was now pregnant. As has become customary prenatal chit-chat, yesterday Eslin, Brenda and I were talking names on the stoop of Eslin's tienda. I suggested Isabela. Eslin replied by saying, "Isabela, Isabela, I like it. I'm not going to tell anyone though, this name is mine."
little naming game in August that you may remember me writing about. When the bun was still in the oven I would always part with Veronica by saying, Hasta mañana, Vero" (until tomorrow, Vero (short for Veronica)), then waive to her stomach and say, "hasta mañana, Mia". When I first went to go visit the baby I asked what name Veronica had given her and she said, "We gave her the name Mia, a little remembrance of Annalisa." I was flattered.A few weeks after Veronica gave birth to Mia, Eslin confided in me that she too was now pregnant. As has become customary prenatal chit-chat, yesterday Eslin, Brenda and I were talking names on the stoop of Eslin's tienda. I suggested Isabela. Eslin replied by saying, "Isabela, Isabela, I like it. I'm not going to tell anyone though, this name is mine."
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Salinas. Take two.
The last week of September we saw six straight days of nonstop rain and, of course, Casas Viejas flooded once again. I was beginning to think we should rename the town to Casas Mojadas (wet houses) but then remarkably on Tuesday the rain stopped. Everyone in my town is convinced that "ya se fue la lluvia" (the rain has left) and summer is now upon us.
With summer comes sunshine and with sunshine comes the salt harvest season. On Friday the Cooperative had a meeting to discuss what will become of our salina this year. Since we are still paying off debts from last year's harvest, going into the meeting I was prepared to convince the socios that we need not go into another year hastily. I discussed with them the importance of planning and mentioned that if we aren't going to work the salinas we need to start investigating what we can do with the land and equipment- assets that we could rent to make back some of our investment. After my little spiel, Toribio, the secretary, did a vote to see who wanted to invest in the salinas another year. Four socios voted affirmatively.
Then to my delight Julio proposed an ingenious idea. He suggested that the Cooperative rent out the salina to the four socios who wanted to work the land. These socios would pay the Cooperative a set amount for the land, boards and nylon, a fee that the cooperative could then use to pay off the salinas debts. The socios who work the salina would be responsible for additional investments (gasoline, purchasing a new motor, etc), and supplying the labor. They would also reap any profits from sales. A huge benefit to this proposal is that the Coop would be guaranteed income. It also hands over the responsibility of the salinas to those few who actually want to work the land.
One of the biggest problems with the salinas last year was that no one wanted to work them. We lagged in prepping the land and lost weeks of harvesting time because the socios didn’t show up to help lay and mend the nylons. When the land was finally ready, we hired outside labor to harvest the salt. The point of a cooperative is to provide work for its associates. I never understood why we were paying a nonmember for labor- money that left the cooperative and benefited no socio. With this new system the four socios will be motivated to work because they will be putting their own money into the salina and will be forced to do a better job of managing the business. It puts the onus on them to make a profit. Brilliant. The four socios have until the 21st of October to decide if they are going to rent the land. If they do, I will be able to work with them on business planning, organizing, managing and finding buyers.
With summer comes sunshine and with sunshine comes the salt harvest season. On Friday the Cooperative had a meeting to discuss what will become of our salina this year. Since we are still paying off debts from last year's harvest, going into the meeting I was prepared to convince the socios that we need not go into another year hastily. I discussed with them the importance of planning and mentioned that if we aren't going to work the salinas we need to start investigating what we can do with the land and equipment- assets that we could rent to make back some of our investment. After my little spiel, Toribio, the secretary, did a vote to see who wanted to invest in the salinas another year. Four socios voted affirmatively.
Then to my delight Julio proposed an ingenious idea. He suggested that the Cooperative rent out the salina to the four socios who wanted to work the land. These socios would pay the Cooperative a set amount for the land, boards and nylon, a fee that the cooperative could then use to pay off the salinas debts. The socios who work the salina would be responsible for additional investments (gasoline, purchasing a new motor, etc), and supplying the labor. They would also reap any profits from sales. A huge benefit to this proposal is that the Coop would be guaranteed income. It also hands over the responsibility of the salinas to those few who actually want to work the land.
One of the biggest problems with the salinas last year was that no one wanted to work them. We lagged in prepping the land and lost weeks of harvesting time because the socios didn’t show up to help lay and mend the nylons. When the land was finally ready, we hired outside labor to harvest the salt. The point of a cooperative is to provide work for its associates. I never understood why we were paying a nonmember for labor- money that left the cooperative and benefited no socio. With this new system the four socios will be motivated to work because they will be putting their own money into the salina and will be forced to do a better job of managing the business. It puts the onus on them to make a profit. Brilliant. The four socios have until the 21st of October to decide if they are going to rent the land. If they do, I will be able to work with them on business planning, organizing, managing and finding buyers.
Friday, September 17, 2010
That Time of Year
I knew it was 
that time of year again when I started hearing my neighbor kids practicing Beethoven's “Ode to Joy” and the theme song from “Titanic” on their school issued plastic recorders. To me the recorder playing signals the eminent arrival of Independence Day, or as I refer to it, Independence Week. A few weeks ago when I heard kids hitting off key notes around town it immediately made me think back to my host sister Lidia in Alotenango. She too practiced the recorder around this same time and then it dawned on me that I have been here long enough to start noticing yearly seasonal and cultural patterns. It kinda makes Guatemala feel a little bit more like home.
This Independence Week played out much like it did last year. Parades, running of the torcha, fireworks etc. The first activity I participated in was the crowing of this year’s “Señorita Independencia.”
You’ll remember from my last post that we had a few beauty pageants in town recently- none of which was used to decide on the Independence Day Queen. Nope, there is no judging when it comes to choosing the Queen it’s done democratically through public voting. But remember, we are in Guatemala so instead of casting a ballot, you cast your vote (or votes) in currency. The girl with the most “votes” or “queztales” is crowned queen. In other words, its really just a test to see who’s parents love their little girl enough (and have the means) to fork over a few hundred Q’s to win her that sash and crown. Democracy Guatemalan style.
One other new activity for me this year was the singing of the national anthem. I guess last year I missed this but no fear, I got my fill this year. I went to a total of three Independence Day activities at the local schools, each of which started with the National Anthem. First, at the crowning of the “Señorita Independencia”, kids lined up in front of the stage and sang along with a recorded version of kids singing the anthem. To me it was a bit awkward - I felt like I was watching a lip-sync contest without the enthusiasm. Second, at the “Premaria” or elementary school activity the director of the school must have been embarrassed about the previous Milli Vanilliesque anthem performance and made a BIG deal about having everyone sing the anthem a cappella. He even insisted that the vendors stop selling food while the anthem proceedings were underway. To Americans this may seem like standard procedure, but then again our national anthem isn’t ten minutes long. Yes folks, I think the Guatemalan anthem might be the longest in the world- its like a marathon- I agree vendors should stop selling but only because they should be passing out gatorade to quell exhaustion from undertaking the venture. Jokes aside, I was pleasantly surprised by the publics performance sans recording. Almost everyone knew all of the words, or did a good job of faking it.
I’m going to leave you with some wonderful sights and sounds of the Independence Day hoopla. Viva Guatemala!
that time of year again when I started hearing my neighbor kids practicing Beethoven's “Ode to Joy” and the theme song from “Titanic” on their school issued plastic recorders. To me the recorder playing signals the eminent arrival of Independence Day, or as I refer to it, Independence Week. A few weeks ago when I heard kids hitting off key notes around town it immediately made me think back to my host sister Lidia in Alotenango. She too practiced the recorder around this same time and then it dawned on me that I have been here long enough to start noticing yearly seasonal and cultural patterns. It kinda makes Guatemala feel a little bit more like home. This Independence Week played out much like it did last year. Parades, running of the torcha, fireworks etc. The first activity I participated in was the crowing of this year’s “Señorita Independencia.”
You’ll remember from my last post that we had a few beauty pageants in town recently- none of which was used to decide on the Independence Day Queen. Nope, there is no judging when it comes to choosing the Queen it’s done democratically through public voting. But remember, we are in Guatemala so instead of casting a ballot, you cast your vote (or votes) in currency. The girl with the most “votes” or “queztales” is crowned queen. In other words, its really just a test to see who’s parents love their little girl enough (and have the means) to fork over a few hundred Q’s to win her that sash and crown. Democracy Guatemalan style.One other new activity for me this year was the singing of the national anthem. I guess last year I missed this but no fear, I got my fill this year. I went to a total of three Independence Day activities at the local schools, each of which started with the National Anthem. First, at the crowning of the “Señorita Independencia”, kids lined up in front of the stage and sang along with a recorded version of kids singing the anthem. To me it was a bit awkward - I felt like I was watching a lip-sync contest without the enthusiasm. Second, at the “Premaria” or elementary school activity the director of the school must have been embarrassed about the previous Milli Vanilliesque anthem performance and made a BIG deal about having everyone sing the anthem a cappella. He even insisted that the vendors stop selling food while the anthem proceedings were underway. To Americans this may seem like standard procedure, but then again our national anthem isn’t ten minutes long. Yes folks, I think the Guatemalan anthem might be the longest in the world- its like a marathon- I agree vendors should stop selling but only because they should be passing out gatorade to quell exhaustion from undertaking the venture. Jokes aside, I was pleasantly surprised by the publics performance sans recording. Almost everyone knew all of the words, or did a good job of faking it.
I’m going to leave you with some wonderful sights and sounds of the Independence Day hoopla. Viva Guatemala!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Pageant, Flood, Pageant, Flood, Pageant
I'm beginning to believe there is a correlation between beauty pageants and torrential downpour. Someone needs to inform Guatemala that the gods feel they are the only ones capable of judging human beauty.
August 18th Senorita Revista beauty pageant
August 18th-20th Torrential downpour
August 25th Mister Instituto beauty pageant postponed during Talent segment due to thunderstorms
August 26th: Flooding in Casas Viejas
September 2nd: Mister Instituto rescheduled again due to heavy rain
September 3rd: Flooding in Casas Viejas
September 8th: Mister Instituto beauty pageant successfully completed
Now I'm just waiting for the gods' response.
But, in all seriousness, I've seen better days down here. This rainy season has been the worst in recent history. You may have seen in the news that the excess rainfall has caused catastrophic landslides placing Guatemala in a state of emergency. Casas Viejas has had more than its share of the travesties. My town is situated on a floodplain and surrounded by a river/canal system that runs from the mountains to the ocean. Rain has been pounding us consistently and on top of that the rivers surrounding us can't contain all of the rain that is rushing down from nearby mountains and is spilling out and flooding the town. For the past week or so there has been flooding all around me. The roads have turned into rivers. Cattle are roaming freely because their pastures have been converted into lakes. Our electricity is continually disrupted. Hundreds of people have been displaced. Yet, everyone is handling the dire situation with palpable resilience. Life, after all, must go on and beauty pageant queens (and misters) still must be crowned.
August 18th Senorita Revista beauty pageant
August 18th-20th Torrential downpour
August 25th Mister Instituto beauty pageant postponed during Talent segment due to thunderstorms
August 26th: Flooding in Casas Viejas
September 2nd: Mister Instituto rescheduled again due to heavy rain
September 3rd: Flooding in Casas Viejas
September 8th: Mister Instituto beauty pageant successfully completed
Now I'm just waiting for the gods' response.
But, in all seriousness, I've seen better days down here. This rainy season has been the worst in recent history. You may have seen in the news that the excess rainfall has caused catastrophic landslides placing Guatemala in a state of emergency. Casas Viejas has had more than its share of the travesties. My town is situated on a floodplain and surrounded by a river/canal system that runs from the mountains to the ocean. Rain has been pounding us consistently and on top of that the rivers surrounding us can't contain all of the rain that is rushing down from nearby mountains and is spilling out and flooding the town. For the past week or so there has been flooding all around me. The roads have turned into rivers. Cattle are roaming freely because their pastures have been converted into lakes. Our electricity is continually disrupted. Hundreds of people have been displaced. Yet, everyone is handling the dire situation with palpable resilience. Life, after all, must go on and beauty pageant queens (and misters) still must be crowned.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Change is Contagious
Hector the shop boy quit. He worked exactly 18 days at the Coop tienda. His reason for leaving: he wanted to move to Esquintla to live with his sister and get a job there. I was sad to see him go, even bought him a desert empanada as a going away present, and wished him the best of luck in his future endeavors.
Iris, Hector’s replacement, trained with him on his last day. This gave me much pleasure because I was able to watch as Hector explained to her how to maintain all of our books. He had learned the system I taught him well enough to teach another individual- the key to sustainability. Iris proved to be an even better bookkeeper than Hector and on her first day was only short Q0.40 from the register.
But alas, change must be contagious because Iris quit too. She worked exactly 8 days. Her reason for leaving: her brothers (who all live in Irvington, NJ) want her to stay at home and help her mother. Tomorrow is Iris’ last day. It will be sad to see her go, I plan on buying her a desert empanada as a going away present (or maybe a chocobanano if the empanada lady doesn’t pass by the store tomorrow), and will inevitably wish her all the luck in her future endeavors.
We still don’t have a replacement for Iris. Should be an interesting next few days.
In other news, I have new neighbors. See, change is contagious. They moved today into what was previously an empty house to the left of mine. Tragically, the family was displaced due to all the flooding that has been happening on the North side of town. Those effected by the flooding have been living in knee high water for the past three days. Families are sleeping outside on the elevated road in front of their homes, afraid to leave for fear of being robbed. I have consistently told Don Edgar (whose house has been flooded 13 times this year) that I think we should gather the people who have been effected and discuss what we can do to improve the situation- maybe ask the government to send an engineer out to see what is causing the flooding and how it could be avoided, or research costs for elevating their homes. So far I’ve had no luck in convincing him to do this, most likely because every other day he is occupied with bailing his house out. I may have better luck when the rains subside in October- will keep you posted.
So back to my new neighbors... I’m not so sure how this change is going to effect my way of living in the long run but I do know my new neighbors and I are going to get real close real fast. To explain, the chain-link fence that separates our houses is great for keeping their chickens on their side of the fence but doesn’t do much good in the privacy department. In fact, I happened to catch a young man showering in his turquoise tighty whities through the fence tonight as I was walking to my kitchen to cook my dinner. Two seconds later I overheard him ask, “who is that?.” The response was, “The Gringa.” Luckily, my shower is tucked around the other side of my house so I won’t have the same bathing privacy issues.
However, I have a feeling I’m no longer going to be able to keep my weekly routine of “Julianne Hough Cardio Ballroom” and “Jullian Michaels: 30 Day Shred” exercise videos a secret anymore. And, now when I eat my dinner alone at my little plastic table in my backyard, I won’t really be alone. Which is funny because before it didn’t bother me to eat alone but now that other people will be watching me eat alone, I’m gonna feel awkward and, well, alone. Its kinda like going to Buca Di Beppo and asking for a table for one. You know the waiter is thinking, “does this girl know we do family-style here?” and all the other patrons are giving you pity looks. Its just so awkward. Yes, I quite like this analogy. All that is missing is the garlic bread and checkered table cloth. Ciao- Let's Mangia.
Iris, Hector’s replacement, trained with him on his last day. This gave me much pleasure because I was able to watch as Hector explained to her how to maintain all of our books. He had learned the system I taught him well enough to teach another individual- the key to sustainability. Iris proved to be an even better bookkeeper than Hector and on her first day was only short Q0.40 from the register.
But alas, change must be contagious because Iris quit too. She worked exactly 8 days. Her reason for leaving: her brothers (who all live in Irvington, NJ) want her to stay at home and help her mother. Tomorrow is Iris’ last day. It will be sad to see her go, I plan on buying her a desert empanada as a going away present (or maybe a chocobanano if the empanada lady doesn’t pass by the store tomorrow), and will inevitably wish her all the luck in her future endeavors.
We still don’t have a replacement for Iris. Should be an interesting next few days.
In other news, I have new neighbors. See, change is contagious. They moved today into what was previously an empty house to the left of mine. Tragically, the family was displaced due to all the flooding that has been happening on the North side of town. Those effected by the flooding have been living in knee high water for the past three days. Families are sleeping outside on the elevated road in front of their homes, afraid to leave for fear of being robbed. I have consistently told Don Edgar (whose house has been flooded 13 times this year) that I think we should gather the people who have been effected and discuss what we can do to improve the situation- maybe ask the government to send an engineer out to see what is causing the flooding and how it could be avoided, or research costs for elevating their homes. So far I’ve had no luck in convincing him to do this, most likely because every other day he is occupied with bailing his house out. I may have better luck when the rains subside in October- will keep you posted.
So back to my new neighbors... I’m not so sure how this change is going to effect my way of living in the long run but I do know my new neighbors and I are going to get real close real fast. To explain, the chain-link fence that separates our houses is great for keeping their chickens on their side of the fence but doesn’t do much good in the privacy department. In fact, I happened to catch a young man showering in his turquoise tighty whities through the fence tonight as I was walking to my kitchen to cook my dinner. Two seconds later I overheard him ask, “who is that?.” The response was, “The Gringa.” Luckily, my shower is tucked around the other side of my house so I won’t have the same bathing privacy issues.
However, I have a feeling I’m no longer going to be able to keep my weekly routine of “Julianne Hough Cardio Ballroom” and “Jullian Michaels: 30 Day Shred” exercise videos a secret anymore. And, now when I eat my dinner alone at my little plastic table in my backyard, I won’t really be alone. Which is funny because before it didn’t bother me to eat alone but now that other people will be watching me eat alone, I’m gonna feel awkward and, well, alone. Its kinda like going to Buca Di Beppo and asking for a table for one. You know the waiter is thinking, “does this girl know we do family-style here?” and all the other patrons are giving you pity looks. Its just so awkward. Yes, I quite like this analogy. All that is missing is the garlic bread and checkered table cloth. Ciao- Let's Mangia.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Birth and Death
The first two weeks at the new Coop tienda location have been a success. Sales are steady and Hector, the shop keeper, has done a stellar job at maintaining the set of books I have requested he keep. The books detail the sales, purchases and credit flowing through the business. We have also initiated a new meeting at 5PM every day in which the Vigilancia (vigilance committee), Tesorero (treasurer) and Hector reconcile the books to see how the day ended. The store doesn’t actually close until about 8PM but our “day” ends at 5PM and sales after that point go onto the following day’s books.
This week the minibank also was moved from its temporary location at Jenny’s computation center to the new tienda local. With the move came Veronica (bank teller) and Manuel (doing an internship of sorts at the minibank). Having Veronica at the tienda adds a little spunk to the atmosphere. The girl likes to gossip and has shared all sorts of gushy town dirt with me, such as, which men frequent prostitutes, who hits the bottle a little too hard... I would elaborate but I recently found out that someone who reads my blog (you know who you are) has been reporting information back to people in town and I don’t want to cause any unnecessary trouble. I’m sure you understand.
Veronica’s affinity for gossip is not the only entertaining thing about her. She is six months pregnant and her little bun in the oven is also the source of good chit-chat.
She finds out the sex of her little "túmulo" this week. I don’t know the word for bump in Spanish. I do, however, know "túmulo" which translates to speed bump so this is what I refer to her baby bump as- close enough. We spent one afternoon last week going through potential baby names. I did the naming and she would respond if she liked it or not. It went a little like this:
Anna: Micah
Veronica: No, hate it
Anna: Max
Veronica: OK but Maximilian
Anna: Jackson
Veronica: Jason?
Anna: No, Jackson
Veronica: Jason?
Anna: Zachary
Veronica: Esaqu..... (definitely couldn't pronounce that)
Anna: Brent
Veronica: huh?
Anna: Trent
Veronica: huh?
Anna: Charly
Veronica: I like that one. Give me some more...
And so the afternoon went. She came out liking a few of my suggestions but when I offered Annalisa for a girl's name she just laughed at me.
I had intended to end my blog post with the baby name story but there was a passing in my town Friday night which has given me the opportunity to bring together, as often occurs, the two themes of birth and death. I will warn you that this post is now turning a little dark...
Friday night as the town was experiencing a unusually heavy rainfall a man was killed outside of the town cemetery. The murder took place while I was tucked away in my bed, coincidentally, watching the horror movie American Psycho (thanks Danielle). I didn’t hear the handful of gunshots that rang out because they were masked by the pounding raindrops on my rooftop and the sound of Christian Bale's chainsaw. It wasn’t until Saturday morning, when I stopped by the tienda, that I learned of the tragedy. I will recount the details that I have gathered from various sources.
The deceased was a young man of questionable character; a known gang member who also meddled in the dealing and consumption of drugs. His fatal flaw, however, was his inclination to steel from the people in town and then escape of to the capital to sell the ill-gotten gains. Let me remind you that my town is pretty small- just over 2,000 inhabitants. The large majority of people are honest, hardworking and respectful so when there is a rotten apple in the bunch it's easy to pick that person out. And picked out this delinquent was. He was walking by himself after nightfall and someone (or some people) took the law into their own hands and shot him to death. He was found shortly after the deed was done with no less than 8 bullets in his body. One right through his forehead.
Civil policing is not uncommon in Guatemala. In a country where few have faith in the government, police are seen as another futile and corrupt arm of the powers that be. And as awful as this incident was, the townspeople are shaken but show no outrage. “Now we will have fewer problems” is their ultimate conclusion, "the gangs will think twice before coming to Casas Viejas."
This week the minibank also was moved from its temporary location at Jenny’s computation center to the new tienda local. With the move came Veronica (bank teller) and Manuel (doing an internship of sorts at the minibank). Having Veronica at the tienda adds a little spunk to the atmosphere. The girl likes to gossip and has shared all sorts of gushy town dirt with me, such as, which men frequent prostitutes, who hits the bottle a little too hard... I would elaborate but I recently found out that someone who reads my blog (you know who you are) has been reporting information back to people in town and I don’t want to cause any unnecessary trouble. I’m sure you understand.
Veronica’s affinity for gossip is not the only entertaining thing about her. She is six months pregnant and her little bun in the oven is also the source of good chit-chat.
She finds out the sex of her little "túmulo" this week. I don’t know the word for bump in Spanish. I do, however, know "túmulo" which translates to speed bump so this is what I refer to her baby bump as- close enough. We spent one afternoon last week going through potential baby names. I did the naming and she would respond if she liked it or not. It went a little like this: Anna: Micah
Veronica: No, hate it
Anna: Max
Veronica: OK but Maximilian
Anna: Jackson
Veronica: Jason?
Anna: No, Jackson
Veronica: Jason?
Anna: Zachary
Veronica: Esaqu..... (definitely couldn't pronounce that)
Anna: Brent
Veronica: huh?
Anna: Trent
Veronica: huh?
Anna: Charly
Veronica: I like that one. Give me some more...
And so the afternoon went. She came out liking a few of my suggestions but when I offered Annalisa for a girl's name she just laughed at me.
I had intended to end my blog post with the baby name story but there was a passing in my town Friday night which has given me the opportunity to bring together, as often occurs, the two themes of birth and death. I will warn you that this post is now turning a little dark...
Friday night as the town was experiencing a unusually heavy rainfall a man was killed outside of the town cemetery. The murder took place while I was tucked away in my bed, coincidentally, watching the horror movie American Psycho (thanks Danielle). I didn’t hear the handful of gunshots that rang out because they were masked by the pounding raindrops on my rooftop and the sound of Christian Bale's chainsaw. It wasn’t until Saturday morning, when I stopped by the tienda, that I learned of the tragedy. I will recount the details that I have gathered from various sources.
The deceased was a young man of questionable character; a known gang member who also meddled in the dealing and consumption of drugs. His fatal flaw, however, was his inclination to steel from the people in town and then escape of to the capital to sell the ill-gotten gains. Let me remind you that my town is pretty small- just over 2,000 inhabitants. The large majority of people are honest, hardworking and respectful so when there is a rotten apple in the bunch it's easy to pick that person out. And picked out this delinquent was. He was walking by himself after nightfall and someone (or some people) took the law into their own hands and shot him to death. He was found shortly after the deed was done with no less than 8 bullets in his body. One right through his forehead.
Civil policing is not uncommon in Guatemala. In a country where few have faith in the government, police are seen as another futile and corrupt arm of the powers that be. And as awful as this incident was, the townspeople are shaken but show no outrage. “Now we will have fewer problems” is their ultimate conclusion, "the gangs will think twice before coming to Casas Viejas."
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