Peace Corps Extraordinaire

Last week, Seño Maritza was showing signs of anxiety. The root of her worries stemmed from a trip she had to take to the capital this past Friday. A trip she had to take on a bus all by her lonesome. Well, she’d be accompanied by the bus driver, an ayudante (the guy that takes your fare) and a hoard of other passengers. There in that “hoard” of passengers lies the problem. They are all strangers and strangers can’t be trusted. Each unfamiliar face poses a risk. Anyone of them could be eying her purse or even be armed and prepared to loot the entire bus.

Assaults on buses are not rare here, especially in the capital, so her worries were not unfounded.

While Friday neared, Maritza made multiple mentions in conversation about her forthcoming trip, “¡... y tengo que ir solita, AYE NO, como me da miedo!” (And I have to go all alone, OH NO, how it gives me fright!).

For me, Friday came and went like any other day in site. I didn’t see Maritza until Saturday morning when I dropped by her house to give her photocopies of the salina profit analysis. Her son, Rene, let me in and I walked to the back of the house. It was there that I realized Maritza was showering. To kill some time I checked in on our tomato plants (we’ve got one of Kamille’s hanging plants set up in her yard- it’s flowering!), When Maritza got out of the shower she walked out in her towel, gave her usual salutations and headed into her bedroom, where she proceeded to talk to me through closed door.

I asked her how her trip to the capital went and she delved into a long explanation:

You shoulda seen how afraid I was! I go to the capital, you know, but, never alone! I got up at 2am and was in the capital by 7am. Then I took a cab to meet my sister-in-law. I did it all without any problem! We did errands together but then she left me when I had to fix some papers for work. When I was done I asked a police officer how to get to the inner city bus and he explained to me where to go. Then I took another bus to get back to CENMA. From there made it to Esquintla, where I took a cab to the hospital because Marta Lidia’s daughter is sick and I promised I’d check in on her...

At this point, she reappeared clothed and continued to tell the story while rubbing her hair dry with a towel.

... I was back in Chiqui at 3pm and went to the accountant. I finally made it to Casas Viejas on the Princesita (name of a bus).

One is afraid to do things they don’t know about, but, you know what? Before I left I thought to myself, “Annalisa travels all over without any problem. She just hops on a bus and goes from here to there and everywhere.” I even thought about how you travel to foreign countries and get around. And here I am, in my own country, and I’m afraid to travel a few hours. I thought, “If Annalisa can do it, so can I.” You served as my inspiration.

I puffed out my chest and thought to myself, “Annalisa Liberman, Peace Corps extraordinaire. Empowering women in developing nations. My work here is done... It only took two years.”

p.s. Over 4th of July weekend Kamille and I took a fabulous day trip to Copán, Honduras. If you'd like to read about it, check out Kamille's blog.

Dear Trader Joe's

Quierido Trader Jose,

Allow me to introduce myself, I am Annalisa Brown Liberman, your best Guatemala- based customer, ever. For nearly two years I have been living in rural Guatemala as a Sustainable Agriculture Peace Corps Volunteer. Ever since my arrival on August 12, 2009 my father and friends have faithfully sent me dozens of bulging yellow manilla padded envelopes filled with Trader Joe’s treats. I don’t know how I would have survived these past two years without them.

I want to personally thank you for your toothsome trail mixes and delectable dried fruit. I have tasted and loved them all. I have particularly savored your Macadamia Mix Gingerly with Cranberries and Almond, Sweet & Savory and Tempting trail/trek mixes. However, nothing has tantalized my taste buds more than your Just Mangos dried mangos. I especially enjoy the packages filled with deep marigold colored slices picked ripe from Mexico or Thailand. The Columbian variety, for some reason, are never quite as as sweet and juicy.

Today, I was enjoying a package of Just Mangos in my cinderblock casita while rain outside made rivers of the town’s dirt streets. As I chewed to the pitter-patter of drops on the tin roof, I wondered just how many of Joe’s Just Mangos and trail mixes I have consumed as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I did a rough calculation and came up with over 100 packages.

I currently have two packages of Just Mangos and two trail mixes left in my reserves. These were sent by my father in a package I received June 8th. I have since told him to send no more, for my Peace Corps service ends August 17th and I will soon be able to roam the isles of Trader Joe’s on my own. Free to pick out only the juiciest, most golden Just Mango packages in the store. I can’t wait.

Once again, gracias Trader Jose. You have made my Peace Corps experience quite a treat!

Un fuerte abrazo (a big hug) from your devoted patron,

Annalisa

Ask Dr. Bob

On a large 24”x18” piece of yellow construction paper I made a table seven columns by eight rows. Fifty-six boxes. One for each day of service I have left in the Peace Corps. I labeled the columns with days of the week and grouped the rows into June, July and August. I titled the poster, “Calendario de Proyectos con Annalisa” (Calendar of Projects with Annalisa).

I began to populate the calendar with my remaining projects, trips away from site and daily obligations. Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, 3:40-4:50 English classes at Basico with Jeny. Completion of Service Medical Appointments in Antigua June 22-24. Women’s group cooking class: Pizza and planting tomato seeds, 3pm Saturday, June 25. Inventory review workshop, 5pm Wednesday, June 29. Pollo Xinca Cost of Production Analysis, Saturday, July 9... the table slowly filled up. When it was done, I taped it to the Coca Cola display fridge in the coop tienda and shared it with the socios at a meeting on Monday.

As I plan my last projects, I also have to figure out how to wrap up my service with a healthy sense of closure. My dad has coached me on this phase of my Peace Corps service. A phase that he refers to, in psychiatrist jargon, as the ‘termination period.’ Over one particularly long phone conversation about a month ago he explained this critical stage of decathecting to me. I was on one end of the line swaying in my hammock while he was on the other end, presumably, sitting in his swiveling office chair. “The termination period is a period of separation between a doctor and patient,” he began. “At the end of a treatment, a physician must work with the patient to show their time together was effective in treating the illness and that the patient is capable of sustaining his recovery even after he is not under the direct care of the physician...” (Did I paraphrase correctly, Papa? “Close enough,” as you might say.)

In any regard, the take away I got was that these last few months of service is a time for me to reflect with the cooperative on all of the work we have done together and the progress we have made. It is also a time to discuss how to sustain these improvements even after my departure. I have taken his advice to heart and have started reflecting on my service with the Coop socios. The presence of my bright yellow calendar stands as a reminder that my days with the coop are limited and has allowed me to ease into ‘termination period’ conversations. Sometimes, however, I contemplate, between myself and the cooperative, who is the doctor and who is the patient. For, I, most certainly, will come out of this experience the most changed.

Blackout

I've done this before. Too lazy to write a post so I'm going to copy and paste an email I wrote to my big brother, Peter, last night.
---------------

I am writing this email using a battery powered lantern that Dad sent me in one of his many packages. I usually reserve this light for night time showering. The electricity has been out for the past hour so it's working overtime tonight. Luckily, I still have 2 hours 29 minutes left on my Mac battery and my internet runs through the cell tower. We get blackouts about five times a week during the rainy season. It's not raining right now, so I am not sure what caused it this time. To be honest, though, I really enjoy the still darkness.

Guatemala is a very noisy country. At all hours there are drivers blaring banda music out their car windows, motorcycles revving their engines, neighbors watching telenovelas at maximum volume, kids screaming, parents reprimanding, kids then crying. It all blends together to form a constant hum of background distraction. I liken it to an audio equivalent of the visual overload in Times Square.

In contrast, when the lights are out, it's peaceful. I can hear the crickets and frogs and even my elderly next door neighbor plucking away at his guitar. Right now, he is playing Mary Had a Little Lamb. Every once in a while, the lights will flicker on for a millisecond and there are shouts of joy that echo throughout the town. But, all goes dark again, and all goes silent. My neighbor will then switch to playing Cielito Lindo or Happy BIrthday. I wonder if he has a book or is just playing from memory. I can picture him behind those blank cinderblock walls, sitting in his room, on a wood chair, strumming his guitar by candle light, thinking that no one is listening. Or, maybe, he knows I am home, and is playing for me.

I now have 2:09 left on my battery. Peace Corps tells us to conserve energy when the lights go out. We never can be sure of when they are going to come back on. Time to shut down...

Pollo Xinca

Wednesday evening I finished the last of seven trainings on 10 fundamentals of business that I conducted with the coop. The final topic we reviewed was “Promote your business.” Three days later, the coop put this principle into practice.

Saturday was the inauguration of Pollo Xinca, the coop’s latest business venture. In light of what they learned during our workshop, the coop decided to promote their business with a “Buy two or more pieces of fried chicken, get a soda for free. (while supplies last)” offer on opening day.

In Guatemala development may be slow but, work, straight-up labor, can happen lickety-split. Take, for instance, Pollo Xinca. The cooperative may still struggle to define its purpose and benefit its members yet, they can successfully whip up fried chicken operation in about one month’s time. Here is a quick outline of the idea through to fruition time-frame:

May 6: Maritza announces she has found someone who will lend her Q10,000 to start-up the fried chicken business. I must note that this loan will work much like a typical bank loan- paying off the capital and interest at the same time. I’ve drilled it into them to NEVER take another loan like the mess they got themselves into with Adan.

May 27: The men dig a well and instal a motor to pump fresh water into a pila/sink in the back of the tienda.

May 28: Tienda is rearranged to allow a section of the store to be occupied by the fried chicken business. The men create an awning over the pila in the back of the tienda.
May 31: Fryer, freezer and display case are delivered from the capital.

June 2: Electric outlets and lighting are installed in the Pollo Xinca section of the store. Cement is laid on a section of the store that had a dirt floor.

June 3: Outside of the store and Pollo Xinca area are whitewashed.

June 4: 8:00 am, women begin to decorate the tienda.

June 4: 12:00 pm, Eddy from Fedacop teaches Emerson, Pollo Xinca’s ‘chef’, how to fry chicken and french fries.


June 4: 1:50 pm, Eddy presides over a prayer around the fryer, asking God to bless Pollo Xinca.

June 4: 2:15 pm, first five pieces of fried chicken are sold.

June 4: 6:00 pm, Over 200 pieces of chicken sold and the last of 60 promotional sodas was given away.

Saltworks

I had just gotten back to the Coop after picking mangos with Don Fernando when Don Simon pulled up in a beat-up red pick-up and called me to his side window.

“The guys want to know if you can go to Sarampaña to do accounts.”

Since December, once a month, I have been meeting with the six socios who decided to take over the salina (saltworks) to review income and expenses.

I grabbed my bag, hopped in the truck and asked, “Did you guys sell all the salt?”

“Yes, and now we want to see how we stand.”

We pulled up to Don Beto’s house and there sat the five other socios: Toribio, Don Edgar, Don Jaime, Jose Angel and Don Beto. They stared at us from a semi-circle of plastic chairs planted awkwardly in the sand.

I climbed down from the pick-up and greeted them with a, “Buenas tardes.” They pulled up an empty seat and I sat waiting for someone to speak. Toribio began, “We are finished with the salinas this year and now we want you to help us figure out how to divide up the money.”

For the next hour we crunched numbers. Our discussion was punctuated with back and forths about who had already been paid for hauling salt, who had put in extra funds for this-and-that, who had been reimbursed for such-and-such. At every point of disagreement I took the opportunity to remind them, “If you had written this all down, you wouldn’t be having this argument.” They always agreed.

It takes time to change habits and I’m just glad I convinced Jose Angel, who was managing the salinas, to carry a notebook with him at all times. He recorded “most” transactions.

In the end, we calculated that the Salina had brought in a little over Q2,000 ($250) in profits for the year. To be divided up between the six men. This may not seem like much but, considering last year the Cooperative lost about Q40,000 in the Salinas, coming out ahead this year was a huge gain.

The difference between the two year’s outcomes lays largely in the price of salt. Last year, the Coop was selling a quintal of salt for Q15 or Q17. In English, 100 lbs of salt for $2. Amazing, right? This year, we were able to sell our salt at Q25. The increase in the price of salt, coupled with a slightly lower start-up cost, helped the guys come out ahead. The good weather conditions this year (less rain) didn't hurt either. I'm also going to go ahead and attribute some of the success to better management of the operation. Last year, it was impossible to assemble the associates to review expenses. This year we met monthly, without complaint. This forced the group to be accountable and scrutinize their spending.

At the end of the meeting, Toribio divided up the cash, setting aside Q200 for a celebratory lunch of fried shrimp, which they invited me to partake in tomorrow, insisting that the shrimp be accompanied by a “cervecita” (little beer). I didn’t contest.

Guatemalan Xerox Machines

Last Sunday my next door neighbor Milbia yelled to me from the chain link fence that separates my back yard from her kitchen.

“Annalisa?”

“Hey Milbia, what’s up?”

“Would you do me the favor of letting me borrow your computer? Ours isn’t working right now and I need to do a paper for the U.”

Just this year Milbia started taking Saturday classes at the local University. This is no small feat for a 28-year-old single mother of two young kids (Benicio and Leslie). Most women in her situation become comfortable tending the house and lack the confidence and motivation to make their personal growth a priority. I was happy to supply my computer for her schoolwork needs, anything to help along her success story.

Later that afternoon, Milbia and a classmate of hers came to my house and I set them up on my computer. As I tended to my housework: sweeping, dusting and washing clothes; Milbia dictated from a bound report and her friend typed.

“Diariamente, miles de niños y niñas en Guatemala viven el problema del maltrato infantil...” (Daily, thousands of Guatemalan boys and girls suffer from child abuse...)

At one point the typist took a break and I took the opportunity to comment on their report.

“You guys are writing a paper on child abuse?”

“Yes, but it’s already written, we just have to retype it.”

“It looks pretty nice in that folio you already have. Why do you have to retype it?”

“Well, we didn’t write this, we are just copying it.”

I grabbed the paper bound report they had been dictating from and sure enough, it had worn out dirty edges and was written by other students with a previous year’s due date. The first thing I wondered was, "Did the students, whose names are on the bound copy, write this or copy it?"

This wasn’t my first experience with students here “pidiendo copias” (asking to copy). When helping Jenny correct English homework, I noticed trends in sentences. “Trends” might be generous, an entire class would turn in verbatim assignments. As if they were little Guatemalan xerox machines. And, Selvin, who used to work at the minibank, would make extra cash by doing kids homework on the Coop’s computer- mostly just copying paragraphs from Wikipedia en Español.

I am frustrated by the Guatemalan educational system. If this country is ever to develop and prosper its students must be empowered to think critically and cultivate their own imagination. It doesn’t surprise me that in any Guatemalan town you will find three panadarias (bakeries) making the same tasteless bread; or fifteen corner stores selling the same cornflakes, sugar and refried beans that the tienda down the street sells. It’s a copy culture. The education system doesn’t encourage kids to take risks and think for themselves so why would they as adults?

When I found out that Milbia was copying, I became upset. Doesn’t she realize the only person she is cheating is herself? “You know,” I said to her, “if a student in the U.S. is caught copying, they can be kicked out of school.” I didn’t receive the shocked reaction I was hoping for.

I wasn't shocked.


"Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited, whereas imagination embraces the entire world, stimulating progress, giving birth to evolution." - Albert Einstein