There were a few days in Chocola when it was super windy, and I was a little scared the roof of my room was going to blow off.  There is a gap where the concrete wall of my room meets the sheet-metal roof, and so the wind gets underneath the roof , and the sheet-metal rumbles and it sounds like the roof is going to blow right off. During those few windy days, I woke up each morning with dirt and leaves strewn all over my bed, carried in by the gusts of wind. The table in my room and all of my books and things were covered in a thick film of grime. Some of our neighbors' houses suffered damage, as the wind tore off pieces of their sheet-metal rooves. There is one poor lady down the hill from us, whose entire house is made of sheet metal; the wind tore apart her house, and she was scrambling to gather the pieces and reassemble her home in the wind. One night during all this, I went with my host mom to the church. We rushed down the road to the church, with my host mom carrying a chicken in a basket to bring to one of the women (also named Juana) at the church.  We had traded Juana one of our chickens for two tiny puppies, and my host mom was bringing the chicken to the church for the exchange. We left the chicken, tied up in its basket, at the back of the church and went to take our seats. And as we sat in the church service, the gusts of wind were so strong that we really thought the roof over our heads was going to be lifted up into the heavens. Hermano Isaias was preaching that night, and we could barely hear his voice over the microphone because of the rumbling roof. He was preaching an absurd sermon that I was trying to tune out, about how we know when the end of the world is coming. And it was just so ironic and funny to me. At one point, a piece of the metal roof snapped, and was flapping above us in the wind.  The front door of the church kept blowing open, and the metal stands holding fake flowers at the front of the church would tumble over and crash to the ground with a bang.  Then someone would have to run to bolt the door shut again and rearrange the flower stands, only for the door to fly open again and knock down the flowers a few minutes later. Meanwhile, the chicken in the back of the church kept squawking and flapping its way out of the basket, trying to escape. And through all of this, Isaias kept preaching as if nothing were happening.  Then, the lights went out. But Hermano Isaias kept going - he pulled a flashlight out of his back pocket and shone it on his Bible, as he continued to preach without skipping a beat. My host mom, who had also brought a flashlight with her, shone her light on Isaias' face, so he could continue his sermon in the dark.  One of the elders of the church ran behind the church to start up the emergency generator, and soon the lights were back on, but the wind was still roaring and howling as fierce as ever. I was glad that the lights went out, so that no one could see how hard I was cracking up because of the absurdity of it all. I just thought it was so ironic how Isaias was preaching about the end of the world, and there we were, seemingly in the midst of it.  The lights had gone out, the roof was flying off, the decorations in the church were crashing over, a chicken was squawking in the back, and Isaias kept preaching without flinching once. Meanwhile, I kept looking over at my host mom and another woman Marta who was sitting next to me, and exchanging smiles and laughs.  I still laugh when I think about the absurdity of the whole night.  And I realized in that moment that only in Guatemala could I experience such an absurd church service.  And I thanked God for the laughter. 

When we returned to the house that night, I was scared to stay alone in my room because of the wind.  My room is in the front of the house, and slightly higher than the rest of the house, so it gets hit hardest by the wind.  I kept having images of lying in my bed at night, and waking up to the sound of the roof flying off, leaving me exposed to the open air. So my host sisters and I decided that I should stay with them in their room, in the back of the house.  My host parents and little sister Mindy slept in the back of the house, too, with blankets laid over the dirt floor.  I slept with Franci in her bed.  My host family had warned me that she was a crazy sleeper (sometimes she wakes up with her head at the foot of the bed and her feet on her pillow), but I decided to take my chances with Franci rather than be left alone in my room under the rumbling roof. Part way through the night, I woke up gasping for air, because Franci was hugging me so tight that I could barely breathe.  She had snuggled up to me and thrown her arms around my waist. At other points during the night, her feet were on top of me, and I was pushed up against the concrete wall, because Franci was sprawled out across the rest of the bed.  It was quite a ridiculous few nights, and I was glad when the wind finally calmed and I was able to return to my own room.  

Soon after what I like to call the ''windy nights,'' it was time once again for a retreat with the other volunteers.  This time, we had to leave the country, since our 6-month visas were expiring and we had to leave from Guatemala in order to renew them. So, our March retreat was in sunny Plancencia, Belize! We all gathered at Marcia's house in Antigua, and from there, we took a long, long bus ride up through the Coban region and towards Puerto Barrios, picking up one of the volunteers from Coban on the way.  We spent a night in Puerto Barrios, although we really didn't get to see much there, since we were told to stay inside the motel compound after dark because the streets were dangerous. The next morning, we mounted a ''ferry'' (it was more like a small motorboat) across the bay to Belize, and it was a beautiful ride.  We passed through customs on the other side, which seemed way too easy, and boarded a van to make the trip to the pennisula of Plancencia. On the way,  we stopped at a home-style restaurant for some rice and beans, the national dish, which is cooked in coconut milk and served with fried chicken. It was strange to not have to speak Spanish (Belize is an English-speaking country), and we had to restrain ourselves from saying ''Buenos dias'' and ''gracias'' to the people on the streets and the waiters in the restaurant. After lunch, we continued our trip, making a brief stop at a small Mayan ruin to explore and take pictures.  We finally arrived to Placencia in the afternoon, and it was beautiful.  Placencia is a long penninsula, surrounded by bright blue waters and mangrove trees.  In contrast to Monterrico, where the mangrove trees are protected under the law, in Placencia, the mangroves are quickly being destroyed as developers buy up the land.  As we drove in, we could see areas where the sand from the lagoon is being dredged up to create more land on which to build houses.  There was one huge mansion we saw, on its own private, man-made island, that one of the locals told us had been built by a wealthy government minister. It made me so angry. There are parts of the pennisula that are so narrow that you can take a few steps from one side to the other, and there are houses built up on sticks that emerge from the water. I imagine that when a hurricane comes, everything goes under water. Mangrove forests help protect against flooding during hurricane season, but the mangrove trees there are quickly disappearing, gobbled up by developing companies and rich government officials who selfishly want to build mansions on their own private islands, at the expense of everyone else who lives there.  

The other volunteers and I stayed in a beautiful rented house on the pennisula, and the owner had a shed filled with bicycles and canoes, so we kept very active on our retreat.  We went snorkeling one day, and took a motorboat ride with guide out to a tiny island, with our rented snorkels and colorful flippers. It was incredible. From that tiny island (which is a world heritage site), we walked out into the Caribbean and plunged our faces under the water. Through our clunky goggles, we could see all kinds of beautiful fish, swimming through corals in deep red, orange, and rust color. At one point, our guide went down to the bottom to pick up a sea cucumber (a fat, blobby-like animal the shape of a cucumber) and we got to touch it.  It was amazing! We saw huge lobsters, coral fish in bright blues and yellows and greens, baracuda, trumpetfish, and even a striped moray eel. Another day, we saw a huge stingray swim by in the lagoon. We spent most of our time swimming in the beautiful, turquoise Caribbean, walking the beach, collecting coconuts (although Celeste and I didn't know how to judge when a coconut is ripe), biking, and canoeing in the lagoon.  For meals, we ate beans and rice, fish and chips, and fish tacos, and we were all excited to eat some seafood for a change. It was certainly a relaxing retreat - more like an exciting vacation - and I think we all would have liked to stay for another day or two.  But we had to travel back soon, because we had a long trip ahead of us back to Guatemala.  The ferry ride back to Guatemala was not quite as pleasant as the ride to Belize.  A storm was approaching, and the ferry conductor handed out huge black tarps at the beginning of the ride.  We were wondering what the tarps were for, until the water started spraying over the side of the boat and into our faces.  The bay was really rough, and we hurtled over the waves in our lancha.  Anna and I were huddled under the black plastic tarp we had been given, as buckets of water poured on top of us.  It was a fun ride. :)

After the long trip back to Guatemala, and a night staying over at Marcia's in Antigua, I returned back to Chocola once again.  The week I got back to Chocola was like a whirlwind, since the following Saturday was the Quinceaños (15th birthday) of my host sister Vivi and we were all frantically working to prepare for the party.  I had agreed to make the piñata for the party, a decision I was soon to regret.  Every spare minute I had that week I spent working on the nearly-life-size piñata, which was in the shape of a birthday girl (really, the piñata was huge - it was the size of my host brother Armando).  I made a frame out of wire, which we covered with paper mache and then with colorful tissue paper.  That weekend, we hand-wrote all the invitations for the party and set out to deliver them.  I went out with Franci to deliver a few invitations one night, and we took a detour to climb the cerro at the edge of town and enjoy the view from the top.  We sat down to rest for a bit at the top of the hill, and Franci started telling me all kinds of stories from her past.  She shared how her parents used to hit them when they were younger, but that they have changed and stopped hitting.  And she shared about how hard it was to grow up in such a huge family, how sometimes she wished for more attention that she received.  She also told me about a boy from Xela she had dated several years ago, whom she thought she really loved. After dating for three months, both he and her parents had decided that it was time for them to get married, but she wasn't ready.  Her parents had reprimanded her and pressured her to marry him, but she thought that the whole thing was too fast, too precipitous - she felt like she was being pressured into it.  When she told the boy that she wasn't ready to get married, he broke it off, and he later went on to date another girl and get married.  Franci said that she was just confused and heartbroken, because she thought she really loved him, but she wasn't ready to get married so soon. She shared a lot of things with me up on that hill, as we looked out over all of Chocola. And when she finished talking, she told me that she was telling me all these things in confidence, because she trusted me, because I am her friend, and because she doesn't really have many other friends. I felt so privileged to hear her story.  On the walk back home, I told her that sometimes I have so much that I want to say, but I can't, because of the language barrier. Maybe it's better, I told her, that I just listen. Franci told me that she has ears too, and that if I ever want to talk about something, she can listen.  It was a very beautiful moment, and I smiled the whole way home, walking through the streets together with my sister Franci.

That Friday, the serious party preparations began.  I was scrambling to finish my piñata (which at that point looked like a mummy), while my host mom lugged bundles and bundles of banana leaves into the kitchen for the tamales we were about to make.  I went to the church with my host brothers Roky and Tony to help decorate for the special service the following night.  We glued up a sign in the front of the church, made of styrofoam and painted pink with glitter around the edges, that said ''Bienvenidos a Mis Quinceaños.''  A bunch of the men from the church were gathered there, having been assigned the task of climbing one of the coconut trees behind the church in order to cut down palm branches for the decorations. We all watched in suspense as my friend Emilio shuffled up the coconut tree, secured a makeshift harness out of rope, and hung precariously from the rope, with machete in hand, whacking down huge palm branches from the tree. The palm branches would fall with a crash, as we scurried to gather them up and drag them off toward the church. While Emilio was up in the tree, he decided to cut down some coconuts for us as well, and they came crashing down, some of them exploding and spraying out coconut water.  After Emilio made it down from the tree, we all sat for a while, enjoying the delicious coconuts. All the men, including my host brothers, had machetes with them, and were hacking away at the coconut shells to get to the flesh inside. We sipped the coconut water straight from the shells, and then feasted on the meat of the coconut too.  It was delicious - I could have eaten about twenty.  After fueling up on coconuts, we lugged the palm branches into the church to start decorating.  We made beautiful archways out of the branches, down the center aisle of the church, and we later hung crepe paper and pink balloons from the branches.  

A few hours of decorating later, we returned to the house to find about ten other women from the church gathered in the kitchen, amid piles of banana leaves. I helped them sort pepita (dried pumpkin seeds) for the tamale sauce, and then we started wiping clean the banana leaves, which were to be used to wrap up the tamales. We sat in a circle in the kitchen, surrounded by mounds and mounds of leaves, lost in a sea of green. In the next 24 hours, we made about 650 tamales - it was the most food I have ever seen be made in my life.  All the women from the church were there helping, working tirelessly all Friday afternoon, and then returning early in the morning on Saturday to start cooking once again. After helping clean banana leaves for a few hours, I scarfed down a quick dinner and returned to the church with my host sisters to continue decorating.  We had planned to be out of the house that night, because the pig was to be slaughtered at 10pm, sacrificed for the tamales.  I was so sad all that week, because against my better judgement, I had gotten attached to our fat, innocent little pig Chita. All week, I kept going up to her and giving her pats or holding up her ears lovingly.  My host family thought it was pretty funny that I was so sentimentally attached to the pig, although they told me that the year before, when they killed a pig, the whole family was in the street crying. I took my last photo shoot with Chita on Friday afternoon and gave her a pat goodbye. I didn't want to be at the house to hear the screeches when the pig was being slaughtered.  My host sisters, with the same idea, decided that we would go to the church to help the other kids from the youth group finish decorating. So we sat in the church, blocks away from the house, with music blasting, and helped blow up balloons and fold crepe paper to hang from the archways and ceiling. At one point, I went outside to go to the kitchen behind the church, and I could hear the screeches of the pig, which carried all the way to the church. It made me cry to hear the poor thing screeching so, and I decided it would be better if I went back into the church where the music would drown out the sound.   We returned to the house later that night, and I went straight to my room.  The man who had come to slaughter the pig was skinning her in the backyard and preparing the meat.  I brushed my teeth that night in the kitchen, instead of going to the pila in the backyard like I usually do.  I really had to use the bathroom, but I just held it in, so I wouldn't have to go out to the bathroom behind the house. I knew that if I saw the pig there, dead and being cut into pieces, I probably would never be able to erase the horrible image from my mind for the rest of my life.  So I went straight to my room to go to sleep, to the sound of hushed voices and knives being sharpened .  It was all very dreamlike, and the next morning, I woke up to find our beautiful pig converted into buckets and buckets of meat and chicharones. I cried.  

I only was able to sleep a few restless hours that night, since the kids from the youth group had planned to arrive at 3 in the morning to serenade my host sister Vivi.  It was supposed to be a surprise, but I'm pretty sure she knew about it, since we were all so obvious and not good at keeping the secret.  I fell asleep around 11:30, and set my alarm for 2:30, just in case I didn't wake up when the singing started.  At around 3am, the whole youth group arrived, singing the traditional Quinceaños songs to wake Vivi from her slumber.  We stood in the front of the house for a while, singing to Vivi, praying, and conducting a short worship service.  Then, amid all the sleepiness, we played a few games, directed by my friend Juanita.  My host mom had stayed up to make hot chocolate for the youth group, and we handed out pan (from a huge basket which we had hidden away in my room) and mugs of hot chocolate to everyone (Guatemalans can never have any sort of event without providing a meal, or at least pan and a warm cup of cafe). The youth group left around 4:30 or 5 in the morning, and I retired to bed for another hour of sleep, before having to wake up at 6 to start making tamales once again.

The mext morning was spent frantically decorating the house with balloons, filling the piñata with candy, cleaning the house, and of course, making the hundreds and hundreds of tamales.  The women from the church arrived bright and early to start making the sauce and to take the maiz to the mill to grind it up into masa (a dough of ground corn and water).  The sauce is made out of tomato, a special type of pepper, ground pepita, bread soaked in water, and spices, all mushed together and put through the mill as well. After preparing the masa and sauce, we started filling the banana leaves.  There were four enormous pots, the circumference of hula-hoops and a few feet deep, filled with masa, plus all the huge pots of sauce and buckets of pig meat.  (We had to borrow lots of cooking equipment from the church.) The women worked in pairs, one scooping a glob of masa, a ladle of sauce, and a hunk of meat into the banana leaf, and the other carefully folding the leaf into a pouch and placing the tamale in another huge pot to be cooked.  The women worked tirelessly all day - I only helped for a few hours here and there, in between decorating and cleaning and helping with other preparations - and it was a miracle that we finished all the tamales for the church service that night. It was one of the most fun things I have ever done - I love cooking with the people here, and it was like a huge community effort, with everyone working together and sharing in the special event. 

The young people started arriving at 2 in the afternoon for the piñata and cake celebration at the house.  We had bought a huge, three-tier cake, with pink frosting and flowers, for the party.  Teenagers were seated all around the yard, waiting for the activities to begin.  Myra and Pati (two leaders in the youth group) led a few games, and soon it was time to break the piñata. I was actually pretty happy to see my muñeca, as I liked to call her, be smashed into pieces and torn apart. I even got to give my own piñata a few good whacks before it met its tragic fate.  It took many good whacks before the piñata finally broke open.  One girl ended up tearing apart my muñeca at the waist, and everyone swarmed to gather up the candy and peanuts that fell to the ground.  After the piñatas and more singing, we passed out plates of cake and cups of fresco (a cool drink made of rice and cinnamon).   Soon the afternoon celebration was over, and everyone piled out, leaving behind a wreck of plates, torn crepe paper, piñata pieces, and chairs strewn about the yard.

But the celebration was only just beginning.  The service at the church was to take place at 7, and the tamales were to be handed out afterward.  My host sisters and I helped dress Vivi in her pink, frilly quinceaños dress (which she had borrowed from a neighbor who had recently celebrated her quinceaños) for the ceremony. My little sister Mindy, the neighbor's little girl Mishel, and another girl in the family, dressed in tiny pink dresses and frilly white socks, and hurriedly went across the road to have their hair fixed by Mishel's mom.   The service at the church was like a wedding ceremony - I'm telling you, Guatemalans take their quinceaños parties seriously.  It is a special birthday because it is supposed to represent a girl's coming-of-age, like a rite of passage from childhood to adulthood. We arrived at the church, late as usual, and Vivi prepared to walk down the aisle arm-in-arm with her brother Roky.  Hermano Timoteo was directing the service over the microphone, and we had a CD of traditional quinceaños music for Vivi's procession into the church.  First came little Mishel, throwing flower petals from a tiny basket, and then adorable Mindy carrying a pink pillow with a quinceaños ring on it to the front altar. Last came Vivi and Roky, walking through the palm archways and pink crepe paper, to the front of the church.  I was up front, running back and forth from the keyboard to the front row of seats (I was accompanying the hymns for the service, but was also in charge of taking pictures of Vivi's procession and presentation).  The whole ceremony was fit for a wedding, and Vivi looked so beautiful in her pink girly dress.  After the service ended, it was time to hand out the tamales, and they were well worth the work and the wait.  I was quite satisfied to sit in the church, eating my delicious tamale (minus the pig meat) after such a long day. We only had about 50 to 100 tamales left over, after handing them out to everyone at the service and sending baskets home with family members and friends.  We were eating re-heated tamales for every meal for the next couple of days, and they were delicious.

We returned home late that night, and woke up the next morning with a messy house and lots of leftovers. And the birthday celebration continued, because the next day was MY birthday.  When I woke up, my host mom gave me a big hug and told me she loved me, and then everyone else in the family gave me a big hug too.  We ate re-heated tamales for breakfast, and then I headed off to Santo Tomas to teach my weekly Sunday school class.  I hadn't planned anything for the class, so I just read a story to the kids and we played games, and it was really fun.  I mentioned at the beginning of the class that we had had a huge birthday party at the house the day before, and that now it was my birthday.  So Dina (the woman who teaches Sunday school with me) and one of the kids snuck out at one point, and they returned with a small cake and a bottle of soda to share in celebration of my birthday.  It was so sweet, and I really hadn't expected anything - I was happy just to have celebrated the day before.  The kids made me close my eyes as they brought in the cake, and they sang ''Happy Birthday'' and we divided it up.  I asked Dina to take a picture of me with the kids (who smeared cake all over their faces), and it is adorable.

On my way back home, I swung through the market to buy myself a coconut, which I enjoyed as I walked back. When I returned to the house, my little host siblings had nailed a bunch of yellow balloons to the wall in my room.  Mindy kept asking me for balloons throughout the day, and I kept taking them down, one by one, to give to her.  She would play with them for a little while and then pop them with a bang. She kept asking for more balloons, until all the balloons in my room we gone.  I told her that I didn't have anymore, because she had stolen them all, and we laughed.

That afternoon, we went to church, and all the decorations were still up, since everyone knew it that was my birthday too. The pastor made a presentation, and made me stand up front sothat everyone could give me birthday greetings.  The kids came in first, each giving me a hug and then standing off to the side. Pati led the kids in singing a few songs, and when they finished, they shouted ''¡Feliz Cumpeaños, Alejandra!'' in unison.  It was precious. Next, everyone came up to the front, filing in a line down the aisle, to give hugs and wish me a happy birthday.  Some of the older ladies slipped money into my hand after giving me a hug, and it was really cute.  I also  received a few cheesy ''Guatemalan'' birthday gifts - tacky ornaments and ''recuerdos'' that everyone here seems to love, but are the ugliest things I have ever seen. One of the gifts, for instance, was a snow-globe with a marlin fish inside, mounted on a plastic base with another huge marlin fish diving out from the top.  I don't mean to sound ungrateful - I was very touched by the outpouring of love I received from everyone at the church - but typical Guatemalan gifts are pretty cheesy and ugly.  I cried, as I was received hugs from everyone, because I was just so touched by the kindness everyone has shown me, and I was thinking about how sad it is going to be when I have to leave this community.   I was so thankful for such a fun and exciting weekend with my host family and community. And I thought about how I am building up such wonderful memories that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.  

So ended the marathon birthday weekend, and we were finally able to sleep that night and get some rest.  Festivities for Semana Santa (Holy Week) have already begun, so I guess the party continues.  Jeff is coming to visit (he's arriving in a few days!) for Semana Santa, and I'm really excited! We are going to spend some time here in Chocola and then head to Antigua to see some of the Semana Santa celebrations and parades there...I'm sure there will be more to write about soon!

 

I didn´t get to mention in my last post, but toward the end of January, I was able to participate in a convencion de los jovenes (a convention of all the youth groups in the area, with games, activities, workshops, and of course, food!).  We started out at the Igelsia Belen in Ladrillera, where everyone gathered to receive name tags and prepare for the annual torch run.  After a brief opening worship at the church, we hoared outside to light the torches (sticks with tin cans strapped to the top, and fuel for the fire inside the cans).  Most of the girls were gathered in their gym shorts and tennis shoes, having changed out of their cortes (the traditional Mayan skirts) and caites (sandals).  But a few ran in their cortes and flimsy sandals nevertheless.  With two pickup trucks following close behind, packed with more jovenes who didn´t want to run with the torches, we set out from Ladrillera to Chocola by way of Santo Tomas. The first pickup truck had a bullhorn and speaker strapped to the top, and my friend Rigo made obnoxiously loud announcements and commentary over the loudspeaker, as the group ran on ahead with the torches. The road from Ladrillera to Santo Tomas is pretty much a steady uphill climb, with some serious hills and a few steep drops, and then its mostly downhill to Chocola from there. The black smog from buses and burning trash along the side of the road, plus the smell of the kerosene from the torches, which blew back in our faces, added an extra challenging dimension to the run. I started out trying to keep a steady pace, but apparently no one else had any concept of pacing; everyone would sprint as fast as they could on the downhill slopes, and then tire themselves out and end up walking the uphill stretches.  And we had to continually stop to wait for people who were lagging behind, to make sure we didn´t lose anyone. I got the chance to meet one of pastor Manuel´s daughters, Rutilia, who is just about as sweet and joyful as her father. She befriended me at the Iglesia Belen, and we ran most of the torch run together.  We all laughed a lot, in between the panting and sweating, and we finally arrived proudly at Horeb Presbyterian Church in Chocola, where the annual convention was held this year. After quickly running back to the house to take a refreshing ice cold shower, I returned to the church to spend the afternoon with the other jovenes, playing games, joking, laughing, and eating together. 

That night, each youth group was supposed to give a brief presentation for the group - a short drama or song or whatever the group had planned. I had been asked to participate in a drama with the youth group from the church...or rather, I was assigned a part in the drama one day when I wasn´t there. And the role they had decided I would play was the role of Jesus. We had had several rehearsals in the weeks before to prepare for the convention. I had arrived at the first rehearsal, quite unaware of what I was getting myself into and the role I was expected to play. And when I heard the script of the play, I didn´t want to be in it. The drama had a very evangelizing message: it was a story of two construction workers, one of whom is a Christian.  The Christian talks to his friend one day about Jesus, and then his friend, who is quite rapidly convinced, decides to give his life over to Jesus, and then suddenly the house that they are building at the construction site topples on top of them and they die.  They wake up in heaven, to be greeted by an angel who holds the Book of Life, with all the names of those people who will be allowed entrance into heaven.  Jesus stands off to the side, surrounded by a crowd of adoring angels. And the one friend, who has just decided to give his life over to Jesus, is worried that his name won´t be written in the Book of Life, and that he might have to be sent down to Hell instead. Yet sure enough, his name is written in the book, and the two friends rejoice and walk off with Jesus and his angels into heaven. The whole message of the play was counter to the way I think about God and faith and the concepts of heaven and hell; I felt that it was a caricature of faith, which is so much more complicated than that. And I just tend to cringe in general when people try to evangelize in such a way, saying that if you don´t believe what we believe, you are going to be damned to hell, but if you do believe you will be rewarded with a perfect heaven of joy and bright lights and singing angels. I think that this type of evangelizing alienates people and inspires fear. People´s hearts don´t change in that way, and things are not so simple, so black and white. And I didn´t want to be in the play, but I didn´t know how to back out of it without offending the other jovenes in the group or having to enter into a deep theological discussion with everyone (I don´t always know how to talk about the complexities of my faith in English, let alone in Spanish). I tried to graciously back out of the part, saying that I wanted to give someone else the opportunity to be part of the drama. But then, some of the leaders of the group just thought that I didn´t want to play the part of Jesus, so they switched my role to the angel who holds the Book of Life (slightly better than playing Jesus, but not really...at least it was a silent part - all I had to do was nod). I felt a lot of turmoil in my heart for a few weeks, and had several discussions with my director Marcia about it.  I didn´t agree with the message of the play and I felt like I would be insincere if I didn´t say what I believed. But I also didn´t want the youth group to think that I didn´t want to be involved in an activity with them.  I didn´t want to jeopordize any of my newly-forming relationships with some of the jovenes.  So I decided to stay in the drama, partly because I don´t like confrontation, and partly because I felt that it would be more effective to have conversations about the complexities of faith with individuals throughout the year, rather than making a big scene in front of the entire youth group.  

While waiting for everyone to arrive for a drama rehearsal one night, I got to have a really good conversation with one of the young people; our conversation made me feel a little better about my decision to be in the play, because my participation in the drama at least gave me an opportunity to get to know some people whom I otherwise might not have gotten to know.  And I really enjoy spending time with the youth group and talking and laughing with everyone. The evangelical-ness of the church here is overwhelming at times, but I am continually looking for ways to encourage people to question what they are taught and explore some of the complexities of their faith. So, I was an angel in the drama after all, and my host siblings helped me make my angel wings out of metal wire and tissue paper.  The night of the convention, the drama went by like the flash of an eye.  I only vaguely remember standing in the bright lights with my angel wings and white garb, flipping through my book of names...

After the drama presentations at the convention, we had dinner together and sang around a bonfire.  I slept in the church that night, along with about 30 or so others, on the hard concrete floor, with just a blanket.  We stayed up until around 1 or 2 in the morning, and then woke up at 6 for a morning devotional and breakfast cooked by some of the women from the church. 

The next day was packed with more activities and games, but I was definitely exhausted from the lack of sleep. And about halfway through the day, after a very unfortunate incident with my camera, I was ready to go home. At one point during the day, I lent my camera to one of my friends in the youth group to take a picture - he only had it in his possession for about two minutes - and when he returned the camera to me, all of my pictures that were saved on the memory card had been erased! I had pictures on my camera from my first days in Guatemala up through January, and I stupidly hadn´t yet saved them to a computer or memory drive. All those pictures - pictures of my first host family in San Juan, my teacher at the Spanish school, Christmas with my host family, the choir that I directed, the women´s convention, pictures that I couldn´t just take over again- were gone! I cried when I realized that, although I had to try to put myself together so I could spend the rest of the day with the jovenes at the convention. I didn´t say anything to my friend who had accidently erased the pictures, because I didn´t want to make him feel bad about it.  So I just swallowed it, and later I cried to my family over the phone, and I cried to my host family too and told them what had happened. Fortunately, a few weeks later, when I met with the other volunteers for a retreat, I was able to take my camera to a photo shop.  Apparently you can sometimes recover deleted photos from a memory card.  So I took my camera to a shop and they were able to recover a good portion, if not all, of my photos. Needless to say, I was definitely ready for a retreat with the other volunteers after all the commotion of the convention...

Our end-of-January retreat was at the beach, in sunny Monterrico, Guatemala.  It was beautiful.  We stayed in a bungalow-style house, a block from the long, black-sand beach there.  We got to swim, see the amazing sunsets over the water, and collect shells from the beach. In Monterrico, there is also a tortugeria - a place where people are working to protect the sea turtles that live there.  During breeding season, baby sea turtles are released a few times a week, to plunge into the deep, scary sea. You can pay a few quetzals to release your own baby sea turtle.  The tiny black turtles, so small that they fit in your hand, race from a line drawn in the sand to the edge of the ocean, where they are tossed about and swept away by the ferocious waves. They seem to know instinctively that this is their destiny - the ocean. They flap their little fins in a slow crawl to the edge of the water, until they are swept up in the current to face ocean life head-on. It is amazing to watch.

While in Monterrico, we also got to take a boat ride with a guide through the protected mangrove forests there.  There are several different kinds of mangrove trees that grow there, with roots that spring up out of the water and branches that support a multitude of wildlife.  Mangrove forests are some of the most biologically diverse ecosystems on the earth, supporting hundreds of species of birds, fish, and vegetation. They are extremely important in helping prevent flooding and providing other natural ecosystem services. Yet due to environmental degradation, mangrove forests are quickly disappearing from the earth.  In Monterrico, the mangrove forests are protected by preservation laws, but in many places, mangrove trees are quickly being bulldozed over, as the land is taken over by developers. We had the opportunity to go with a guide on a boat ride through the mangroves, and it was one of the most amazing things I have ever done. We left just before sunrise, and got to see the sun come up over the water and trees, as birds swarmed overhead in their majesty. We saw hundreds and hundreds of different kinds of birds, waterlilies, and even a fish that has FOUR eyes and skims over the water like a flash of lightening. There we were, just drifting over the water, as beautiful white cranes and egrets flocked overhead and perched in the mangrove trees. It was incredible.

After a weekend of relaxing on the beach, exploring Monterrico, and debriefing with the other volunteers, I returned to Chocola, refreshed and ready to face the challenges once again. Things have been really busy here lately, but I am really enjoying what I am doing, and it helps the time go by quickly. I have started teaching two days a week at the school in Xojola (pronuciation almost exactly like Chocola), and it has certainly been challenging. The days when I go to the school, I have to wake up at about 5:30 in the morning, so I can leave the house by about 6:30 for Santo Tomas.  My dear host mother has been waking up early to make me a hot breakfast that she packs in a tupperware, so that I can eat it at the school when the kids have recess. She sends me off early in the morning, and I mount a bus to Santo Tomas, where I have to walk a few blocks to catch a pickup truck the rest of the way to Xojola. The ride to the school is beautiful, through fields of corn stalks, coffee, and banana trees.  The craggy mountains sit in the backdrop, smoky dark blue against the light early-morning sky. It is pretty breathtaking, from the back of a pickup truck, with the cool morning air blowing in your face. The ride would be quite refreshing if it weren´t for the fact that you have to hold onto a metal bar for dear life, as the truck makes its way over dusty roads covered with rocks and holes.  Plus, the dirt whips up into your eyes (it has been so dusty here lately, because it hasn´t rained in so long...you can´t take five steps out of the house without your feet being covering in a thick brown film).  But I still enjoy having time to think and take in the beauty of the mountains from the back of a pickup.  

The school is in an area that is even more rural than Chocola, where the people speak primarily Quiche.  Nearly all the women and girls are dressed in the traditional corte, which in that area is a deep navy blue, with a single horizontal stripe and vertical stripe of brightly colored embroidery. Sometimes the navy backdrop of the fabric is interwoven with faded gray or silver patterns, and it is beautiful. The language barrier makes teaching difficult, since some of the students don´t speak very much Spanish at all - their first language is Quiche.  And I am supposed to be teaching English, which is a third language for these kids.  I have started out teaching two sections each of fourth, fifth, and sixth grade, and it is exhausting.  I spend an hour with each section, teaching songs and games and English vocabulary.  I am currently trying to work out a new schedule with the director, in which I can concentrate maybe on just one grade level, so that I can get to know my students better.  Each section has about 25 to 30 kids, and so I have been working with hundreds of students.  I am hoping to be able to concentrate just on sixth grade (these students need to learn English more that the younger students, because they will have to study the language if they go on to junior high school). I am also hoping to get a group of students together to teach music, using some of the instruments that were donated by my church.  I am learning a lot at the school, and the kids all seem to be very excited that I am there.  I am still figuring out how to teach and interact with the students in a meaningful way; it has definitely been exhausting and challenging, but I´m hoping it will get easier as I gain more experience there. 

I am now also leading three different women´s bible studies, and it has been one of the most rewarding things that I have been doing.  I mostly ask a lot of questions, and sometimes there is awkward silence for a long time, because no one knows what to say, or they are afraid to say it.  But it is all worth it, when you can see someone´s face light up, as she gathers the courage to share an idea or thought, or talk about an experience of God working in her life. I am learning so much from these women, and it has been such a blessing.  Sometimes someone will say something that I´ve never even thought of before, and it´s awesome. I was giving a bible study with a group in Santo Tomas one week, and we were reading a story about Martha and Mary.  In the story, Jesus comes to visit at the house of Martha and Mary, and Martha is busy in the kitchen cooking and cleaning, preparing food for their guest, while Mary sits at the feet of Jesus and listens to him speak. Martha starts to get angry that she is doing all the work, while her sister Mary is just sitting there, and so she tells Jesus this.  But Jesus replies, ¨Martha, you are worried and occupied by many things, but there is only one thing that is necessary.  Mary has chosen the better part, and it will not be taken away from her.¨  I was trying to ask the women in the group how they thought Jesus was freeing Martha from her worry, and what he was freeing her to do. One of the women responded that Jesus had freed Martha to be able to listen to the word of God and to speak about all the miracles that He has done. And I thought that that was just amazing.  Later during our bible study, one of the women thanked me for giving them a break from the worries of housework and caring for their children, for giving them an opportunity each week to study, think, and speak about the miracles that God has done.  She was so grateful, and I was so grateful for the women in the group that I nearly cried. These women work so hard, and their work is never finished - they are always cooking, cleaning, making more tortillas, caring for their children, and attending to their husbands.  They work continuously and selflessly for their families. And some of them have never had the opportunity to go to school or learn to read.  Many of them have never had the opportunity to do anything for themselves, and they´ve had to sacrifice their lives and dreams for their families. So I am very happy to be able to sit with these women each week and hear their stories, and to give them a break from housework. There is one older woman in the group, Lorenza, who can´t read, and doesn´t speak very much Spanish (she speaks mostly Quiche), but she is there mostly every week.  Sometimes she falls asleep while we are talking, but I don´t mind or take offense, because at least my bible study gives her a chance to rest for a few hours.

This past week, we studied a story about a woman with a blood disease, who came up behind Jesus in a crowd to touch his robes and be healed. I asked the women what types of diseases and sicknesses (not just physical, but also things like sadness, desperation, worry...) that they face in their own lives. One woman responded that she is continually worrying about how she is going to put her young children through school, how she and her husband are going to find the resources to support her children´s education.   Another woman named Berta began talking, saying that she´s had so many diseases and problems in her life that it would take days to recount.  And she started sharing about how she was so in love with her husband when she was younger, but that he was unfaithful and cheated on her repeatedly.  She suffered heartache for many years. Her husband didn´t like her going to church, so she gave up her faith for him, because she was so in love. When her husband would return to the house late, she used to ask him where he had come from, and he would get angry with her and not respond.  So eventually she just stopped asking, and she suffered quietly, knowing that her husband was cheating on her but that there was no way out. Yet one day, after coming home to find her husband in the house with another woman, she had the courage to leave, taking her children with her.  Berta shared how God transformed her mess of a life, and gave her hope and worth and a sense of value.   She found support in women from the church, and they helped her gain her dignity and confidence back.  She left behind her troubles and pain, and traded them in for the hope that God had given her.   And now she is a leader in the church, president of the feminil (the women´s society) and a representative in the synod (a larger governing body of the church). Berta talked for about a half an hour straight, sharing her story, and it was amazing.  I saw her face change from anguished, teary eyes and trembling lips, as she talked about the pain her husband caused her, to a glowing smile and bright eyes, as she spoke about the newfound hope she now has in her life.  I was so thankful that she had the courage to share her story like that.  She just kept talking and talking, bursting over with stories about the amazing ways in which God has transformed her life.  It was a moment when I was sure that I was exactly where I was meant to be.  I´m not sure exactly why, but I think that a huge reason I am here is to hear stories like this, told from the voices of Guatemalans. I believe that it is important for these stories to be told out loud, and it is important for me to hear them and learn from them. I have made some wonderful friendships with many women, and I am looking forward to spending more time with them each week.

I still haven´t caught up on the last few weeks, but I will save that for my next blog, which I hope to post soon.  This weekend we celebrated my host sister´s quinceaños (15th birthday) with a party that was fit for a wedding, and my birthday followed the next day.  The marathon birthday weekend deserves a post in and of itself...  Hope to update again next week!

Continuing from my last post...

With the new year has come a lot of new opportunities to get to know people. I returned back to Chocola after my family´s visit, and time seemed to pick up a little bit. A week after, I had the opportunity to preach at the convention of the Prebiterial (the women´s governing body of the churches in our Presbytery). The convention was a two-day event, with women from all the different churches in the area attending. I have found so much joy in working with women here - I have found that they are so strong and tough, hardworking and compassionate, so in touch with the simple joys of life, and quick to laugh. I was given the opportunity to preach the first morning of the convention, for the opening worship, and I was pretty terrified beforehand. The theme of the convention was ¨The Integral Growth of the Christian Woman¨(I´m not really sure what they were going for with that...), so I talked about the passage in the Bible where Jesus says that He is the vine and we are the branches. I used the metaphor to talk about how we need to be connected to the right source in order to grow, and how often times, we need to be pruned and cut in order to bear fruit, and sometimes it hurts. I was able to talk a little bit about my experience so far in Guatemala - how it was a very difficult decision for me to make to leave my home and my family, to come to a place where everything is new and unfamiliar. I talked about the difficulties of adjusting and learning Spanish, and how sometimes I feel sad and lost and unsure of myself. But I also told the women that I knew that if I didn´t come to Guatemala, I wouldn´t grow in the ways that God was inviting me to grow. Even though it has been hard at times (or perhaps because of the hardships), I have already learned so much from the faith and love that I have seen among the people of Guatemala. Sometimes God needs to prune and cut some branches so that we can grow. So, I was able to share a little of my story with the women there. And I encouraged the women to accept challenges, and do things that maybe they are afraid to do, because it is when we step out of our comfort zones that we grow.

I´m not sure how my Spanish came out, or how well people understood what I was saying, but I think enough of it came through so that I could share something meaningful. I got a lot of shouts of ¨Amen!¨ (which is usually a good way to tell how well a sermon is going), so I think it went okay. And after that, I was able to relax a little bit, and just spend time with the women at the conference. The day mostly consisted of a session meeting - discussing budgets, planning upcoming events, etc. - interspersed with meal time and chatting with the other women there. We had a worship service that night, and so many people came, that there weren´t enough seats and people were packed in the doorway. My old friend Manuel, who is the pastor at the church there, preached that night. He is about 90-something years old, and his health is deteriorating, but he is the most joyful and spirited man you will ever meet. He is always singing and praising God. That night, Manuel presented all the women from the previous Presbiterial board (the President, Vice, Secretary, etc.), as well as the incoming board members that had been voted to serve for the next year. As he called the names, the women came up to stand in the front of the church. He called me to stand with the group, too, since I will be working with these women and attending their meetings during the year. Except Manuel called me Berta by mistake, and I just laughed (he has trouble getting names right, and usually calls me AlejanDRINA instead of Alejandra, but it is really very cute and endearing).

I ended up staying over night in the Belen church, which is where the convention took place; I shared a room in the pastoral house behind the church with 5 other women, Noehmi, Cecilia, Paula, and Maria, from the church in Chocola, and another woman, Flor de Maria, who is a representive from the national church. I had met Flor on several other occasions, and she is wonderful. Sharing a room with all those women was so much fun! We didn´t get much sleep, because we were up late laughing, and had to wake up at 6 for the morning devotional the next day (which, we incidentally missed, because we were chatting and taking too long to get ready). Plus, the bed I slept on was as hard as a rock (I´m pretty sure it was just made out of concrete)...but it didn´t matter, because I got to share a fun experience with a wonderful group of women, and we LAUGHED a lot.

Actually, the women´s convention was not the only opportunity I´ve had to preach in the past month. On two other occasions, I was asked to preach a sermon, on the spot! (Guatemalan churches are famous for this, so I´m learning that it´s always good to have something prepared, just in case...) The first occasion was earlier that week, at a meeting in the church in Chocola. Manuel Pastor was as that meeting too, and while we were waiting for the meeting to start, he started leading everyone in songs, and then asked if anyone could give a brief Bible reflection. He looked at my host dad, who was sitting behind me, but my host dad regretfully informed us that he hadn´t brought his Bible to the meeting. So I made the mistake of reaching into my purse and pulling out my Bible to hand to my host dad. But, of course, he had also forgotten to bring his glasses, and therefore couldn´t see to read. So, Manuel Pastor decided it would be best if I gave the Bible reflection instead, since I was already prepared with my Bible. So I quickly searched for one of my favorite passages, and gave about a two-minute reflection. Next time, I´ll know not to whip out my Bible so fast. :)

The other occasion was a visit to the Canaan church in Xoajij, where I had been invited to talk with the church about giving an English class to some of the members. My host dad had warned me that I should prepare a brief sermon, just in case, but I was convinced that they would never ask me to preach on my first visit to their church, and if they did, they would at least notify me in advance, so I could prepare something. But my host dad was right, and luckily, I had at least picked out a passage and thought for five minutes about what I could say. In the past weeks, I think I´ve done enough preaching on the spot (in another language which is not my own!) to satisfy me for the rest of my life.

But anyways, I´ve had lots of new opportunities recently to get to know more and more people. I´ve been continuing to teach keyboard lessons, and my 10 or so students are slowly learning to read music. I´ve started teaching two Sunday school classes of young children, one in the church in Chocola and another in Santo Tomas (the next town over). I´ve really enjoyed teaching and playing and drawing with the kids. I´ve been teaching the kids some new songs, and we´ve been playing the little percussion instruments that my parents brought. The kids love it!

In addition, I´ve started getting involved with some women´s groups at the different churches. I´ve been attending a special weekly women´s service in the Iglesia Galilea (Galilee Church) in Ladrillera, and I just started leading a women´s bible study group in Santo Tomas as well. I´m hoping to use these spaces to encourage the women to think and express their opinions and feelings freely, without fear. In many of the Presbyterian (read: Evangelical) churches in the area, most of the sermons and bible readings (which aren´t the responsibility of the pastor, but rather are rotated responsibilities that church members share the burden of) are given by men. Often the interpretations and messages are through the eyes of a man. Women do share responsibilities in the church, such as leading the singing or directing the service from the pulpit, and there are even a few women who sometimes preach. But there are also many older women who don´t know how to read or write; these women are denied privileges such as delivering a sermon or reading a lectura, because they weren´t given the same educational opportunities. In many traditional homes, the women are responsible for cooking, making tortillas, cleaning, and caring for the children, while the men work in the fields or other manual labor jobs. While this trend is changing in Guatemala, it is still pervasive in some of the more rural areas. Many women end up getting married at a very young age, and consequently are not able to complete even a middle school education. There are some women in the church in Chocola who seem interested and excited about learning how to read and write, and I am trying to get together a group to teach. I think that would be very beautiful. Meanwhile, I am hoping, through my involvement with these women´s groups, to empower and encourage women to express their opinions more, to ask questions and to challenge what they are taught. In general, in the Guatemalan Evangelical church, people are not taught to question what they learn; rather, they simply accept what they are told about faith and God. I´m looking for spaces, within the youth group and women´s groups and church in general, to be able to have conversations with people, who maybe have questions, or aren´t sure why things are a certain way, or don´t agree with something that is being said in a church service. And maybe I can even stir some of these important questions in people´s hearts. With my bible study group, I am planning to read stories about women in the Bible who were important in God´s work in the world. And I am planning to ask a lot of questions, and to wait, however awkwardly, until someone bravely responds, and to LISTEN.

Yesterday, I also started teaching an English class at the Canaan church in Xoajij. The Canaan church, along with several other churches in the area, has a partnership with a church in Baltimore, Maryland, and sometimes receives visitors from the Baltimore church. Many of the church members are very interested in learning English, so that they can communicate better with their English-speaking partners. I had a really fun time with the class, although it was very difficult. Some of the people there did not speak much Spanish even (they speak in the native Mayan langauge Quiche), so I had to get some help translating. Elijio and his wife Isabel, who both teach at the school where I will be working, were both there, and helped a lot with translations. We ended up singing songs together at the end. I was trying to teach them the song ¨I´ve got joy¨ in English. I´ve learned the song in both Spanish and Quiche, and so we attempted to sing together in all three languages. It was very beautiful to be able to sing a song together in three different languages - what a wonderful cultural exchange! I´m hoping to learn more Quiche as I teach the group some English...

I am scheduled to start teaching at the school next week, but who knows, since the date keeps getting pushed back. I did get to visit the school again with Elijio (this time, not in the pouring rain) and I met some of the other teachers with whom I will be working. They were all so welcoming and friendly, and I can´t wait to start soon!

In other news, I now have a new family member living in the house. My 18-year-old host brother Pablo had gotten engaged with his girlfriend Denise about two months ago, and they were planning to have the wedding six months from now. But they decided that they didn´t want to wait that long, and so Denise came over one night and never left. We had to rearrange the whole house again, to make a room for the two of them. I didn´t realize it at the time, but Denise is only 15 years old. I can´t even imagine getting married at that age, and the whole thing seemed pretty rash and immature to me. I didn´t really understand how you could just move in, and that´s it - you´re married. Apparently it is not so uncommon for that to happen in a lot of rural areas of Guatemala. Denise hasn´t completed primary school, and she doesn´t want to, although she only has to complete one more year to get her 6th grade certificate, and my host parents even offered to help pay for her books and supplies. I feel sad that she is forfeiting the opportunity to go to school, but I don´t think there is anything I could have said to change her mind. I was also surprised at my host parents´ reaction to the whole situation. There was a big commotion the night that Denise decided to move in, and my host parents had to go talk to Denise´s parents to let them know that she wasn´t coming back to live with them. She went back her house a few days later to collect her things. Despite my host parents´ very conservative views, they have welcomed Denise into the house as their daughter, and she is now one of the family. It doesn´t really feel much different in the house with an extra person (there were already 12 of us!), except that I now have another host sister. I am not sure if Pablo and Denise are still going to have a low-key wedding ceremony or not, but the whole family and community already considers them married, although illegitimately. I´m not sure what to do with the whole thing - Denise is so young, and I feel sad that she is giving up her education, but at the same time, it is what she is choosing to do. I just wonder about all the factors that influence people to make such choices, and I am trying to understand. In the meantime, the only thing I can do is be a friend to her and listen.

I have been so thankful for the love of my host family in the past few weeks, and I´m starting to feel like I am really part of the family. I joke and laugh with my host siblings, and we sometimes annoy each other and get on each other´s nerves, but that´s how things are with family. Everything´s not always perfect. It´s nice that I can just be real, and be myself around them. One night, my host siblings and I were all crowded into my sisters´ room, and we were throwing pillows at each other, and it was so much fun. I laughed so hard that I gave myself a sore throat and I could barely talk afterward. Another day, we went together to Chichoy (spelling?), a nearby river, to take a swim; we walked back through town soaking wet. The younger kids, as well as my host sister Sonya (who is in vocational school studying to become a teacher), have all started school again. So it is a little quieter in the house during the day. We are all busier doing things, but it is nice to come back to the house and feel at home.

Meanwhile, one of the turkeys at our house has taken a liking to making her nesting place in my bed. I came into my room one day to find an egg lying next to my pillow. So I carefully carried it out to show my host mom, with a big smile on my face. The next day I found another egg. And the next day, I caught the turkey in the act, nestled on my blanket next to my pillow. Since then, the turkey has laid about 5 more eggs in my bed - apparently she won´t lay them anywhere else. Sometimes I´ll be sitting in my room, on my bed, and the turkey will come and peek into the doorway to see if I´m there, and I´ll shoo the turkey away, and she´ll come back two seconds later and try to dodge past me and flutter onto my bed. It is really quite absurd. I have given up trying to shoo the turkey away, because she simply refuses to lay her eggs anywhere else. So sometimes I find a surprise next to my pillow when I go into my room.

Anyways, this post is already getting really long, even though I feel like I´ve missed so much that has happened in the past weeks. It´s hard to sum up everything that has been going on in life and in my heart in just a few paragraphs. Hopefully I can update again soon!

Agghh, sorry for not updating in so long...There has been a lot going on here lately, and so there is a lot to catch up on.  First, let´s backtrack to Christmas...

Christmas was very different in the warm weather and away from home and family.  But it was also very beautiful, because I got to celebrate the birth of Christ in a new way.  In Guatemala, the big celebration is on Christmas Eve, not on Christmas day.  On Christmas Eve, I gathered with my little choir at the church to practice before the service that night.  We all wore white blouses to match (like a choir of angels), and we sang four songs during the service.  Two of the songs were already familiar to them - ¨Silent Night,¨ which is translated as ¨Noche de Paz¨ (Night of Peace), and is really quite beautiful in Spanish, and another called ¨Oh Santisimo, Felicisimo.¨  And two of the songs were new hymns that I taught the choir - the Spanish versions of ¨Joy to the World¨ and ¨The First Noel.¨ The harmonies that I tried to teach pretty much flew out the window, but I was just happy that we were able to sing the songs in unison and relatively on-key. I think the music added more joy to the service, and I was glad to be able to share that with the church.  After the service, everyone gave each other hugs and wished each other a Feliz Navidad. I felt like part of a big family, like I was part of something bigger than myself, that I couldn´t describe, part of a body of love and joy and hope.   After the hugs, we had a refaccion (snack) of pan and ponche (a warm drink with chunks of fruit in it), and it was delicious.  Later, I retired back to the house with my family, and we stayed up until midnight, which is when the big celebration starts. At midnight, we set off a row of firecrackers in the yard, and so did about everyone else in the town.  The night was filled with the screeches of firecrackers on every street, and the flashing lights of fireworks in the sky. The kids in my family were all very excited and happy, and it was certainly a fun (and loud!) celebration. We all gave each other hugs again, and I really felt like part of the family, being able to share such a joyful night with them. After watching some of the firecrackers and fireworks for a while, we turned on some blasting Christmas music (marimba-style) and ate a meal together. We had more ponche, and tostados (crispy fried tortillas) with refried beans, chopped beets and radishes, ketchup, chopped boiled eggs, and cheese on top (which sounds kind of gross, the combination of all those ingredients together, but it was actually pretty tasty).  And we had a basket of bread, and some apples and grapes, which were a very special treat.  The neighbors even came over later to wish us a Merry Christmas and give us hugs. By the time we finished eating around 1:30, we were all pretty sleepy (especially the youngest of my host siblings) and soon went to bed, but the celebrations in town continued pretty late through the night.  You could hear blasting music from the neighbors´ houses and lingering firecrackers until about 3 or 4 in the morning. It was a big loud party, which I guess is an appropriate way to joyfully celebrate the birth of our Savior Jesus.

Christmas day itself was very relaxed, and we spent the day together in the house. One of my host brothers, Hector, who lives in another house with his wife Mikael and his one-year-old son Josiel, came over to visit, and we all had lunch together - fried fish, rice, and leftover tamales that Mikael had made for midnight the night before. We bought a watermelon and sliced it up, and it was delicious, although it was a little weird to be eating watermelon on Christmas. 

Christmas was filled with a lot of mixed emotions for me - I was excited and overjoyed to experience Christmas in a new way, with people I have only known for a few months, but with whom I could share such joy and hope and unity in the love of God. But it was also very difficult and sad to be away from family and friends, and the homesickness was pretty strong. But it made it easier to know that my parents were coming to visit less than a week after Christmas...

My family came to visit the first week in January, and the time with them flew by.  My mom and dad took a taxi out to Chocola to pick me up, and they got to meet my entire host family and attend a service at the church, where they were welcomed by everyone. It was a pretty overwhelming and dream-like experience, like a clashing of two worlds.  Plus, I had to try to be a translator, since my parents don´t speak any Spanish, and my host family doesn´t speak any English. So, it was pretty interesting and a bit awkward, but everyone was very excited to meet each other. I´m so glad that my family got to see where I´m living and working, and that they could meet my host family and understand more of what my experience in Guatemala is like. Plus, I miss them a whole lot! And as for my host family, they were all super-excited to meet my parents, and the night before they arrived, we did a massive house-cleaning and pretty much rearranged the whole house. We were up early, to make a special lunch of fried chicken (Guatemalans love their fried chicken...especially chicken from Pollo Campero, a huge multinational fast-food joint, that is everywhere in Guatemala.  The owners of Pollo Campero, along with the owners of Gallo beer, are the richest people in the country...but anyways, I don´t want to interupt my story too much with my rant on huge, exploitative corporations....).  So, we made a special lunch of fried chicken, refried beans and veggies, and of course, there were tortillas.  We had someone else help with the tortillas, since there just wasn´t enough time for us to make them with all the other preparations. My host sister Franci made me put on her traje,  the traditional Mayan dress that the women here wear, so that I could meet my family, dressed like a true Kiche Guatemalan woman.  I wore her guipil (the intricately-embroidered top), and she wrapped me in her colorful corte (the skirt, which is a long piece of patterned cloth that you wrap around) and secured it with the typical belt, called a faja, so tight that I could barely breathe. I finally realized part of the reason why Guatemalan women walk so slowly - the cortes are hard to walk in, and you can only take very short strides without tripping over yourself! So Franci and Sonya helped me get dressed, and I went out to the road to meet my parents and direct them to the house.

It was very strange, but when I met my parents out at the road, and they got out of the taxi, they both looked really pale and my dad looked like he was on stilts. My mom thought it was funny that she finally felt tall, because everyone in my host family is so short! My host sister Vivi had gone to the molino to grind a bit of corn so that I could show my parents my amazing tortilla-making skills, and my mom even got to try making a few tortillas, too. We had lunch together, all smushed into two tables (we had to borrow some plastic chairs from the church to fit everyone around the tables at the same time). The over-lunch conversation was a bit awkward (since no one could speak to each other, although I did my best to provide some loose translations).  My mom broke the ice by going around the table and reciting everyone´s name (which is a task, considering how many people are in my family, and how everyone has at least two names, plus maybe another nickname, that they use interchangeably.  It took me about a month to get everyone´s two or three names straight...). I had given my mom a list of all my host siblings names ahead of time, so she could study.  And my host family was so impressed that they all clapped for her after she had gone around the table saying everyone´s name.  After lunch, my parents had some small gifts that they brought, to thank my host family for taking care of me so well.  They had also brought a bag of music books and small percussion and wind instruments to use for teaching, as well as a beautiful keyboard (!) that was so generously donated by someone from my home church to be used in my work here. (Thank you so much to everyone who donated to the ministry I am doing - the instruments have been such a blessing in working with the children and youth here!)

When my parents took out the basketball and soccer ball that they had brought for the kids, my host brother Tito nearly jumped out of his skin.  We had all been talking about how we wanted to get a basketball to take to the cancha (court), because we had been borrowing a ball from my brother Pablo´s girlfriend, but we accidently popped it, and it was lying deflated near the pila (the stone basin sink) in the kitchen.  So of course, when my parents brought out the balls, we all (including my parents and my host dad) immediately started tossing the basketball around in the kitchen. My host siblings and I brought my parents to the bosque (the park) to play a little basketball, and we took them on a loop around town to see the streets and houses, the market and coffee-processing plant.  We came back just in time for the Sunday afternoon church service, where everyone welcomed my parents and I did a very poor job of translating the sermon (which just so happened to be delivered by my host dad that day).

After a whirlwind of touring and meeting my host family, I went back with my parents to a hotel in Guatemala City to meet my sister and her boyfriend who had also come to visit me. I had a relaxing and restful week with my family, and I took them touring around some sites in Guatemala.  We traveled to Antigua to walk around, look through the market, see some of the old earthquake ruins and cathedrals, and of course, eat.  We also traveled to beautiful Lake Atitlan, a deep craterous lake surrounded on all sides by volcanoes - one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen in my life. We spent the day looking at beautiful handicrafts, jewelry, paintings, and traditional cloth hanging in the numerous stalls in the streets of Panajachel.  We also took a public boat ride across the lake to the other side, to meet my friend and fellow volunteer Anna, who is living and working in Santiago Atitlan. (Many of the locals from Santiago and other pueblos surrounding the lake have to take a 20min to half hour boat ride every day to get to work on the other side of the lake.  Others are forced to terrace farm on the precarious volcano slopes, pushed to environmental extremes because they have no other farming options.)  Anna took us on a tour around Santiago, and after eating a quick lunch, we hurried to make the boat ride back to Panajachel, so we could catch our shuttle from there back the hotel.  The combination of eating hurriedly, and then getting on a very bumpy boat (the wind was a bit strong that day), and then jumping right on the shuttle bus to travel over rocky, curvy roads (the main road back to Guate is under construction, and has been for a long time) was a little sickening, and I ending up throwing up when we got back to the hotel.  But other than that, it was a fun excursion to beautiful Lake Atitlan. :)  That week, we also got to hike Pacaya Volcano (which I had already hiked with the other volunteers, during my first few weeks of language school, but under very different conditions, in pouring rain and cold). Although we didn´t see any lava this time, the view was amazing, and we could see all the way to Guate.  At the end of the week, my sister and her boyfriend accompanied me back to Chocola, and got to meet my host family as well. It was a little less awkward, since they knew un pocito de espanol, and we ended up going back to the park a second time to play with the new basketball.  My sister even came with me and my host sister Vivi to grind corn at the molino, and then we made a few tortillas. Unfortunately, my sister and her boyfriend both ended up getting very sick for the ride back from Chocola, but they were still both very happy to meet my host family and see where I am living. I was very sad when my sister left, realizing that my family visit was over, and that I wouldn´t see them again for a long time.  My sister left me crying at the road, and my host family didn´t quite know what to do with me for the next couple of days. 

But January has been a bit busier, and I´ve started getting involved with more groups, which has definitely helped with the homesickness.  I´m starting to feel like my Spanish is improving, and I´m able to communicate much better with people, although I still listen a lot more than I speak. I feel at home with my host family, and they take care of me like a daughter and a sister. I´m getting to know more and more people and to build relationships, which I think is the most important thing I can do. Rather than just looking from the outside, I am living with people and getting to know them.  Often times, we (the privileged) are so disconnected from the poor; the gap between those who have and those who don´t have is enormous and growing, and it is so easy to live while ignoring the reality of poverty in our world. I think many times, people think that feeling pity or feeling sorry for people is the same as compassion. But feeling sorry for people only disempowers them more, as if there is nothing they can contribute or do to improve their life situations. I don´t feel sorry for any of the Guatemalans I´ve met, although many of them have very difficult lives.  On the contrary, I admire and respect them, because they are so strong and resilient and joyful through hardships. And I am learning to frame my world views, past experiences, and faith in a new way, because of the relationships that I have formed with Guatemalans.

Christmas Season without the snow

So the holiday season has been pretty rough and lonely here, but I am trying to take one day at a time and appreciate the new experiences. Thanksgiving Day went by, and it really did not feel like Thanksgiving. I spent the day at a conference at a Presbyterian seminary in San Felipe. The conference, which was called "Caminando Juntas" ("Walking Together") was run by CEDEPCA (the organization that my director Marcia works for) and was designed to educate Guatemalan women about domestic violence and child abuse. It was a really awesome experience, because there were women there from so many different parts of the country and so from many different walks of life - some who had been victims of domestic abuse, and others who wanted to learn more about the issues so that they could help women in their churches and communities. It was a really powerful workshop, and it was inspiring to see so many women speaking out and stepping forward as leaders in their communities, since women here are so often marginalized and left without the same opportunities or access to education. It was also fun to see some of the dynamics of the group. Celeste and Callie (two of the other volunteers) and I had shared a room the night before with an eclectic mix of women, all packed into bunk-beds. As we were trying to fall asleep, there was one rather big lady who started laughing for no reason and couldn´t stop. An older lady in the room told her to quiet down and then tried to sing some lullabies to calm her down, but that only made her laugh even harder. Meanwhile, two ladies on the bunk beds below me chatted in Mam (a Mayan language), as the laughing and lullaby-singing continued for quite some time. The next morning, we were awoken at about 5am by more commotion, and the whole situation was really pretty absurd and funny, although I didn´t get much sleep that night. In the morning, Celeste, Callie, and I got to take a dip in the seminary swimming pool (in our pajamas, since we didn´t have our bathing suits). It was our defiant celebration of Thanksgiving, as we tried not to think of our families at home gathering together over meals of turkey and pumpkin pies.

The Saturday after Thanksgiving, however, I got the chance to cook a "traditional American" Thanksgiving dinner for my host family. It was pretty interesting, since I had to cook over a fire (we don´t have a stove or oven) and was limited to the ingredients that I could find at the market in San Antonio. I only made stuffing and a few vegetables, since I didn´t want to see one of our turkeys be slaughtered. I´m not sure how it all turned out; it definitely wasn´t as good as my mom´s cooking, but at least I got everyone in my host family gathered around the table to eat together. Since there are so many people in the family, we usually don´t all eat at the same time or in the same place; everyone kind of eats when they are hungry, and wherever there is room (there is a table in the comedor and another small wooden table outside by the fire stove, and sometimes my host siblings just sit and eat while watching tv...). But for Thanksgiving, I was able to get everyone squeezed around the table, and we went around and each said what we were thankful for.  I told my host family that I was so thankful for the way they have taken me into their lives and welcomed me into their house.  I told them that I felt at home with them.  And then after dinner I went in my room and cried.  I really did mean what I said to my host family, but I was still sad and homesick, and the reality is that there are still many ways in which I will never completely fit in here. But I´m glad I got to share Thanksgiving with my host family, and they were all very grateful that I cooked for them and that we could share a meal together.

That week we also decorated for Christmas...with strands and strands of cheesy blinking lights that my host parents´ daughter Dominga had mailed from the United States. There is a strand of lights that plays one line each of Jingle Bells, Santa Clause is Coming to Town, and We Wish You a Merry Christmas, over and over again, in a piercing high pitch and slightly off-key.  It´s pretty annoying, and conveniently right outside my room, but everyone else seems to love it, so I can´t say anything...I´m learning to tune it out. :)  As we were putting up the Christmas lights, my host brother Armando started to get sad.  He is the grandchild of Juana and Miguel, and his mother Dominga is currently in the US and has been since he was very young.  That week, I finally learned from Juana the story. After Armando was born, his mother decided to go to the US to find a job and send back money to support her son.  The plan was that Armando´s father was going to stay with him and the rest of the family, and work to help support the family. But Armando´s father ended up running away with another woman, and left Armando with his grandparents, while his mother was still in the US.  Armando´s mom still sends money and things from the US, and the whole family I think is hopeful that she will come back some day to live in Guatemala. She was supposed to come visit this Christmas, but now she´s not, and I think that she wants to stay in the US.  The whole situation is very mixed up and sad, although Armando is pretty well-adjusted, all things considered. There are so many broken families here, with fathers, mothers, siblings, and husbands who have gone to the US to find work, leaving their families behind in order to be able to provide for them financially. I could tell that Armando was getting sad as we were putting up Christmas lights, and that night we had a moment of crying together.  He told me that he missed his mom, and I told him that I missed my mom too, and we cried a little bit, sitting on his bed. It was very sweet, and I´m glad we got to share that special moment and cry together because we missed our mothers.

Meanwhile, at the church, I have started getting involved in some new activities.  A few weeks ago, I started teaching keyboard lessons.  I have about 11 or 12 students right now, and that number keeps growing - more and more people keep approaching me to ask if I can teach them.  I´ve really enjoyed teaching lessons so far.  I like seeing people nervous and squirming in their seats, with red faces and sweaty palms, trying hard to play a piece correctly...and then all of a sudden, their faces light up when they finally get a piece right, and they start to relax and smile.  It´s like a little moment of revelation, of overcoming an obstacle.  It´s also been interesting for me to learn all the different musical terms in Spanish, so that I can teach different concepts. 

In the past weeks, I´ve also formed a humble choir of about 15 young people to sing at the church service on Christmas Eve.  We´ve been having practices two times a week, and it´s been interesting to say the least.  None of the young people in the choir have ever had any musical training before, and a few are a bit tone-deaf. It has been funny trying to teach them to harmonize and sing without belting at the top of their lungs. But we laugh a lot, and it has been a learning experience for everyone, myself included. I´m not sure if it will all come together before Christmas Eve, but it should definitely be a memorable experience. :)

I´ve also started getting involved with the Presbyterial (the women´s governing body of the churches in our Presbytery), and my time with those women has been one of my favorite things that I´ve been doing lately.  I attended a session meeting about two weeks ago, and it was nice to see some familiar faces there.  I recognized some of the women there from the Caminando Juntas conference, as well as from another presbytery meeting that I had attended several weeks before.  I feel like I am starting to build relationships with these women, however slowly, and I´m excited to see what develops from these relationships. At the session meeting, the women asked me to preach a sermon at their convention in January, and I was completely terrified.  But I said yes, because I didn´t want to regret not accepting such a challenge and an opportunity for growth.  So, the second sermon I will have ever given will be in Spanish.  I figure I have several weeks to prepare, and to look up the necessary vocabulary, and practice my pronunciation...I´m still pretty terrified, but hopefully I will be able to say something that will resonate with the women at the convention, that touches at least someone there.  It is going to be interesting...I´m sure there will be stories in my next blog entry. :)

After the Presbyterial session, I went with the women on a visita (a visit to the house of someone who is sick).   We went to the house of a pastor named Manuel, who is very old (I think in his nineties) and has been suffering from joint and leg problems.  He is the sweetest old man, so friendly and warm and funny.  He was very happy that I was there, although he couldn´t get my name right and kept calling me Alejandrina.  It was very endearing.  We sat and talked with him for a while, and prayed for him, and sang a few choruses of some hymns.  We also brought a basket of food staples, such as sugar, rice, and beans for him and his family.  When we arrived, Manuel had his daughter bring out vases of soda for us, to receive us into his home.  I´m really glad I went to visit with him, and it was nice walking back with the other women in the group and futilely trying to find a bus back to Chocola, only to be smushed into the back of a tuc-tuc (a three-wheeled, death-trap vehicle that serves as a taxi).  

The women from the Presbyterial invited me on another visita with them about a week later, to a nearby town called San Miguelito.  The ride there was quite long, since we had to take a bus, and then another bus, and then a pickup truck, and then walk some more to get there.  San Miguelito is further up in the mountains, and the view from the back of the pickup truck was breathtaking, as we passed green mountaintops, with crystal streams flowing beneath in the valleys.  On the ride back to Chocola, I sat smushed in the back of a pickup with about 15 other women, with one of the women holding onto my knee for support and another gripping around my legs for dear life, as the pickup manuevered over the rock-covered roads. We joked and laughed most of the ride back, tossled around in the back of the pickup.  One of the woman told me at one point, ¨This is the life of a Guatemalan, and you´re living it.¨  And I smiled and thought to myself, ¨This is why I´m here: to be smushed in the back of a pickup truck, swerving over bumpy roads, and laughing with a group of women, as we hold onto each other desperately.¨ 

I´m looking forward to working more with the Presbyterial and the women´s group at the church in Chocola. I´ve already found lots of joy and laughter in the time that I´ve spent with many of them.  I still feel like I am in a period of waiting, but I think God is teaching me things slowly, and I have to be patient and wait for some things to grow inside. I feel like there is so much more to say, but this blog is already very long.  I will try to update soon!  In the meantime, Feliz Navidad and Feliz Año Nuevo! 

500 Tortillas Later

Things have been pretty slow here lately...My teaching position at the school hasn´t started yet, since the school is on break until January, and my work at the church is very informal and unstructured.  I am still looking for places where I fit in and can offer some of my gifts to the people here. Sometimes it is frustrating, because I´m not sure what I´m supposed to be doing or what my purpose is. I am able to understand a lot more Spanish than I did when I arrived, but it is still difficult for me to speak, and I often feel insecure and unsure about what to say or how to say it. I have had to trust a lot in God to bring me up out of my insecurities and fears, but it is a slow process. I have been able to do lots of Bible reading lately (I´m hoping to get through the entire Bible this year) and I have been very encouraged by story after story of God´s steadfast love; time after time, God chooses the most unlikely people to be great leaders and messengers of His love to His people.  I just recently read the passage in Exodus where Moses tells God that he is not an eloquent speaker.  He begs God to choose someone else to be a messenger to His people.  Yet God uses Moses anyway, and he becomes a great leader of the Israelites. God tells Moses not to worry about the words that he will say, because the right words will be given to him at the right time.  This passage has been very encouraging to me; I am learning to trust more and more in God´s power to use me, whether I think I can do it or not, or whether I think that it´s happening or not.

Although things have been slow, some of my favorite moments have been when I´m just ¨being¨ with people, whether it is talking to my host mother after dinner, with the glow of the fire lighting up our faces, or laughing with my younger host siblings as we run around the house trying to spray each other with water on a hot day. I have had a lot of time to practice my tortilla-making (and tortilla-eating!) skills, and a lot of laughter and wonderful conversations have taken place over the dinner table or while making tortillas. I think that an important part of my ¨work¨ now is to observe and listen, to learn what life is like for people here, what joys and struggles they face, how they understand God and express their faith in this different context.

I did get to visit the school where I will be starting to teach in January.  A man named Eligio came and took me on the back of his motorcycle up the hill to the neighboring town of X´ojola (which is pronounced almost exactly like Chocola - it is very confusing). At one point, he made me get off the motorcycle and walk up a steep and rocky hill. He said that the road was very treacherous, and I guess he didn´t want me to fall off the back of the bike, so he rode up the hill on the motorcycle, while I huffed and puffed my way up the hill to meet him at the top.  We finally got the school in X´ojola, and although we didn´t get to go inside (Eligio didn´t have the key), it was good just to see the place where I will be teaching and to talk with Eligio for a bit.  Eligio is a teacher at the school, and he is also the secretary of the plenary (the governing body of the Presbytery, which consists of 8 Presbyterian churches in the area). We also went inside the communal health clinic which is next door to the school, and got to chat with a man named Manuel who works in the clinic. While we were inside, it started pouring, and we could barely hear each other over the din of the rain on the metal roof. Since Eligio and I had come by motorcycle, we decided to wait out the rain before heading back. So we waited...and waited. For about an hour and a half. And the rain didn´t look like it was about to stop anytime soon. So Eligio finally ran outside and hailed down a pickup truck (he knew the driver, who was one of his former students).  He stuck me in the front seat of the pickup, next to the driver, and told me he would ride ahead of the car in the motorcycle, to accompany us back to Chocola. So off we went.  In the back of the pickup, a group of people huddled under a plastic tarp (pickups are used as a form of public transportation here), while I sat in the front seat perfectly comfortable and dry.  By the time we got back to the house, Eligio´s clothes were soaked through from the rain. He got off the motorcycle and ran up to the house to bring an umbrella for me, so I could walk from the pickup to the house without getting wet. And he told my host parents that he had returned me, safe and healthy, back to the house, just as I had left.  I felt terrible.  I didn´t want to be treated special. I just wanted to fit in, to ride on the back of Eligio´s motorcycle in the rain and have it be horrible. There have been many moments like this, where I have been so humbled by people´s acts of kindness toward me. I am realizing now that what Eligio did was not to make me feel like I was different, but to make me feel cared for and loved, like a sister in Christ.  I came to Guatemala hoping to learn how to be a better servant, and I have found myself over and over again being served by other people.  I am learning to be more gracious and to accept help and kindness from people.  I certainly do need lots of help at times, in a new place, where everything is different and unfamiliar and often lonely. God is certainly showing me how to be servant - and it is through the way that the people here have received me and loved me and welcomed me into their lives.

So I´ve been in Chocola for about a week and a half now, and a lot has happened already. Sorry for not updating in a while, but it´s been hard to get to the internet in the past weeks. I tried to update earlier this week, but the internet here is painfully slow. I have moved in with the Menchu family, and I think I´ve finally mastered everyone´s name. My host parents, Juana and Miguel, have eight children (Franci, Sonya, Tony, Roky, Pablo, Ludwy, Tito, and Mindy) and one grandchild (Armando) living with them in the house. Plus, there are two dogs, a fat pig, six turkeys, several chickens, and a hen with about ten baby chicks that also make their home here. The chickens run freely through the house, and it is quite funny to see the children shooing them out of the kitchen sometimes. Juana keeps saying what a shame it is that I don´t eat chicken, because their chickens are delicious. My first night here, it was very difficult to sleep - the pig makes all kinds of snorting noises through the night (sometimes it sounds like he´s dying), and the roosters start crowing at about 3am (what I like to call the bewitching hour). But I am slowly adjusting to my family, my new home, and the strange noises at night. It feels good to finally be settled in one place, and (somewhat) unpacked, although I am still living out of my suitcase.

My first full day in Chocola, my host sister Sonya, who is my age, showed me around town. We walked to the bosque, which is a big park with a basketball court, tables, and benches, and we sat down and talked for a while at one of the tables. We walked through the streets, past brightly colored houses, tiny tiendas, the big coffee processing plant in the center of town, the market where vegetables, fruits, and meats are sold, and the camioneta stop outside the market. We wove through groves of banana trees and coffee plants, following some of the unruly dirt roads in town, which are spotted with puddles and lots of rocks. We sat for a while on a big rock, watching a group of children outside their school, doing excercises for phys ed class (they enjoyed putting on a show for the onlooking foreigner), and climbed a big hill from which you can see all of Chocola.

After touring the town, we returned home for a lunch of fried fish (it was pretty much a whole fish on my plate), vegetables, and of course, tortillas. My family cooks everything over a fire behind the house. I have been trying to help Juana, Sonya, and Franci cook meals, and I´m slowly learning to make tortillas. It is a lot harder than it looks (actually, it looks pretty hard)! Juana can make about three perfectly round tortillas in the amount of time it takes me to make one, thicker and somewhat oddly-shaped tortilla. But I am learning, and it certainly is a thrill to eat tortillas that I made with my own hands. I told Juana that it is a good thing I have all year to practice...maybe by the time I return home, I will be able to make my own tortillas for family and friends!

I spent most of my first afternoon playing hopscotch with Mindy (the youngest in the family, five years old), Armando (the granson), and Ludwy. Ludwy drew lines in the dirt with a machete, and we used rocks for the markers. Mindy just hopped and spun around without paying any attention to the lines. :) Mindy is so cute, and she has already become very attached to me. Juana told me the other night that Mindy has been praying for me before she goes to bed! How sweet! Mindy is very curious, and she always comes in my room to investigate what I have out on my desk. The other day, she made me show her all my photos of my family and friends, and she had many questions about everyone.

So far, I have been spending a lot of my time just getting to know my family and the town. At times, I´m not really sure what I´m supposed to be doing, because my work isn´t really delineated for me. For now, I am just accompanying my host sisters and brothers when they go out to different places, whether it be to the market, or the panaderia (bread shop) or to grind corn for tortillas at the molina. I am slowly figuring out Cholcola, and meeting people at the church, and finding opportunities to be present to people here.

I have been going to the church quite often (they have services every night), and attending different events with my family. My host father Miguel is an elder at the church, and the whole family is very involved in the life of the church. The congregation is fairly small (the Menchu family makes up a good percentage of the attendees), but there is a lot of life and energy there. My first night in Chocola, one of the elders from the church gave me a hymnal with the music to all the hymns (all the other hymnals just have the words, no music, because everyone knows the hymns by heart). The church has an old keyboard, but it has gone mostly unused, because no one knows how to play it. The music at the services is led by a single man or woman who sings acapella over a microphone, at the top of his or her lungs, and often out of key. The elders of the church are all very excited to have someone who can play the teclado (keyboard). I have been going to the church some afternoons with Sonya to learn some of the hymns - she sings while I play the teclado.
Last Thursday night, I had my first music gig at the church. About an hour before the service, the singer for the night (Carlos) gave me about 7 or 8 hymns; I quickly learned them, with the help of Sonya, and was pretty much expecting to be a rock star at the service...for there to be applause and cheering, and a big parade afterward. I prayed to God before the service that my music would be for His glory, and not my own, and He certainly answered my prayer, in a very humbling and funny way. About halfway through the service, the keyboard stopped working (I think it shorts out when it is on for too long), so I told Carlos to sing the next song without me. So he started, and then halfway through the song, the keyboard came back on, but by that time eveyone had already started singing in a totally different key, so it was useless to try to join in. Also, different people kept coming up front to sing different hymns that were not on my master list, and that I had never heard before. So I just let them sing without me, as I sat up at the keyboard smiling and laughing to myself a little bit. Nevertheless, all the church elders were still thrilled to have someone at the keyboard, and I´m afraid they are going to expect me to play every night. I am excited to bring music to this church, and I am hoping that I can teach some people lessons, so that when I leave, someone else will be able to accompany the services on the teclado. I have to adjust and improvise a lot, because the congregation sings a lot of the hymns in a different rythym than is written in the hymnal...It is quite interesting at times. :) But in many ways, I think the music is so much more sincere- unrehearsed, raw, and from the heart. It doesn´t matter so much if the notes are perfect.



Other highlights from the week:

1) There was an earthquake here last Thursday! Actually, it was just a tremor here, but apparently it was pretty strong in other parts of the country. I have never felt one before, and it was very strange to feel the earth moving under my feet!

2) I got to ride on the back of a motorcycle with my brother Pablo to Santo Tomas! We went to go buy bread, but the shop was closed, so we just rode around a bunch to see the town. It was kind of scary, especially on some of the windy and rocky dirt roads!

3) I think there was a scorpion in my room the other day...I saw it on my door, and tried to swat it out of my room with a notebook, but it scurried under my bed and disappeared, never to be seen again. I slept very restlessly that night.

4) I am still afraid to get up in the night to go to the bathroom, since I have to walk around the house in the pitch dark (the bathroom is sort of like an outhouse). Also, a huge cockroach and the biggest spider I have ever seen live behind the toilet.

5) I think I might have eaten shark the other day for lunch! We had this broth thing, with fish, crab, and shrimp, and there was an unidentified piece of something, with very thick and slippery skin. I thought it was a fish I had never seen before, but after I ate it, I heard Juana tell Miguel that it was shark!


6) It has been raining quite a lot here lately, and the roof over my bed has started to leak. :(

There is so much more to write and not enough time...Hopefully I will write again soon! Until then, que les vaya bien!!