Saying Good-bye to Safe Passage

Last Friday, December 2, was our last day at Safe Passage. It´s been a remarkable experience. However, Bruce´s sister pointed out recently that we haven´t written much about the program. I´ll try to rectify that right now.

I´ve been working in the Guarderia (the Spanish word for ¨day care¨, I believe). It´s a beautiful facility that was opened in 2007, a year or so after Hanley died. Hanley Denning is the young woman from Yarmouth, Maine, who founded Safe Passage as a safe place for children to come to before and after school while their parents picked the dump. She also raised enough money for the children to attend school. Officially, school is free in Guatemala.  However, since uniforms and school supplies are required, it would be out of reach of these ¨poorest of the poor¨ families, without the assistance of Safe Passage.

The Guarderia consists of a classroom building and another building with a small gym and a storage area, an outdoor playground area, and a small asphalt playing field for older kids. The whole compound is located on reclaimed dump land and is encircled by a tall protective cement wall topped with coils of razor wire. An armed guard oversees the big metal door leading into the compound (I appreciate him!). Overhead the sky is unfailingly blue at this time of year, and dotted, high up, with an ever present bunch of hungry black vultures.

                    Inner courtyard of the school, looking toward the screened cafeteria 

The Guarderia program serves about 87 young children, ages 2-7. Organized by a Canadian woman, Susan Schmaltz (whose husband was hired a year ago to head up Safe Passage), its educational philosophy is very progressive. Susan and her husband, Richard, are amazing people who have been working in Guatemala for 12 years, off and on.

Shortly after starting at SP, I was re-assigned, out of the kitchen and into the kindergarten, to assist the teacher. I was happy to see that the classroom was set up with learning centers, similar to those at Breakwater. The children spend time each morning and afternoon at the centers, which includes a wonderful ¨casita¨ (little pretend house), an art area, a puzzle table, a big blocks area, a Lego table, a large collection of picture books, and a loft. There is also a bathroom in every classroom. Ten children were enrolled all day. At noon, another 6 children arrived. Nice numbers!

                                           Friends looking at books together
                                            
Since getting adequate nutrition is an issue for these children, especially at this age when the brain is developing so rapidly, the children are fed 4 times a day with fortified foods. And it seems to be working: the kids are bright, fairly healthy, and of normal weight. All the children gather for breakfast first thing in the morning in the large screened dining area, pictured above.

                                         Kindergarten boys on the playground

In the classroom, the day begins with lots of active singing, which the kids love. It was a challenge for me, with my limited Spanish skills, but the teacher and the former assistant (18 year old Isabel from Germany) both helped by writing out the Spanish lyrics to many of the songs. The substitute teacher syndrome coupled with my lack of Spanish fluency, as well as the feisty nature of some of the children also made my half hour playground duty a challenge. But mostly, the kids were very engaging, sweet, and energetic. There was always someone who wanted a lap to sit in or a push on the swing or a story read to them. I loved observing their daily half hour English class, taught by a vivacious red-headed young Canadian woman who had an amazing ability to keep the kids focused and enthused and having fun. We also had a weekly art activity prepared for the children by 18 year old Grace, a volunteer from Portland.

                                                      Dynamic daily English class 

My biggest contributions, aside from my main task helping out in class, were introducing pattern block activities to the class; using my copy of Lois Ehlert´s English/Spanish picture book, Moon Rope, to help with the end-of-year puppet show; and writing up a document describing the literacy environment that we had created at Breakwater. Safe Passage is in the process of becoming a private school for the early grades when the new school year begins in January, rather than just a before and after-school enrichment program. I´ve been assured that some of the literacy suggestions will be put into place

                                         End-of-year performance for parents

An example of a memorable time for me happened just this week. One of the little boys, Pedro, is quite moody and sometimes won´t participate in classroom activities. This particular day, during choice/play time, he sat alone looking withdrawn and downcast. I approached him with a book that I was pretty sure he´d like, Where the Wild Things Are /Donde los Monstuos Viven). I offered to read it to him. He quietly assented without saying a word but began turning the pages for me - and got another book when we had finished the first (Robert Munsch´s I´ll Love You Forever/ Te Querrere Siempre). After some reading, I proposed another favorite activity for him: the big blocks. We began building a car to take us on an imaginary trip to the beach at Monterrico. I made some paper gauges for him, such as speedometer, gas gauge, temp. gauge,etc. We drove raucously, laughed, stopped for gas, were joined by Josue and the three of us got lunch at a resto. Suddenly I was the waitress taking orders for ¨hamburguesas y agua¨ for my two young customers. In short, by the magical power of the imagination, for a few minutes we exchanged the real life of the sordid dump for a bright sunny road trip. Life changing? Of course not, but a little escapism was good for all of us.

                                         Pattern block designs on the bulletin board

Our last day at the project ended with an elegant evening art/photography exhibit and guitar performance by some of the teenagers who had taken special arts classes. It was held off-campus in a lovely gallery. The art had been tastefully hung on the walls. The guitar students played songs like, "Let It Be", and the 2010 World Cup song from South Africa. Mothers, dressed in fancy clothes, beamed proudly. Teens, dressed in fancy clothes, smiled shyly but with an evident confidence. Voluntarios, such as myself, bought student art work. A shared sense of hope for the future hung in the air. I couldn´t help but feel that this was a fitting culmination of our time at Safe Passage, where I got to see the results of Hanley´s vision - coupled with the generosity of many donors and voluntarios and local staff - coming together in the work of these talented teens who now had a better chance to lead a life of their choosing.

The People of Guatemala

The People of Guatemala

I know it`s tricky to make blanket statements about a group of people but I am inspired to write about the people of Guatemala. As in many things here, there are great contrasts between people. In general, the folks that we have encountered here are gentle, kind, and friendly - among the nicest people that we have met in our travels – a strong statement given our love of the New Zealanders.

One example of this warmth is the custom of friendly greetings that occur frequently between total strangers. On our first weekend in Xela we ate in an Italian restaurant and were greeted by people as they came in an out of the place. Greetings of Buenes Tardes and Buen Provecho (bon appetite) occurred frequently as people passed by our table. It is common, when walking down the street, to hear greetings and good wishes from total strangers – something that is rare in our experience at home. It is common here that people will greet one another with a hug and a peck on the cheek – even with a new acquaintance. Everyone seems to have a smile and a greeting for us which makes it very easy to feel comfortable here.

The other side of this story is the ever present anxiety about being robbed or assaulted. Personal security is something that we have to think about constantly which seems at odds with the warmth of the people. The high rate of extreme poverty here, currently at 55%, creates a situation where relatively wealthy tourists are “targets of opportunity” for any knucklehead with a gun or knife . While there is the ever present fear of robbery, merchants, waiters, and other people that we meet in commercial relationships are friendly and helpful – even with the language differences. We have never once been short changed or felt cheated in any transaction. I accidentally dropped a hundred Q bill (about $12.50) on the sidewalk one afternoon and a young Mayan woman came running after me with the bill. I am sure she could have used it so I was especially impressed with her honesty.

Robberies are common – in fact, four of our fellow volunteers have been robbed in the past few weeks and two members of the Safe Passage staff were stuck up at gun point by two guys in front of the school at 2 in the afternoon. The school is in the roughest neighborhood in the city.  Luckily, no one was hurt but property was stolen. We feel that we need to be constantly on guard – especially after dark – but at all times. The country has one of the highest murder rates in the world, and violence is not uncommon. We have not yet been victims but it seems more of a real possibility than at home so we practice defensive measures.

Domestic violence is a real problem in many families,  and the rate of child abuse is quite high. This dark underside of the culture seems so dramatic in light of the outward warmth and gentle nature of the people that we meet in our daily routines. I suspect that a large factor in this is the profound poverty that impacts so many of the people as they desperately try to care for their families under difficult conditions.
Families seem to be very important and to support each other. Children seem to be cherished even when there isn’t a lot of money to spend on material things. We are told that this is partly because there are no government programs – social security, medical care, or other support services to help out in a time of need. Everyone is essentially on their own to provide for their needs and that families are the really the only support system available in the country.

The racial mix is interesting in that there is little diversity. About 65 percent of the people are indigenous Mayan – with handsome features, dark black hair, brown skin, high cheekbones and short stature. Another 10 percent is Ladino or of Spanish origin with lighter features and greater height and the remaining 25 percent is a mixture of the two groups.

Appearance seems especially important here in Guatemala. In Xela, we were struck by the large number of small clothing stores, the many barber shops and beauty salons, and shoe stores. On our way to classes, we were impressed by the “spit shined” kids on their way to school who all looked, clean, neat, alert and well cared for. We noticed these children emerging from some fairly run down houses and wondered how they could look so good – coming from such poor surroundings. We were told that every child has two uniforms, one for wearing while the second one is cleaned.

The men, and boys as young as 4, seem to get weekly haircuts and sport some very creative hair structures – slicked straight forward or back, piled high in the middle, or swooped into soaring pompadours – all held rigidly in place with copious amounts of industrial strength hair gel sold in huge tubs at every little tienda. We encounter few scruffy looking people – except for the Americans and Germans.

The women tend to be very stylish in their tight jeans, plunging necklines, brown eyes and a fondness for high heels and painted nails. The younger women wear their hair in long pony tails or in a bun. The older women are well coiffed by frequent visits to the numerous beauty salons. We spot a lot of shops with fancy dresses that must be used on formal occasions but seldom seen in public events. The Mayan women are especially attractive in their colorful dresses, belts and blouses which are worn as everyday dress.

This is a conservative Catholic country and the people are especially devout practitioners. In Antigua, there are dozens of churches - many in ruins, having been destroyed by earthquakes, but many are in full operation with lots of people active in the congregation. We have spotted several large processions in honor of various saints or virgins - we’re never sure. These processions seem very ancient - with band music, drums, incense, swaying groups of men carrying large edifices with coffins of saints, spouting fountains, and lighted displays. There is even an electrical generator pulled behind the procession to power the float, and men with large sticks to lift power lines before the edifice passes.

In addition, there are festivals to honor the dead, numerous saints days, and even a burn-the-devil day. Now, as Christmas approaches, the town is getting more intense in its rituals, with more processions, fireworks, concerts, street entertainment, and lights. We are told that Semana Santa - or Easter Week, is even wilder, with the entire town given over to various processions and ceremonies. Some folks say that it is wise to avoid this because of the crowds, but it might be fun to see - at least once.

As our trip to Guate ends, we are looking forward to getting back to Maine but will miss the people of Guatemala. We trust that our experience here has made a bit of difference, albeit small, in the lives of the Guatemalan people, as it has enriched ours.

Two Old Gnus

Before I write about our final week in Safe Passage, due to end on Friday, I want to tell you about what happened LAST Friday (and so does Bruce). We were just finishing dinner when Mia burst into the house, crying loudly. It was very unlike this cool, mature 19-year old from Freeport, Maine. We all jumped out of our seats to find out what was wrong, while she blurted out, between sobs, that she had just been robbed on the doorstep of the house - with a gun pointed at her!! She had lost her favorite backpack with her journal and a cheap camera, as well as her cell phone, given over when the guy reached into her pocket. At that point she had put up her hands and said, "No mas!" and he had zoomed off on a motorbike. However, amid the tears in the re-telling, her face lit up and she pulled several hundred quetzales from her bra, money which she had just gotten from an ATM machine to pay rent. We are now stashing money all over our bod's, mostly in our shoes, in a swarmy attempt to outwit the bad guys. And we aren't walking alone after dark!

Two Old Gnus
One of the experiences of growing up in the 1950’s was to witness the advent of television. A favorite program was the Wonderful World of Disney and especially the wildlife films from Africa. I was entranced by the shots of the migration of the gnu’s and assorted beasts as they roamed across the plains in search of food and water. The most exciting part of this drama was when the animals were stalked and eventually mauled or killed by the lions, waiting in ambush . The most vulnerable gnus were the old, the young and the disabled who could not keep up with the herd and thus made easy targets for the lions.

Living in Guatemala, those pictures replay in my mind as we are constantly aware of our personal safety and the dilemma of the old gnus becomes very real for us. Walking home in Antigua at night, these two old gnus feel especially vulnerable, not from personal experience but from seeing how the lions have picked off 4 younger female gnus from our herd who left the group and decided to walk by themselves. The lions are especially fond of younger female animals and prefer to steal their backpacks and money rather than kill them for food. Occasionally, younger male gnus get attacked for their computers, MP3 players, IPhones, or other electronic gear. This always happens at night when the gnus have spent too much time at the watering hole and are not thinking clearly or are so egocentric to think that nothing will happen to them.

Maybe there is an advantage to being an older gnu because we don’t walk alone, can’t stay awake much after 9:30, spend limited time at the watering hole, and can pay to take a taxi back to the safety of the jungle. At times, we run into especially clever lions who are more interested in mauling us for money in more sociably acceptable ways.

When these two old gnus visited the beach in Montericco, we realized, from the moment we crossed the river that we were in new territory. As we stepped ashore, the lions gathered around us and asked if we would like their help in learning about the town. The lions were smiling and friendly but lions are lions and, being wary gnus, we decided to decline their offer. When we arrived at the hotel, an especially friendly lion, who was fluent in English followed us onto the grounds and told us his life story. He then offered to take us on a hike along the beach under a full moon that evening to find hatching sea turtles and/or to take us for a boat ride in the bayou early the next morning.

The younger gnu, not wanting to piss off the lion, wanted to do it all and readily agreed to the offer. The older and wiser gnu, not wishing to be on a deserted beach late at night with a lion, nor wanting to get up early in the morning to go into the swamp with a lion, suggested that we go on a later boat ride in the daylight when there were more gnus around.

Being new to this game and a bit slow on the uptake, the older one paid a third more than the going price for the trip in cash to the lion and wondered if the lion would show up in the morning at the appointed time. Sure enough, the lion was waiting for us but announced that he wouldn’t be taking us but we would be escorted by another lion – very suspicious. The attack was brief and consisted only of losing a small portion of money but no lasting damage was done.

We are learning that when you migrate across unfamiliar territory, it pays to be wary of lions, even if they are smiling, to be alert to your surroundings, and to stick with the herd. Also, older gnus are slower but wiser, and sometimes the lions win.

Next week, these gnus will be heading back to more familiar terrain and are looking forward to a familiar language, lettuce, safe food, and good beer. Hopefully, the lions will be fewer and less hungry.

safe passage blog

While I'm getting the next blog post ready, I'm going to suggest that you check out the Safe Passage blog. I have written a piece about being a "senior" volunteer. You can access it by going to the safe passage website: safepassage.org and then clicking on the word "blog" at the top of the screen.

Also, while you're there, take a look at Lise Belisle's blog(www.bountiful-blog.com) She is the mother of Campbell, whose room is next to ours and who also is volunteering at Safe Passage. Lisa came to Guatemala last week to visit the program and to see her son. She is a doctor and she has a blog, too, in which she has described her experience in Guatemala (among other things). It is extremely well-written and will give you a wonderful look at her impressions of the program. Very thoughtful and spiritual! I know you'll like it.

Coming soon: Saying good-bye to Safe Passage!

Thanksgiving Day in Guatemala

Thanksgiving is not a Guatemalan holiday, so it was work as usual for all of us Americans last Thursday. However, like many things that you may take for granted at home, the non-holiday seemed to assume quite a lot of nostalgia for Americans here in Guatemala, especially for the young volunteers, who were away from home at Thanksgiving, perhaps for the first time.

Our host family, Jose and Lucky Morales, had been planning for some time to prepare a Thanksgiving dinner for us, to be ready when we returned from Guatemala City at the end of the day. There are 4 Americans living at the house right now, all of us from Maine. We were curious about what the dinner would be like, since Lucky and Jose have never been to America and since we had been told that turkeys are very expensive here.

All day there were buzzings at Safe Passage about various dinners that would take place that evening. Our young housemate, Campbell, was planning to help his friend to cook a dinner, and he had extended a general invitation to everyone on the bus earlier in the week. So Campbell and his friend, Nico, had taken the day off to prepare.

Our Swedish friend had plans to attend yet another Thanksgiving dinner that evening, and she was curious about what to expect. At lunch that day, we all reviewed our own Thanksgiving food traditions. There was definitely a feeling of anticipation in the air.

When we arrived home that evening, there was a nice aroma coming from the kitchen. Both Lucky and Jose were there, all ready for us. On the table, the first thing that caught our attention was the biggest pie that I've ever seen. It was a very dark color, and I assumed that it was chocolate. But no, it was pumpkin, we were told. On closer inspection, it was actually a very dark green. Hmm. We were all a bit dubious at that point. But, first things first. There was also a roasted bird on the table. Turns out it was a cross between a turkey and a chicken. It looked delicious, and it was very good. Along with the "tur-ken" were a dish of light yellow Guatemalan squash, some salsa (a dark brown sauce that took the place of gravy), and garlic bread. Not our usual holiday abundance, but a valiant attempt at authenticity.

In respect for Lucky and Jose's efforts, Campbell arrived for dinner here, before his dinner with his friend. He brought his mom, who was visiting from Maine for the week. Along with Andrea, who hails from Venezuela & Madrid, and Yenna, who is from Korea, there were 9 of us at the table. Bruce was put in charge of carving the bird. Part-way through the meal, Campbell offered his thoughts on what he was thankful for, setting off a round-the-table sharing of gratitude. And the pumpkin pie? Even though it was green, it had been made from a green Guatemalan squash and tasted just like a typical pumpkin pie! Delicious.

A Weekend at the Beach

   Since arriving in Antigua 6 weeks ago, we have stuck pretty close to "home" and have used our weekends to rest and learn about the town.  But we were ready, last weekend, to explore a new area, the Pacific coast town of Montericco.  It's only a 2 hour drive from Antigua, but a whole other world, in terms of climate and lifestyle!

                                                     Waterfront in Montericco

We began our trip with a 40 minute van ride around the bumpy, cobblestone streets of Antigua, picking up 8 other passengers, all in their 20s' and early 30's, from all parts of the world.  They included 3 Sarah's (from Canada and Britain), plus a guy from Norway, and our first Bulgarian, a delightful young woman who has traveled extensively in her job for a Munich travel agency.

sunset over the Pacific

As we emerged from our small city, we were treated to the sight of the 3 volcanoes that surround us here.  It quickly became clear that we had left behind the relative sophistication of Antigua when we encountered men trudging along the highway, each bent under a load of sticks for firewood, or mules laden with great bundles of grasses of some sort.  As we descended from the mountains, where Antigua is located at 5000 ft. to the coastal plain at sea level, the temperature rose and the crops changed to sugar cane with occasional fields full of white Brahma bulls.  We began seeing houses with thatched roofs and the whole atmosphere seemed slower and more sultry.

 
 Suddenly  the road ended, literally, at the dock of a tiny river town.  Our little band of travelers waited while the van driver conversed with the horde of hustlers that were vying to take us down the river to Montericco.  We, of course, had not known that the trip would entail a boat ride and another fee, but such is travel in this part of the world.  It was a very small fee (60 cents/5 Quetzales) to take the public boat, so we all opted for that and hopped on with a bunch of locals.  The boat wound its way down the flat river, bordered by mangroves or vast grassy areas.  Majestic white egrets were occasionally startled from a high perch or could be seen hiding among the shelter of the mangroves.  It felt like what we imagine southeast Asia to be like.

                                            The green pool just outside our cabana  

We were greeted in the small village of Montericco by another group of hustlers but we had been warned by our Antigua host, Jose, not to talk to them, as they might very well try to charge a fee.  We did our best to ignore them as we got our bearings and made our way to our little beach resort, about a 1/2 mile away.  The main street of Montericco was paved but side streets were dusty and hot.  Chickens roamed around, laundry hung from fences, a big old pig ambled down the street, people were cooking outside.  It was pretty relaxed!  We were ready for a cold Moza when we arrived.

 
The Pez de Oro had been recommended by Jose, and it turned out to be just as delightful as he had said. It consisted of 18 small, colorful cabanas with thatched roofs, 2 small swimming pools, palm trees,  brick walkways, with a restaurant looking out over the black volcanic sand to the blue, blue ocean.   It was very charming! (You can google it to see for yourself.)  We spent the next three days there, indulging ourselves in warmth and good food.  One morning we went for a private boat paddle along the mangrove trees, looking at the wildlife, mostly birds. No alligators.   It was very peaceful and lovely.  Late one afternoon we watched as a crowd gathered for a baby turtle race to the ocean, organized by the turtle sanctuary next door.  Both evenings, we walked to Jonny's Place, a much more lively, party spot down the beach, for drinks with our van mates. Mostly we rocked in the hammock on our little porch or lounged around the pool.  The ocean was ferocious with huge waves pounding against the shore so we didn't swim there.  The pools, I must say, were a bit dubious looking in color but we did cool off in them a few times.

                                                             Back in Antigua  

The van ride back to Antigua on Monday afternoon was quiet.  Most everyone had already left on Sunday. Apparently, Montericco is becoming a popular weekend spot for middle class Guatemala City families.  But this is the slow season.  We were the only guests at the Pez de Oro on Monday, and just one other couple shared the van.  It was a fast ride that had us holding our breath as we passed slower moving vehicles on winding roads.  I'm guessing that the driver got his training as a chicken bus driver.  But we made it safely.

Day of the Dead/All Saints Day/Dia de Todos los Santos

     

Last Tuesday, November 1st, was All Saints Day in Latin America - and other places, I´m sure.   Contrary to what would think, it is a day filled with good food and a festival atmosphere - but at cemeteries!  One of the traditions associated with the day is kite-flying.  Two nearby towns have taken that tradition and mega-sized it with GIGANTIC kites, drawing crowds of people.   The kites serve several purposes:  to raise the souls of the dead to heaven, to express memories of past suffering and hopes for the future, to take messages to those in heaven, and to turn away evil spirits.  Pretty heavy responsibilities.  They are created using bright colors in intricate artwork.
      We traveled on a bus filled with other curious gringoes to the nearby Mayan town of Sumpango.  The event was taking place on a soccer field, not in a cemetery.   It´s apparently easier for the kites to be set up and judged there. Oh, yes, in Sumpango, there is competition involved.  There was definitely a festival atmosphere with small kites for sale, other trinkets, hand-made Mayan crafts, and lots of ¨fair¨ food, including grilled corn on the cob - served on a piece of husk with salt and a wedge of lime - grilled meat, tortillas, bright yellow ice cream, other sweets, popcorn.  The only thing missing was bloomin´ onions!  It could have been the Common Ground Fair except for the huge kites looming over everything.

                                                       Preparing a kite for flight


       I took lots of photos, and then, because the sun was fierce, Bruce and I took refuge on a high bluff covered by an open-sided tent.  It turns out that this was a VIP area and who should Bruce meet there but the new American ambassador to Guatemala, Arnold Cochon.  Arnold was wearing a Boston Red Sox cap and Bruce commented on it, thus beginning a chat.  Only part way through was it revealed that he was the ambassador and head of the US Embassy.  He is of Cuban descent, we learned later, and his son attends Phillips Andover, thus the Sox cap. We talked about some of the challenges that he is facing, as well as our work at Safe Passage.  He seemed like a nice guy with a big job to do.

   
 After a refreshing local Moza beer under the big tent, we ventured down to some covered bleachers and spent time just people-watching.   By mid-afternoon, the kites began to be prepared for flight.  They look quite heavy with their bamboo frames and huge size, despite the tissue paper interiors.  (But then, I never could imagine how humungous jets can take flight.) They were sent up one at a time.  Most were unable to soar very high and came plummeting into the crowded field in a wild, drunken trajectory, veering from side to side and sending the crowd running.  One or two kites managed to escape the confines of the sheltered field and catch enough wind to climb into the sky.  They were a beautiful sight, then, and joined many other smaller kites being flown by individual families on a hillside, dotting the sky with happy splotches of color and hope and tradition.  We arrived back at the Morales home in Antigua, early that evening, dusty and tired and a bit sunburned,  ready for a shower but glad to have experienced this piece of Guatemalan culture.

detail from a kite design