Our plans for Monday, August 17, all included outdoor activities. However, I woke up to the sound of rain pouring against the tin roof, a pleasant sound for relaxation, but a terrible disappointment for our scheduled day. Miss meteorologist Dania said that if it’s raining in the morning, it'll rain all day. She misled us all, and cursed those of us who sunburn easily.
It turned out that even though it did rain a lot, the weather was bipolar at just the perfect times for our schedule. We went to the Francisco Coll School where we were clearly expected. All the children were prepared for our visit. When we arrived to the school, the rain was replaced with teasing blue skies, and all the children came out to the courtyard to start our show.
First performance for the "gringos" was one of the 1st grade classes, a cowboy dance. A CD player provided a ho-down atmosphere and the little children jumped up and down, lifting their cowboy hats on and off of their heads, and pretending to strum toy guitars. One boy in particular kept my attention. He gave himself an unusual amount of space from the rest of the kids, and his jelly-bean-jumping cowboy boots were severely overactive. He reminded me of a home video of my older brother jumping around the living room to a song about Tigger (the character from Winnie the Pooh). He was the star of the show, and it was obvious that he was not ignorant of that fact. What surprised me about the performance was how into it ALL of the kids were. I've noticed that every dance recital or school concert with American kids that age ends up with a good portion of the children crying, fighting, or standing still with a blank stare at their teacher. But even under the pressure of so many eyes upon them, peers and strangers, these kids went all out.
The second performance was a group of 6th graders playing recorders. Their song was good, but they had already reached the age of inhibitions. The only movement from their feet was an attempt to hide behind one another.
The third performance was another dance, by 3rd graders, with the 6th grade recorders as the background music. It was a traditional dance, one that usually lasts for days on end, but we only witnessed a portion of about 10 minutes. It was the type of dance that builds on itself, with more children being added to the courtyard "stage" at intervals. The costumes were incredible. First came out 2 kings and joker with maracas, and then came out 2 old men with walking canes, then monkeys, antelope, a bull, and a child dressed like a skeleton as death. I’m not sure the significance, but it was still really entertaining to watch.
After the show, all the kids went back into their classrooms, and we traveled as a big group to each classroom. Most of the time, the children had all made cards for us, one class had made wooden paintings for the church. The classrooms looked relatively similar to the ones I grew up in, colorful posters, the alphabet painted onto a wall, and desks crammed into rows with the teacher’s desk in front. The cards always had the name of the artist written on the back, and coincidentally all 3 cards that were given to me were from an Antony.
After visiting the classrooms, the recess bell rang, 15 minutes for play time. We followed the kids to a field to play multiple games of soccer. Some from our group, like Dillon, Nora, and Nan, were claimed by the little children, and led around the fields hand in hand.
The kids went back to class, and we were led on a tour of the garbage dump. Our tour guide’s name was Alta Gracia Arrevelo. She told us the story of her life, and all its hardships. A single mother with 7 kids, she worked in the garbage dump for 10 years. She said that she got paid for how much trash she sorted and sold, and the most she ever got for one day was 6 quetzals (less than $1) but it was usually 5 or 4. She found food and clothing for herself and her family in the trash. With her salary, she was able to buy tortillas for her children, and only drank water for herself. She talked about how she was tempted to use and sell drugs, but she’s proud to say she overcame that urge, and suffered through the hardships clean. She said that one day she found a container, it was really clean, and it was wrapped in a nice plastic bag. Inside the container was 3 pieces of meat. She was so excited because she was pregnant at the time and felt lucky to be able to give her unborn child some nutrition. The meat was poisonous. It put Alta in the hospital for 6 months and her son in the hospital for 3 months. She gave birth during her time spent on the verge of death. When she got out, her son told her how fortunate he felt to sleep in a clean bed and eat real food while he was in the hospital. Alta said this broke her heart, that her son actually preferred to be fatally ill at the hospital than to be living at home. When her daughter began going to school, Alta got a job teaching, and her life improved dramatically. Her story was more effective since she told us while standing on the side of the road next to the dump site, watching people sort through trash.
It began raining towards the end of our tour, and picked up while we headed to the CEDEPCA office for lunch. We met employees and talked over a wonderful meal.
After lunch we went for a walk around Guatemala City to observe the last days of a long holiday festival. At this festival awaited my play date with death.
I’ve never been on a ferris wheel, I don’t even remember being given the opportunity. But here it sat, with one couple waiting for more riders to join, and most our group decided to give it a go. Lots of brave souls climbed aboard, including my foolish self, and my partner in stupidity, Candace. Once they had evenly loaded us onto the carts, the ride began. Picture a ferris wheel at an American carnival, and how it’s a slow, tame ride for little kids, elderly, and the teenagers trying to be romantic. Now picture that speed times 10, a whirling roller coaster on the verge of unhinging from its base and tumbling on down the road. With Anna and Michelle on one side, Will and Will on the other, the sight of them all rocking the swinging carts almost in complete circles made me thankful I was with an adult. My appreciation for Candace expired when she looked over at me and said, “Do you think this thing has been inspected?” I spent the remainder of the ride screaming. Once on solid ground, I decided the glance at death was exhilarating, and was eager for more. Our next ride was a solid structure, but still a little unnerving. A very large slide, with rugs provided to make it easier to slide down. The worker doused the slides with kerosene before each round of sliders came down. I’ve never seen so many
no smoking signs in my life.
After returning back to Casa San Jose, we had a devotion that was structured like a church service. All of us were responsible for parts of the service, so I will end this blog with my Affirmation of Faith.
We believe that being with people of strong faith encourages our faith to grow stronger.
We believe that God calls us and pulls us to take action because of the gratitude that we feel.
We believe that God will provide a way to follow the path that he has laid for us.
We believe that even the smallest act of kindness can help in the big picture.
We believe that we need to give our time, our presence, and our love to our brothers and sisters in faith.
We believe that an open heart is the way to do God’s work.
God Bless,
Maura Mays
