I have wept for love of them...

I, the Lord of sea and sky, I have heard my people cry.
All who dwell in dark and sin,
My hand will save...
I who made the stars of night, I will make their darkness bright.
Who will bear my light to them?
Whom shall I send?
Here I am, Lord. Is it I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night. I will go, Lord, if you lead me.
I will hold your people in my heart.

You all may recognize this hymn—it’s from Isaiah 6:8. Before I left for my first Guatemala trip this February, I taped these verses to my car door in order to motivate myself beyond my post-college comfort zone of a rock-climbers life in small town North Carolina. It worked.

This is a picture of me putting on a puppet show last Tuesday... note my characteristicly goofy expression!) For months, I have been happy to hum and repeat this part of the song…in the car, in the shower… I confuse the words and start again! This song can really motivate the idealistic missionary! HERE I AM LORD!! Whoohoo! Send me to the corners of the earth! I can put up with the rats (yes, I had one IN MY ROOM this week) and remote living—JUST GO AHEAD AND SEND ME!

Eight short weeks into mission work, however, the balance between idealism, realism and cynicism has become a tightrope walk. Don’t worry—I am still happily humming “Here I am Lord...” but the other day, I remembered the next verses of this hymn.

I, the Lord of snow and rain,
I have borne my peoples pain.
I have wept for love of them.
They turn away.

Why are these words now so poignant? Here’s an example from the week:
Mariano, the sick man that I have pictured in an earlier blog, has been looking worse. His feet and face have swollen—a textbook sign of severe malnourishment, and he speaks of death. Last week, when I was in a rush to refill his medicine in the late afternoon, I asked a young boy to run up to Mariano’s house to deliver a package of antibiotics, rice and vitamins. The little boy smiled, told me his name, and said “Sure Sarita!” He was happy to take it. Supposedly, he lived nearby. I was relieved to forgo the long hike as the sun went down.
Come to find out a few days later, Mariano didn’t receive my package. The boy had stolen the rice and the vitamins and the crucial antibiotics. I was surprised to find out that an eight-year old would lie about his name—How’s that for a Guatemalan Oliver Twist? I felt lazy, naïve, and betrayed by the village. How could someone do such a…
BECAUSE THESE PEOPLE ARE INCREDIBLY DESPERATE! In the U.S., we have little temptation to steal… my only run-in with this commandment happened at age 5, and involved a pink golf tee and a furious mom. I have never felt so desperate as to smuggle candy from the gas station, or new clothes from the Gap, but that I’ve never been on the other side of suffering, either. The lure of stealing is so much ENTICING for the people of Pinalito… where the two tomatoes growing in my garden are the only vegetables a family may eat in a month…or the dishtowel in my laundry would be so nice for the new baby, who already has a terrible rash from sitting in wet bedding. When the bananas are so easily chopped down under the mask of night, and the corn and beans locked away for the widows are only a smashed window away…
I’ve had my frustrated moments, I’ll admit— I even threw my hat across the room upon discovering the stolen tomatoes! But really… the tomatoes were not mine. I was just a caretaker. I don’t need the vitamins as badly as these villagers. Their skin is flaking for lack of Vitamin E. They suffer from terrible night blindness, supposedly for lack of Vitamin A. I hate that the people steal, but I cannot be angry at them.

I will break their hearts of stone,
Give them hearts for love alone.
I will speak my word to them,
Whom shall I send?

Last Tuesday, I was given the opportunity to shadow a group of Guatemalan doctors as they worked in a nearby village. For hours, I scribbled medical terms and dosage furiously in my notebook, and laughed on cue as the doctors (most of whom spoke English, and had studied in the U.S.) repeated the same joke with their stethoscopes in hand—something about the monkeys inside the children’s chests. I learned how to examine the people… how to feel their swollen glands and bellies, how to check their eyes for anemia. I saw what their skin looks like when they are malnourished, and how their mouths develop sores from lack of vegetables. And so I have remembered compassion, and learned how to better help Mariano.


I, the Lord of wind and flame,
I will tend the poor and lame.
I will set a feast for them.
My hand will save.
Finest bread I will provide
Till their hearts be satisfied.
I will give my life to them
Whom shall I send?

So yes, thank you for reading my slightly "sappy" entry, and once again, THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT. It has been my dream to come here… Dr. Strunk was quite right, and so gracious to tell my story. I have stood with my hands in the air shouting “SEND ME, LORD! “ And now I feel famous—but undeservedly so! These grand “adventures” are those of a curious girl hoping to “step into other people’s shoes”… all of the good stuff is God.

 

ROAD WORK

Enter the Tractors!

Spirits have been high this week Pinalito; the tractor has arrived to level the road! Although no one owns a car, road access to Pinalito makes life a little easier for the villagers, and for my part, I am glad that a truck can get here in an emergency. The village men have been running around to fetch chickens, beans, and bananas to offer the lone worker in his John Deere hat, and with their machetes close at hand, they guard the machine at night. Everyone is amazed by its power! Even I, despite my familiarity with skyscrapers and steel, have just spent this Sunday afternoon watching the bulldozer demolish a hillside and an 80-foot pine tree in order to fill in the sunken road. The eastern highlands of Guatemala lag far behind the expressways of the U.S., but after watching the men struggle with shovels and hoes this month, the work of the one CATIPILLAR tractor is a relief.

While the village men strut beside the tractor with oil cans and wrenches, the women have been busily preparing for “The Quince”—Independence Day in Guatemala. The school was supposed to host a celebration last Friday afternoon, and whew! — For months everyone has been excited to eat sweets and dance! Sadly, no one raised money for the Marimba player and the school teacher canceled the plans. In one sense, I was relieved to bypass this “Independencia” celebration (I hear that things can get dangerous around here with such parties…Where there is a marimba, there are drunken men, and where there are men, there are machetes.) On the other hand, the women had sewn new dresses for the party, and everyone had their hopes up for a day of fun. It’s so sad that these people never get to CELEBRATE! How little living they do…

Everyone made the best of the situation, however. They seem to be so accustomed to disappointment. The women have spent the weekend making “tamales” over the fire; their laughter from the kitchens proves their light-hearted resilience.


The tamale process has been my official welcome into the Guatemalan kitchen—it takes a lot of work to heat banana leaves over the fire, chop the tomatoes and onions, shuck corn, boil masa and roll it all up into a steaming “burrito” I have only opted out on the killing of the pigs and chickens… the women double over in laughter when I run from the yard to avoid any headless squawking!

This week, I finally realized that my Spanish is improving, and I find myself joking and chattering on the floor with hens pecking at my feet. My heart lies with the women of this village…although they are timid, they are the communicators, and although they don’t always understand hygiene and nutrition, they are the caretakers. Whereas the men will often vandalize, drink and steal, the women remain in the background. They work their fingers to the bone, and yet their hands are always available to their children. (Here is a picture of me trying to “carry their load;” Can you imagine walking 3 miles with a 20-pound bundle of corn on your head?!)

On that note, I held the second “Women with Work” meeting, and even more have come to join our group. I want to give these women more ownership of their situations… more power to improve their lives. By giving them employment, I hope to strengthen their community. If given the opportunity; won’t they take action for their widows and orphans? Won’t they be interested in improving their children’s health? Still, as I mentioned in my previous blog, I am starting small. This week, we painted a building, bleached mildew, and talked about teeth brushing. Next week, Melanie, my co-missionary and partner in idealism, will take the reins and introduce some basic gardening. We have tomato, cucumber and onion seeds, and will fill several seed flats for the women to take home. The group expressed excitement over tomato and onion plants, but the fruit of this labor is weeks away. In Pinalito, the people rarely think about tomorrow… they need corn NOW, and their child needs shoes NOW. With that said, reality strikes at the end of the women’s meeting; teeth brushing is interesting, and the seeds may create hope, but the women are far more interested in the money they will earn from their work.

Now that the road is passable, the list of employment opportunities is growing, but quite honestly, I need money to make it happen. If anyone is interested… this is where I could use some support. $24 a month could employ 10 women. (One family will consume 30 pounds of corn in a week; 30 pounds of corn costs about $4.)

Thanks again for the emails, input and encouragement this week. I’ll be in touch soon!

Here are some pictures from the week. We had a bonfire, and the kids loved the marshmallows!
 
 

Poverty and complications...

Wooohoo! I’m back in civilization! It’s incredibly hot down here in the “pueblo,” and the noise and chintzy furniture screams 1980s, but I’ve been two weeks without internet, three days without water, and three hours out in the scorching sun-- hiking from Pinalito to a nearby village (and whew… my stomach hasn’t been feeling too great lately… what a hike!) I’m thrilled to have a shower, get some icecream, and type on my computer.
There is an old woman outside the door of this café. She has been selling empanadas from a plastic bowl all day, and has stopped on the curb to rest. I imagine she’ll be headed home soon; she has a live chicken tucked under her arm—ready to feather and boil for dinner. On the street in front of her, cars are speeding by. A guy in a Mercedes SUV whistles and winks at my blond hair, and nearly smashes the old woman’s toes.
This sight is typical of life in a Guatemala city, and much different from what I see every day. The disparity between the rich and the poor is so material, whereas in Pinalito, everyone goes without. One Pinalito family may make 28 tortillas every day, while another can afford to make 35. The store owners may have a skinny horse or a full bar of liquor, but no one will have, for example, tuna or lasagna for dinner, much less brand name jeans, fancy haircuts or cars. How interesting it is to see materialism again, now that I am in the city. It’s tempting to shake my fist at this man in the Mercedes; I want to bring him to Pinalito and show him what he could have done with that money, why won’t these people help their neighbors? But really, I cannot judge him… this is the same materialism that I live with in the States, and I love my Patagonia clothes as much as the Mercedes man loves his car. What a shame.
Two weeks ago (or, gosh, has it been three?) I wrote about my struggle with giving food, baby formula, and money to the begging women in Pinalito. I have read and observed again and again the disadvantages of giving hand-outs—the people become dependent, think that they are literally unable to survive without help, and therefore stop working, stop trying to pull through life.
While in the city earlier in the month, I came up with an idea. I noticed the number workers in the hotels, on construction sights, and in restaurants. You all wouldn’t believe how many people it takes to sand a wooden railing by hand…. they don’t use a machine here… talk about slow process! And the women standing around in the kitchen of a Chinese Restaurant?! I might as well be telling the dumb blond with a lightbulb joke! The point is, a source of pride in Guatemala is labor, and although it seems that the number of jobs is absolutely inefficient, at least there is ownership to be taken of that railing, pride in the soy sauce bottle at China café, and money to be made,
So I held a women’s meeting in Pinalito last Monday morning. 12 women came, and Melanie made pancakes and coffee, while I read about the woman of Proverbs 31—resourceful, compassionate, and trustworthy. I tried to explain that we could have a community of workers in order to solve some of the village needs. I offered several jobs at an hourly wage: painting a wall, cleaning an apartment, washing laundry. All twelve jumped at the work offer, and before I knew it, I was overwhelmed with the reality of my brainstorming.
A dose of hindsight clarifies my idea: how can one person offer a labor economy that will support 12 women? What if more women come next time? What if no one comes, thinking that my idea is going to fall through? Will they depend on me too much, or will they reject me altogether? I want to create a community of people that can depend on one another, but how do I first get the focus off of me?
These are the complications of development… nothing is straightforward. I would love to read your comments on this.

Other notes… I tried a bread recipe straight from the yeast packet last week, and it was delicious! (I know Mom, you would be impressed! I didn’t burn it!) In fact, my neighbor, Juana, wants to know about this mysterious ingredient called flour, so we will make fry-bread (or doughnuts) on her wood stove next week.
English classes have been a lot of fun. My favorite group is the class of young boys. I finaly figured out that they do much better OUTSIDE, so we have been learning TREE, GRASS, SKY, DIRT, ROCK, LET’S RUN and STOP! The girls are still so timid… I am just trying to be patient. They much prefer my new routine of reading at a village house twice a week… everyone loves Clifford and Peter Rabbit!

This quote keeps me going when things get frustrating:
“Rats and Rodents live by competition, under the laws of supply and demand. It is the privilege of Human Beings to live under the laws of justice and mercy.”
Wendell Berry

No matter what I do...

The internet has been out all week, please forgive my delayed update! I am alright! I returned from the first Zacapa “grocery trip” to find a severed electrical line. The night that we managed to fix it however, a windstorm came through, and the satellite was thrown off it’s course… ohhh....

The inability to stay connected with home has proven to be one of my most frustrating obstacles. Ha! This fact, I’m embarrassed to admit, especially considering all of the other quandaries I’ve faced since arriving! Still, the support I feel from home is SO ENCOURAGING. Your emails and comments are like a weekly dose of energy. Thank you to everyone for offering advice, recipes, service projects, prayer and smiles. I love keeping you all updated and involved in this mission.

Without this communication, however, general mission life has proven to be a daily encouragement. Like the villagers around me, my routine slows down to the simple pulse of work, food, sickness, children. I am humbled daily by the big picture. Up here in the mountains, we have little control… it’s pretty obvious God’s holding the reigns.

Although my Spanish is far from perfect, I decided to speak at church last Sunday.

My testimony was about my current love for HARD WORK. The men at church smiled when I mentioned my work, for it's true! Every time the villagers visit my apartment, I am outside hoeing in the garden, or moving cement blocks from one pile to another. Everyone laughs to see a woman buckled under the weight of a heavy wheelbarrow!

In my short (and slightly nervous) church message, I went on to speak of the cucumber seeds I recently planted, and the close care that I give them daily:
Every morning I move the seedling flat into the sun, water gently, and scrutinize the leaves for insects. How nerdy I am, but I’ll admit that if I had a ruler, I would probably measure the leaves!

“How ridiculous,” you all must be thinking, “Who has time for such meticulousness?” Yep. The women at church laughed as well.

I then pointed out that, despite all of my hard work... my care for these seedlings is nothing in comparison to the simple breath of God. While I carried the heavy seed box into the yard the other day, my roommate Melanie pointed out a large tomato plant growing out of the cement in from of our apartment. YES. THERE IS A TOMATO PLANT GROWING OUT OF THE CEMENT. It has 4 little green tomatoes… I don’t know who planted it, or how it got there or how the little fruit has done so well in the cement. But then Freddy, my right-hand-man wearing my old Camp Illahee t-shirt, said, “Look Sarita… it’s a gift from God.”

That’s how easy it is.

With that, please pray for this guy... Mariano. He has been sick ever since I arrived, and I just don't know what to do for him. He won't go to the hospital (which is a common thing around here) and he probably weighs 70 pounds. No fever, nothing noticable... it just seems that he doesn't care about living. I can only give him rice.


But I don't want to end on such a sad note. This is a picture of Santos, who came to my apartment recently to show me his toy: A beetle tied on a string. A little gross, yes... but what fun!