Friday, December 28, 2007

Monday, December 24, 2007

Monday, December 17, 2007

'Tis the season...

For all our consumerism and extravagance, Americans are a very giving people. While eating at my favorite comedor the other night, the owner engaged me in a conversation singing the praises of the goodness of Americans from her knowledge of Compassion International. She was utterly amazed how a person that knows a child only through a picture can be so faithful in writing and sending monetary support and gifts. It moved her deeply that a complete stranger would help a child whose own father had abandoned him.

There is something ingrained in the American ethos that compels us to help those in need. It is a different mindset than the poor helping poor collectivism in the developing world where survival depends on pooling meager resources. Instead it is born out of abundance, when people acknowledge their great fortune to have been born in the most prosperous nation in the world and act upon this by giving to those who have not been afforded such a luxury. Our socially conscious purchases, our child sponsorships, and our donations to emergency relief funds are all outlets for our compassion.

It is with organizations like Compassion International where you get to know the person or people you are helping that makes giving all the more rewarding. I hope that through my blog that you have gotten to know the women of Nu’Kem—“my” women. I hope that through words and pictures you have experienced and will continue to experience their lives here. And I hope that through words I can compel you to give (you probably already saw the pitch coming).

The women of Nu’Kem are paid a set amount for every article they make depending on its size and intricacy of design. The amount of products we make (and consequently the amount of money each woman can earn to support her family) depends on the amount of products we can sell. So while I am earnestly searching for markets for their products, I never want there to be a time when the women aren’t working for lack of funds. They literally can’t afford not to be working.

Through a non-profit called Friends of Guatemala, comprised of returned Peace Corps volunteers from Guatemala, you can make tax-deductible donations to my project anytime throughout my service. Every cent of the check you write to Friends of Guatemala will go directly to Nu’Kem—to ensuring that these women constantly have work to support their families. Checks can be written to Friends of Guatemala with “Kathryn Griffin – Cat. II” in the memo line and sent to the following address:

Friends of Guatemala
P.O. Box 33018
Washington D.C. 20033

Christmas ‘tis the season for lots of things: celebration of Christ’s birth, time with family and friends, opening gifts…and giving.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

Friday, December 14, 2007

En fuego

It was divine design that I was placed to serve in a country that dedicates an entire day to setting things on fire.

December 7th here in Guatemala is “El diá del diablo” (the Day of the Devil) or “Quema del diablo” (Burn of the Devil). The people pile up things no longer needed or useful and burn them in the streets, symbolically representing ridding their houses of evil. After sunset Tactic was filled with smoke and the noise of fireworks (the staple Guatemalan celebratory instrument) as the Tactiqueños burnt the devil out of their homes.

In celebration of the day, I bought a devil piñata that had a striking resemblance to Fidel Castro. After taking pictures of him in various poses (riding my bicycle, reading a book, climbing the ladder to the roof), my host family and I wrapped him with a belt of fireworks, hung him on the neighbor’s gate (their idea) and set fire to him. The gringa’s flaming/exploding devil brought onlookers from the whole street.

Although with all the fires and fireworks, I must say, I was a bit disappointed in the festivities. There was talk of setting a man dressed as the devil on fire in the park that never came to pass, and the customary practice of young men throwing balls of fire at each other also did not take place. I suspect the celebration was tamed down this year given the previous year an errant firework landed in the store of fireworks housed alongside the municipal building setting off a massive explosion that burnt the side of the building and caused extensive smoke damage inside. At least the muni was sufficiently cleansed of the devil.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Friday, December 7, 2007

A hike out of the valley


Vista de TacticMujeres caminando a sus casas

Mi oficina

Casa en la milpa

Aldea La Cumbre

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Give Thanks

The turkey killing Thanksgiving post is long overdue, but after eating up, cleaning up, and subsequently throwing up, I had a week of training and Spanish classes in Santa Lucia, which left little time for writing. So about two weeks after the fact here is a little recap of the day’s events to go along with the already posted (some say graphic) pictorial narrative…

The Thanksgiving feast was a true team effort of sixteen volunteers, my extremely helpful host mom, and one very patient taxi driver (Tonto decided to relieve himself one last time in the trunk of his car) that made the meal come together perfectly, albeit not until eight o’clock that evening. Above and beyond “just” cooking, everyone helped in some way—from making trips to the Tactic market to going on runs to Paiz in Cobán, from manning the oven at my house to washing dishes and cleaning—and the results were amazing. We had two turkeys (I must admit the “contingency plan” Butterball tasted a little better than Tonto), mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, potatoes wedges, macaroni and cheese, garlic bread, grilled vegetables, mint carrots, two kinds of stuffing, gravy, fruit salad, deviled eggs, green bean casserole, broccoli casserole, pumpkin pie, pecan pie, carrot cake and caramel/chocolate bars. This impressive spread was the work of everyone present, but nowhere was the teamwork more needed than in the killing and preparation of Tonto.

Although we had received numerous tips and instruction from Guatemalans, admittedly none of us were completely sure as to what we were doing, but we managed to get the job done. The squeamishness and screams at the sight of spewing blood from the first hack at Tonto’s outstretched neck (I didn’t get the head off with the first blow and had to finish with sawing) and of his headless body convulsing on the ground for the subsequent five to ten minutes eventually gave way. We then set about removing the feathers using a pot of boiling water to loosen them up, breaking and cutting off the legs, and digging out all the internal organs taking care not to rupture the “poo” bag. Next, he was spiced, stuffed, and thrown in the oven. It was quite the lengthy process, but perhaps we would have eaten before eight had we not taken so many breaks to pose for photos with the head, legs, and other dismembered parts and organs—a little morbid, maybe, but how often do you kill a turkey?

Previous to this Thanksgiving, I had only killed one living thing—a squirrel. And even though they are just glorified rats, I still felt horrible after doing it (although, I must say I was proud to have hit a swiftly moving target). So along with my family, other volunteers, and people here in Tactic, I had serious doubts as to whether I could actually kill Tonto, especially after we had become so close. But perhaps because it was not just gratuitous killing (as in the case of the squirrel), when it came time to put the machete to his neck, I felt no remorse. I felt gratitude. I put one of his feathers in my headband, smeared his blood across my forehead (it seemed appropriate at the time), and gave thanks for his sacrifice to our Thanksgiving celebration. And a great celebration it was.

On behalf of all the volunteers at Thanksgiving, I want to extend a huge “thank you” to my amazing mom (my real one). Not only did she pay to put all of us up for two nights in a gorgeous cabin in the woods, but she sent boxes and boxes of ingredients, snacks, and Thanksgiving themed bowls, plates, and napkins that can’t be found here in Guatemala. Thank you so much, mom. I love you.