Guatemalan Road Trip

With Semana Santa and its mass influx of tourists fast approaching, last week two women from my association (Yolanda and Julia), members of a local NGO that is providing us with assistance, our chauffer, and I loaded up the Land Rover (Yes, Nu’Kem has a Land Rover Defender that was left with them by the European Union project ALA…too bad the founding project never taught any of the women how to drive it, though) with products for a 3-day road trip to Guate, Antigua, and Xela to meet with clients, thread suppliers, and potential exporters. Overall the trip was a huge success, though exhausting. Here are a few highlights:

Yolanda told me they were going to pick me up at 4 AM in the park. Knowing all too well “la hora chapina,” I told her they could pick me up at my house. Sure enough, the Land Rover didn’t arrive until 5:15. It wasn’t until 5:30 AM that we finally picked up Julia who had made the 30-minute walk down from her community of Guaxpac and had been waiting on the side of the highway since 4:00. I didn’t need to understand Poqomchi’ to realize that she was angry. Usually soft spoken and smiling it was nothing but, “Poqomchi’, Poqomchi’, ‘Dios Santo!’, Poqomchi’, Poqomchi’, ‘A las cuatro!’, Poqomchi’, Poqomchi’, ‘Dios padre!’” from the moment she got in the vehicle. We all had a good laugh together, though, after her (justified) rant was over.

The first day of the trip Julia wore a machine made huipil (the blouse worn by Mayan women). Making huipiles is how and why Mayan women learn how to weave, and in good-natured teasing, Yolanda would not let it go unmentioned that Julia was wearing a machine made blouse while going to sell our handmade products. “!Estamos vendiendo nuestros tejidos y usted está llevando su huipil chino!” It was a good thing that the joking didn’t start until well after Julia had forgotten about waiting in the dark by the side of the road for an hour and a half, or I think she would have snapped.

In their desire to experience Antigua as I do, I took Yolanda and Julia to the Peace Corps frequented Mono Loco for a dinner of nachos. They were the only indigenous people there (now among the few indigenous people that have ever been there) and almost the only Guatemalans. It took them a little while to get over their initial culture shock (in their own country), but actually ended up enjoying it. After watching a group of foreign men at the bar for a while, Yolanda turned to me and asked, “Seño, when gringos get drunk do they all fight each other like Guatemalans do?” On the way out, Yolanda and Julia stopped by the gift store to inquire about selling Nu’Kem products there, convinced that in a place so full of gringos there were sure to be sales. But I am pretty certain that our elegant scarves and shawls wouldn’t quite fit in with the monkey t-shirts.

I found it so interesting to see Yolanda and Julia’s peaked interest in the indigenous people in the Western Highlands. The Mayan culture is much stronger in the western part of Guatemala, and the women would stare in wonder at the men wearing traditional traje. Men have not worn traje for over 20 years in Alta Verapaz, and it was something they found slightly humorous and very intriguing.

During the 3-day span we ate at the local fast food restaurant, Pollo Campero, some five times (Regan I am sure you are jealous) for breakfast, lunch, and dinner (but never all three in the same day, thank goodness). The women are quite picky eaters and complained of stomach pains when they didn’t consume a sufficient amount of tortillas. I, however, am fried chickened-out.

My fellow Peace Corps volunteers and friends, Kelly and Mosiah (http://kandm1.blogspot.com), graciously allowed us to crash at their cute pink (inside and out) house in Salcajá. In an effort to have a food that the women might enjoy, I asked Kelly to make pasta. They didn’t like it. But we did have a fun evening of conversation and laughs.

With all my ranting about proper trash disposal, my women have taken to carrying wrappers and chip bags in the waistline of their corte (Mayan skirt) until they can find a trashcan. Every so often, one of them will lift up a part of her huipil with pride to show me the trash and say, “¡Mire, Seño! Estoy cargando mi basura.” In the office of a thread company in Xela, Yolanda pulled out a wad of hair out of her corte to the sight of which I replied, “Oh. That's gross. That you can just throw on the ground.” She responded, “¡Seño! It is my hair. I can’t leave my hair in Xela! It has to back with me to Tamahu!” I guess I still have a lot to learn about the Mayan culture.