Moldy Water

Are the benefits of having clean drinking water from a jug canceled out when it is being dispensed from a moldy plastic container?

10,000 days

“It’s taken 10,000 days to get stuck in my ways.”
-Bebo Norman

I have a lot of learning and growing yet to do, so hopefully I am not stuck in my ways, but today, April 26, 2009, marks my 10,000th day on earth.

I’ve had this date marked on my calendar for nearly a year (yeah, I know I am a nerd). It seemed like a milestone worth celebrating, so I am in Antigua enjoying good food, good wine, and good conversation with my good friend Kelly.

But truthfully I don’t really have anything to celebrate. In my 27 and ¼ years on this earth, I have not made any worthwhile positive contributions to mankind…come to think of it I haven’t made any contributions to mankind.

Even the times I’ve tried to help and do nice things for people have seemed to backfire.

Like once in college a couple days after Christmas I donated all the soda cans I had been stockpiling for months (the city of Columbia, Missouri used to pay 10 cents a can) to a homeless man with a hook hand (it was really hard for him to hold all the bags). I felt sorry for him at the time, but then later found out he was a raging alcoholic who once used his hook to scratch the entire length of the wooden counter at a bar where my brother used to work (if you are ever in Columbia, go to Booches and have a burger).

On one occasion I offered to take home (to his home that is) a stranded pedestrian who was stuck at a gas station near my house in St. Louis. I can’t remember why he was there or what exactly moved me to give him a lift (perhaps it was because he looked like a thug and I felt bad for him since probably no one else would pick him up), but it was a decision I soon regretted. Shortly after getting in the car he asked me if it would be alright to light a joint. “I would prefer that you didn’t.” As we traveled further into the heart of the city in route to North Grand, I used the time to inconspicuously locate items in my car that could be used as weapons if need be. Fortunately we eventually arrived without incident, him holding an unlit joint and me grasping a ballpoint pen.

And then there was the time in Nairobi, Kenya that I ventured out to the Maasai market alone at dusk to purchase a woven basket for my friend and traveling companion, Jenna. She had tried to bargain the basket down while we were in the market earlier that day with no luck, so while she was in an internet café I headed back to the stall to buy one and surprise her. By the time I arrived, the vendor with the baskets had already packed up and left. When I told the people still there what I was looking for, a vendor named Allan offered to help. “I will find you your basket.” I agreed to pay Allan’s bus fare back to his village in the event he found the basket I wanted. Looking back this was probably one of the stupidest decisions I have ever made in my life.

Dusk quickly turned to night as Allan and I made our way to some half a dozen craft storage warehouses in Nairobi. In each one Allan would pull out a bag, “This is your basket.” “No, Allan, that is not my basket.” For some inexplicable reason I could not give up the search, and Allan, banking on his shillings for finding the basket, always had another warehouse in mind after one ended up being a bust.

Now Nairobi, otherwise known as Nairobbery, is not a city to be out in after dark, especially if you are a white woman (there are actually billboards around the city stating, “If you are here at night you will be raped.”). Allan sensed that I was feeling uneasy. “Don’t worry. Because I am with you, they will not cut you here and here.” He made slashing motions across both wrists. “Unless I say so.” That’s really reassuring Allan.

After hours of searching, I finally came to the realization that the wild goose chase was both pointless and extremely dangerous, so I decided to abort. The only problem was that I had no idea how to get back to my hotel. Allan was ready to head on to the next warehouse where he just knew the baskets would be, but I changed our deal on him. I promised him I would still pay for his way home if now he just delivered me safely to my hotel. About 15 minutes later as we neared The Stanley Hotel, Allan started singing his own praises. “Allan is a hero. Allan is a hero. Isn’t Allan a hero?” I think Allan was drunk.

As I said, I still have a lot of learning and growing (up?) to do.

¡Dos sí, uno no!

The day I left for my vacation to the states on April 9, I picked up the national newspaper Prensa Libre to read in the airport as I was waiting for my flight. One of the main headlines was about the newly implemented restrictions on motorcyclists that were to go into effect across the country that day (the other was about the dangers of flying into and out of the Guatemala Aurora Airport given the large quantity of near-by buildings and towers surpassing the safety height restriction…really reassuring as I was about to board an airplane).

With little to no warning the Guatemalan government put into effect laws governing the use of motorcycles that will adversely affect a sizeable chunk of the population of the country. Now all motorcyclists must have a visible license plate on their vehicle, wear a white helmet with their license plate number on the back, and wear a bright fluorescent yellow vest (think of the ‘80s) also displaying their license plate number. Requiring license plates and helmets are good needed measures (they actually already existed, but many people, especially in the case of helmets, didn’t follow them), but the main part of the new law, the restriction that will have a negative impact for the some 600,000 motorcyclists (almost 5% of the population) in Guatemala, is that now motorcycles can not carry any passengers. Only one person per motorcycle. The government has stated that the ban on passengers will not be permanent but has not given a time frame for how long it will be in effect.

To an American this restriction banning passengers might seem like a slight annoyance. Joy rides would have to be relished in solitude. In the United States I would venture to guess a small percentage of the estimated 7 million motorcyclists (only about 2.3% of the total population) use their motorcycles as their primary form of transportation. But in Guatemala I think it would be safe to say for the majority those 600,000 motorcyclists, their bike is their only form of transportation.

For many in Guatemala, a motorcycle is like the family minivan. It is the way the kids get to school, and the parents get to their jobs, and the family goes to the market. On any given day I would see about a dozen pairs passing by on motorcycles and sometimes even 4 or 5 people piled onto one. So a law against carrying passengers does not affect only the nearly 5% of the population that uses motorcycles, but all those family members, co-workers, and friends who rely on a driver to get from point A to point B.

So why would the Guatemalan government implement a law restricting the movement and therefore the livelihood of so many of its citizens? That’s a good question.

The government hopes that the ban on passengers on motorcycles as well as the other measures will curb the ever-increasing levels of violence in the capital and around the country. According to statistics, 6 out of every 10 murders in Guatemala City are perpetrated by motorcyclists carrying a passenger. (You drive, I’ll shoot.) And since motorcyclists can easily swerve between cars and escape from the scene of a crime, few if any are ever apprehended. Guatemalan lawmakers point to Columbia, a country that implemented similar motorcycle restrictions starting in the 1980s, as an example of the effectiveness of these measures to lower crime.

There is not a person in Guatemala that would not agree something needs to be done to combat the alarming rate of violence in the country, but the problem with the motorcycle restrictions is that it punishes so many Guatemalan families that need this form of transportation.

For those who have been affected by the change, officials have suggested using public transportation. That would be a nearly acceptable alternative if the public transportation in the capital were even remotely safe. As Peace Corps volunteers we aren’t allowed to even set foot on the buses that circulate within Guatemala City given the high number of robberies, assaults, and murders that take place on them on a daily basis. If I were a parent, I would never put my child on a bus alone to travel to school. And outside the capital in rural areas, public transportation isn’t always regularly available to make it a feasible alternative.

And more than just the huge inconvenience of not being able to carry passengers, there is the cost issue too. Families will now have the extra monthly cost of paying for public transportation. Motorcyclists who were already in compliance with the helmet law now have to buy another one that is white to meet the new restrictions as well as a gaudy vest, which people have no idea as to where they can even purchase one.

Adding to the list of unintended consequences and things not thoroughly thought through before implementing the law, the fluorescent yellow color required for the motorcycle vests is strikingly similar to the uniforms of the Transit Police.

Criminal motorcyclists will just adapt to do both the driving and the shooting by themselves and then can easily melt into a sea of fluorescent yellow.

Police Officer: “Could you please tell me what the perpetrator was wearing?”

Witness: “Well, he or she had on a white helmet and a bright yellow fluorescent vest…kind of like yours.”

As I was sitting in the airport reading the article, I kept thinking to myself, “This is not going to fly in Guatemala.” And sure enough, every day since the law went into effect on April 9, there has been an article in the Prensa Libre recounting negative reactions and protests. Motorcyclists (with passengers) are blocking highways in different parts of the country, burning tires, and jamming main thoroughfares in the capital using the slogan, “¡Dos sí, uno no!” (Two yes, one no!). One protest in the capital was dispersed by the police with tear gas.

This past Tuesday, April 21, the Office of Human Rights opened up a table for discussions between affected motorcyclists and the government. Representatives of the motorcyclists have agreed to stop blocking main roads in the capital and the government has promised to listen to and give responses to their complaints. We’ll see what results these talks render.

As for now, even with the new laws in place, little to nothing has changed. Since returning to Guatemala on April 18, I have seen dozens of motorcyclists riding helmetless, vestless, and with passengers. As a grace period, the government has not yet started to impose the Q1,000 (~$125) violation fines, but even when they do go into effect, I don’t know how many people (especially here in rural Guatemala) will actually follow the new regulations. In many cases, there are little or no other options but to break the law.

I asked some of the police officers in town what they thought of the restrictions, and they told me flatly, “They are ridiculous, and there is no way we are going to ticket anybody for violating them.” So if the people don’t want them, and the police aren’t (or reluctantly at most) going to enforce them, I don’t see how effective they are really going to be.

I think policy makers (and development workers) err sometimes by having a “one-size-fits-all” mentality. It worked there, so it will work here. But just because a law was effective in Columbia in the 1980s, doesn’t mean it will be effective (or fair) in Guatemala in 2009. What percentage of the population of Columbia used motorcycles in the 1980s? What percentage of those motorcyclists needed their motorcycle as their primary form of transportation? Were crimes committed by motorcyclists occurring in all areas of the nation or concentrated in just the capital city (as in the case in Guatemala)?

I would like to believe that the Guatemalan government undertook rigorous studies to evaluate the impact the ban on passengers on motorcycles would have on the population and then carefully weighed that against the estimated benefits, but sadly, to me, this law just proves how out of touch the wealthy elite lawmakers are with the average Guatemalan. Have any of the officials advocating public transportation as an alternative actually risked their own lives by getting on a city bus? Or have they ever had to rely on a motorcycle to transport themselves and their families to work and school? Of course not. They have their cars and helicopters (although Guatemala is one of the poorest countries in Central America, it has the highest per capita use of helicopters and personal aircraft) to zip around the country when needed or desired.

But hopefully with all the protests and backlash, the restriction on passengers will be repealed or at least limited to certain zones of the capital with the highest incidents of crimes committed by motorcyclists. Otherwise it is going to continue to be a very painful, protest filled transition for both the motorcyclists and the government.

What are you searching for?

With my blog I can track how many visitors I am getting a day and how those people are finding it, including searches. People have found my blog through hundreds of different searches. With most of them, like “Alta Verapaz,” or “Peace Corps Volunteer,” or “fijese,” (a very popular search) I can understand why people are directed to my blog. Other searches are a bit strange. Through some word or picture I have posted, people find my blog and probably quickly realize it is not at all what they were looking for.

Below are the top 15 oddest/funniest searches people have made:

15. killing lucking

I have no idea.

14. diablo 2 goatman

Diablo (devil) is apparently a video game. I know I have mentioned goats and el diablo in my blog, but never in the same post.

13. leche milking women

“Milk milking women.”

12. seductive women

I am sure my blog was a big disappointment to the person who conducted this search.

11. socialist whore

Once I wrote that I was a capitalist whore. Not quite the same thing.

10. feria destroyed my hair

Was this person looking for validation or support groups from others who have faced the same problem?

9. indigenous women in water

This search makes me picture indigenous women swimming in traje. Dangerous.

8. just grasping and kissing a woman

Someone looking for tips?

7. CHUBBY BUNNY DEATH PHOTOS

Morbid.

6. headless corps

I am pretty sure this person was searching for a headless corpse not corps.

5. ducha de mujeres en lodo

“Shower of women in mud”…is that the Spanish way of saying mud wrestling?

4. hot peace corps volunteer

When this search was made back in January, I was curious as to why this person was directed to my blog. I did the search myself and my blog profile picture came up first in google images. I recently did the same search again, and my picture was nowhere to be found. How does google know that I have let myself go in Peace Corps?

3. fotos de ninos robados

It translates to “photos of stolen children.” Was someone looking to bypass an adoption agency? “I’ll take that one.”

2. how to pack up zipper carnival ride

I can picture some poor carnie frantically searching the internet trying to figure out how to put away the ride. “Well, all the pieces came out of the trailer, so they got go back in it somehow.”

1. live vedio clip of doctors doing pelvic examination in clinic

(Spelling error made by searcher.) I wonder if this person ever found what he (I imagine this search was done by an adolescent boy) was looking for.

Damn E

Kathryne

My spelling of the name Kathryn isn’t the most prevalent variant in the states, but it exists. Here in Guatemala it is completely unheard of and confusing. Although it is not terribly common, the name Kathryn itself is used in Guatemala but always spelled as “Catherine” or “Katherine.”

Whenever I say my name to someone who is writing it down for a receipt or something else I always spell it out and the person always writes it wrong. Most often when I start saying, “K” the person immediately scribbles down a “C” followed by “A-T-H-E-R-I-N-E.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah, that is fine.”

Or if I am lucky enough to get someone started with a “K,” I always lose him/her after the “T.” He/She ends up writing “Katarin” (the way my name is pronounced) or “Katherine.”

I used to try to correct people but quickly realized it was a futile exercise. Guatemalans' brains are hardwired to spell Kathryn in a certain way and attempting to change that is just more trouble than it is worth.

The other day I made a purchase at a bakery in town, and the employee proceeded to write me out a receipt. It started the same old routine.

“My name is Kathryn and it is spelled K-A-T-H-R”

The employee wrote down K-A-T-H and stopped. She looked up at me confused.

“You mean ‘E’ right?”

“No.”

“Are you sure it is ‘R’ instead of ‘E’?”

“Yes. R-”

The employee hesitantly wrote down an “R.”

“Y-N”

“‘Y’?”

“That’s right. Y-N”

Even more apprehensive than when she added the “R,” the employee finished off my name with “Y-N.”

Kathryn.

I couldn’t believe it. In my nearly two years in Guatemala, it was the first time that someone actually listened to me and spelled my name correctly! My feelings of accomplishment and satisfaction were short-lived however. Sensing something amiss about my name, the employee decided to put an “E” on the end.

Kathryne.

So close. But I guess it is better than having a receipt written out to “Gringa.”

Albahacón

The basil bush in my garden has gotten a little out of control. I could make pesto everyday for the rest of my time here and probably still not use all of it…or I could set up a stall in the market.

Pizza

Over the course of my time here, I have started to become slightly domestic. Slightly. I have a long way to go before I am ama de casa material, but I am slowly moving in that direction.

Case in point, I have now learned to make pizza from scratch. Anyone who has made pizza knows this isn’t a very difficult task, but it is an accomplishment to me. Baby steps.

The dough.

Uncooked.

Cooked homemade chicken & pepper pizza.

Beantown

I am heading out to Boston today to spend some time with my best friend, Jenna. She just got engaged (I hope it is okay to announce that to all five of my blog readers)! So if anyone wants to get a hold of me while I am in the states, you can call me on her cell phone: 314.4…Jenna, were you about to kill me for posting your cell number on the internet? Would that be a friendship breaker? Right up there with stabbing you in the throat with a pen?

The Beating

Basketball is a rough game here...

110-13

110-13: the final score by which we won a basketball game in the new league that started about two months ago.

I defected from my old team, and now I am playing with a bunch of teenagers, or las patojas as I call them. I felt guilty about leaving my old team at first, but not anymore (well, maybe still a little). It sure feels a lot better to be giving beatings instead of taking them (although my old team was never shamed by nearly 100 points). And the girls are a lot of fun to play with. The best player among them is a 13-year-old who has twice been selected in her age bracket to play for the Guatemalan national team in an Americas tournament.

The aforementioned score occurred in a game against Las Mamitas, a team composed of 40-50 year-old women with absolutely no skills whatsoever. We played a full court press against them…for the whole game. Yes, it was ruthless, but it was not my call. It was the rare occasion when they were actually able to get the ball past half court, and I felt extremely sorry for them. That is until I was threatened.

While going for a steal, I batted the ball away with my right hand and in the process accidentally bumped a woman from behind with my left shoulder. Now in any game on American soil it would have been called a foul, but here in Guatemala with the violent style of basketball that is played, it could barely be considered a love tap. Thus it was not called, we scored a layup, and I returned to my post at half court for the press.

As I mentioned in a previous post about playing basketball in Guatemala, it is game of vengeance. It’s personal. For every foul, steal, or block there is a price to pay. So I was met at half court by the “wronged” woman with a message. She got in my face and said, “You want to push? You want to play dirty? You are going to find out what is it like to be pushed.”

And indeed I, and the rest of my teammates, did get a good lesson on what it is like to be pushed. They started just dropping their shoulders and ramming people. During rebounds I would just get unexpectedly (well, at first it was unexpected) rocked from behind. And being that I am a good six inches taller than anyone on their team and there is nothing diminutive about the size of these women, the brunt force of their stout frames would fall right on the small of my back.

Will Peace Corps be liable to pay for any possible permanent damage to my back as a result of playing basketball here?

We played our second round game against this team a couple of weeks ago. We won 107-28…without playing a press. I think there was some held over anger from the last game because the dirty play started right from the beginning. Even before the game got underway, one of the referees pulled me aside to say, “You’d better watch your back. These women are muy peleoneras (very quarrelsome).”

Isn’t that your job? Aren’t you supposed to watch my back and prevent the game from getting out of hand? He didn’t.

Regardless of where I was on the court in relation to the ball, there was a little woman (in height not in weight) assigned to take cheap shots on me. I suffered countless charley horses as women rammed their butts into my thighs as I tried to go around them. It surely made for an interesting game constantly having to be prepared to sustain a blow while at the same time participating in the offense.

The regular season of the league has now finished and the bracket for the single elimination finals is currently being drawn up. I hope we don’t have to play Las Mamitas again. I’m not sure my body can handle another game against them.

Vultures