Las Fiestas

In a culture that is so family oriented, it comes as no surprise that holidays and birthdays are large celebrations. Just in my short time here I have already attended two such events: a Mother’s Day dinner and the birthday party of Kelly’s 2-year-old host brother.

Mother’s Day (el día de las madres) is a much bigger holiday here than in the States. Children only have a half day of school or don’t attend at all, and most people don’t have to go to work. The celebration in my village began at around 4:30 in the morning with people shooting off fireworks in the streets (this continued all day long) and a truck driving around town blaring an ‘I love my mom’ themed song through a megaphone. (Hmm, I don’t know of a lot of mothers in the US who would appreciate being awoken before 5 am by loud music and fireworks.) In the evening I attended a dinner with my host mom and four of her sisters (she has five sisters all living in this village, but the one she lives with had a separate dinner at our house) at the house of her niece.

Although he is only two and won’t remember any of it, the party for Kelly’s host brother, Daniel, was quite an ordeal. There was cake, tostadas, tamales, and fresca (the word used for all homemade cool beverages). The family rented out an outdoor banquet type area, and there were about 100 guests in attendance.

The funniest occurrence of the evening was an incident that could have had a very bad outcome. After having one piñata for the children, the hosts strung up another one for the adults. Myself and a couple of others had a go at it, and the bluebird was on its last leg when the stick and blindfold were passed on to Michael, another volunteer. After a few swings he sprung a hole. Blindfolded and not really comprehending the directions being shouted at him in Spanish (like “Para! Para!”—“Stop! Stop!”), Michael continued swinging as a hoard of children rushed in around him to pick up the candies. Fortunately someone grabbed the stick from behind before anyone was wounded…I can just imagine the ill feelings that would arise from having your child beaten with a stick by a gringo at a birthday party.

Birthday Party

cohetes y chuchos

It does not do my town justice to entitle this entry ‘fireworks and street dogs’, but as new member of the community the ubiquity of both these things cannot go unnoticed. Not a day goes by without someone setting off fireworks of the Black Cat variety in the street to celebrate a birthday or some other event. Usually birthday pyrotechnics begin around 5 in the morning and are often accompanied by bombas—super loud fireworks translated literally as ‘bombs’. The first time I awoke to bombas, I thought for sure there was a gunfight transpiring in town, but no, it was just the Catholics parading a statue of Mary through the streets on a cart. ¡Gracias a Dios!

And then there are the chuchos…In Spanish the word for ‘dog’ is ‘perro’, but here in Guatemala exists the word ‘chucho’ specifically for dogs that live in the street (when used in the feminine form it can also mean ‘prostitute’, but it all depends on the context). The quantity of chuchos in a town is often stated as a distinguishing factor. These dogs roam the streets in packs living off scraps, barking at people, and impregnating each other (I find it fascinating that despite all the interbreeding there is still a wide range of different looking dogs). Late afternoon is usually naptime for the chuchos, and it is often difficult to discern the live ones from the dead. Nighttime is when they come alive as the town falls to sleep to a chorus of barks.

For the most part, I find chuchos a harmless annoyance. Sadly, they are so accustomed to being beaten that the simple act of raising an arm as if to throw a rock is enough to make them scatter. The other day, however, walking home from the training center, I was certain I was going to be attacked by a very persistent chucho that had been tailing me for a couple of blocks growling and barking at my ankles. At the time I was unable to make any threatening gestures as both of my hands were occupied carrying bags, so I resigned to the fact that I was going to be bitten and started running through the steps I needed to take when it happened: calling the on-duty medial officer, securing transport to Guate, receiving post-bite rabies injections. Fortunately none of this came to pass as the dog eventually tired of following me. I am just thankful that I am vaccinated against rabies.

Despite the chuchos and cohetes, I do really like my town and enjoy living here. The town has been host to PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees) for many, many years, so being a gringa here warrants little special attention. In fact the only time I have really been “harassed” in the street was while walking by a construction site a few days ago…hmm, must be universal. Overall, the people are really friendly and not terribly curious, which makes me feel less like the complete outsider that I am.

There are about 4,00 people living here, most of them working in agricultural jobs. In the mornings and afternoons I pass many men carrying their machetes to and from work. There is also an ice cream factory and a clothing factory owned by Koreans in town that employee quite a few people. While there isn’t a supermarket here, there are numerous small stores selling pretty much the same mix of basic foods and junk food, and there is a small open air market with fresh fruits and vegetables.

The town sits nestled in the mountains with a spectacular view of three volcanoes in the distance: Agua, Fuego, and Acatenango. By mid-morning they are usually obscured by clouds, so I love to step outside before 6:30 am after bathing to enjoy the view. Agua and Acatenango are dormant, but Fuego is still active, and there is an almost continuous stream of smoke spewing from its crater.

My absolute favorite part of town is the Parque Central. It is not what Americans would really consider a park, but more of like a concrete pavilion area interspersed with small gardens containing all different types of flowers and small trees. While there is trash in the streets everywhere else in town (fortunately not an ungodly amount), the park is kept immaculate. The paths are swept regularly, the flowers and trees are watered and pruned, and it even has garbage cans (public trashcans are a rare site in this country). The park also contains a basketball court, but unfortunately it only has one hoop, and it is used more often for soccer than for basketball. I am not complaining, though.

The pictures in the following entry are of some random shots around the town, Volcán Agua, and the park.

My community

¡Soy una tia!

When you sign up to serve in another country for two years, you are bound to miss important events in the lives of family and friends—things for which you really wish you could be present. Yesterday was one such day. My brother and his wife had their first child, Reilly Claire, and I have become an aunt. Congratulations Aaron and Whitney. I am so happy for the two of you. I wish I could be there to see your little girl, but Reilly will just have to wait for a couple of years before she is spoiled by Aunt Kate.

Father & Daughter

Mmm...

Chili rellanos my mom made for a church gathering.


Tamales for a birthday party.