We're not that close

Anyone who has taken at least one course in Spanish is aware of the different levels of familiarity for the English word “you”. “Usted”, the most formal, is used as a sign of respect for those older, for new acquaintances, or for addressing superiors. “Tú” is informal and used among friends, people of the same age cohort, or sometimes with children. And in Guatemala the even more familiar “vos” is used, mostly between men, very close friends, or occasionally in families (more often the parents talking to their children). The “rules” are not set in stone, but just through casual conversation, you can pretty much infer the depth of the relationship between two people.

And to make Spanish complex and fun, each “you” form comes with its own set of verb conjugations and direct and indirect pronouns. Not that I worry much with the different forms, though. To avoid any social faux pas and play it on the safe side, I blanket address everyone as “usted”—men, women, children, babies…even my host family’s dog (that is white and named Ebony).

Although it is “usted” all the time for everyone with me, I am very keen as to how I am addressed by others. Women almost exclusively use “usted” with me (I was very taken aback upon first meeting the woman that does my host family’s laundry when she called me “vos”, but I quickly learned she spoke minimal Spanish and didn’t know it was inappropriate). With men it varies and is frustrating. I don’t know if it is because I am foreign or just simply because of my age, but some men will immediately start using “tú” with me, which I find disrespectful. During these frequent occasions I overemphasis the fact that I am using “usted” which will eventually cause some of them to switch over to being more formal. I have yet to pull out, “No tutéeme,” but I just might in the future.

But after over two months in Tactic, there are people here with whom I am friends and probably at the point of graduating into the “tú” form. I am slightly nervous about taking that step, though. I know I am over dramatizing the situation, but I liken my informalizing (I am aware that’s not a word) of a friendship to busting a move to ask someone on a date—“Are we ‘tú’ material? Does he/she feel the same way? Am I ready for this?” Fortunately as a foreigner any premature “tú-ing” would be met with understanding, but, nevertheless, I would rather not jump the gun.

Niños…quienes no quiero robar

Lessons in generosity

While the majority of my days are spent in the Nu’Kem store/office, I greatly enjoy my little outings to the communities to spend time with the weavers. The store is in Tactic, but the women live in the poor(er) outlaying aldeas and the neighboring municipality. My visits usually consist of walking from house to house with the community representative, talking to the weavers (trying to at least…most of the women speak very little Spanish or none at all), and watching them weave. I field questions about the states (no, not all people from Missouri are brown), my family (the women think my brothers are very handsome), and of course my marriage status (in Tamahú I was betrothed to a boy who is still nursing). They talk about me in Poqomchi’, and I smile.

It is during these excursions that I am repeatedly humbled by the generosity of Guatemalans. I am from one of the richest countries in the world living in one of the poorest, and yet these women give me the best of what they have. In every house I am greeted with a beverage and food (I probably exceed my daily needed caloric intake in just liquids). The women scramble to find me a seat and make sure that I am comfortable. I leave loaded down with fruit, bread, and tamales.

During one trip to Tamahú in which I had planned to just visit houses, I was surprised to find all the weavers in the representative’s home preparing a huge lunch in my honor. I was served first (as always) and given the best piece of chicken, larger portions of rice and soup, my own basket full of tamalitos, AND an eating utensil. Later when all the Coke Lights caught up with me, Yolanda sent her son out running to find a “door” for the outhouse (semi see-through plastic sheet) and a role of toilet paper (I could have used the near-by newspaper, but I wasn’t exactly sure it wasn’t meant for reading). The women found the situation very amusing.

That day in Tamahú, I received an invite to one of the weavers’ birthday party. After over an hour ride in the back of a truck on a dirt road through the gorgeous Polochic Valley and a near hour hike up into the hills through banana trees and a coffee farm, we finally reached Zoila’s one room, dirt floor, wood house—the poorest house I have seen in Guatemala. Even though it was Zoila’s party, I was treated like the guest of honor and superfluously received more attention than the birthday girl. I ate tamales, sipped instant coffee (they can’t afford the good coffee growing all around them), chatted with the women, and played marbles on the dirt floor with the barefoot children. And yet amid the joyfulness of the gathering, I was overcome by a profound sadness and an even more acute sense of purpose here—sadness for the poverty surrounding me and purpose for the charge I have been given to work to alleviate it.

These women who have so openly accepted me and so munificently given to me are counting on me to find them clients. My ability to find them buyers directly affects their ability to work and provide for their families. For all the generosity the women of Nu’Kem have shown and will continue to show me, I desire so greatly to succeed in that task.

Zoila's Birthday Party

The last portion of the near hour hike to Zoila's house.

Posing for a birthday picture.

Grandma, daughter-in-law & kids.

Yolanda and her new chicken.

One of many pictures of the kids during the walk back.

Ironies & Observations

A country that was once a “banana republic” is now home to Banana Republic clothing factories.

It makes you lose trust in the authorities when they are the ones who whistle and honk as they drive past.

If the Guatemalans think a bus is being driven to erratically to board, their caution should be heeded.

Never buy a dog in the market. You’ll most likely end up having to tranquilize it to death to put it out of its sickly misery. Just ask Marissa.

A store in Tactic that sells pirated CDs and DVDs has a sign that reads, “God bless this business and all those that shop here.”

I brought a pair of dry clean only pants. They are dirty now and I can’t wash them. Bringing them wasn’t a very good idea.

If you see a damp spot next to a wall or bushes, it is most likely urine (human or canine) and should be avoided.

Never give your trash to someone who kindly offers to take it on a bus. He will only throw it out the window.

Consuming “copious amounts of mold” is not good for your digestive health. Another lesson learned courtesy of Marissa.

In the town where I lived during training whose patron saint is Doubting Thomas, the slogan on the football stadium reads “Hasta no ver, no creer”.

“Ahorita” actually means anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour from now.

There is not a book, magazine, or shoe in my possession that isn’t smeared with goo from smashing bugs in my room.

The middle right side of a camioneta is the best place to sit. It is least likely to be ripped off in the event of a collision.

Whatever it is, it’s probably not just dirt.

Mujeres de Guaxpac

Yo soy Kathryn presidente.

While Guatemala was engrossed in its elections, Peace Corps was holding elections of its own (slightly less tumultuous and bloody) for the Volunteer Advocacy Council—the representative voice of the volunteers to the administration…and I am to be the new president of VAC.

I would love to be able to say that my election to the presidency was the result of my impeccable character, my carefully crafted campaign, my sound platform, my steadfast refusal to resort to political mudslinging, my riveting stump speeches, and all the hands I shook and babies I kissed, but the humbling truth is that no one else ran, so I won by default (a fact I probably won’t be including on any future resumes).

So even though I don’t have a mandate (read my post “90 days” for more details on that subject), I am nevertheless excited to take the helm of VAC. Hopefully after my year of service the volunteers here can say they were pleased with the performance of the president for whom they never voted.

[And contrary to what the title of the post may lead you to believe, I am not actually conceited (as if I have a reason to be). It is a little nod to a certain annoying Guatemalan political jingle that will forever be etched into my memory. My fellow PCVs (thank you Kelly, Mo, Laura, and Bryan for your loyal readership) probably share in my joy that Pablo shan’t be advancing to the next round.]