Dispatch # 4
Greetings Companeros and amigos!
The following ramblings are my attempt to share with you some of the highlights and stranglights of my journeys. I hope they find you well and living life to its fullest potential. I am also posting them on a blog which can be visited at http://mateoramblings.blogspot.com/
If you know someone who would appreciate these words, feel free to send them on.
BIRHTDAY WALK
Along the dusty road I traveled, I saw a small green caterpillar flying slowly through the air upon an almost invisible silk line. Broken out of a reflective stupor, I stopped and watched it delicately lower itself into the middle of the road. When its feet hit solid ground, it moved about clumsily, for it was still connected to its silk life line that had transported it from there to here.
It went about in circles, viewing the many paths before it; countless possibilities-unlimited potential for adventure...for danger.I squatted down for a few moments feeling a strange sense of kinship with this strangle, little creature that now traveled the same road as me. I was tempted to life it out of harms way-making sure feet or tires wouuld not end this newest adventure before it began.
But I knew this kind of intervention would be disruptive in the grand scheme of things. We both had paths that we had to follow, decisions to make, adventures to taste, and dangers to battle. So I sat with this fellow traveler for a few moments of sunshine and solidarity,and let it be.
The last I saw of it, the traveler was covered in dust and slowly inching its way to the side of the road. Periodically she lifted her head into the air, taking a reading of where she was and where she was going. I squatted one last time by its side, said a quick prayer, and wished her well upon her journey, our journey...
It was November 9th, my birthday, and I was feeling reflective, looking for signs, and reading between the lines. I turned 33 that day, which is the same year Jesus died- so every Guatemalan I know is quick to point out. "So, It's going to be a big year!" I respond. At the very least, it was big day and a good party!
KILLING A CHICKEN
(if you are squimish or despise the idea of killing animals to eat-don't read this section)
On Saturday, October 13th I killed a chicken with my barehands and ate it. It had been at least eight years since I had last intentionally eaten a bird-and what an experince it was. After years of avoiding meats and countless awkard moments of turning down food in local people's homes, I decided to re-enter the world of chicken eating, assuming that I could kill a chicken and have the stomach to eat it.
So, I explained my complicated rational, food politics, and philosophy to a couple of inigenous K'iche woman friends of mine who live out in the compo. THe strangest part of it to them was that I was a man. In Guatemala, women do the animal killing and food prep work. They shrugged of my complicated ramblings, had a few good laughs, and embraced me as their aprentice. The teachings and killings began.
Lesson One- CHase down a chicken and grab it! Way easier then it sounds. I tried to do this, but failed. I think I was more scared then the chicken. With the help of Viviana(one of my teachers) we caught up with a chicken-which she captured. My big arms helped shoo it in her direction, so Im given myself the "assist" on the capture.
Lesson Two- Hold it by its legs and suspend it upside down. THis calms the chicken and pools the blood into the head and neck
Lesson Three- Break its neck with a quick twist. If done right, its quick and humane.
The rest of the process involved de-feathering, gutting, scraping, cracking, and breaking into pieces. GUatemalans use every piece including the feet- which they consider a delicacy.
After watching the ladies kill the first one and quickly learning all I could in a few moments of hands-on learning, I was given the second one, and given the instructions "Matalo!". The ladies and children gathered around as I took the neck in my hands and reviewed all the techniques and actions with my teachers who now had huge smiles on their faces( a probable reaction to the freaked out look I must have had on mine).
I spoke a few words in English( somethink like oh boy....ahhh, shit, ummmm, ok.... here we go.....) and then I quickly twisted the neck and felt it break. However, the chickens body continued to twitch violently in my hands.(which apparently is totally normal) It was terrifying!! Convinced it was still alive and was suffering, I kept twisting and twisting the head until suddenly the head seperated from the body of the chicken! The ladies cracked up as my face turned white, and I slowy took in the fact that I had twisted the head right off of the body!
That story was told and re-told to every new person who entered the house that day. It was met with huge smiles and laughs. I feebly attempted to explain my actions, but was always met with a chorus of laughs before I could finish my story.
We cooked up the two chickens into a caldo that fed over twenty people that day and had a great celebration. At one point I made an awkward toast to the dead chicken. It was met with reluctance, but cups were raised . Now I eat chicken...
CAVE TREK
A few weeks ago Meridith arrived and we hit the tourist track. One of the highlights was a cave trek that for legal and safety reasons could probably only happen in Guatemala. For 30 Quetzales(about $4.00) we were led by a local 15 year old man/boy guide. He looked about 11, but led like a veteran. We were given a lit candle, and told to jump into waist deep water at the entrance of the cave. Before I could contemplate who this boy was or where we were about to go, I found myself up to my neck swimming through a cave with only a wobbly candle that was dripping hot wax down my hand to light the way. We swam by amazing stalagties/stalagmites that had formed into the most surreal statues of dripping and flowing earth createures. As my comfort slowly returned, we arrived at a waterfall. There were two ways up-one a shabby ladder taken by most. The other, a rope that dangled out of sight in the midst of massive amounts of white water. I watched a euro guy(also on the trip) pull himself up and was inspired. I handed my candle to Meridith, held my breath, closed my eyes, and pulled myself up in the dark through the waterfall!!! It was outrageous!
The trip took us through several more twists and turns. At various moments we found ourselves leaping off of 10 foot rocks into dark pools and swimming through deep sections as our candles slowly burned into melted stumps that had merged with our hands. The trip ended with our guide showing us the way out with one of the last candles still burning. He pointed to a hole(about 2.5 ft in diameter that was full of rushing water that flowed into a dark pit. He said "jump in!" A euro girl in front of me said " you are a madman if you expect me to jump into that hole". I translated for her, and quickly added my own, but slighly more friendly agreement. To prove his worth and the safety of this last section, the young guide jumped in first. His head poked out from the white water, and he said something like "watch your head!" and we all proceeded to hold our breath and jump into this hole. We made it out, with only one casualty. A woman from the Basque country apparently did not hear the warning and cut open her head as she jumped through. She said she was fine, and we finished the trip with an inner tube down the river as the sun was setting!!
As an old friend of mine once said, "If your not living on the edge, your taking up too much space!"
PROJECT UPDATE
As of now, we have distributed computers, clothing, school materials, and medical supplies to more then 25 different schools, NGOs, woman's centers, clinics, and day care centers. The project has been written up by the local press here in Guatemala several times. You can check out the article in Entremundos (www.entremundos.org) at http://www.entremundos.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=blogcategory&id=74&Itemid=41I also wrote an article on my experiences as an election observer in the same edition. Its called "Confessions of an electoral observer".
I will be spending the next few weeks finishing the distribution of materials and planning the curriculum for a series of classes that we will offer on computer maitenance and repair that will be starting in November.
A surf trip is also in the works.
As always, I send my love out to all who are on the recieving end of these ramblings. Please write back if you feel inspired. Snail mail can be sent as well to:
Mateo RutmanLista de CorreosQuetzaltenango, QuetzaltenangoGuatemala
Un abrazo!
Mateo, Matthew, Matt, Mr. Matthew, Matty, etc.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Monday, November 5, 2007
Dispatch # 3
Greeting Companeros! I hope these words find you welland that I hear from you all soon. Here are some ofthe highlights...
FUTBOL
Soccer is an ancient game that most of the world'scountries worship. In Guatemala and throughout LatinAmerica it transcends the idea of "sport" and liveswith a fire from highland pueblos to sprawling capitolcities. I've seen it played with blown out/patchedballs on steep slopes full of holes, cow patties, andboulders. And most recently, I saw my firstprofessional game- XELAJU(our local team) versus theGuatemala City team. It was brilliant!We were so close we could hear the players grunts andgrowls, and admire their fancy footwork. When therains came, the standing crowds covered themselves(andus) with tarps and continued to "fully" participate inthe game. Imagine a stadium full of 10,000 people whowould scream _______(Fill in your favorite explicithere) all at the same time as the opposing team'sgoalie kicked off the ball. Where any opposing team'splayer who got near the stands was met by the mostfowl insults. One player was constantly being called "Asesino",literaly assasin or murderer. Being thequestioning(And sometimes questionable) character thatI am, I asked some locals what they meant. Theyinformed me that at a previous game, this playeractually "killed" another team"s goalie! In a mad dashfor the ball, he slid cleat first into the chest ofthe goalie. By the time he reached the hospital he wasdead from heart failure!By the nights end, the score was 1-1, and I hadlearned several handfulls worth of new profanity andsongs. The next day I purchased a Xelaju soccer jerseyand have since been hugged in solidarity and victoryin the streets of this town by complete strangers.
CHICKEN BUS TO SANTA CRUZ DEL QUICHE
IF you've ever wondered where all the old Americanschool buses go when they've worn out their welcome inthe states, the mystery is over. They are shipped toGuatemala where after receiving brilliant new paintjobs and being plastered with comforting slogans like"Jesus es mi co-piloto" they are transformed intoChicken Buses(which serve as mass transit for themajority of Guatemala and really do carry chickens).I found myself on one of these magnificent beasts theother day on a quest to Santa Cruz del Quiche- whichwas the capitol city of the K'iche Maya-the strongesttribe at the time of the Spanish "invasion" and theonly tribe to put up an organized defense of thehighlands from the invading foreigners. The town andempire fell to Spanish guns, steel, germs, and horses.But the K'iche people live on. The majority of schoolswe have installed computer labs in are K'iche and Ihave been learning words and phrases of the "lengua"from a woman I have known for years as "abuela"-whosehouse I use as a storage and work site.With the signing of the Peace Accords in 1996, thegovernment reluctantly agreed to recognize thedifferent Mayan languages of Guatemala and teach themin their schools. However, like many great promisesfrom the accords, the government has failed to meetthese agreements. As a result(and to the accord of thepowers that be) K'iche and many other languages arebeing forgotten by Guatemala's younger generation(50%of the population is under that age of 18). To fightagainst this loss, a group of K'iche teachers met upwith several NGOs to develop software and curriculumto teach K'cihe.. I made contact with this group andwas on a journey to meet up with them in their formercapitol.Before the bus had left the terminal, a woman boardedthe bus with a basked full of live and kickingchickens who tried with all their might to escape fromthe tight confines. Her strong hands kept them at bayas we made our way to the old capitol. Along the winding roads through the volcanichighlands our "piloto" risked our lives at least ahalf dozen times by aggressively passing slowervehicles on blind curves. Several times we slippedinto thin cracks of traffic just seconds before headon collisions. I found myself gasping in awe and fear.A quick look around me at the non-reacting andsometimes smiling faces reminded me that this was justbusiness as usual in Guatemala. So I plugged in mymusic, took a deep breath, and relaxed my fate intothe hands of our pilot and Jesus(his co-piloto). Whatcould go wrong with a combo like that?**SIDE NOTE** The software they developed was awesome.They have created three interactive programs thatteach Mayan languages and culture. WE have sinceinstalled them on every computer we are passing outthis year.
CONTAINER ARRIVES
After dozens of faxes, taxes, bank deposits, emails,phone calls, and an interesting "escort adventure"with an off-duty armed police officer we finallymanaged to secure the release of our container fromthe corrupt port authorities. It lingered an extra 14days due to a rediculous bueracratic process that Iwont even try to explain(and am still paying off as wespeak)....but alas, the container arrived and what abeautiful day that was!Over 50 local and international volunteers showed upto help unload the container by hand(including a groupof 7th graders who are presently involved in a pen palproject with my old class from the Village School).Withing two hours an 8x8x40' container full ofcomputers, medical supplies, bikes, clothing, andschool supplies was unloaded and organized.Since then eight different NGOs and seven schools havereceived donations. Every day we are testing machines,loading software, teaching lessons, and distributingthe goods to visiting schools and NGOs.In the spaces between, I find myself meeting strangenew people, learning to make tamales, practicing yoga,reading ,lots of books, and learning how to killchickens.
Stay tuned for Dispatch #4
Lots of love!Mateo
FUTBOL
Soccer is an ancient game that most of the world'scountries worship. In Guatemala and throughout LatinAmerica it transcends the idea of "sport" and liveswith a fire from highland pueblos to sprawling capitolcities. I've seen it played with blown out/patchedballs on steep slopes full of holes, cow patties, andboulders. And most recently, I saw my firstprofessional game- XELAJU(our local team) versus theGuatemala City team. It was brilliant!We were so close we could hear the players grunts andgrowls, and admire their fancy footwork. When therains came, the standing crowds covered themselves(andus) with tarps and continued to "fully" participate inthe game. Imagine a stadium full of 10,000 people whowould scream _______(Fill in your favorite explicithere) all at the same time as the opposing team'sgoalie kicked off the ball. Where any opposing team'splayer who got near the stands was met by the mostfowl insults. One player was constantly being called "Asesino",literaly assasin or murderer. Being thequestioning(And sometimes questionable) character thatI am, I asked some locals what they meant. Theyinformed me that at a previous game, this playeractually "killed" another team"s goalie! In a mad dashfor the ball, he slid cleat first into the chest ofthe goalie. By the time he reached the hospital he wasdead from heart failure!By the nights end, the score was 1-1, and I hadlearned several handfulls worth of new profanity andsongs. The next day I purchased a Xelaju soccer jerseyand have since been hugged in solidarity and victoryin the streets of this town by complete strangers.
CHICKEN BUS TO SANTA CRUZ DEL QUICHE
IF you've ever wondered where all the old Americanschool buses go when they've worn out their welcome inthe states, the mystery is over. They are shipped toGuatemala where after receiving brilliant new paintjobs and being plastered with comforting slogans like"Jesus es mi co-piloto" they are transformed intoChicken Buses(which serve as mass transit for themajority of Guatemala and really do carry chickens).I found myself on one of these magnificent beasts theother day on a quest to Santa Cruz del Quiche- whichwas the capitol city of the K'iche Maya-the strongesttribe at the time of the Spanish "invasion" and theonly tribe to put up an organized defense of thehighlands from the invading foreigners. The town andempire fell to Spanish guns, steel, germs, and horses.But the K'iche people live on. The majority of schoolswe have installed computer labs in are K'iche and Ihave been learning words and phrases of the "lengua"from a woman I have known for years as "abuela"-whosehouse I use as a storage and work site.With the signing of the Peace Accords in 1996, thegovernment reluctantly agreed to recognize thedifferent Mayan languages of Guatemala and teach themin their schools. However, like many great promisesfrom the accords, the government has failed to meetthese agreements. As a result(and to the accord of thepowers that be) K'iche and many other languages arebeing forgotten by Guatemala's younger generation(50%of the population is under that age of 18). To fightagainst this loss, a group of K'iche teachers met upwith several NGOs to develop software and curriculumto teach K'cihe.. I made contact with this group andwas on a journey to meet up with them in their formercapitol.Before the bus had left the terminal, a woman boardedthe bus with a basked full of live and kickingchickens who tried with all their might to escape fromthe tight confines. Her strong hands kept them at bayas we made our way to the old capitol. Along the winding roads through the volcanichighlands our "piloto" risked our lives at least ahalf dozen times by aggressively passing slowervehicles on blind curves. Several times we slippedinto thin cracks of traffic just seconds before headon collisions. I found myself gasping in awe and fear.A quick look around me at the non-reacting andsometimes smiling faces reminded me that this was justbusiness as usual in Guatemala. So I plugged in mymusic, took a deep breath, and relaxed my fate intothe hands of our pilot and Jesus(his co-piloto). Whatcould go wrong with a combo like that?**SIDE NOTE** The software they developed was awesome.They have created three interactive programs thatteach Mayan languages and culture. WE have sinceinstalled them on every computer we are passing outthis year.
CONTAINER ARRIVES
After dozens of faxes, taxes, bank deposits, emails,phone calls, and an interesting "escort adventure"with an off-duty armed police officer we finallymanaged to secure the release of our container fromthe corrupt port authorities. It lingered an extra 14days due to a rediculous bueracratic process that Iwont even try to explain(and am still paying off as wespeak)....but alas, the container arrived and what abeautiful day that was!Over 50 local and international volunteers showed upto help unload the container by hand(including a groupof 7th graders who are presently involved in a pen palproject with my old class from the Village School).Withing two hours an 8x8x40' container full ofcomputers, medical supplies, bikes, clothing, andschool supplies was unloaded and organized.Since then eight different NGOs and seven schools havereceived donations. Every day we are testing machines,loading software, teaching lessons, and distributingthe goods to visiting schools and NGOs.In the spaces between, I find myself meeting strangenew people, learning to make tamales, practicing yoga,reading ,lots of books, and learning how to killchickens.
Stay tuned for Dispatch #4
Lots of love!Mateo
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