Well, it actually started looking like Christmas in Guatemala about a month ago! My host dad started working on his nativity scene in October!
This past Sunday, after cleaning up from our basketball game, myself and a few of the Transitions guys ventured down to Central Park for Antigua’s tree lighting celebration.
Downtown Antigua is always gorgeous, but the lights, music, and fireworks on Sunday night made me feel like kid in Disneyland. It was magical, just like the holiday season should be.
And this holiday break will be especially special: my family is coming to celebrate with me in Antigua – our first Christmas abroad! And Mickey is joining us, as is our adored Chinese exchange student, Vic.
What do you get when you put the Murlas trio, a cute Jewish boy, and a Chinese Buddhist together in Catholic Guatemala…a lot of freakin’ fun, that’s what!
We aren’t doing presents this year, as were spending our dough on making Guatemalan memories. So if you are one of those close members of the fam that is considering buying a gift for us, save it, hand my mom a twenty and you'll treat us to a fantastic brunch on the beach.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Algunos Exitos. Some Successes.
Many exciting things have happened in my job with Transitions. Here are some highlights with pics:
Last month, Alex and I decided we wanted to send out a really good holiday card to all our donors this year. Not only did we decide to send out a really pretty card, we decided to send them to over 1,000 people! So how did we put together that many cards? With hand written addresses, and hand written names inside every card?
Some how it all came together in just 3 hours! I asked my Spanish school to create a service project for their students, in the afternoon we needed help—thirteen of them (from all over the world) showed up. And then everyone who worked for Transitions was there, and then I bought pizza for everyone to keep everyone smiling. We finished all the cards and created a nice little Spanish-speaking, pizza-loving community while doing so.
Several weekends ago I spent a night at this eco-lodge in the hills above Antigua. There I stuck up a conversation with a couple that both teach at an “American” high school in Guatemalan City, and the wife of the pair coached the school’s basketball team! I encouraged her to bring her team to come play with Transitions one Friday afternoon. And they did!
This past Friday, 13 high schoolers, most of whom were Guatemalan and Korean (there is a big Korean population in the city), along with 10 or so teachers (who were most from the US, hence “American” school), to play wheelchair basketball. The Transitions guys were great, sharing tips, and their chairs. And before our young friends left, they bought us pizza, and I made them answer a reflection question, “What are you taking away from today?” – thanks for always being inside my head Cal Corps Public Service Center!
El dia de acion de gracias! Thankgiving! So, I had a hard time sleeping the night before the big day, because I had never made a turkey before, let alone a 20 lb. one!
I’m not sure how we did it, but Chef Edgar and I pulled it off: moist turkey, gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, green beans and pumpkin pie!
Twenty-four of us came together to eat – my boss (Alex) and his wife, the boss of the wheelchair workshop and his family, the boss of the prosthetic workshop and his family, the Transitions guys who live above our offices, my Spanish teacher and her family, and 4 volunteers/friends from my Spanish school who have been coming to Transitions every Thursday night to help the guys with their English.
Everyone said the food was “rica” and gave thanks to everyone else for sharing this tradition with Guatemala.
I’m convinced that because my first turkey meal went so well, I’m going to have bad turkey luck for the rest of my life…or at least have bad turkey luck when I’m in the home country.
Last month, Alex and I decided we wanted to send out a really good holiday card to all our donors this year. Not only did we decide to send out a really pretty card, we decided to send them to over 1,000 people! So how did we put together that many cards? With hand written addresses, and hand written names inside every card?
Some how it all came together in just 3 hours! I asked my Spanish school to create a service project for their students, in the afternoon we needed help—thirteen of them (from all over the world) showed up. And then everyone who worked for Transitions was there, and then I bought pizza for everyone to keep everyone smiling. We finished all the cards and created a nice little Spanish-speaking, pizza-loving community while doing so.
Several weekends ago I spent a night at this eco-lodge in the hills above Antigua. There I stuck up a conversation with a couple that both teach at an “American” high school in Guatemalan City, and the wife of the pair coached the school’s basketball team! I encouraged her to bring her team to come play with Transitions one Friday afternoon. And they did!
This past Friday, 13 high schoolers, most of whom were Guatemalan and Korean (there is a big Korean population in the city), along with 10 or so teachers (who were most from the US, hence “American” school), to play wheelchair basketball. The Transitions guys were great, sharing tips, and their chairs. And before our young friends left, they bought us pizza, and I made them answer a reflection question, “What are you taking away from today?” – thanks for always being inside my head Cal Corps Public Service Center!
El dia de acion de gracias! Thankgiving! So, I had a hard time sleeping the night before the big day, because I had never made a turkey before, let alone a 20 lb. one!
I’m not sure how we did it, but Chef Edgar and I pulled it off: moist turkey, gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, green beans and pumpkin pie!
Twenty-four of us came together to eat – my boss (Alex) and his wife, the boss of the wheelchair workshop and his family, the boss of the prosthetic workshop and his family, the Transitions guys who live above our offices, my Spanish teacher and her family, and 4 volunteers/friends from my Spanish school who have been coming to Transitions every Thursday night to help the guys with their English.
Everyone said the food was “rica” and gave thanks to everyone else for sharing this tradition with Guatemala.
I’m convinced that because my first turkey meal went so well, I’m going to have bad turkey luck for the rest of my life…or at least have bad turkey luck when I’m in the home country.
Un dia a trabajo. A day at work.
A visitor to Transitions recently confided in me:
“In my journey I have always encountered wisdom and deep grace by my proximity to suffering BUT also by the undoing of it. In and through Transitions you will inhabit the undoing of suffering and by proximity you will discover your deepest humanity and if you pause for a moment and lean into the silence, recognize within you the power of God.”
Today was a day where I recognized both my proximity to suffering and also realized how Transitions works to undo it, and how I, personally, hope to help.
Last week we planned to make a trip to Guatemala City to buy some Thanksgiving necessities. After lunch today, Alex, Edgar (the boss of the Transitions casa), and myself hopped into the Transitions van, ready to embark on a search for pumpkin pie fixings. Just as we were about to leave, a very short young man, my age, came up to our office, walking completely with the help of crutches.
Before I realized what was going on, he was in the car with us, and we were on our way to la capital.
A theme of my stay here, and I think every foreigner’s time here, is that I’m never exactly sure what is going on. It wasn’t until we brought this young man see our doctor friend at a private hospital, that I realized how much we were helping him. As he was getting x-rays, Alex shared that Transitions has been a friend of this boy since he was 4. He left his home at dawn this morning, and traveled to Transitions, hoping for a little help—a rod, that had been put in his leg years ago, had become extraordinarily painful.
Because my experience with people with disabilities has been mostly through sports, I’ve had the tendency to focus on the awesome parts of having a disability, rather than why it stinks. You gotta admit wheelchair basketball is a pretty bad-ass sport.
But today, sitting in the doctor’s office, with Alex and Edgar, and this boy, hearing the doctor tell him that his bones will only get worse, and he’ll one day have to use a wheelchair…I saw in his face how much he was suffering. And although, we left the hospital with good news (our doctor friend is going to take the rod out of his leg for free) my new friend was distracted with thoughts of how his future would look.
Then we went to the Guatemalan version of Costco. Scratch that: it is exactly Costco, same products, same food court, same food samples in the aisles; it’s just called Price Right, not Costco. Our friend rode in our shopping cart and we tried to cheer him up. I joked about how many pies I would make him with the humongous can of pumpkin pie mix we found. And we ate pizza together after shopping.
But Guatemalan Costco, while very exciting (especially for a gringa preparing for Thanksgiving), still can’t cure how hard it is to have a disability.
There were so many times today where I couldn’t help but smile and/or laugh—working with my friends at work in the morning, our jokes in the car, the doctor’s willingness to help, deciding to buy the biggest Turkey offered in Guatemala. But there were also times today that I wanted to cry. What was moving about my day today, is that these two feelings went hand-in-hand.
“In my journey I have always encountered wisdom and deep grace by my proximity to suffering BUT also by the undoing of it. In and through Transitions you will inhabit the undoing of suffering and by proximity you will discover your deepest humanity and if you pause for a moment and lean into the silence, recognize within you the power of God.”
Today was a day where I recognized both my proximity to suffering and also realized how Transitions works to undo it, and how I, personally, hope to help.
Last week we planned to make a trip to Guatemala City to buy some Thanksgiving necessities. After lunch today, Alex, Edgar (the boss of the Transitions casa), and myself hopped into the Transitions van, ready to embark on a search for pumpkin pie fixings. Just as we were about to leave, a very short young man, my age, came up to our office, walking completely with the help of crutches.
Before I realized what was going on, he was in the car with us, and we were on our way to la capital.
A theme of my stay here, and I think every foreigner’s time here, is that I’m never exactly sure what is going on. It wasn’t until we brought this young man see our doctor friend at a private hospital, that I realized how much we were helping him. As he was getting x-rays, Alex shared that Transitions has been a friend of this boy since he was 4. He left his home at dawn this morning, and traveled to Transitions, hoping for a little help—a rod, that had been put in his leg years ago, had become extraordinarily painful.
Because my experience with people with disabilities has been mostly through sports, I’ve had the tendency to focus on the awesome parts of having a disability, rather than why it stinks. You gotta admit wheelchair basketball is a pretty bad-ass sport.
But today, sitting in the doctor’s office, with Alex and Edgar, and this boy, hearing the doctor tell him that his bones will only get worse, and he’ll one day have to use a wheelchair…I saw in his face how much he was suffering. And although, we left the hospital with good news (our doctor friend is going to take the rod out of his leg for free) my new friend was distracted with thoughts of how his future would look.
Then we went to the Guatemalan version of Costco. Scratch that: it is exactly Costco, same products, same food court, same food samples in the aisles; it’s just called Price Right, not Costco. Our friend rode in our shopping cart and we tried to cheer him up. I joked about how many pies I would make him with the humongous can of pumpkin pie mix we found. And we ate pizza together after shopping.
But Guatemalan Costco, while very exciting (especially for a gringa preparing for Thanksgiving), still can’t cure how hard it is to have a disability.
There were so many times today where I couldn’t help but smile and/or laugh—working with my friends at work in the morning, our jokes in the car, the doctor’s willingness to help, deciding to buy the biggest Turkey offered in Guatemala. But there were also times today that I wanted to cry. What was moving about my day today, is that these two feelings went hand-in-hand.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
El Dia de los Muertos
So my last post leaves us at Sunday, Nov 1st – el Dia de los Muertos! And what a Day of the Dead it was!
After a night celebrating Halloween with a few Spanish-school friends, Sunday’s egg, bean, plantain, tortilla breakfast was very welcomed!
With a full belly, I wandered around Antigua, searching for Day of the Dead traditions. My instinct took me to the market first, where I admired the overflow of flowers and fantastically colorful kites. In addition to adorning love ones’ graves with flowers, adults and kids alike fly kites to honor the sprits above. I decided to buy a few kites of my own to remember the day that was to come.
I followed the crowd I found in the market, and soon found myself outside the Antigua Cemetery. The cemetery was surrounded by what seemed to be a festival – cotton candy, fresh popcorn, more flowers, and more kites.
I have never seen a cemetery so hopping, nor so beautiful. The law in the Antigua is that every tomb (all the graves are above ground) is painted white, compared to every other cemetery in Guatemala were each grave is a rainbow of colors. Antigua’s white backdrop made the gorgeous flower arrangements stand out even more. It was a beautiful day. Mariachi bands played between the tombs. Families laughed. Families cried. And I remembered those I had lost too.
I stayed longer in the cemetery than I expected, only leaving because I was pretty hungry.
My boss, Alex, picked up myself, and Transitions boys Nacho and Juanito, to join his family for fiambre. Fiambre is a cold meat salad eaten once a year on Nov 1st. It’s tasty – kinda like my Mom’s bean salad: salty, vinegary, but with more meat.
After fiambre, we piled into the car to go see us some humongous-ass kites. Sumpango, a town just 20-min away, is famous for its Day of the Dead kite festival.
It wasn’t until we reached the top of the town’s hill that I realized how huge the kites were. The biggest on display were 30-40 feet tall. While others were about 10-13 ft in diameter, but somehow could still be flown! There is no reason why you should believe this, except for my following video.
But the highlight of my day was still to come. Mesmerized, along with a crowd of 1,000, I wasn’t paying attention to the announcer until Alex tugged my jacket: “Extranjeros, esto es tu oportunidad.” That’s right I got to fly one of the kites!
The rest of the our time in Sumpango we took pictures in front of the kites too big to fly, and left as the sun started to set to join the rest of the Transitions crew for pizza.
My day wasn’t so dead. It was quite alive. But maybe that’s the point, to recognize the dead by celebrating the present.
After a night celebrating Halloween with a few Spanish-school friends, Sunday’s egg, bean, plantain, tortilla breakfast was very welcomed!
With a full belly, I wandered around Antigua, searching for Day of the Dead traditions. My instinct took me to the market first, where I admired the overflow of flowers and fantastically colorful kites. In addition to adorning love ones’ graves with flowers, adults and kids alike fly kites to honor the sprits above. I decided to buy a few kites of my own to remember the day that was to come.
I followed the crowd I found in the market, and soon found myself outside the Antigua Cemetery. The cemetery was surrounded by what seemed to be a festival – cotton candy, fresh popcorn, more flowers, and more kites.
I have never seen a cemetery so hopping, nor so beautiful. The law in the Antigua is that every tomb (all the graves are above ground) is painted white, compared to every other cemetery in Guatemala were each grave is a rainbow of colors. Antigua’s white backdrop made the gorgeous flower arrangements stand out even more. It was a beautiful day. Mariachi bands played between the tombs. Families laughed. Families cried. And I remembered those I had lost too.
I stayed longer in the cemetery than I expected, only leaving because I was pretty hungry.
My boss, Alex, picked up myself, and Transitions boys Nacho and Juanito, to join his family for fiambre. Fiambre is a cold meat salad eaten once a year on Nov 1st. It’s tasty – kinda like my Mom’s bean salad: salty, vinegary, but with more meat.
After fiambre, we piled into the car to go see us some humongous-ass kites. Sumpango, a town just 20-min away, is famous for its Day of the Dead kite festival.
It wasn’t until we reached the top of the town’s hill that I realized how huge the kites were. The biggest on display were 30-40 feet tall. While others were about 10-13 ft in diameter, but somehow could still be flown! There is no reason why you should believe this, except for my following video.
But the highlight of my day was still to come. Mesmerized, along with a crowd of 1,000, I wasn’t paying attention to the announcer until Alex tugged my jacket: “Extranjeros, esto es tu oportunidad.” That’s right I got to fly one of the kites!
The rest of the our time in Sumpango we took pictures in front of the kites too big to fly, and left as the sun started to set to join the rest of the Transitions crew for pizza.
My day wasn’t so dead. It was quite alive. But maybe that’s the point, to recognize the dead by celebrating the present.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Feliz Cumpleaños a mi hermano menor
First, Happy Birthday Kyler! Here are some of my favorite memories from our 20 years together:
- You not ever letting me drive because I drive like a grandma.
- Snail hunting and Jojo's pool in Livingston.
- When you bar-b-que.
- Riding bikes, playing football, the slip 'n slide, and lots of popsicles at 404 Lake street.
- The many times you've scared and/or tackled me, and the times when you somehow get Meg to jump on me, instead of you.
- Sitting on one of the many Berkeley hills one night, venting about our dad.
- When you found out I had taken you to a completely vegetarian restaurant (Saturn cafe) after a day of Ultimate.
- When you told me that my caterpillar Fuzzy Wuzzy had to be let go because "his mommy was calling him."
- Watching you kick butt at BHS graduation, and at your ultimate tournaments.
Second, I've got several blog posts ready to be published. Get yourself ready for some fantastic adventure accounts.
- You not ever letting me drive because I drive like a grandma.
- Snail hunting and Jojo's pool in Livingston.
- When you bar-b-que.
- Riding bikes, playing football, the slip 'n slide, and lots of popsicles at 404 Lake street.
- The many times you've scared and/or tackled me, and the times when you somehow get Meg to jump on me, instead of you.
- Sitting on one of the many Berkeley hills one night, venting about our dad.
- When you found out I had taken you to a completely vegetarian restaurant (Saturn cafe) after a day of Ultimate.
- When you told me that my caterpillar Fuzzy Wuzzy had to be let go because "his mommy was calling him."
- Watching you kick butt at BHS graduation, and at your ultimate tournaments.
Second, I've got several blog posts ready to be published. Get yourself ready for some fantastic adventure accounts.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Esta manana. This morning.
I'm still writing many stories from the last couple weeks. But until I get my act together, the events of this morning are worth sharing! Events in Guatemala, and within Transitions often happen with late notice.
I got up early this morning because I thought Alex and I had a meeting in el capital. When we got to work, we found out our meeting is actually tomorrow, and today we had another event to attend: la carrera de chorolas! The race of waiters!
Oh the surprises one finds in Antigua, and within Transitions!
Saludos de todos a Trancisiones!
I got up early this morning because I thought Alex and I had a meeting in el capital. When we got to work, we found out our meeting is actually tomorrow, and today we had another event to attend: la carrera de chorolas! The race of waiters!
Oh the surprises one finds in Antigua, and within Transitions!
Saludos de todos a Trancisiones!
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Memorias de las dos semanas pasadas. Memories from the past 2 weeks.
• Evening walks for tea de manzanilla (chamomile) with housemate Kim.
• Gave a tour of our wheelchair workshop, while cutest kid ever was getting fit for a chair from us. I wish I could say we planned it that way.
• Transitions threw a fiesta for our Special Education class – hot as heck on the basketball court, but the pizza, cake, and water balloons helped us through the festivities.
• Convinced our visiting consultant, PJ, to play wheelchair basketball with us on Friday afternoon.
• PJ and his boss, treated us to the nicest dinner e v e r that night. Transitions 17 year-old adopted double arm amputee, Nacho, is so excited he orders pretty much everything on the menu.
• Transitions Founder, John Bell, takes myself and the two consultants on the “real Guatemala tour,” that the consultants had been begging him for. We rode in the back of a pick-up (along with the various people John offered rides to on the side of the road) all through the Antigua area visiting Transitions families.
• After our impressive “real” tour, PJ made dinner for everyone who lives in the Transitions house. Flan never fails to bring people together.
• Two of my friends from Spanish class came along with us to our basketball game in Guatemala City on Sunday. The Transitions guys very much enjoyed the new female company. Lots of jokes were had.
• Walking home Sunday, I get caught in church procession: 100 people, lots of firecrackers, and one huge baby Jesus figure.
• Executive Director, Alex, took me away from work to a nearby coffee plantation where we bought bags of “thanks for your big donation” coffee.
• Transitions has been learning/practicing a choreographed dance to participate in a flash mob in Antigua's parque central! What is a flash mob you ask? Although our dance is a tad more latin, this is an amazing example of a flash mob from Belgium: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EYAUazLI9k&feature=fvst
• My Spanish teacher takes me to the market to teach me valuable bargaining vocabulary.
• Halloween party at my Spanish school: free rum and coke starting at 4:30pm only hurt my country’s dance reputation.
• Gave a tour of our wheelchair workshop, while cutest kid ever was getting fit for a chair from us. I wish I could say we planned it that way.
• Transitions threw a fiesta for our Special Education class – hot as heck on the basketball court, but the pizza, cake, and water balloons helped us through the festivities.
• Convinced our visiting consultant, PJ, to play wheelchair basketball with us on Friday afternoon.
• PJ and his boss, treated us to the nicest dinner e v e r that night. Transitions 17 year-old adopted double arm amputee, Nacho, is so excited he orders pretty much everything on the menu.
• Transitions Founder, John Bell, takes myself and the two consultants on the “real Guatemala tour,” that the consultants had been begging him for. We rode in the back of a pick-up (along with the various people John offered rides to on the side of the road) all through the Antigua area visiting Transitions families.
• After our impressive “real” tour, PJ made dinner for everyone who lives in the Transitions house. Flan never fails to bring people together.
• Two of my friends from Spanish class came along with us to our basketball game in Guatemala City on Sunday. The Transitions guys very much enjoyed the new female company. Lots of jokes were had.
• Walking home Sunday, I get caught in church procession: 100 people, lots of firecrackers, and one huge baby Jesus figure.
• Executive Director, Alex, took me away from work to a nearby coffee plantation where we bought bags of “thanks for your big donation” coffee.
• Transitions has been learning/practicing a choreographed dance to participate in a flash mob in Antigua's parque central! What is a flash mob you ask? Although our dance is a tad more latin, this is an amazing example of a flash mob from Belgium: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EYAUazLI9k&feature=fvst
• My Spanish teacher takes me to the market to teach me valuable bargaining vocabulary.
• Halloween party at my Spanish school: free rum and coke starting at 4:30pm only hurt my country’s dance reputation.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
A dream for Transitions
I need you to imagine something for me, just for a second.
Tomorrow on your way to work or school or coffee, an accident happens. There are millions of possibilities, and many results, but the one I’d like you to imagine is becoming dependent on a wheelchair.
What would you be thinking while you were in the hospital? How many days and nights would you wish things were different? How would you imagine your future?
I still can’t imagine what it would be like to lose the ability to walk, let alone imagine what it would be like in a country like Guatemala: where there exists no government assistance for people with disabilities, where there are no curb cuts, no disabled parking spots, and where people with disabilities are frequently assumed to be a result of bad blood.
This week a non-profit consultant from the US has been spending time with us. This afternoon, Alex, the Transitions Executive Director (who at the age of 14 was caught between gang gunfire and paralyzed), and I brought our consultant, PJ, to the future site of Transitions headquarters – a ½ acre plot of land complete with coffee pants, banana trees, and 2 dogs. In about 5 years, will hope this property will house a bigger and better Transitions Wheelchair Workshop, Prosthetics Clinic, space for Computer Training Center, and even for a basketball court.
Alex’s passion was quietly conveyed as we toured our newly purchased (thank you awesome donors from last weekend!) property. The consult, PJ, was overcome in imagining the possibility of our future center:
The future must seem bleak for someone newly injured, especially in Guatemala. But imagine if a place existed, a sanctuary for disability, if you will – a place that is not only completely wheelchair accessible, but a place that has been built by your fellow Guatemalans with disabilities. After some time, the future no longer seems so unknown, because you are surrounded by people that represent every step of your transition process. Here you are rehabilitated physically, mentally, emotionally, vocationally, maybe even spiritually. Here disability is not an end, it’s a beginning.
The strategic plan for our $1.4 million capital campaign is just beginning. Stay posted.
Tomorrow on your way to work or school or coffee, an accident happens. There are millions of possibilities, and many results, but the one I’d like you to imagine is becoming dependent on a wheelchair.
What would you be thinking while you were in the hospital? How many days and nights would you wish things were different? How would you imagine your future?
I still can’t imagine what it would be like to lose the ability to walk, let alone imagine what it would be like in a country like Guatemala: where there exists no government assistance for people with disabilities, where there are no curb cuts, no disabled parking spots, and where people with disabilities are frequently assumed to be a result of bad blood.
This week a non-profit consultant from the US has been spending time with us. This afternoon, Alex, the Transitions Executive Director (who at the age of 14 was caught between gang gunfire and paralyzed), and I brought our consultant, PJ, to the future site of Transitions headquarters – a ½ acre plot of land complete with coffee pants, banana trees, and 2 dogs. In about 5 years, will hope this property will house a bigger and better Transitions Wheelchair Workshop, Prosthetics Clinic, space for Computer Training Center, and even for a basketball court.
Alex’s passion was quietly conveyed as we toured our newly purchased (thank you awesome donors from last weekend!) property. The consult, PJ, was overcome in imagining the possibility of our future center:
The future must seem bleak for someone newly injured, especially in Guatemala. But imagine if a place existed, a sanctuary for disability, if you will – a place that is not only completely wheelchair accessible, but a place that has been built by your fellow Guatemalans with disabilities. After some time, the future no longer seems so unknown, because you are surrounded by people that represent every step of your transition process. Here you are rehabilitated physically, mentally, emotionally, vocationally, maybe even spiritually. Here disability is not an end, it’s a beginning.
The strategic plan for our $1.4 million capital campaign is just beginning. Stay posted.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
¿Saben ustedes? Vivo aquí. I live here.
I’ve realized something this week. I live in Guatemala.
On Monday, Alex, the Executive Director of Transitions, pulled me aside and asked I how felt about going to Houston in November for the annual Board of Directors meeting. One of the Board Members thought it was important for me to be present, and is offering his frequent flier miles and his home to me for the weekend meeting.
So this week, I’ve felt excited, and very honored, but my biggest take away from the Houston invitation has been the realization that I live here.
I’m going back to my country, but then I’m returning home, to Guatemala, because I work here, I live here, my life is here. And in my various times abroad, this is the first time I’ve felt like this. I don’t track my weeks and months here, like I did in Switzerland, Ghana and Honduras. Well, I am counting down till my family comes to visit for the holidays, and for Mickey to come join me here. But I’m not dreaming of my return to the Bay Area. Okay, maybe I’ve been thinking about Cheeseboard Pizza recently.
I love this city. I love the daily glimpses of gorgeous volcanoes. I love the open air cafes and the bars. I love when I have conversations in Spanish. I love all the churches, and parks, and bakeries. I love making things happen at Transitions – dreaming about possibilities, and working towards them.
On Monday, Alex, the Executive Director of Transitions, pulled me aside and asked I how felt about going to Houston in November for the annual Board of Directors meeting. One of the Board Members thought it was important for me to be present, and is offering his frequent flier miles and his home to me for the weekend meeting.
So this week, I’ve felt excited, and very honored, but my biggest take away from the Houston invitation has been the realization that I live here.
I’m going back to my country, but then I’m returning home, to Guatemala, because I work here, I live here, my life is here. And in my various times abroad, this is the first time I’ve felt like this. I don’t track my weeks and months here, like I did in Switzerland, Ghana and Honduras. Well, I am counting down till my family comes to visit for the holidays, and for Mickey to come join me here. But I’m not dreaming of my return to the Bay Area. Okay, maybe I’ve been thinking about Cheeseboard Pizza recently.
I love this city. I love the daily glimpses of gorgeous volcanoes. I love the open air cafes and the bars. I love when I have conversations in Spanish. I love all the churches, and parks, and bakeries. I love making things happen at Transitions – dreaming about possibilities, and working towards them.
Monday, October 12, 2009
A la playa
This post is slightly delayed, as I went to the beach 2 weekends ago. But, hey, what’s the diff? I wanted to share some highlights from my time a la playa, in an effort to encourage those of you on the fence, to come visit me!
• Hard decisions: hammock time or beach stroll? Read before or after afternoon hamburger?
• Black volcanic sand looks like dirty sand but isn’t. Doesn’t look scorching hot, but is!
• Guatemala waves = crazy strong. They were so cool to watch, it was almost okay I couldn’t swim.
• Sites to see: sea turtle sanctuary, mangrove forest, beach football game.
• Licuados! Smoothies! Pinapple & mint, banana & chocolate, mango, coconut, watermelon. $1.50? Amazing!
• Happy hour starts at 10pm? Sorry, that’s past my bedtime.
• Venture out to beach for early morning meditation. Meditation interrupted by incoming wave.
• Hard decisions: hammock time or beach stroll? Read before or after afternoon hamburger?
• Black volcanic sand looks like dirty sand but isn’t. Doesn’t look scorching hot, but is!
• Guatemala waves = crazy strong. They were so cool to watch, it was almost okay I couldn’t swim.
• Sites to see: sea turtle sanctuary, mangrove forest, beach football game.
• Licuados! Smoothies! Pinapple & mint, banana & chocolate, mango, coconut, watermelon. $1.50? Amazing!
• Happy hour starts at 10pm? Sorry, that’s past my bedtime.
• Venture out to beach for early morning meditation. Meditation interrupted by incoming wave.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Transiciones – Capitulo 1
A month into my experience, how have I not yet written about my work at Transitions?!
I think I’ve been a little intimidated. There is too much to explain—all our programs, all the people. How can I share all the stories that need to be told?
Writing about Transitions and my work here has to be an ongoing process, as the organization alone deserves over 100 blog posts. So, be on the look out.
One of my tasks these past few weeks has been to write and translate some of the stories of Transitions staff and clients. And I’m excited to share them, because what a better way to start explaining my work here?
Diego Marroquin (personal account)
My name is Diego Marroquin. I am 21 years old, and am from Guatemala. When I was 15, I was selected to play professional soccer, so I stopped my studies, and supported my family with my earnings from soccer. My future as an athlete was bright, and I was excited.
One and a half years ago, as I was walking to my house with a friend, a vehicle approached us and shot us both. As we lay on the ground, scared and in pain, the car disappeared. My life changed dramatically that day. I am now a paraplegic.
Everyday, I thank God for the opportunities I have found at Transitions. Here I found the support I needed to recover, and regain my motivation. Now I’m studying to finish high school, and I’m training to be a wheelchair manufacturer and repair technician at the Transitions wheelchair workshop.
My peers at Transitions have taught me to be excited again about my future, and to again become an athlete, because I am now part of the Transitions wheelchair basketball team.
Hasler Suarez Trujillo
When Hasler’s mother was pregnant with him, she lost her husband to Guatemala’s violence. Two years later, Hasler, his mother, and 3 older sisters were walking home from church, when a car crashed into them. Hasler lost his right leg, and his mother, her left leg. Both lost their legs above the knee and fortunately received prosthetics.
Like any 11 year-old, Hasler grew taller. Yet as he grew, his prosthetic leg did not. His prosthetic became 10 cm too short, causing Hasler severe back pain on his daily walks to school, a condition that doctors warned could rapidly develop into scoliosis. But his family could not afford another prosthetic leg.
Thanks our Prosthetics Workshop (and the support of World Emergency Relief ), Hasler now has a new prosthetic, and walks to school free from pain. Doña Mariam, Hasler’s mom, describes her son as extremely active and enthusiastic. She has been impressed with his studies, as have we. We are excited to watch Hasler as he continues to grow into an outstanding young adult, helping provide for his family, and continuing to share his story.
I think I’ve been a little intimidated. There is too much to explain—all our programs, all the people. How can I share all the stories that need to be told?
Writing about Transitions and my work here has to be an ongoing process, as the organization alone deserves over 100 blog posts. So, be on the look out.
One of my tasks these past few weeks has been to write and translate some of the stories of Transitions staff and clients. And I’m excited to share them, because what a better way to start explaining my work here?
Diego Marroquin (personal account)
My name is Diego Marroquin. I am 21 years old, and am from Guatemala. When I was 15, I was selected to play professional soccer, so I stopped my studies, and supported my family with my earnings from soccer. My future as an athlete was bright, and I was excited.
One and a half years ago, as I was walking to my house with a friend, a vehicle approached us and shot us both. As we lay on the ground, scared and in pain, the car disappeared. My life changed dramatically that day. I am now a paraplegic.
Everyday, I thank God for the opportunities I have found at Transitions. Here I found the support I needed to recover, and regain my motivation. Now I’m studying to finish high school, and I’m training to be a wheelchair manufacturer and repair technician at the Transitions wheelchair workshop.
My peers at Transitions have taught me to be excited again about my future, and to again become an athlete, because I am now part of the Transitions wheelchair basketball team.
Hasler Suarez Trujillo
When Hasler’s mother was pregnant with him, she lost her husband to Guatemala’s violence. Two years later, Hasler, his mother, and 3 older sisters were walking home from church, when a car crashed into them. Hasler lost his right leg, and his mother, her left leg. Both lost their legs above the knee and fortunately received prosthetics.
Like any 11 year-old, Hasler grew taller. Yet as he grew, his prosthetic leg did not. His prosthetic became 10 cm too short, causing Hasler severe back pain on his daily walks to school, a condition that doctors warned could rapidly develop into scoliosis. But his family could not afford another prosthetic leg.
Thanks our Prosthetics Workshop (and the support of World Emergency Relief ), Hasler now has a new prosthetic, and walks to school free from pain. Doña Mariam, Hasler’s mom, describes her son as extremely active and enthusiastic. She has been impressed with his studies, as have we. We are excited to watch Hasler as he continues to grow into an outstanding young adult, helping provide for his family, and continuing to share his story.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Mi Familia
I remember, every year when Mother’s Day rolled around, asking my mom why there wasn’t a Kid’s Day. She responded that every day of the year is Kid’s Day. Good point, I didn’t argue…but little did I know only a tad more south Guatemalan children got their day.
This past Thursday, October 1st, was el Día de Niño. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I thought a tiny gift couldn’t hurt. So the eve el Día de Niño I found myself in the Bodegona (Antigua’s grocery store) looking for a gift for my host sister, and also for thicker toilette paper (I’ll save that explanation for another post).
The day felt a little like Christmas. I wrote a note to go along with Gaby’s new purple pony, and put it next to her cereal bowl. When I got back after my Spanish classes, she thanked me and tugged me to her room to show me her, now bigger, pony collection.
That night, my host mom’s family came over for pizza and cake to celebrate Gaby. And Gaby wasn’t the only ecstatic niña, as I have been craving pizza for the last two weeks.
Gustavo, my host dad, made a toast to Gaby and mentioned something quickly (si, en español) about celebrating a new niño, while gesturing at his wife’s belly. That’s right Flor is pregnant! And guess who gets see the whole process? Me. Guatemalan style!
After dinner someone suggested breaking out the photo albums. Let me take this chance to describe my host family a little bit more. My host dad, Gustavo, is a doctor, working in a forensics lab and also as a surgeon. We’ve had a lot of good conversations about people with disabilities, economics, and Obama. Gustavo, and my host mom, Flor de Maria, are both from Antigua, and were friends from high school. Flor has a part time job at an office in the center of town and also manages a house she rents to volunteers. I can tell, from their pictures as sweethearts and by their actions now, they thoroughly enjoy each other and their family.
Gaby is a 5-year-old, who loves two things (1) animals and (2) pink. And she doesn’t like her homework. And who does? Especially before 1st grade! I guess being a kid in Guatemala isn’t just ponies and pizza.
This past Thursday, October 1st, was el Día de Niño. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I thought a tiny gift couldn’t hurt. So the eve el Día de Niño I found myself in the Bodegona (Antigua’s grocery store) looking for a gift for my host sister, and also for thicker toilette paper (I’ll save that explanation for another post).
The day felt a little like Christmas. I wrote a note to go along with Gaby’s new purple pony, and put it next to her cereal bowl. When I got back after my Spanish classes, she thanked me and tugged me to her room to show me her, now bigger, pony collection.
That night, my host mom’s family came over for pizza and cake to celebrate Gaby. And Gaby wasn’t the only ecstatic niña, as I have been craving pizza for the last two weeks.
Gustavo, my host dad, made a toast to Gaby and mentioned something quickly (si, en español) about celebrating a new niño, while gesturing at his wife’s belly. That’s right Flor is pregnant! And guess who gets see the whole process? Me. Guatemalan style!
After dinner someone suggested breaking out the photo albums. Let me take this chance to describe my host family a little bit more. My host dad, Gustavo, is a doctor, working in a forensics lab and also as a surgeon. We’ve had a lot of good conversations about people with disabilities, economics, and Obama. Gustavo, and my host mom, Flor de Maria, are both from Antigua, and were friends from high school. Flor has a part time job at an office in the center of town and also manages a house she rents to volunteers. I can tell, from their pictures as sweethearts and by their actions now, they thoroughly enjoy each other and their family.
Gaby is a 5-year-old, who loves two things (1) animals and (2) pink. And she doesn’t like her homework. And who does? Especially before 1st grade! I guess being a kid in Guatemala isn’t just ponies and pizza.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
La Cancha. The Court.
I’ve come to welcome blisters on my hands. Blisters mean I played wheelchair basketball, that I played hard, was part of a team…and that I smiled.
Basketball has unexpectedly woven itself through my auto-biography. When I was 15, new to Berkeley High, I made my first friend (shout out to K-Dawg) through basketball. When I studied abroad in Ghana, I started having a richer experience once the University of Ghana women’s team began their season. Wheelchair basketball became a thread through my college years. At BORP I found an extended family, I found my favorite father figure, and my partner in crime, all from just playing around with kids, wheelchairs, and basketballs.
If I had to write an auto-biography, playing wheelchair basketball in Antigua with the Transitions team would be a new chapter, if only because the setting deserves its own section. Our basketball court just happens to sit 50 feet away from Spanish ruins. So the backdrop as we play is unreal.
We practice/play every Friday afternoon. Afternoons here, often mean rain. So today, when it began to pour, we rolled under some bushes to serve as our umbrella. However, soon thereafter, everyone started pulling everyone else out into the rain. Our play continued with more water, and more laughter.
Basketball has unexpectedly woven itself through my auto-biography. When I was 15, new to Berkeley High, I made my first friend (shout out to K-Dawg) through basketball. When I studied abroad in Ghana, I started having a richer experience once the University of Ghana women’s team began their season. Wheelchair basketball became a thread through my college years. At BORP I found an extended family, I found my favorite father figure, and my partner in crime, all from just playing around with kids, wheelchairs, and basketballs.
If I had to write an auto-biography, playing wheelchair basketball in Antigua with the Transitions team would be a new chapter, if only because the setting deserves its own section. Our basketball court just happens to sit 50 feet away from Spanish ruins. So the backdrop as we play is unreal.
We practice/play every Friday afternoon. Afternoons here, often mean rain. So today, when it began to pour, we rolled under some bushes to serve as our umbrella. However, soon thereafter, everyone started pulling everyone else out into the rain. Our play continued with more water, and more laughter.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Español
What does “fluent” mean? Does it mean I can send Spanish text messages with ease? Am I fluent if I can bargain at the market? How about if I can share my ideas on health care, the economy, earthquakes, my father, and gay marriage with my Spanish teacher? Does it matter that my verbs aren’t always correctly conjugated? When will I be able to completely follow a Spanish film?
Amongst the Spanish-language students in Antigua, there seems to be little conversation about how we learn language, which is why I’d like to share with you how I got to where I am on the fluency scale.
When I was 10, I was asked if I wanted to take Spanish or French in Middle School. I didn’t know of a monument I’d like to see in Mexico, but I did know the Eiffel Tower meant baguettes and berets. French it was.
I came to regret my 5th grade decision daily in Spanish 1 at UC Berkeley. The summer after Spanish 1, I went to Honduras. For 3 weeks, I took Spanish classes, but was by no means fully immersed in the language, as I spoke English with my language-school friends, and could also do so with my Honduran host family. Thank goodness I continued studying Spanish my last year of college, it has proven to be invaluable in my first weeks here.
My Skype conversations with Mickey and my mom, and my time emailing, are the only moments I speak English. If I need to say something here, I can always express it. It might take me 10 minutes, because I don’t know every word. And I guarantee my verb conjugations are off, but I do know that by the time I stop talking my counterpart has some idea of what the heck I’m saying.
Yesterday, I asked my Spanish teacher (pic of us below) if she thought I could ever be fluent. She responded “Ya eres casi fluente, casi.” Gracias a Dios, I’m close! I think because we have pretty good conversations and because she doesn’t have to teach me the verb “to go,” my teacher Brenda thinks I’m close to being fluent. Some days I agree. But other days, I feel like I’ve got everything wrong.
On Wednesday I had a Spanish exam so I could move on to the second book at my Spanish school. I passed, but going over my mistakes the next day (guess I don’t know how to spell my numbers), made me feel like I need more than a lifetime to ever speak more than one language.
With my first two weeks behind me, I wonder how much more time I’ll need to become an oh-so-cool “fluent Spanish speaker.” I also wonder how others become fluent, and why our experience with language often goes un-talked about.
And I’ve been thinking that no matter how fluent I get, English will always be the language of my family, the language I cry in, and the language I share my love in. And I know I’m lucky to have one of the most important languages in the world, as my first.
I am so in awe of bi/multi-lingual people, and I want to know their stories. I also want to know if I can ever be fluent. Oh, and how bad is my accent? Vamos a ver (we will see).
Amongst the Spanish-language students in Antigua, there seems to be little conversation about how we learn language, which is why I’d like to share with you how I got to where I am on the fluency scale.
When I was 10, I was asked if I wanted to take Spanish or French in Middle School. I didn’t know of a monument I’d like to see in Mexico, but I did know the Eiffel Tower meant baguettes and berets. French it was.
I came to regret my 5th grade decision daily in Spanish 1 at UC Berkeley. The summer after Spanish 1, I went to Honduras. For 3 weeks, I took Spanish classes, but was by no means fully immersed in the language, as I spoke English with my language-school friends, and could also do so with my Honduran host family. Thank goodness I continued studying Spanish my last year of college, it has proven to be invaluable in my first weeks here.
My Skype conversations with Mickey and my mom, and my time emailing, are the only moments I speak English. If I need to say something here, I can always express it. It might take me 10 minutes, because I don’t know every word. And I guarantee my verb conjugations are off, but I do know that by the time I stop talking my counterpart has some idea of what the heck I’m saying.
Yesterday, I asked my Spanish teacher (pic of us below) if she thought I could ever be fluent. She responded “Ya eres casi fluente, casi.” Gracias a Dios, I’m close! I think because we have pretty good conversations and because she doesn’t have to teach me the verb “to go,” my teacher Brenda thinks I’m close to being fluent. Some days I agree. But other days, I feel like I’ve got everything wrong.
On Wednesday I had a Spanish exam so I could move on to the second book at my Spanish school. I passed, but going over my mistakes the next day (guess I don’t know how to spell my numbers), made me feel like I need more than a lifetime to ever speak more than one language.
With my first two weeks behind me, I wonder how much more time I’ll need to become an oh-so-cool “fluent Spanish speaker.” I also wonder how others become fluent, and why our experience with language often goes un-talked about.
And I’ve been thinking that no matter how fluent I get, English will always be the language of my family, the language I cry in, and the language I share my love in. And I know I’m lucky to have one of the most important languages in the world, as my first.
I am so in awe of bi/multi-lingual people, and I want to know their stories. I also want to know if I can ever be fluent. Oh, and how bad is my accent? Vamos a ver (we will see).
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Nuestros peces. Our fish.
I got pretty dirty after playing wheelchair basketball yesterday afternoon, especially because the rain turned the court’s dust into mud, and needed a shower. As I walked out of my bathroom, I noticed my host father cleaning out the small family aquarium.
As we were eating dinner, Gabi, the 5-year-old, was counting the fish, and then suddenly screamed, “¡Papi, un pez esta muerto!” (A fish is dead). Flor, my host mom, left the table to check the tank and attempt to calm her daughter. Five seconds later, Flor screamed “¡Gustavo, todos están muertos!” Gustavo and I both left our plates, and quickly saw all the fish limp on their sides.
In cleaning, Gustavo, my host father, didn’t fully rinse the chlorine he had used to clean the tank.
It’s embarrassing to admit, but in thinking about last night’s incident, I can’t help but smile. I so vividly remember the same exact thing happening to my family’s fish when I was young. What makes me grin is not that as we were enjoying our elotes, our little peces weren’t so much enjoying the chlorine, I smile because, some things (even amidst different countries and decades) never change.
As we were eating dinner, Gabi, the 5-year-old, was counting the fish, and then suddenly screamed, “¡Papi, un pez esta muerto!” (A fish is dead). Flor, my host mom, left the table to check the tank and attempt to calm her daughter. Five seconds later, Flor screamed “¡Gustavo, todos están muertos!” Gustavo and I both left our plates, and quickly saw all the fish limp on their sides.
In cleaning, Gustavo, my host father, didn’t fully rinse the chlorine he had used to clean the tank.
It’s embarrassing to admit, but in thinking about last night’s incident, I can’t help but smile. I so vividly remember the same exact thing happening to my family’s fish when I was young. What makes me grin is not that as we were enjoying our elotes, our little peces weren’t so much enjoying the chlorine, I smile because, some things (even amidst different countries and decades) never change.
¡Estoy aquí!
Shedding goodbye tears through the airport security line made me good and sleepy for my flight to Houston, and then to Guatemala City. A few minutes after I walked out of the aeropuerto, I was met by two Transitions employees. Hugo and Edwin apologized for being late, they explained that the traffic was bad. Traffic at 10pm? As we drove through the airport gates, I understood why – hundreds of people were running through the streets, torches in hand! But before I began panicking, my hosts explained it was the eve of the Día de Independencia. ¡Gracias a Dios!
My first full day in Guatemala just happened to be Independence Day. ¡Que suerte! At 8am, my host mother knocked for breakfast. The moment I opened my door I realized the beauty that is Antigua – a big blue sky, with big white clouds, and what isn’t blue or white is green. Lush mountains, including 3 volcanoes, tower over Antigua. And the city seems to love its greenery. There are more public parks here than in Berkeley, and the majority of houses here have courtyards in the center. My door opens out to an array of tropical potted plants.
With a full stomach from Breakfast, I ventured into town to see the “Bandas de Guerra” (bands of war) my host mom told me about during breakfast. To celebrate independence, there were over 30 high school marching bands parading through Antigua’s small cobblestone streets. To be honest, my attention started to fade after the 12th band, but the baton girls (with some added Latin flavor) never failed to entertain.
I spent the afternoon playing with my 5-year-old host sister, Gabi, and unpacking. At 4:30, I walked 100 ft. down the street to the Transiciones office, as we had a presentation to make at a nearby café at 5. More about Trancisiones to come.
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