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.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
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.
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