bitter sweet sympony

This story from my experience in Guatemala is one that is constantly bouncing around in my head. I think about this man at least once a week, if not on a daily basis. He touched me. His story shaped how I think about things. I will not forget him. Ever.

Our service team was split into three groups. Each evening, one of the groups took the opportunity to serve the individuals at the Homeless Shelter run by the Nuestros Ahijados. Because there were only two instructors, I went with the third group. Little did I know, but this second trip would directly shape my world view. It would be a moment in time that I will think back to for the rest of my days.

The students served the individuals just as each other team had done. The people at the center are so grateful for the services they receive. A warm meal and a roof over their heads is something that they don't have access to otherwise. This homeless shelther is the only one in Central America. Just think for a second about how backward that is.... there are millions of people who need the assistance, and there simply aren't resources to serve them.

Anyway, while the students were washing the dishes, I had the chance to chat with a few of the individuals at the Center. I was completely taken aback when one individual spoke to me in perfect, accent-free English. I spun around and proceeded to see him translating for others around him. He was sharing their thanks for our service. I kneeled down to be at eye-level with him and shared with him the purpose of our service team and that we were thankful that they had allowed us to serve them. That we were hoping to do our part to ensure that they knew we care about them. He asked why people would come and do such work; especially people from America. I responded by detailing the notion that our group was there to garner a world view. To better connect with the rest of the globe's inhabitants.

By this time, he and I were just chatting, the others had moved on to other things. He looked at me and told me that my group and I were great people. I looked him in the eye and responded by telling him that he, too, was a great human being and that the only thing that separated the two of us was chance. This conversation allowed me to share the common experience of humanity because there truly wasn't anything inherently different about us. We were two people living completely different lives, but I could have just as easily been in his place or he in mine. After I told him that he was a good person, he told me that I shouldn't say things like that. For a moment I felt that I had overstepped my boundary and that I had intruded on a past that he didn't want to share. But, I followed it up by saying that we shared the common human experience and that he simply had faced different barriers in his lifetime. I repeated myself, tell him that he was indeed a good person and that he deserved the best in life. He just looked at me and said, you really shouldn't say such things..... you're going to make me cry. At that point, I was holding back tears and hoping that he understood that I was being entirely sincere.

He shared with me that he was adopted as a child and grew up in Oregon with his adoptive family. He had lived the luxury of America but had decided to return to Guatemala. He had lost everything and was now standing before me embarassed to be in such a condition where he was forced to use the toilet and shower in front of me, a woman. That his life had been reduced to something that he was ashamed of.

Just as we began to move on in the conversation, Hector tapped me with his umbrella and told me that it was time to head back to our host families.

The gentleman looked me in the eyes and said words that I'll never forget, "Thank you for coming here; I hope that we will meet up some day in the states and I can help you like you've helped me here."

I walked out of the shelter holding back tears knowing that I had accomplished everything I had set out to do on this journey.

fun in the summa time

In honor of our roommate's birthday, we hit up Lindenwood Park for some tandem biking action. Anyone who tells you that tandem bikes are easy to ride is lying. They were much more difficult than I could have imagined.... and, they require complete trust in the person in the front.... due to the fact that the rear person has absolutely no control AND can't see around them either. It's basically like pedaling without a cause... you have no idea where you're going or what's in front of you. We probably looked ridiculous... but we had us some fun :)

Mr. Mikey down by the Red River (when it's not flooding, it's quite nice)

We discovered that Mikey simply can not handle being on the back of the tandem bike. Oh, did I mention that our bike had bent handlebars, a crooked seat and squeeky brakes? Yeah... it did. That could have affected Mikey's ability to relinquish control... but, while I took Liz and I for a spin in the commander position, Codie and Mikey rocked it together on the tandem. I think they should invest in some Friends Forever bracelets.

At one point Mikey just rode the tandem by himself :)

Needless to say, we had a good time and it's a memory that we won't soon forget!

No Stopping... Anytime

This sign's content seems to relay how I've felt since returning from my adventure in Guatemala. Actually, this is how I've felt for months now to be quite honest. There never seems to be quite enough minutes in an hour or hours in a day to fully accomplish things. Yes, I may complete things, but completing them doesn't necessarily mean that I am finished with them. Since returning from Guatemala, my life has done anything but allow me to stop and reflect. To sit and stare off into the clouds and process that which I saw, felt, and experienced. I have desperately tried to make time to do such activities, but I feel as if I've failed miserably. The brief moments that I've taken to update this blog and a few conversations with other service participants are the extent to which I've been able to reflect on my experiences. I know that many people may never feel the need to process vacations, trips, or service experiences, but for me, an academic at heart, this is one of the only ways I know how to survive. Connecting theoretical dots and expanding perspectives and paradigms is what keeps me intrigued by the world. It's never just a "walk in the park." That walk in the park is always an observation, a critique, an examination of the world around me. It's something that I've always loved, but I now have the resources and tools to begin to analyze that which surrounds me. Anyway, the point of this introduction is to say that I need to do a better job of providing myself with adequate time to nourish my creative, theoretical, mind-enriching side. . . While my mental state has been somewhat stalled; my physical life has moved forward quite immensely.

For starters, I got a new job. I say "a" new job because it is one of many jobs that I have currently committed myself to. How many jobs you ask?... well, let me tell you...

Job A. Updating University Websites.

• This involves transferring everything from one web page over to another newer model that is consistent with the rest of our University. It's tons of fun... let me tell you!

Job B. (The NEW Job) Community Organizer

• This, I am VERY excited for. I will be working with SEIU's (service employees international union) Change that Works Campaign. Basically, our charge is to achieve comprehensive health care for all Americans as well as revamp the current worker's union system to allow for better worker's rights. I am really eager to get under way with this and get a move on some progressive change! I am also VERY excited that with this job, comes FULL benefits. This may not sound that great to you... but because I've been uninsured since we got married 5 years ago... I am VERY eager to go to the dentist :)
  

Job C. Research

• My Advisor, Dr. Christina Weber, and I are writing a research paper based on the service trip in Guatemala. We are analyzing student journals and using critical consciousness models to better understand their learning process.

Job D. Student

• It's that time.... THESIS! I'm actually really excited about this. It's been a long time in the making, but I am finally embarking on my thesis for my Master's. I have a general topic area and am working to establish a foundation for moving this all along!

Job E. Graduate Assistant for Equity and Diversity Center

• This one technically is only during the academic year, but due to the Change that Works Campaign running a bit into August, I am trying to get some of the hours and responsibilities taken care of and started prior to that time. So, this is more conceptual, organizing and planning that is taking place.

Job F. Transcriber

• My BFF Erienne's transcriber fell through.... so, I am going to make a bit of extra bank and rock the transcribing!

I think that's it. Needless to say.... I am really busy. With all of these endeavors comes prep time and planning. I usually have my nose buried in a book with a cup of coffee within an arm's reach. I'm not even sure how I accomplish it all, now that I look at the list, but I guess this is the life of a graduate student/community activist. So, as I continue to integrate my every-day life back in the states with the memories and experiences from Guatemala I will continue to post. I find it intriguing and rewarding to know that people find something to relate to with my posts. I hope you've enjoyed!

a linking pin exposed

I have always been fascinated with tattoos, but until my visit in Guatemala, I was unaware of their ability to act as a common ground and bring people together. I got my second tattoo last August, an owl that is perched permanently on my right arm, constantly reminding me of all the crucial knowledge I've gained....and all that I have left to discover. Her name is avocado, named after a story involving Florrinda, the woman that my group built a house for last year. I love my tattoo. It's feminine, big-eyed and has a large heart over its chest, representing my eternal love for the search of wisdom and wonder. Anyway, unbeknownst to me, tattoos on women in Guatemala are a rare exception. The children (and often adults alike) were captivated by avocado and were constantly asking questions about it and taking their turn rubbing it (just to see if it would, in fact, rub off). The children often ran at me wide-eyed and grinning when they caught a glimpse of my arm from across the Center. It was wonderful for them to be so interested in something that is so personal to me. I loved their interest in it. It brought us together and allowed me to have some truly unique conversations with many of the children. I must add that once they were within hugging distance, they weren't safe from my arms... :)



Again, I truly loved how awed the children were by the artwork, but... it was the adults that offered story after story relating to their own works of art. After a discussion with an individual that had lived through (and served during) the 36-year Guatemalan Civil war, I had sent the students off to journal and was reflecting while sitting on a stoop near the volunteer office at the Center. He walked up to me, and in our broken English/Spanish, he was able to convey that he, too, had a tattoo. He proceeded to lift the sleeve of his shirt to expose a Quetzal bird on this upper left arm. The tattoo was clearly aged, as it was faded and the colors bled. I couldn't believe what he said next.... This, was his mark of his involvement with the Guatemalan military; this was his war tattoo. He, was physically marked for life by the government that has devastated so much and so many. I was speechless. I thanked him for his openness and his gracious desire to share that story with me. Little did he know that I had previously had plans to get a Quetzal bird tattooed on me upon my return... to symbolize all that I've learned about the world and myself while serving in Guatemala. In that very moment, I quickly decided that, that specific marker represented something very different than I hoped to convey with the potential artwork that floated through my mind. I have since drastically shifted my conceptions of my next piece... but, I'll get to that later.

Another story came tumbling out while on a bus to a clothing distribution. Another member of the GCP staff engaged in a conversation about the pieces that he wears daily. His, symbols that stand as reminders to stay calm and collected even if the world around you is in dissaray. The other, a self-done piece from early adolescence. Again, the stories exposing pieces of a journey that last a lifetime.

In yet another situation, another of the GCP workers asked open-ended questions about my piece, and I freely told of its purpose to remind me on a daily basis of what it is that I am passionate about. This led to conversations that involved personal histories and life encounters. This person later also engaged in conversations with others in our group who dawned pieces. The shared experience and common ground that is forged through this art form is incredible. I could not be more proud to wear my owl each and every day... because now it carries with it a whole new kind of story; the story of others. I have memories that I have shared with countless other individuals based solely on its existence.. and for that, I really am grateful.

Now, for the next piece that I plan to get. Every day on our walk to the Dreamer Center, we walked passed a tree-lined street. I remember the trees from last year. They are cute, nearly-circular trees that look almost comic-book like. I love them. They warm my heart. I am having an artist design a piece to place on my back... the location of support and growth ... it will be a full back piece with a small Quetzal bird nested in the branches of its comic-book character. I will post images once it's rendered.. but for now, my eagerness for its conception is pouring over.

These experiences, again, taught me the power of the human experience and how connected and similar we all truly are. Thank you to those who shared their stories; those are memories I shall carry with me as I move forward in the world.

My story

While at the Dreamer Center, we were fortunate to hear the stories of some of those who work closest with the Nuestros Ahijados. Last year, I had hoped to hear about the lives of those who we came to know, as we spent nearly every hour of our 10-day stay with them, but our time in Antigua simply wasn't enough to solidify relationships open enough to hear such personal stories. This year, however, was different. The men at GCP opened themselves up to our service team. The warm embrace that we felt by them is something that I simply can't describe in words. They compromised their privacy and revealed to us, the lives that they lived and led them to where they are today. While their histories are much too personal and detailed to articulate here, I will suffice it to say that hearing the words that they spoke was incredible, moving and sincere. I felt as if I was in listening to audio from a movie, a novel exposing the atrocities of war and poverty. But, I was hearing, listening to, experiencing, the lives of those who granted entry into these difficult memories. Childhoods cut short by life's events; children assuming far too much responsibility for any adult, little own a child of only 8-10 years.

My students were equally moved and I know that the words that they heard from their build leaders and volunteer coordinators changed their lives. I know this, because they've told me. They wrote about it in their journals; how the openness and willingness of these men to divulge their difficult pasts put a face to the project's name. When they hear the words poverty, abandonment and massacre, they will have faces and memories to associate with those words. They have friends who have experienced these lives. No longer are statistics in a book cold and removed; they have seen the effects of war, death, and violence... and have been forever changed because of it.

Now, after we'd heard some of these stories, I wish I would have done my part to contribute to the discussions. My life story is far less graphic or emotional.. however, I've learned in recent days that it is still a story, and one worth telling. I was given an opportunity to speak to women attending the NEW leadership institute this last week. 50 area women commit to a week-long conference where they learn how to engage in activism and politics. I was a panelist for the community activist component; it was an honor to even stand before such women... and I must say that I felt wholly unsuited for the title of "guest panelist." We were instructed to speak about our journey for 10-15 minutes... at which time I spoke of the life that had led me to the place that I currently call the present. I left out few details and tried to be as open and honest as possible. I included stories about Leidy and my recent journey to Guatemala.... ensuring that I was doing my part to use my voice. When I was completed with the tales of coming into community activism, I felt as if I'd spoken too fast and been somewhat disjointed in my discussion.

After the panel, the 5 panelists were split up into smaller groups with participants. As soon as we sat down, I had women telling me that they were inspired by my story. I was taken aback. I had one women come up to me, nearly immediately and tell me her coming out story; that none of her family knew due to fear of them shunning and disowning her. Another women told me that she had begun to cry while I spoke. Again, I was in disbelief. My story had affected others. The things I've done; the things' I've experienced have the ability to impact people; and to positively impact them at that. While we went around and introduced ourselves, one woman quietly stated that she had appreciated my openness and my willingness to divulge personal components of my journey to where I am today. Her statement caught me off guard and it wasn't until everyone had introduced themselves that I decided to follow up with her. I recounted the stories that I had so recently heard from my friends at the Dreamer Center. The lives that these men had been willing to share. The courage that it must have taken to relive those moments in their past for the hope that it would change the way that others viewed the world. I told her that they inspired me, usually a very private person, to tell how I came to be where I am and how I deal with the things that I've seen every day. How I wake up each morning and continue to tackle issues as enormous as inequality and oppression.

That speaking engagement was a full-circle moment. I discovered that I, too, have something to provide those around me with... and that even though it is uncomfortable, and often emotional it is necessary that we each tell our story. This is where I send my thanks to those who so graciously embraced my plea to share their oral history and ultimately inspired me to use my voice as well. This, to me, is what changing the world one person at a time looks like.

juxtaposition

As I've stated numerous times now, transitioning back into life here in the states has been more of a challenge than I ever expected. The drastic difference between the lifestyles of people here in the states with those in Antigua, Guatemala is appalling... and enough to make me physically ill. Some of you are perhaps thinking that I am going to transition into how difficult it was to use outdoor bathrooms or trying to hone in on what on earth it was that I ate that allowed me the pleasure of contracting E. Coli.. but, that's not at all where I'm going. The current disgust that I feel is toward the the American lifestyle; the desire to consume, consume, consume and then consume some more. The socialization of always wanting more... at the expense of others.... as millions of people die each day due to the lack of a serving of rice or beans.

The week after our return, Fargo held its annual Spring Cleanup Week. As the piles of items accumulated on my city block, I began to become outraged... Perfectly good items- barbeques, washers, dryers, bicycles, snow blowers, couches, mattresses, wall hangings, holiday decorations; you name it.. it was on someone's curb, waiting to be picked up and hauled away to the landfill. All of these items could have, for the most part, found a forever home at the local boys ranch or goodwill, but instead... laziness and convenience overcame residents and they simply hauled it to their front curb for disposal in the dump.

As I saw these endless piles of items, all I could think was how the money that it took to purchase these items could save thousands of lives in Guatemala. If people simply thought about their global neighbors for even a minute a day, this world would be a very different place. And if people aren't able to control their urge to purchase things, the least that could have been done was taken a trip to the local thrift store in effort to assist others. I mean, what I saw on the curb of most homes amounted to double, and even triple of all posessions of Guatemalan families. It's disturbing, devastating, and sickening to know what American society has instilled into us as normal.

While we have a difficult time normalizing Guatemalans' use of bathrooms that are nothing more than a hole in the ground, I wonder what they'd think about our lifestyles. About the sheer ignorance for the rest of the world. For turning a cheek to hunger and poverty. On the flight home I thought about what it would be like for our build leader, Hector, to visit the states. All I could think was that he would be overcome with disbelief, anger, and resentment at the lives that we live. That we are profiting off of the work that those in third-world countries labor over. That life here isn't really blissful.. but, rather it's ignorant and apalling... that it's disturbing that the most we do is schedule out 10 days a year to travel to another country and work for a few days. I guess, what I'm trying to say is that I think we've normalized American and Western consumerism and ideals far too much... and if we step back and look at it, it's perhaps the most disturbing culture of them all.

an image can be a thousand words

As I was sorting through the images that my students took, I found this one. It is just a simple and quick picture that was snapped in a split second, without me even realizing it.... but, its presence has been cathartic and calming for me. Through this image, I am able to transport myself back to that instant toward the end of the journey, where I was in a very different place than when I arrived. My critical eye has analysis written all over it. My non-verbals are baring my true emotion; guarded, yet yearning for more, for a deeper understanding and awareness of it all. I simply found myself not being able to keep my eyes peeled enough through this journey. The fear of missing something pertinent or something that would connect the dots on in a theoretical perspective kept me hyper sensitive through the entire trip. In this picture I see
anger, resentment, hope, fulfillment and inspiration.... to keep telling the stories of those who so openly embraced me in Guatemala.

Test, Test, 1, 2, 3

One of the hardest things about traveling for me is the last part; coming home. The reason for this is because even as I sit here trying my best to articulate my experiences, I succumb to the overwhelming notion that I simply can not portray the emotions that I felt in the limited and finite vocabulary that I have been provided. I become silenced by my own desire to speak and the realization that there is no way that what I felt, what I heard, what I did can ever be conveyed in mere language.

One of the things that I ground into my students is that they HAVE to learn how to talk about this experience. That it can't be an adventure that they just put up on the shelf with all their other vacations and trinkets from around the world. This experience is much more and therefore we are obligated to talk about the things that we witnessed/felt/did. The problem with this, is that it's incredibly difficult to talk about the feelings we had while there.

This is where I allow my patience to wear thin with myself. It's a test.... and one that I feel that I am currently failing miserably at. In the next four days, I am going to do my best to TRY to articulate how the wheels in my head were turning while serving in Guatemala.