Roots
I've spent the past three days retracing my roots here in Guatemala City, where twelve days past the due date and weighing in at ten pounds, six ounces I came into this world back in the year of 1982. An evangelical televangelist was the president of the country at the time - or dictator, I guess I should say - and once the dust settled on the 36-year civil war it turned out he was one of the most ruthless offenders of indigenous human rights the country had ever seen. And the country has seen its fair share, tragically.
I share that for no reason other than that this country is a land of contradictions, which was perfectly illustrated earlier in the week at a restaurant way out in the highlands when the faucet in the restroom didn't work -- instead you had to dip a bowl into a bucket of water sitting in the corner -- and yet the automatic hand-drier worked just fine. As I was pondering this afterwords it occurred to me that Guatemalans ought to really like Johnny Cash because he too was quite contradictory for most of his life.
So here I am in this city of three million in a fairly poor and tumultuous country, this city where I was born and where I have so many memories, and I've been going here and there in taxis, without a clue as to the layout of the place. It's a tricky city to navigate because it is on a plateau but has ravines all around it with little fingers of flatness sticking out as if to taunt the elements of nature, which also means you rarely can get from points A to B in a direct line.
On Thursday I headed over to a bookstore/cafe I had read about because, well, it is a bookstore/cafe and I am who I am. It was so posh, though, it made me scratch my head, puzzled that this place and Sipacapa -- where I had been just one day prior -- could actually exist in the same universe, much less the same developing country. Yesterday I visited a few museums and a market, and on the way back in the taxi I got into a discussion with the driver about world Christianity and the rise of Pentecostalism. He said that in Guatemala City people are leaving the Catholic Church in droves and joining evangelical and Pentecostal churches. I had heard that 60% of the country identified as either Pentecostal or charismatic, but I also know about where Guatemala ranks in terms of homicide and corruption, and you wonder how these faith and crime statistics can coexist. But they do.
So today I headed downtown, to Kilometer Zero, to the central plaza which has on two of its sides the National Palace and a cathedral, respectively. During part of the tour of the palace we walked through a photography display of the quetzal, Guatemala's national bird. Legend has it that when the Mayan warrior Tecun Uman was fighting against the Spanish invaders back in the day, a quetzal descended on him as he was dying, and ever since the bird has a bright red chest on account of spilled Mayan blood, and it refuses to sing. It is also said that the quetzal cannot live in captivity, which alludes, apparently, to the fact that Guatemalans highly value their freedom.
Today on the tour as the guide pointed out the series of photos of quetzals in captivity, an older Guatemalan man said, "What about the saying, about quetzals not being able to live in captivity?" The guide didn't skip a beat, and responded, "That's right. They cannot live in captivity." And we moved on, down the hallway, no questions asked.
Overnight roadtrip!
Okay, so my plan was to leave Sipacapa this morning and come back to Guatemala City with the mayor of Sipacapa, Delfino, who was headed into town for meetings. Actually, my plan before that was to come back on Friday by myself. But plans change. And they change repeatedly. Yesterday at about 5pm I learned that Delfino had just learned that his meetings were not in the afternoon as he had been told, but actually began at 8.30am, and on account of this he would be leaving very soon, as in, half an hour or so, and driving through the night.
I had completed my interviews by this point, but not my group learning activities. One thing came up after another to derail all such efforts, and it seemed pretty clear that staying around for another day would not yield any different results. So I packed up my stuff and was soon in the backseat of a navy blue Toyota Hilux pickup truck almost identical to the one my family used back in the day on the very same roads.
There were four of us in the cab and we picked up two others who rode in the bed. The road out to the highway meanders through the mountains with a great many bumps and switch-backs, and since it is dry season and we were driving in the dark, the headlights danced off clouds of dust whenever we-d pass another vehicle. Soon after we reached the highway I was able to fall asleep, resting my head on a pillow consisting of three yellow t-shirts Mario gave me from a recent presidential candidate who lost.
We stopped for a late dinner in a town called Los Encuentos, at a little roadside comedor, and then checked into a hotel across the street. Los Encuentros means The Encounters, and is a somewhat shady place. Fortunately, the only encounter I had - besides a four-hour encounter with sleep - was when I closed the door to my room as we prepared to hit the road again, and the pane of glass above the door fell on my head and shattered on the ground. No worries, I sustained no injuries. But for a moment I did feel like a movie star, at Los Encuentros, at three in the morning, sneaking silently away into the night.
I got dropped off at the place I-m staying at 6am, and shortly thereafter enjoyed my first shower in four days. So here I am, plotting the next four days in the city, and somewhat wishing airlines didn-t charge exhorbitant fees to switch to earlier flights. Also, sort of confused as to why this keyboard will not allow me to use apostrophes.
Back to Sipacapa
I´ll try to keep it light after my soapbox earlier today. I am writing from an office at a school in the town of Sipacapa, having spent the day meandering from San Marcos to here. I say meandering because it involved slow roads and several stops along the way. We stopped at Tres Cruces, the village we lived in for many years, which is the village in the photo in the letter I sent out prior to the trip. Our home, an adobe building with a tin roof, had been a one-room schoolhouse before our time, and as it happens, it's a school again, this time for kindergarteners. The teacher unlocked it and let me in to have a look and take some photos. Apart from several new buildings in the village, electricity and running water, and serious road work underway out front (pavement, yeehaw!), the place took me right back to our days living there.
We visited Mario's mother, and I gave her copies of a couple of photos, including one of me with her family, taken probably twenty years ago. Mom, Dad, and Josh - she sends her greetings. Heidi - sorry, she doesn't remember you as well.
Continuing on our way we took a slightly out-of-the-way route, which circled part of the mine from a distance, so I got out a few times and snapped some photos. Upon arrival in the town of Sipacapa we went to the municipal building and up to the mayor's office where the city council was in session. We took a seat in the back, but when the first matter of business was concluded, the mayor held out his hand and said, ¨Timo!¨ I said hello, and then it became clear that I was to go take a seat at the front of the room and speak with him. I hadn't planned on speaking in front of city council, but it's Latin America, so you roll with the punches. The mayor said he remembered my family and me from back in the day, and I told him what I hope to accomplish and that while I'm here to listen to their stories, I'm also here because the mine and the community of Sipacapa are part of my own story. He said it was an honor to have me visiting again, and I thanked him.
Then they passed out bottles of soda, and I chose Tiky, a super-sweet pineapple drink. As I sipped on it I thought back to what was probably the last time I had Tiky - a school party in the eighth grade when I brought a two-liter of it, banking on the fact that no one else would want any. I was right, and I was subsequently sick to the stomach. But today that bottle hit the spot.
I appreciate your continuing prayer as tomorrow is a big day for interviews, Lord willing.
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