Tears and Touch

For the final weeks of my journey in Xela, I work with teen girls at one of Xela's many orphanages.  This particular orphanage has 200 children at the moment.  I was originally planning on working with the infants and toddlers, but when I entered on my day of introduction and saw the faces of the teens, I felt immediately drawn to be by their sides, hear their stories, and support them however they need.  Here is just one example of an experience at the project one day...

...As in any room filled with young women, there are bubbling conversations constantly filling the room.  Giggling is common, as well as cat-fights among the nearly 25 girls who spend their mornings in their confined living space vying for a spot on one of the two couches.  The hum of the television in the background distracts many, but others have secret conversations, practice handshakes, or try out new hair-dos.
I typically circulate around the room spending time with the little groups, making jokes, tickling the younger girls, offering plenty of hugs, and lending a listening ear when needed.  On this particular circulation, I noticed one of the girls with whom I have become particularly close taking a nap on a lower bunk.  I was about to silently slip by her when I noticed her shoulders shaking...and then the faintest sound of a stifled sob.
Her story is one that she both shocked and honored me by sharing.  It is one of such horror, that I was amazed at her immediate trust in me and we have become quite close in my short time at the orphanage.
Death, abuse, and neglect have been a constant in her life for many years now.  I have sat with her before as tears have streamed down her face, but today was different.  She seemed utterly depleted, deflated, and at a loss.  I asked her if there was something in particular that was making her upset and she shook her head "no," so I said "is it just everything?", and her body shook violently as new waves of silent sobs wracked through her and she furiously nodded her head "yes."  At that moment, no words would suffice.  She needed what has so long been deprived of her: to feel safe and cared for.  So I held her to me in the gentlest way possible until her sobbing subsided.

So many of our world's children are not listened to, but also are not simply touched in safe, comforting, and secure ways.  Words are not always necessary because pain cannot always be verbally expressed.  I am learning to hold my tongue and look for the nonverbal needs of others, so that I can more fully understand the needs of humanity and the pain that we universally experience.

Adventure to Lago Atitlan

Lago Atitlan

Lago Atitlan is surrounded by three volcanoes, but its history I soon found out, connects these volcanoes in a woven story of Mayan culture, beauty, and wonder.

It's like a dream as you descend into the valley of Lago Atitlan.  The yellow school bus (brought from the US) that we call a "chicken-bus" leaned forward down the steep slopes of the valley dropping us further and further toward the coast of Atitlan as my spirits rose higher and higher...

My friend Sarah (a fellow volunteer) and I leave Xela on the bus for Panajachel at Lago Atitlan on the morning of Saturday, March 15th.  We stock up on packages of deliciously sweet bread and drinks for the 2.5 hour ride through the surrounding highlands with views of pueblos and ciudads, thick and green foliage, steep mountainsides, and volcanoes.  When we arrive in the bustling town of Panajachel, we walk to the docks, knowing that our destination of the town of San Pedro La Laguna is only reachable by una lancha (a small, covered power boat).  Little did we know, we are the final passengers to board this particular lancha and end up sitting on tiny ledges jutting out of the bow of the boat...and so our adventures begin.

...The wind whips through my hair and spray from the lake smacks into my face, eyes, and mouth as I wear a permanent smile.  The lancha picks up speed and Sarah and I, at the bow of the boat, are hoisted into the air almost as if we are flying across the lake.  My head snaps in every direction trying to take in the absolute wonder of the beauty surrounding me...it's as if an artist's vision has come to life looking at the steep mountainsides and volcanoes falling straight into the water's depths.  We hit choppy waters as the wind whips across the lake's surface and Sarah and I are thrown into the air, only to land with harsh thuds back on our tiny perches.  We laugh through the first of these many jolts, secretly hoping not to get thrown overboard.  I reach my hand down and feel the spray of water drench my hand.  Within about 20 minutes, we are slowing and approaching a town that crawls up a hillside, is filled with color, and has the backdrop of the looming volcano San Pedro.

On la lancha!

Pulling into San Pedro's dock

San Pedro La Laguna, we quickly learn as we jump off our bumpy lancha ride (wind-blasted, and slightly wobbly!) is a Mayan town with a large population of "hippies."  A walk up a steep cobblestone street leads us to the "main street" of the town and Sarah and I are struck by the many jewelry makers working their crafts on the streets, the vibrant colors of the Mayan outfits (I notice their differences to those of the Mayans in Xela), and we turn around to see the beauty of Lago Atitlan with a promise to each other that before we leave, we will swim in its waters.
After a check-in at our hostel, we go exploring through San Pedro.  We keep walking upwards and eventually find a giant Baptist church with spiraling stairs to an outlook over Atitlan.  Our breath is taken away.  From the top, we have a 360 degree view of San Pedro, the mountain known as Indian Nose (it looks like a Mayan chief's profile as if he were lying on his back), and the immense size of the lake.

Indian Nose Mountain (See the profile?)

We journey further and cover the whole town within about 30 minutes and wiggle our way back to the main street near our hostel.  Over delicious nachos and fresh avocado we decide that the next morning we will go horse-back riding, and after speaking with a guide, Sarah and I agree upon large horses on which we can gallop...and so the adventure continues.
Sunday morning at 8am, we meet our trail guide, Francisco, and three horses, Canela (Cinnamon) for Sarah, Chocolate for me, and Tequila for Francisco, and begin our journey.  We ride through the streets of San Pedro, then into the wilderness for 3 hours stopping at miradors (lookouts), a finca (coffee plantation, and a playa (beach) where Francisco gives me and Sarah each pieces of volcanic pumice rock.

Volcanic pumice stone on the shores of Atitlan

Sarah and me on Canela y Chocolate!

On our return we let our horses start into a trot, and then into full on gallops.  Sarah and I are grinning ear to ear as we first gallop down dirt paths, then into the streets of San Pedro, our guide laughing in awe behind us!  Several times we look at each other and kick Canela and Chocolate back up into full gear feeling the exhilaration of the roaring wind and the power of the massive animals.  When we finally return to our starting point, Sarah and I are dusty, sweaty, and pumped with adrenaline.  Now it is time to swim in Atitlan.
We return to our hostel, throw on our bathing suits, and walk down to several rocks at the water's edge (in our bare feet).  We find a sheer cliff of rock, and I ask a local rowing a nearby boat if it is safe to jump in...he responds "si!"  We strip down to our suits, psych ourselves up and suddenly we're in the air free-falling towards the lake when a surging splash of water engulfs us.  Sarah and I rise to the surface laughing and elated.  We climb out and go again; this time swimming out further to get a view of the lake.  Such beauty...
A quick shower, change of clothes, an extremely choppy boat ride and two buses later, we were back in Xela, exhausted, but marveling at our adventure.

The coolest thing I learned about Atitlan?  In 1996, archeologists found an ancient Mayan city on the bottom of the middle of the lake about 32 meters below the surface.  This seems to prove the geological theory that this area had once been a gargantuan volcano (with a Mayan city on it's mountainside) that collapsed in on itself.  Following this collapse, it is told, were 6-months of rain, filling the giant hole that had been created.  As every year passes, a new rainy season arrives, and Lago Atitlan rises.  So, the three surrounding volcanoes were actually once part of this enormous collapsed volcano?  Guatemala never ceases to make me wonder, mind, body, and soul.

A Mayan Wedding

When I first met 17-year old Marina, she impressed me as a mature and slightly rebellious Mayan seeping with genuine sweetness and smiles.  She would appear around lunch time at Hogar Comunitario in her jeans and t-shirt quite unlike the many other young women her age in the community of Llanos del Pinal who had begun wearing their Mayan traje (traditional garb) at around age 10.
Marina and I quickly became friends and she and her sister Brenda would sit with me as I waited for the bus in the afternoons after work and we would talk about all sorts of things, including Marina's 20-year old boyfriend Fluvio.  Soon, I would find out that my playful, spirited, and wonderfully innocent new friend was engaged to be married to Fluvio in less than a month.  I also found out that she was the daughter of Felipa's sister.
Marina or "Mari" as we both call ourselves joined the Hogar Comunitario crew when I took them on a day of relaxation to the volcanic hot springs.  It was on this day that it was decided by Felipa, that I was invited to the Mayan wedding ceremony.  Marina was thrilled, as was I!
As the wedding approached, Marina became noticeably more nervous and excited, as would any bride-to-be.  Nearly ever day we spoke about the wedding plans and she would get calls from Fluvio and speak in the sweetest of voices with a huge grin on her face to the delight of everyone in the room.  There also began talk of what I was to wear to the wedding...Mayan traje of course...which I just so happen NOT to own...and is rather expensive.  So, Felipa took it upon herself during work one day to take me into her room and dress me in one of her own outfits!  I went out into the play area and the children were laughing and giggling.  Of course, being 5'11'', the skirt wasn't exactly long enough, but Felipa made an executive decision that I would wear her traje to the wedding and she would lower the hem before the ceremony!  How exciting!!
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The Day of the Wedding

Marina and Fluvio in front of El Calvario

On the morning of the wedding, I awoke at 4:45am, caught a bus to Hogar Comunitario, arrived there at 6:00am, was dressed in my traje by Felipa, and hopped on a bus back to Xela for the ceremony occurring one minute from my house at iglesia El Calvario!  I met my friend Frank (another volunteer, from Holland) whom I had invited to the wedding and I just caught the couple exiting the church.  Marina caught my eye a few minutes later as she was standing in a greeting line and ran over to hug me.  She was a vision in silver-threaded traje, her dark hair platted and pulled up into a white veil that flowed down her back.  She said "I thought you wouldn't come!!."  I gave her a huge hug and of course complimented her stunning beauty and then asked how she was doing.  Her only response being "I'm so nervous" before her new husband Fluvio was ushered over for photos.

With Marina and Fluvio at El Calvario

After the ceremony at El Calvario, a hired bus took the wedding-goers on the bumpy ride back out to Llanos del Pinal to Marina's family's home.  We followed a pine-needle covered path into a large pine-needle covered dirt-floored room in their home used for special occasions, and the true Mayan traditions began.
Marina and Fluvio knelt as they were blessed by their family and friends in front of an altar.  Then came Guatemala's version of tequila, "Quetzalteca," plate-fulls of banana-leaf wrapped tomales, Mayan traditional dancing, a presentation of gifts to the couple, and many cakes.

Felipa blessing Marina and Fluvio in front of the altar

My huge plate of tomales!

What an honor to be invited to such an intimate day in a culture that was completely foreign to me only several weeks before.  When observed with a keen eye, culture and all of its intricacies is infinitely stunning and that is clearly evident in Mayan culture.  I am humbled to have taken part in such a day of color, celebration, joy, blessings, and love.

The couple's first dance