T.S. Tuesday: A Taste of Home
"Home is where one starts from." East Coker, Four Quartets, T.S. Eliot
This week I had a taste of home. My family, complete with corny dad jokes, freckles, and an abundance of luggage, visited me here in Guatemala. And. it. was. so. GOOD.
Home for me is not a place, but people. The people who have seen all of my ugly and love me anyways. The people who laugh and cry and share life with me. And I was gifted with the opportunity to share a week with four of these people, the people who carry my heart, and give them a taste of the beautiful city and country where I'm learning to make a new home.We laughed, we cried, we ate tortillas, we haggled and we got ripped off. I got to be a tourist in my own town and was pleasantly surprised to see how much I've learned and grown in the past nine months. But mostly, we had a heck of a lot of fun. We laughed at my dad attempting to speak Spanish (to his defense, he studied French in high school). We hobbled over the cobblestones of Antigua. We just so happened to run into ten of my closest friends around town. We bought art from my friend, Joel, handmade boots from my friend, Elio, and chocolate from my friend, Pablo. We hiked, a lot. We hiked to the top of the Cross, to the office where I work, to a magnificent lakeside getaway carved into the side of a cliff at Lake Atitlan. We kayaked across the smooth as glass water to splash upon a lakeside worship service and baptism. We dipped in a hot tub heated with a wood stove. We rode in the back of pick up truck with 15 Guatemalans and sped across the lake in a water taxi regrettably named, Titanic. We were welcomed into the home of my friends and coworkers. We almost witnessed my brother knock down a tiny salsa instructor in one fell swoop because he was dancing "too sexy" with me.It was glorious.I was reminded of the beauty all around me here and the beauty in the part of me that still aches for home.But I am here. I am whole. The missing and the aching is a sign that I am whole, not that I am part, or less than. It is a testament to the goodness of the community I left and to which I will return. It's rare, this type of community, the home I have with my real family and the "family" of friends and sisters who have welcomed me back in San Diego. And I long for it, ache for it with all of my being.But I remind myself, I am here. I am whole. Today I am stopping to see the grace. What grace it is that I am here. That I've learned to navigate a new city and a new country. That I'm learning still how to love and connect and engage with people across cultures, with people who are very different from me.And thankfulness rises.In a town where I can't make it to the park without greeting someone I know, but have an exceedingly short list of friends I could really count on when things get tough, it was a refresher for my soul to be with the people who have loved me for a long time and will continue to love me for a long time still. Thank you for the taste of home, of where I started from, and the reminder that ALL IS GRACE.Here are some of my favorite photos from the trip:
Don't you want to come visit, too?!
No Victory In Violence
“I object to violence because when it appears to do good, the good is only temporary; the evil it does is permanent.” Gandhi
Today is the 65th anniversary of Gandhi’s death. Today I reflect on his wisdom, his compassion, his faithfulness, and the mighty works he accomplished through nonviolence.Sixty-five years and a hemisphere away in Guatemala, violence is all around. I usually use this space on my blog to point out hope and to look for the good.But there are some realities that I just can’t call good.Guatemala boasts one of the highest murder rates in the world. The daily newspaper reports gang murders, domestic violence, a disturbingly, heartbreakingly high rate of sexual abuse, child abuse, theft, and corruption. The translation app on my phone is riddled with the Spanish equivalents for kidnapping, embezzlement, armored cars, trial, conviction, and even dereliction of duty—all words I never learned in my college Spanish classes.The newest word in my collection: genocidio, genocide. Just this week, it was announced that “Rios Montt, the former dictator, and his intelligence chief [will] stand trial on charges of genocide and crimes against humanity in connection with the massacres of villagers in remote highlands three decades ago.” (read the full article here)The reaction to this news from my Guatemalan and expat friends has been surprisingly mixed. A woman in my friend's Bible study stated that maybe God will save Rios Montt because he’s a Christian and because he kept Guatemala out of the hands of communists. Then I have friends who cheer the trial as a victory for justice. And then there are those who think the trial is too little, too late, a weak attempt at justice, an affront to those who suffered unspeakable violence.I wasn’t in the States for the most recent presidential election, but my Facebook feed provided enough dogma from all political sides to make my head spin. It’s strange to find myself caught in the middle of opposing ideologies in a foreign culture, as an outsider. My head’s still spinning, and my heart still hurts for the people caught in the middle of the arguments, the ideology, and the violence—both structural and physical—that is employed in the name of these ideals.I'm learning more and more how much I disagree with using violence as a means to an end, even if I agree with the end. Here in Guatemala it’s easy to see the damage that violence has caused and continues to cause, the evil that perpetuates and permeates.Gandhi wrote, "What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or the holy name of liberty or democracy?"A couple of months ago I visited the Maya Ixil (ee-sheel) area, where many of the acts of genocide Rios Montt is being charged with occurred. Throughout the late 70s and early 80s they lost an estimated one fifth of their population. They found themselves caught between the military fighting a war on communism and the guerrillas waging a revolution against an oppressive regime.
As I think of the homes that burned down. The fathers and brothers and sons that were disappeared. The land that was destroyed. The families divided. The children that grew up fatherless, with even less opportunities to thrive than their ancestors, and the single mothers left to raise them. As I think of all these people caught in the violence, the lyrics of a Mason Jennings song echoes in my mind, echoes Gandhi’s sentiments:"I don't want no victory, I just want you back." Mason Jennings, The Field.This isn’t meant to be a political post or commentary, but a place to process. A space to grieve the pain and loss of my Guatemalan friends, spoken and unspoken, often buried way down deep. A moment to place my heart with them, knowing full well that I can’t ever really understand what they went through or even begin to sort through my own country’s complicity in the physical and structural violence, both during the war and now.Today, 65 years after his death, I want to celebrate the wisdom of Gandhi’s assessment that “An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind” and to mourn the parts of this beautiful culture that are crippled and blinded by the legacy of violence.***If you’re interested in learning more about Guatemalan history and the armed conflict, I highly recommend Tomas Guzaro and Terri Jacob McCombs book, Escaping the Fire.For up-to-date Guatemalan news and tidbits, I recommend the Roots and Wings International blog. They highlight innovative and inspiring projects throughout Guatemala, as well as discuss pertinent development and justice issues.To read more hopeful or entertaining posts on Guatemalan culture, check out these past posts:
What's Better Than Holding Foreign Babies?
Forget holding foreign babies, I have finally stumbled upon my most favorite volunteer activity. In fact, I enjoy it so much I almost wonder if I should be the one paying them to do it.
It shouldn't come as a surprise that my ideal service opportunity is what I do everyday here on this blog.
My happy helping? Blogging,what else?
I am proud to say I am officially a volunteer blogger for an organization based here in Guatemala called Roots and Wings International (RWI). RWI works in the very poor, very rural area of Nahuala, Solola, approximately 3.5 hours southwest of Guatemala City.
RWI creates educational opportunities to promote development as defined by the local communities themselves. RWI's work is rooted in recognizing the importance of culturally responsive education that empowers students to connect their cultural identity with sustainable social and economic development.
Winner.
I love the fact that they utilize all local staff from the communities where they work. Education is a major problem here in Guatemala and I am happy to use my words, my experiences in Central America, and my love of blogging to promote RWI’s programs and fundraising initiatives and raise awareness about development issues in Guatemala.
Learn how they're changing lives through education on their website and check out their blog and my first post, Seeking bright spots in Guatemala.