Volunteer in Guatemala: Valerie’s thoughts on week 2

I can’t say these last couple of weeks have been more of the same…no one day here is ever like the next.  At first I saw this as frustrating and unstructured; now it makes me feel free. Two weekends ago I ventured to Panajachel; my “charter bus” driver dropped me off at a major freeway intersection in a town called Los Encuentros, shouting “Panajachel!” in my direction. (He seemed to assume that with my coloring, I couldn’t possibly be headed anywhere but to this tourist town.) As the bus sped away, I surveyed the scene. It didn’t look like the major bus stop I was told could be found in Los Encuentros. (My surroundings included major freeway, a small tienda selling snacks and drinks, an unenclosed area that looked like a bus stop, and an old school bus that people over the average age of students seemed to be getting into without hesitation.) I asked the man standing outside the school bus whether it was headed to Pana. No. Where was it headed? To Sololá. Was there a direct bus from here to Pana? Yes. At what time? At 12-something, in 90 minutes.  I could wait for that bus here. (I surveyed my surroundings again.) If I took this bus to Sololá now, could I catch a bus from Sololá to Pana? Yes. How long was each bus ride? About 25 minutes each. (I got on the bus, confused by the lack of logic in his suggestions.)

Once I found my hotel in Pana, I relaxed. I found a nice dinner spot, walked around, and bartered for handmade bracelets. This went on until I got scammed by a five-year-old who was trying to sell me unnecessary items. He was relentless, despite my insistence that I didn’t, in fact, NEED a device that would allow me to eat pizza and store my remote control simultaneously (okay—this is a bit of an exaggeration.) I insisted time and time again that though his goods were lovely, I had no need for them. He went in for the kill, telling me he was hungry. (He must have sensed my bleeding heart for small, cute Guatemalan children looking helpless.) I told him again that I didn’t need anything, but that if he was truly hungry, I would buy him some food. He silently marched next to me for the next few blocks….this confused me, until he marched me right up to a local food vendor, mumbling “pollo” under his breath. I sheepishly handed my money over to the vendor, and handed the to-go box full of fried chicken and French fries over to the boy. Naturally, this unusual scene attracted more child vendors—one of whom aggressively demanded I buy her mangoes, and then moved on to demanding pollo. All this eventually lead me back to the safety of my hotel room. I got told by a five-year-old.

After my trip to Pana, I happily ventured back “home” to the Chiantla/Cuchumatanes region (where the children may stare, but will not call you out). Our group of volunteers was greeted last Thursday with Nuevo Progreso’s students yelling, “Gringos!” in an uproar. We sang songs, played games, and caused general havoc for their teachers. The kids tried to teach us Guatemala’s national anthem, I sang parts of ours for them, and our German friend, Clemen, attempted to teach them Germany’s. We met with a women’s group in the Cumbre last week, where Señora Coni spoke about the importance of self-esteem. We are working with the preschoolers at Escuela Cuchumatanes on their colors, shapes, and numbers, as well as general practice of motor skills to prepare them for primary school. The new preschool teacher is encountering some problems with students with separation anxiety…Cicabel, their original teacher, is out on maternity leave for a few weeks. (This has resulted in behavioral issues in one student in particular, who attempted to lock us in the classroom with a padlock last week. He went on to tell us he was sick, and when we tried to walk him home, he ran away from us. We started to run after him, until we realized that all of his neighbors were staring…and how this must have looked.)

Part II coming soon…