Adopt-a-Village in Guatemala

The heavy fog has enshrouded the rainforest and neither moonlight nor the firefly’s intermittent flicker can pierce the obscurity.  It’s pitch black.  I awaken in the unfinished cabin, a small and simple abode elevated high off the ground to instil the sense of living in a tree house.  For all the years I have slept here, it remains without doors and windows, so pure fresh air is my companion of the night.  I look at my watch…4:30 a.m.  Slowly waking, I realize that our resident jaguar is likely still hunting and it will be another half an hour before the playful paxas (pashas) announce the break of day. 

The Mayan paxa is perhaps my favorite bird, not for his beauty, as he only sports black plumage and resembles nothing more than a lowly chicken.  He can hardly be admired for his melodic song either, because he has none.  Rather, he is held in awe for his thrilling aerial antics.  This is the bird that announces dawn and this is the bird that bids farewell to the day with as much gusto and style as any high diving pilot performing in a July 4th air exhibition.  The paxa introduces his show with a loud rifle-like crack immediately followed with the staccato rat-tat-tat of a New Year’s Eve noisemaker, then gleefully executes his high dives and swoops with a pretentious air.  More than once, as he mischievously zooms through my open porch, his din has knocked me out of my sleep and almost onto the floor.

However, this morning it is not the paxa that has awakened me, but voices, muted by the morning mist.  Two students have descended the mountain trail, carrying an enormous pot of dough just ground on the motorized corn grinder.  The next sound–firewood being chopped.  And the next–pots rattling.  At the Mayan Center, every student has daily work duty.  These students are on kitchen assignment.  Others, rising later, clean the goat stable, feed and water the chickens and collect eggs.  Yet others clean the school, weed the vegetable garden, or perform one of the more unpalatable tasks, such as scattering odor-killing wood ash down the latrines.

Whereas the Center employs a cook, it’s the students who really make the kitchen hum.  The peel the vegetables, cook the morning atol, (a hot drink made from boiled rice or corn served with sugar and cinnamon), and serve up the food.  But their primary expertise is the complicated task of making 300 corn tortillas every morning.  The first step is to build a hearty fire on the ground outside.  Once hot, the comal (a large flat pan) is set on top of the flames, and the process begins.  A “tortilla work group” usually consists of four students, three boys and one girl.  I would imagine that the girl is present to give the boys faith, as tortilla-making is definitely not on the list of a Mayan’s boy tasks at home.  But they are good natured about it, chattering and joking as one forms the dough into balls, another flattens it in the press, and the third cooks.  And while the tortillas don’t turn out like those that Mom makes, hungry kids devour them nonetheless.

At times, I wonder what they think, working, playing and studying in this remote wilderness.  What would I think, I wondered, if I had had such an opportunity in my youth?  I think I would have loved it.  No standing in line in the hall, military fashion, waiting for the teacher to give the OK order to enter the classroom.  No constant clanging alarms announcing the end of one class and the beginning of another.  No entrapment all day within drably painted cement walls.

The Mayan Center is a unique residential high school set in a magnificent and remote rainforest, designed to provide a perfect environment for serious study.  The students understand why they were chosen for their scholarships–to learn and to become future leaders in their communities.  They take their education to heart, expressing their gratitude not just verbally, but by their enthusiastic participation in all aspects of their studies and maintenance of their school.  Last week, when school director Pedro Sebastian and I were viewing the creative decorations made by the kids and placed in every classroom, he commented, “The students really love their school.”  I mentally added, “and their new friends, their cozy cabins, the fresh mountain air, and the joyful bird songs that waken them every morning.”

Hello again,

On March 8th, when 12 Mayan youths  stepped onto the soccer field at Monte Bello,  even the chatter of the children stopped.  Our Maya Jaguar boys sported white jerseys, black shorts, and white stockings.  Their black hair, cut short, and glistening in the sunlight, gave the final professional touch to their handsome black and white appearance.  No other team at this regional soccer tournament presented themselves so proudly or so well turned out.

Appearance aside, how would our boys do, I asked myself,  given that they had had no time to prepare.  The Mayan Center had received an invitation to participate in the tournament only four days earlier; in the following days it rained ceaselessly, making it impossible to practice.  The second challenge– team members came from many different villages, spoke five different languages, and each one had no way of knowing the style or strategy that the others used.

To be honest, I am best a lukewarm sports enthusiast, but today for  the first time in my life, all that changed.  I stood  there under the cloudless blue sky, as the soft breeze rustled the trees leaves.  The mountains, with their new multi-colored spring tree growth adorned the hillsides.  In this beautiful place of nature,  I looked at the eager and expectant group of kids and all I wanted was to see them WIN!

But as the opposing team stepped onto the field, it became clear that the odds were stacked against our students.  They were to play against a group of well-muscled men from a  seasoned soccer team.

I felt people jostling behind me.  Curious, I turned around to see that onlookers had left their comfortable places on the grass  and began ringing  the edge of the soccer field.  I heard voices murmuring, “Maya Jaguar, Maya Jaguar.”  “How strange, I thought, nobody knows anything about us, but they are repeating our name.”  It quickly became evident that they were rooting for our team!  We were the unknown dark horse and they were betting on the unknown.

Until this day, I had had no idea of the high level of skill it takes to play soccer well.  As the game began, I was astounded with the agility and lightening fast speed of the players.  They performed such feats such as twisting a leg behind and unexpectedly kicking the ball  high in the air and with amazing accuracy.  At one point, the team captain, Gaspar, shot off the ground like a human cannon ball, his head batting the ball with tremendous force across the field.   Manuel, normally our most playful and fun-loving student, turned deadly serious in his offensive moves, blocking, running, kicking the ball.  Without a doubt, he caught the other team off guard with his rapid twists and turns.

And then it happened!  I held my breath.  Antonio, our quiet and solemn boy postioned himself.  Everyone grew silent–the crowd, the opposing team, our kids.  Then–GOAL!  Our spectator students (me, too) screamed, “Maya Jaguar!  Maya Jaguar!  Va a ganar, va a ganar. (Maya Jaguar, Maya Jaguar, is going to win, is going to win).

They had pulled it off!  Twelve students from as many villages,  from  different language groups and cultural norms, had formed  a true unity through their beloved game of soccer!

What a proud day for the Maya Jaguar Center.  And for them.

Frances

Hello,

Yesterday,  I was reading  the course curriculum offered at our Mayan Center (15+ courses) and was reminded that our forestry class will undoubtedly be one of our most important.

Many people do not realize that the destruction of Guatemalan rainforests equals the speed of destruction of the Amazonian forests.  Moreover, the rainforests here are only second in  value to those in the Amazon.   Much has been written about this topic, but progress in stemming the vast denuding of the forests is indeed slow.  The slash and burn method used by the Mayan people is not only used grow their corn crops.  They are used to clear land to grow coffee.  If the coffee crops gave poor peasants  a decent income, one could perhaps find a rationale for this massive cutting of trees.  The fact is, it doesn´t.    Who gains?  The truckers gain.   The fertizer companies gain.   Certainly the coffee brokers gain handsomely.  And the government  fatten their coffers with export taxes.  And the people go hungry.

In my opinion, there exists a great myth in this region of Guatemala.  The government, companies, and nongovernmental organizations,  all urge the people to clear, clear, clear land and plant, plant, plant coffee.   Sometimes the world market price of coffee rises, but with the vast world competition of coffee, more than often, it doesn´t.   The poor campesino loses.

What to do?  The idea that coffee will make a person rich has been deeply embedded in the minds of the small farmers through exhortations over the  decades. Until that mind-set shifts,  forests will continue to fall  at a fast pace.

The thing is, there are options.  I am not saying that such a massive problem can be resolved, but at least it can be dimished.  Start small.  For instance, there is a great population living in 250 villages who spend their hard-earned money to travel to the only town in the region to buy their supplies.  They purchase near-rotting vegetables that have been  trucked in from great distances and sold at sky-high prices.  Why not use some of that precious land to grow vegetables to sell and barter?  Because the people believe there is only one thing to grow.  Coffee.

Secondly, land could be reforested.  New-growth trees have many uses–fuel, building materials, wood products.

These concepts are being put into practice by the Adopt-a-Village Mayan Center through our agricultural and forestry course.   Once students have learned the appropriate skills,  they will fan out to many surrounding villages to introduce and implement these new ideas. As students and sons and daughters of the people themselves, we believe their ideas will not just be accepted, but welcomed.

Adopt-a-Village is seeking funds to support these programs.  If you would like to donate, please go to our “How to Help” page or write to me at guatvillage.com.

I’m off to our mountain-top school.  More news next week.

Frances

Good Morning dear readers,

Yesterday–a cold, rainy day– I left the Mayan Jaguar school, but with happy memories. I remember my last day in class–the air was charged with the  high energy enamating from the students. Putting one of our key concepts in process–that they play an integral pa in the management of the school has sparked a flow of ideas they have been presenting.

The students first request is for a field trip to a volcanic lake situated in a great protected forest, about a two-hour hike from the school. The lake contains freshwater shrimp and the kids hope to make a good catch. The school’s forestry professor will lead the trip, and a local guide will be along to identify birds, trees, and edible plants. The kids plan to bring back some of those plants for their dinner.

I shall to be back in the States by Friday and will be in the office and available for any inquiries before I leave again in two weeks for Guatemala. I look forward to hearing from you.

Frances

Two days ago, I arrived at the school campus just as lunch was breaking up. As the pick-up truck slowed to a stop, one of the students came running down the hill toward us, waving his arms wildly. It was Cesar, easy to identify with his cheeky grin. As I opened the truck door, he was shouting, “Good afternoon! Good afternoon!” And said with hardly a trace of a Spanish accent! Behind him, all the other students lined up to greet me with “Good afternoon,” proud of of their success in learning some basic English over the past few days.

It wasn’t all they had learned. As we met in the school room, I was astonished to hear the student council president report on how the group had organized themselves. Their leadership skills were already in full swing. Luis, a high-energy kid, had prepared a daily task list, jobs that were assigned to each student on a revolving basis. According to the school cook, Luis had taken charge of the kitchen duties, rising before dawn to grind corn for the tortillas, forming the masa in a press, and then cooking and turning the tortillas on the stove. Three others had been assigned to assist him. Others cleaned the chicken coup, gave them an “outing” for a bit to peck at the grasses, and of course collected the fresh eggs . Others chopped wood, cleaned the school, and tended to the goats.

At the meeting, one of the topics turned to food, specifically food that the mountain offered for the taking. The kids rattled off a list of a dozen foods, including greens, root vegetables, and fruits. I could see that it wouldn’t be long before they would be scouting the forest to discover something exotic to add to their diet of beans and tortillas.

Perhaps the best part of all was to hear the pride in their voices as they talked about beautifying their school by planting trees and flowers, removing unsightly stumps and keeping the grass cut. And then, there was sports. Mayan kids love to play soccer, basketball and volley ball. They described how they could make a volleyball net using trees vines. “Just buy us the ball,” pleaded Gaspar, vice-president of the group, we will do the rest.” One volley ball coming up!

Frances

Hello!

Some of you have been waiting anxiously to hear news of the school’s inauguration fiesta. Well! First of all, I have to say I was simply amazed. I knew the kids and the teachers had been working all day to make everything beautiful but I could not have imagined at what they accomplished Multi-colored banners fluttered from center point of the school roof and ended on the ground on four corners. I was reminded one of the “four cardinal points of the earth” which relates back to Mayan mytholodgy. And there, wonders of wonders, appeared a freshly-made wooden stage on the school ground, looking as if it had dropped out of the sky! It too was wonderfully decorated in all colors of the rainbow. On stage, the marimba band had already struck up and would continue to play into the early morning hours.

As we waited for the village dignitaries, the kids and I rushed in to set the tables. All the classroom had been decorated with streamers and paper flowers, and this room was no exception. Bright green and yelow paper covered the tables an it was hard to think there could be a most festive table.

After speeches, everyone happily dug into a meal, a rare treat for our Mayan guests, grilled steak, rice and mountains of tortillas. The marimbistas took a break to eat too, and then played non-stop until three in the morning.

So, it was a grand party and a wonderful beginning to the school work of the next day. (Yes, despite the 3:a.m. closing, the kids really were up bright and early to begin school!

Frances

Hello everyone!

These past few days have been the most exciting that I can remember in AAV’s history!  Our long-held vision is now a reality–our Mayan Center school is in its second day of operation.  Our students are already immersed in classes and projects.  They arrived on a frigid day, and I trekked to the dormitory area with them, anxious to see their reaction to seeing their little cabins.  There was no assigning cabins, not even time to assign!  They ran from cabin to cabin, deciding which one they preferred.  (They are all identical!)  What was surpising to me is that without a couple of minutes, they had paired themselves off (two to a cabin).  Inside they found the solar lights that had been installed the day before by volunteers from Florida, their cots, small study tables and chair.

The next morning, the sun was shining and their group met outside under the trees.  Thirty-five percent of the students are girls, a much higher percentage than I had hoped for.  And most striking was their ability to voice their thoughts and opinions in the meeting.  They were considerably more vocal than the boys.  Before I arrived to join them, two students had taken the lead in planning their first work project.  (Every student is responsible for two hours a day in maintence, i.e., making tortillas, tending the chickens, cutting firewood).  For each task, there were ready volunteers.

It was a grand first day.  I tried to imagine what they were thinking.  What would I be thinking at the age of 15 to find myself on top of a remote mountain, keeping warm in a small cabin, trekking down the mountainside the rustic kitchen for hot tortillas and beans.  One of the girls related, “I woke up in the morning, not realizing where I was.  I looked outside to see the circle of cabins and to hear the birds singing, and I was so glad to be here!”

–Frances

Hello again,

On Tuesday morning, not long after dawn, a shivering group of students and parents arrived at our home base in Quetzali.   A meeting had been planned to give further information on our educational programs, and to provide time for the parents to give their children a last goodbye.  As I explained the school’s philosophy, I was struck at how eager the parents were to comment.  I could see their worries and concerns slipping away, as they related stories of their youth.  Those had been years of severe hardship, of no hope for education, and desperate attempts to escape with their children to Mexico during the war’s massacres of their villages.  Now, they were entrusting their children to us, a major sacrifice in light of how tightly woven family ties are here.  Several parents insisted on accompanying their children to the Mayan Center.  There simply was not enough room to transport all the students plus parents in one pick-up truck. It didn’t matter, they were deetermined to see where we were taking their children.  As luck would have it, we found a second vehicle, and we all set off.  It struck me how caring and protective the parents were toward their children.  Upon inspecting the school and dormitory cabins, their relief was obvious and they left with the promise to see their children again at the inauguration on Sunday.

More to come another day!
Frances