See us in Santa Cruz this weekend!

We are on our usual whirlwind tour from one town in California to another to give benefit events/painting expositions for our project, Ayudame (www.paintmyfuture.info).   Next stop Santa Cruz - this coming weekend, May 25-26th, 2013.  The exposition and sale will be at the First Congregational Church, 900 High St. from 2-6:30 each day.  Psychologist Barbara Rogoff will be there to speak about her book, Developing Destines; a Mayan midwife and town, at about 3:30.   Jose Antonio Mendez Chavajay, director and primary teacher for Ayudame will talk about painting in the Tz'utujil tradition and our advanced students, who will be featured in the exposition.

Handout or Handup?

I had an nteresting discussion today with a local man about the concept of "giving to the poor" and dependency....a man who does a lot for his community.    The discussion of course goes - if you give people something they become dependent on a handout, they don't make effort for themselves, it encourages their dependency and slothfulness.

"What about the woman and children who suffer if the man of the household doesn't pull his weight - through absence, alcoholism, inability to hold a job?" 

"Well," he said, "she should leave him.  She is complicit if she stays with him." 

Oh - as a long time psychotherapist and case-worker - that brings up a mountain of explanations about a woman's perceived role (especially in this culture), absence of resources (especially if she doesn't have available extended family), the psychology of a woman abused or neglected in childhood and her perception of her worth and capability, and how a woman of any culture or ability stays "hooked" on a man who abuses or neglects her (another mountain of stories both famous and obscure come to mind). 

The story we are talking about is a woman in our project with two small children - intense, anxious, troublesome, emotional 7 y.o. Felipe, and his overly-quiet 4 year old sister.  They live in a dump.  The worst house (that I wouldn't let a good horse live in) of all the substandard houses of families in our project.  The mother speaks very little Spanish, doesn't read or write, works weaving small belts for which she receives the equivalent of $2.  They probably take 2 days to make.   The mom has a quick pleading smile, if you can get her to smile.   

I met the father once...when he came to the house while we were initiating tutoring (sitting outside on a stump with a piece of plywood to write on).  Felipe shrunk when his father came close.   The man wanted to impress me with what he knew but he criticized the work Felipe was doing.   This father is a drunk and violent, by reputation.  He is said to have torn the eyes out of another man.   That's violent.

I want Felipe to have a chance in our project.  I want them to have enough food to eat.  I want Felipe to go to school and have opportunities in the future.   He was a very troublesome kid when he first came to class - always bothering the other kids and getting them to react to him (usually hitting.)   I took him on - sticking with him during class, standing behind him and tapping his shoulders alternately when we stood in circle (a calming device, but also affection).  He has calmed and integrated more. He likes drawing and is getting better.   He also comes to me for touch.

The man I was speaking to - on this day when he came as part of a TV crew to interview our painters - said (in response to my question whether they could help with this woman's house since they actually pitch in an building one-room houses for desperate families) that noone would be willing to help them, because this man has land, and yet he has robbed so many people in town at one time or another.  "She could leave him," he repeated.  "She is complicit."

I ended up feeling it was in some ways an exchange of male/female points of view - his focussed on the father of the family who isn't executing his responsibilities and not wanting to aid and abet; mine focussed on the woman and children, who suffer therefrom, wanting to be sure they have enough to eat and are in school....wanting them to feel cared about.

Semana Santa in San Pedro 2013

six am street in San Pedro - waiting for the procession

Some alfombras (carpets) have messages

Ingenious use of a wooden husk, painted, the hairy bark, and another plant for spines

watermelon holding candle

carved watermelon, banana plant part in the foreground

Just pure beauty - all plant and fruit parts

They work all night to makes these (hull of porosa plant in the foreground)

carved watermelon (Christ's "initials")

the second anda comes down the steps toward the first carpet

they work all night - this is dyed sawdust

the acolytes and first steps onto the first alfombra

here comes the procession

ahead of the procession

orange halves make flowers

the little boys follow the procession and slip under the anda to help carry

the men help the woman to carry the first anda

Not an easy job - a "sacrifice" for their faith

you see the dyed sawdust carpets more in other pueblos - they use purchased or home-made 

templates

oranges!

carrots, oranges, and skillfully folded leaves

the front of the procession - the woman, and the men carrying paintings

the different mens and womens groups linethe streets on each side of the alfombras

after the mens and womens groups, the acolytes and then the andas

the second anda, with the Christ figure

a solemn occasion

any beautiful thing

People work all night only to have the carpet destroyed when the andas pass - "that's the sacrifice"

a little tired

filling the template

women carrying the first anda across the first alfombra

Somehow the fotos I wanted from the last post didn't attach themselves. I will try again. The first is the entrance to my house-to-be, the second our student Maria (16), painting. The third is the head teacher of our project, Chepe or Jose Mendez, teaching a class in drawing. To see the Ayudame website, please go to www.paintmyfuture.info

It has been way too long since I have posted here. It is now January of 2013 and I have been living in Guatemala for 6 years and 4 months, in San Pedro la Laguna for nearly five years. And I have finally bit the bullet - buying a piece of property and subsequently starting a house. I asked myself sometime last year (since I'm now 77 years old) What do I want to do with the rest of my life?? Since I've been a gardener, homesteader or farmer since 1966 (part of the Back to the Land movement at that time)the answer came pretty quickly: I want to build something, I want to create in and with the earth. So with some sadness and trepidation I took the money that was intended for my old age and then my children's inheritance, and plunked it down - probably paying too much for 1/4 Acre (nearly $22,000) but hopefully my house - which is colonial style and should be beautiful when finished - will come in about the same. NOT bad, all told. But money isn't the point: the point is to live in a place I love for my coming years, and slowly (maybe really slowly) landscape it into a place of function and beauty. My concept is Edible Landscaping. I want most of the garden to be terraces (since it's on a slope) of fruits, veggies and herbs. This will be easier because you can garden year-round. There should be few dry or dead spots at any time of year, but of course the challenge will be making all of it look and smell wonderful. Following my friend Huck Rorick's example, I want the path to the house lined with herbs....lavendar, rosemary, mint, etc. All plants that smell good. That smell of life and the earth. There will be a lot of sun in front of the house and a lot in one part of the upper garden...so those will be planted with the sun and warmth-lovers...strawberries along the edge of the patio, (the someday-stone-patio) zucchini and tomatoes up in the sunniest spot (they are prone to mildew in the humidity of this lake area.) That's the dream. I go up to the property from the place I'm staying til it's done and just sit or stand around. I just like being there. Meanwhile the project Ayudame a Pintar Mi Futuro continues to grow. We've been working on our communal garden, thanks to money from the Marigold Ideas for Good foundation; we are thus employing some of our day-worker fathers and their older sons to do the heavy rock-moving, stump-removing, fence-building hard work of terracing and putting in a fence and water system. Then the families who are truly interested will divide up the plots and use our provided seed to start their gardens. After this, their work will be done voluntarily and the group will decide how to divide and perhaps market the proceeds. I am interested in better nutrition for the families, and insistent about doing this organically, but the parents (after a visit to the local permaculture farm with my friend Lynn Renn from Sebastopol) are getting on board with that. They are definitely excited to have plots of their own. Our Saturday classes continue, now with some 32 kids in attendance each week, and the moms will get a basket of food again this month. Thanks to donations via indiegogo.com, we were able to pay for the school expenses of our five older kids who take private classes beyond the Saturday group class. We helped with this, this year, because we recognized how hard it is for poor kids to afford the fees in the equivalent, here, of junior high and high school. We lost one good painter to the lure of work for cash, instead of school, and became aware of the danger. our

Shamanes and curanderos

I apparently haven't written about the use of shamen and healers in San Pedro la Laguna, Guatemala, which is a tradition very much alive and well even tho Evangelicism has a such a strong hold (Catholicism has embraced Mayan traditional activities much more than the Evangelical churches, who even generally supported the army in their war against the indigenous in the 80s.)

My friend Jose's wife Micaela broke her ankle the day before Christmas. The family immediately called a woman curandera, a bone-healer. You can read about them on the ArteMaya.com website, but usually they are known to be healers from birth but don't start working as a healer until they find their curing bone, which calls or reveals itself to them in one way or another at some point in their 20s or 30s.

So this woman rubs the bone on the affected area (which can be very painful) until the broken bones are aligned, rubs the area with a pomade (don't know what's in it) and wraps it. There is no burning of candles or incense during this treatment, which is not regarded as a ceremony in that sense.

In the case of an accident like this, or when their little niece fell in the street and couldn't sleep the next night, or when Jose's son Lucas hurt himself badly falling from a flag pole, a shaman will also be called for the Traida de la Alma ceremony (depicted in one of Jose's paintings....see www.paintmyfuture.org)
This person lights candles and incense, prays, and then taking his small whip, goes to the site of the accident, usually with one family member, in the middle of the night as the soul is thought to be sensitive and easily-distracted or disturbed by street traffic or passersby, and they want it to make its way back to the injured person. At the site of the accidnet the shaman will pray and talk to the soul, reminding it of all the things it misses in the life of the person, and encouraging it to return. The whip is then used to beat the path behind the soul as it returns to the person's home, where the injured person waits, often asleep. When they wake they are predictably thirsty, as the soul hasn't drunk water in a long time.

With that piece of the soul returned to the body, the person usually sleeps well, becomes less anxious, and the body recuperates more quickly.

On this occasion, a woman shaman did the ceremony in the house (I heard of this in the case of the litle girl who fell, as well) and she simply symbolized the route from the place where Micaela fell with a line of candles, and did the same action along the line of candles, bringing the soul home.

In this case, neither of these - treatment or ceremony - seemed to work....Micaela was still in a lot of pain, and couldn't sleep or tend her home (which was lucky for me because I got to become part of the family for a few days, preparing food, cooking, and cleaning,)

So yesterday a different bone healer was called, and when the medical doctor (family friend) came to visit in the evening he prounced the bone in place and beginning to heal. The family also had a male shaman come and he did the whole ceremony from the point of fall. Today she is remarkably better.

It was interesting to me to watch Jose take over many of her tasks --cooking, sweeping the floor, cleaning the bathroom and so on, even buying stuff in the mercado in the mornings with all the women lined up to select and bargain, When she's able I've rarely seen him do any of these things. However her mother and two sisters who live next door on either side also help. Wonderful for me to see the family cooperation and fun.

Unfortunately no fotos to add to this story.

Guate funeral

Seven children; 69 grand and great-grand children. Died in his home in the midst of his family at the age of 95. Carried to the church for the last time in the hands of his son and grandsons, and then to the cemetary.

There were a lot of Tz'utujil words about his life, (this grandfather of my friend Jose) but I only got that he was a farmer and businessman - he and his brothers had the first buses on the new highway from San Pedro la Laguna to Guatemala City in 1957.

The sign carried by the children in the front of the procession from the church to the cemetary, said: "Little Grandfather (Abuelito) your grandchildren and greatgrandchildren love you, we will remember you forever. and your example will serve us well.. May God hold you in his Glory."

Evidently the grandfather was an important figure in the community, and thus the 200 or so people in his funeral procession. He was originally a trader in produce, his own and others, I presume - walking from San Pedro to the coast to sell, in 1935. He had the very first "molino" or corn grinder in the pueblo (thus reducing the amount of work each woman had to do to make tortillas.) The family still has this grinder. As I said above, he was one of the brothers who began the Mendez transportation business (a lot of old US school buses, now called "chicken-buses" by the foreigners, but which provided connection between the pueblos and to the Capital.) He was also a "pillar" of his church.

Taa' Menchu - Taa' means "elder" and Menchu indicates that his family first came to San Pedro from Totonicapan.

The family then observed the traditional (in this area) novenario, 9 days of mourning, serving some 200 people a day with a meal, and on the 9th day 1000 people.
Jose had to go pick up 300 live chickens to take to the 35 women of the family whom together will produce this meal.
Then the family continues for the next 40 days to spend a lot of meals with the bereaved grandmother.
I am impressed. SO much work and money spent, so much time together to help this close family through the transition.

Children of Guatemala

THE CHILDREN OF GUATEMALA
As I sat in the park in Antigua Guatemala, my first week as a Spanish student there, a boy of perhaps six came up to me with a shy expression and a wooden box to put my shoe on so he could shine it. He said something I didn’t understand and gestured at my shoes…I shook my head and indicated that they weren’t made to be shined. He looked at them dubiously for a moment and then wandered away, eyeing the shoes of each person sitting on the stone benches (old men, family groups, couples, and the occasional single person like me) as he passed.
A young boy about his age caught his eye. This boy was dressed in suit-pants and a white buttoned shirt; his hair combed back. He was with his family, and his father was blowing bubbles for him from a small bottle in his hand. The boy was shouting with delight and rushing back and forth to chase each new bubble. The shoe-shine boy paused for 4-5 minutes--watching the boy’s pleasure, perhaps; noting the interaction between father and child. Then he hitched the strap of his box up higher on his shoulder, as if suddenly remembering his responsibilities, and moved on down the path.
This was one of the first things that struck me about Guatemala: the old people working—firewood or bags of rocks strapped to their backs; pushing huge vending carts up the cobblestone streets, and children working--selling newspapers, fountain pens with your name on them, and picture cards, or shining shoes. Some of these children are working with or for their mothers, vending textiles, or begging with a bowl on one side of the street while mom sits on the other. But many are by themselves at 5, 6, 7 years old in a reasonably big city.
Children working became even more evident when I moved to a rural pueblo at the side of Lake Atitlan. But here it was more often with the family and not necessarily for money (though at the dock in Santiago you will be set upon by dozens of children vending bracelets, key rings, and other crafts items...and occasionally begging.) In both San Pedro, where I’ve lived for three years, and San Pablo, where I volunteer in the school, the children work for family – carrying corn to be ground, food purchases from the store, holding balls of yarn while mama winds them, or holding the homemade tool which twists the maguey twine made in San Pablo while mom plaits the plant fibre into the rope from her position five yards up the street. In San Pablo I saw two boys, perhaps 8 and 10, pulling a huge bull on a rope to tether him in another grassy spot. In slightly more sophisticated San Pedro, I often see a 13 year old carrying a man-size bundle of firewood strapped to his back via the mecapal across his forehead, and know well a 14 year old who helps his father get a pig on a table to slit its throat. The families I know think nothing of asking their children of all ages to drop what they’re doing and run to the store for them, and I never hear a “thank you” for their efforts. It is simply accepted that children help their parents as part of being in a family…just as their parents once did.
Another immediately-notable thing about Guatemalan children is the respect and affection they evidence for their parents and their elders in general. Fifteen-year-old young men walk with their arms around the shoulders of their much smaller mothers. And when I first arrived in San Pedro, I noticed a line of 3-4 adolescent boys lined up to kiss the hand of an old man, an elder, sitting on the side of the street. There is also enormous familial affection, evidenced everywhere: young brothers and sisters walk holding hands; a teen-age boy cares for his much younger brother, holding him on his shoulders, or by the hand. All of this is almost too common to mention, but not so common in the U.S. Perhaps this caring is part of the net that makes working with family not only tolerable but enjoyable.
Guatemalan children, especially the poor ones I know, share a bed with brothers and sisters and sometimes parents. Hand-me-downs from older sibs is the norm. Few have toys, certainly not more than one or two, and these are also shared. If you give a poor child some food, they will invariably tuck a part of it in some crevice in their clothing for their brother or sister.

In most other respects, of course, they are like children everywhere: curious, inventive, full of energy, fun, and teasing.
I asked a young man of 20--who told me he worked side-by-side with his father in the fields, hoeing corn and whatever else needed doing, from the time he was six or so—how that felt. Was it like drudgery? Did he resent it? Was it in any way fun? (showing my bias by my questions, of course.) He said no, he never resented it; he was proud to work beside his dad. “And there were no diversions or distractions in those days (a mere 14 years ago or less),” he said. “No TV, no video games. We were happy to have something to do and proud to help. It’s a little different, now.”
In this slightly more modern town, affected by much tourism over the past 30 years, things are changing…for children, perhaps more quickly than for anyone else. Plastic toys have arrived in cheap droves….sold in the flung-up booths along the street during the week of Feria. They break quickly, so the cry goes out for more. Many children have at least rudimentary TV channels available in their homes or that of a friend; Hannah Montana items (a lunchbox, backpack, or actual toy!) suggest that you are “in the know,” one of the chosen ones (we can all remember this from our own childhoods.) Envy thrives. Some young girls are now wearing sports clothing, instead of the traditional wrapped skirt, belt and woven blouse.
These are not bad things in themselves, but as young people begin to want things from the wider world (in particular the U.S.) more than they want what their parents have to teach them, as cellphones and IPODs and gameboys become the desirable items and their grandparents know nothing about them, a measure of respect is lost. The sculpted hair of the boys and makeup the young girls want separate them even more from their befuddled grandparents…still immersed in centuries of tradition…and a generation gap ensues. And of course for those families who can afford to send their children to university in the Capital, the children grow away from home. I think that the family net is strong enough here to hold again the stretching of the bonds; I hope that’s true…and that the children of this generation gain more than they lose from all these changes.

Miranda Pope works with preschool children in San Pablo in her project (www.letsbeready.org) and with 5 to 13-year-old children of single mothers in her project in San Pedro la Laguna (www.paintmyfuture.org.)