changes come...

It is about time to share with you all the changes that have been brewing for us the last few weeks.  The decisions we've made represent weeks of thought, prayer, and conversation, which for the sake of distance we haven't been able to share with all of you.  But the end result is that the plan for our time in Guatemala has changed.  Many of you asked when we left how long we would be here, what we were doing, and received the fairly vague reply that was as much as we knew from that vantage point.

Several weeks ago, some work opportunities came up for Steven in Montana, starting a process of re-evaluation for us.  In the end, we realized several things - we came to Guatemala for me to do fieldwork and a project for Agros, not because this is where we eventually want to call home.  We decided that for the longer vision of life we have, it would be best if Steven did not lose another season of work in the mountains of Montana...and in general he has been too long away from that home.  After a supportive response from Agros, we decided that we would shorten our time here so that I could accomplish the fieldwork for my project, but that I could then return to the states to complete the analysis and writing of the report for Agros and be near my husband for the summer months.

So...Steven is returning stateside this week to begin preparations for the summer season.  You might see him for a brief second in Seattle, but mostly he will be in Western Montana.  I'll be here in the Ixil a bit longer to finish interviews before returning to live in Whitefish with Steven for the summer.  In some ways these are big changes from our initial vision, yet in other ways we feel like this reshaping of our time here in Guatemala flows clearly with the rest of our life.  If you want to explore the wildlands of Western Montana this summer, or join me in a little home in Whitefish for writing days, we'd love to see you...

the village

Her hands smoothly spread the corn masa into the big leaves, preparing the traditional boxbole.  Her aunt stirred the coffee beans that roasted on the iron grate above the fire.  As a younger member of the communal bank, her ideas came quietly, but they were strong.  The pigs and chickens that she had bought with her loan were clearly a source of pride.  We spent an hour on little wooden chairs in her kitchen, but the whole time my questions and Steven’s camera didn’t pause her work.

“Why are you coming here to talk to us?” one woman asked.  “Well,” I said, “I think because many of the women here don’t speak Spanish, sometimes the men speak more, and Agros doesn’t get to hear your ideas.  I think it is important to know what you think about the projects and your lives here, so I’ve come to talk with you.”  My guess at the lack of voice for women here must have resonated, because with this vision Catarina, a community leader and our translator into Ixil, became my emissary, just as passionate about this project as I was.  She guided us from house to house, explaining at each doorway that we had come to do interviews and may we have a few minutes to sit with them?  She shared this idea with each woman, and they nodded in agreement. 

We had arrived in the village a few days before.  After eight weeks of preparations - visiting villages, adjusting my project design, and preparing interviews – Steven and I were dropped off in this Ixil community a few hours from Nebaj along a rutted dirt road that hugs the side of a narrow gorge.  We knew very little about how anything would happen once we arrived, but over the next few hours, guided by a community leader, a woman was found to be our translator from Spanish to Ixil, a family agreed to feed us meals, and we pushed together the exam tables in the clinic to make a bed where we would spend the next few nights.  The next morning we ate beans and eggs and tortilla with the family, and started towards the house of the president of the Women’s Communal Bank, the first interview where I would ask about the bank, women's leadership, land ownership, and family relationships.  All with the hope to understand how these are seen from their own eyes...

We left each house full – of the words that gradually created a clearer picture of the life of the women, of bananas or atol or lime juice people warmly offered, and images of the beautiful mundane that makes up daily existence in this village.  Mostly we are grateful – that this community was willing to let us into their homes, shared their stories with us, and told us we too were just children of God like them.  Though our time was brief, we got a glimpse of living – families laughing, meals prepared, a days work – though so different in form, the very same substance of human existence lived the world over. 

semana santa

In Guatemala, Semana Santa - Holy Week - is a big event.  The whole country stops for a few days while rich people escape Guatemala City, the faithful Catholics organize processions, and everyone from rich to poor gathers with family.  We decided to taste it all...

The Cayes of Belize, off the coast of Guatemala.  Under that water were lots of fish and coral, which we flipped around with snorkels exploring for two days.  Pure joy!  Sun and color and swimming.  And for dinner, the fried fish our boat captain caught by hand line...

Waiting on this strip of sand for the tropical storm coming our way.  Shared a bunk in a bungalow with the most hospitable Italian family for the night after the drenching rains and wind knocked our tent right over.

Frigate birds turn our eyes skyward where the Rio Dulce meets the Caribbean Sea...elusive grace.  The abundance of water, jungle, and sun slows life on this side of Guatemala...from the easy-going Garifuna town of Livingston to the quiet Mayan villages hugging the riverbank...all except the enormous vacations homes and their yacht-driving owners.

Two days kayaking the gorge of Rio Dulce - trying to get close to the flighty egrets, twisting back into the jungle on an eerily still river with birds and wind making our presence seem very small, waving to the fishermen in their wooden dugout cayucos, and feasting at the lodge at the of the day.  Perhaps the truest jungle moment came when we found a hand-sized tarantula in the bathroom one night, seeking shelter from the tropical rain...

Wandering the streets of Antigua to see the art each family makes in the streets, preparing the ground for the processions that will weave their way through the city from 6pm until 4am, carrying the Virgin and Christ on a pilgrimage.  Never before had we seen such a tranquil and joyful gathering of so many Guatemalans...something between a carnival and a deeply religious gathering.

Creating beauty, the whole family, that will stand for a few hours before the night comes.  The streets are filled with families, warmth, shared joy...the generous sharing of ephemeral beauty.

Steven has more photos of Guatemala on his website...www.stevengnamphotography.com...