Living with Locational ADD...: Todos Santos

Its day two of ITT and I have hit the proverbial wall. 4 weeks of early mornings and late nights, nursing and counselling participants, 9hr milk runs, oh and of course regularly scheduled OGG projects and activities have taken their toll. Sniffles have been joined by pressure headaches, joint pain, and body aches. I’m currently kickin’ back in a hammock slung on the dock of my bungalow hostel nestled in the mangroves of Rio Dulce, listening to the soothing sounds of nature but all I can think of are, in no particular order, budget, itinerary, my ERB protocol, my survey design, my course registration, and did I mention budget. But let’s not wallow in self-indulgent despondency for too long. The past weeks have been incredible. 9 recent strangers left the comfortable rituals of life back home in Canada (and the US), choosing instead, as I did 4 short years ago, to explore the small, funny shaped space below Mexico and allow it to leave its indelible mark on their lives. And this past week will no doubt reflect heavily on the shape that that mark will take. But first it’s worth recounting how we came to arrive in the community Tzibal, OGG’s most memorable stop yet.

By Friday afternoon the group sat weary but proud on the steps of Todos Santos’ Municipalidad after conquering the 6 day, 70km trek from Nebaj across the Cuchumatanes, that had tried patience’s and tested resolves. But after a brief charla, some spaghetti and only 12hrs of R&R, the group was on the move again, this time by bus across Highway 7W, a faint dotted line that meanders across Google maps from Huehue to Uspantán, before crawling along the steep edges of Quiche’s mountainous ridges to San Cristobal de Verapaz, then finally descends down to Cobán.

In 2008 disaster struck this area when a section of mountain near the once beautiful Rio Negro buckled and collapsed to the valley floor below. Beneath the rubble lay a 2km stretch of Highway 7W, the only tangible connection between the highland towns and Cobán, the capital of Alta Verapaz, and economic epicentre for the region. The national government however, remains defiant in the face of local demands for the roadway’s reconstruction, citing the elevated levels of seismic activity in the area. Activity that some community members and Canadian NGO Rights Action believe is directly linked to a hydroelectric project that in addition to having plugged the Rio Negro, reducing the once mighty river to a trickle, has purportedly drilled 40km from the dam site through the bedrock to the current location of its generating station. Investigation is still pending but due to the importance of the route to the local economies, a makeshift alternative has been constructed by the surrounding communities reconnecting the misty mountains of Quiché to Alta Verapaz and Cobán’s bustling markets. Because the government is perceived to have contributed to its destruction and has thus far played no part in its reconstruction, the road has been effectively privatized, complete with guard posts on either side restricting through traffic to community sanctioned vehicles. An impressive display of autonomous community action.

Despite the appearance of slumbering passengers on the micros which run the 2½hr journey from Uspantán to San Cristobal, however, the road is definitely not for the faint of heart. The hastily constructed dirt and gravel track is prone to wash-outs, and is often slick from the rain and mists. The Guatemalan government considers it unsafe and has posted dramatic signs warning of its perils. Lonely Planet, demonstrating a little literary panache, describes the journey:

“After a section littered with boulders, the road seems to end at the brink of an abyss, then descends relentlessly into a valley along a rock-strewn track and up again over a similarly ravaged surface, as drivers boldly navigate hairpin turns and passengers pray their vehicle doesn’t lose its grip over the muddy surface.”

RN-7W or whats left of it.

In spite of, or perhaps, because of it being quintessentially off the grid, I had planned for the group to brave this hazardous yet beautiful part of Guatemala rather than return to Guate to take the more mundane freeways. However, because the trek had forced us to leave baggage behind in Xela the crew had to be separated. At 5am I departed with Ali, Allison, Ana, and the Quetzaltrekkers guides for Xela while the rest stayed behind in Todos Santos with Jay with the intention of beginning their journey later that morning. My crew successfully arrived in Xela, visited banks, tiendas, and repacked before a lunch of tostadas and choco-bananas. Finally, we said a hasty goodbye to our adopted OG’er and friend Anna from the chicken bus door and off we went to reconnect with our team in Uspantan, saving the best part of Highway 7W for the following morning. After a good rooftop game of Apples to Apples and sweet, sweet sueños in the beautiful Hostal Don Gabriel, we were off. Weather allowed a more civilized crossing of the gorge than I had experienced during pre-con but periodic screams, and the near constant cries of “wow” kept our Guatemalan escorts entertained as OGG made its way to Cobán. After some creative troubleshooting landed the group on a farm truck for the remaining 2hr drive, the team was welcomed into Campur by Peace Corps volunteer, Hannah, and local coordinator, Eric, to begin a week of bottle school building and bonding with the neighbouring community of Tzibal.

The fearless OGG crew courageously crossing RN-7W.
Photo Credit: Allison

Having conquered Santa Maria everyone displayed a new determination and the calves to match, and seemed keen to stretch their new legs “off the grid”. So following our week in Xela OGG hooked up with Quetzaltrekkers again to undertake a week long trek across a 70km stretch of the Sierra Cuchumatanes, the highest non-volcanic mountain range in Central America. The walk took us from the Ixil Triangle, a unique and isolated enclave of Ixil Maya, who had endured perhaps the most intense and sustained repression during the civil war, to the colourful Mam Maya community of Todos Santos, where the traditional white and red striped trousers still adorn the men’s legs and the blue ribboned straw hats still sit atop people’s heads.

On Monday morning, Jay and crew departed with guides Eric, Anne, and Santi for Nebaj, while I remained in Xela to resolve OGG’s chronic cash conundrum. The group arrived uneventfully in Nebaj in the late afternoon, and after taking in the sights and sounds of Guatemala’s largest Ixil community, everyone met Bernardo, a town elder, who in his own language described his and the communities experience beneath the repressive regime between 1977 and 1982, at the height of the civil war. With the help of his Daughter and OG participant, Chelsea, his tale was relayed to the group.

He explained that in the Ixil Triangle emigrants and guerrilla sympathizers were targeted and by 1981 disappearances were widespread with suspected supporters sometimes buried alive in 40ft deep mass graves. The army required all campesino’s to acquire permission to go their fields, detailing time of departure, and return, when instructions were not followed to the letter, culprits would be punished as guerrilla accomplices. Simultaneously, the government began a war of attrition against the areas inhabitants, prices on basic commodities were artificial hiked, salt climbed from 3Q to 10Q. People were increasingly forced to flee into the surrounding hills. Bernardo, described how he and his family retreated to the refuge of the mountains leaving behind all of their belongings. With no shirts and no shoes, they roamed, and they lived. But the Army was given orders to seek and destroy all those finding shelter in the mountains. Soldiers burned homesteads and harvests while military planes dropped pamphlets throughout the area promising immunity to those who chose to return. But when people heeded the call they were immediately targeted for torture, and slaughter. Consequently, people turned their voices to god, asking why. Then even Nebaj’s sacred spaces became the scenes of horror as the army used churches to trap, torture, and kill those that had sought sanctuary within. By the 90’s fighting had calmed but according to Bernardo the army’s repressive presence remained.

While participants proffered questions, the most potent follow up came from Bernardo himself who posed the group one of his own: Why did we care to know? A potent and perturbing window into the pronounced sense of abandonment and isolation felt by the victims of the genocidal campaign in the Ixil Triangle.

While the group listened to and learned Nebaj’s story, I bumped along the gravel roads of Quiche enroute to our reunion. But as my Chicken Bus raced around hairpin turns, with only the near constant sound of the horn to announce our intentions to oncoming traffic, a landslide up ahead turned the snaking cliff side mountain road into a bottle neck, and funnelled a cattle truck directly into our path. Choosing hillside to cliffside, our Chicken Bus swerved into the rocky face, sending passengers, human and feathered, flying. Luckily, except a few cuts and bruises, the passengers emerged one by one, and soon they and I were all standing safely alongside the road, bags and cargo in hand, awaiting the next passing Chicken Bus.

I arrived in Nebaj just in time to have my wounds tended to before a dinner of pasta and delicious strawberry rhubarb pie at Popi’s Restaurant and Hostel, a self-sufficiency project of Mayan Hope, a non-profit dedicated to providing educational, nutritional, medical, ecological, and other needed services to indigenous families, villages, and abandoned or abused children of Guatemala.

After a hearty Breakfast, OGG set out from Nebaj, ascending and descending the mountain slopes, passing through a number of the regions more isolated communities. In one such community called Acul, rowed houses, pretty red roofs, and a visit to local cheese farm betrayed a more sinister history. Anne, Quetzaltrekker’s lead guide explained that one day in 1980-81 the army had come. They lined up all of the local men, dividing them into guerrilla and army sympathizers respectively. Army supporters were then brought to the school and told that they would go to heaven, while the guerrilla supporters were taken to the church and told they would go to hell. They were subsequently thrown into a hole dug in the church floor, trampled and buried alive. After the outright destruction of all its existing stores and houses, Acul was reconstructed as a prototypical example of the model villages, the virtues of which Guatemala extolled internationally (see the article, "Guatemala 'Model Cities' Prove More Like Prisons," printed in the LA Times in 1989). For some of us, it became difficult to ameliorate the beautiful and tranquil veil that the landscape provided with the terror and tragedy that lay beneath it and still haunted the homesteads that we passed.

In the evening, the group arrived in Xexecom, and settled on mats and mattresses in the small community’s school house before joining local families for a fantastic dinner and authentic Temascal (a Mayan steam sauna) before bed. At 3am OGG rose to tackle the hardest part of the trek, a climb up to the summit of an immense plateau strewn with huge limestone boulders originating from the ocean floor. After some snacking, relaxation, and a snooze in the sunshine, the team continued along the plateau passing several small settlements where the local people make their living growing crops, herding sheep and making hand woven textiles. Later in the afternoon, the group descended the face of a beautiful ravine on which perched a small community. There an abandoned school house served as shelter for night.

OGG takin' a pausa amongst the rocks.

Ali and Chelsea share a moment.

Anna and Ali demonstrate who's who.

The following morning we descended to the valley floor to enjoy a hardy breakfast at the river’s edge before climbing the opposite slope and conquering its aptly named Agony Hill. Just before lunch the group was challenged by Agony’s bigger brother, Terror Hill. But OGG rose to the challenge, with its TL’s losing a foot race by only 1:20 to the record setting pace of Quetzaltrekkers’ guide, Santi. Santi is an amazing young Guatemalan man who with a little help from the Hogar Abierto and Quetzaltrekkers’ has earned a scholarship to continue working with the trekking organization and its affiliated home for vulnerable youth.

Santi!

Lunch was served on a beautiful hill with views of the plateau, before a chicken bus whisked us off to Laventosa, a small indigenous town on the east side of La Torre, the highest non-volcanic point in all of Central America. There we met Geronimo, a local community man who is attempting to carve out a sustainable tourism enterprise for him and his community. After a delicious dinner, Geronimo stayed with the group telling us of his and Laventosa’s toils during the war. His amazing tale left many of us struggling to digest.

Ali and Geronimo at La Torre.

The following morning Geronimo’s son helped guide OGG to the top of La Torre. At 3837m the summit provided the group a spectacular view of Mexico and virtually all of Guatemala’s volcanic range including OGG’s previous nemesis, Santa Maria, which now looked insignificant in the distance. The peak also proved opportune for a game of high-stakes, high altitude Samurai.

OGG at the top of La Torre (3837m)

From La Torre, we descended down through the beautiful Cuchumatanes Mountains to the streets of Todos Santos, our final destination. Despite exhaustion OGG decided not to pass up a visit to a completed bottle school. Meeting with its bubbly PeaceCorp volunteer, Stefanie, the group got to see the future fruits of their labours and get the goods on their upcoming project with Hug-it-Forward and the community of Tzibal. In the evening, a charla with Francisco provided a contrasting account of Guatemala’s guerrillas, criticising their perversion of the revolutionary idealism and laying blame for Todos Santos’ torments squarely at the feet of both warring parties. A satisfying dinner of spaghetti followed, and the weary trekkers were soon settled in at the Hispanomaya Spanish School, a non-profit, cooperative language school that donates all its proceeds towards scholarships for local school children.

Allison tells of the week’s epic travels:

“The trek. So we have discovered that it is impossible to stay clean in this country for more than 10 minutes, especially whilst on a 6 day trek through the mountains, splashing through puddles, sloshing through mud, slipping and sliding, taking down the tour guides in front of us as we fall - Japleen, discovering that socks and sandals are the worst possible combination for hiking, and being drenched from head to toe in our own sweat. As a result, we all decided to embrace the hippie within all of us, which included taking on new names like Earth Spirit, Munching Squirrel, and Prairie Wind. This movement was initiated by James who tore the sleeves off his shirt using his raw strength and the toe nail of a lion. Hiking an average of 13-15 km a day is no easy feat especially when you throw in the 87 switchbacks, Agony Hill and the Terror Hill, unless you´re Santi, the local 19 year old tour guide who ran up the hill of terror in about 7 minutes, not even out of breath while the most of us took anywhere between 15 to 30 minutes. However, the view is absolutely breath taking. The landscape that we passed trough is so diverse and so stunning, it´s unbelievable to wake up above the clouds and look out across the other side of the mountain at where you were yesterday or where you will be by the end of the day. Some nights were pretty chilly so group snuggling was again appreciated. On the last day we reached the highest non-volcanic point in Central America, and looked out over the horizon at the peak of Santa Maria and thought to ourselves, yeah, we conquered that too. Of course, a mountain summit is not complete without a celebratory game of Samurai. The trek was not only a physically challenging but it was also an emotional journey as we heard the stories of several locals and their experiences throughout the Civil War and their continuing struggle with poverty and abandonment by their own government. By the end we were all exhausted but in a good way, knowing that we had accomplished a lot more then we had thought ourselves capable of and feeling more connected to the people we had met along the way and the beautiful country that we have the opportunity to explore.”

A picture says a 1000 words...