Five Moons over Xela

Xela, Xela, Xelaaaa!* That oh so familiar sound signaled our arrival in, you guessed it, Xela. So, off the chicken bus we poured. Nine passionate and eager participants who had joined us only a day earlier all came rushing out and into the busy bus terminal. Although still jetlagged the group had already endured a whirl-wind 24hr tour of the country’s capitals, old and new, as well as an epic 5hr chicken bus ride up and onto Guatemala’s Western Highlands. They had even overcome a blown tire, albeit with help from a couple of ayudantes that would rival Nascar’s best pit crews. So, after a little urban trek from the Terminal to Escuela Xelaju and our cosy little casita, the group settled in. But before any sleep could be had OG got word that the Chivos, Xela´s beloved football team, would be playing in Guatemala’s National Championship against its rival from the capital, Municipal.   Soccer isn’t a sport here, it´s a way of life. So, OG went and grabbed some grub and prepared for their first cross-cultural lesson. The group of gringos crowded around the TV, cheering on the Chivos with the gusto of any Quetzalteco. And the Goats did not disappoint… After 90 minutes of nail biting, two action packed overtimes followed. But still nothing could be decided on the open pitch, so the Championship came down to penalties. Some participants covered their eyes, while others shouted profanities. A few were visibly confused by the whole ritual. But within minutes they were all on their feet as the Chivos and their Quetzalteco followers stormed onto the field and into the streets to celebrate the city’s fifth championship and the extra cleft moon that would now adorn their jerseys. And what better way to celebrate the new moon than to howl at it. Fireworks blasted and music blared as Parqué Central became party headquarters with a group of gringos and Xela’s newest honour guard right at its heart. 

Back On the Road BUT Still Off the Grid (Written for the OGG Blog)

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

Xela Who? (Written for the OGG Blog)

Quetzaltenango, better known as Xela, is Guatemala’s second city and exemplifies the intersection of its colourful indigenous and ladino cultures. It was and remains a home away from home for me and plays host to an interesting variety of NGO’s, Spanish schools, and progressive intellectual and political personalities. It also sits in the ominous shadow of Volcan Santa Maria, a dormant giant that has nevertheless left an indelible mark in the minds and bodies of OGG’s participants.


Our crew arrived on Sunday evening, cautiously parading, in good gringo fashion, through the city’s shadowy streets from Xela’s Terminal Minerva to our new accommodations, two adjacent, brand spankin’ new apartments, in the city’s centre. After, playing a sometimes heated game of “corners”, participants settled (or rather snuggled) into bed side by side. The following morning, despite heavy heads, participants rose early to begin the first of five 5hr intensive Spanish classes at Escuela La Paz, a not-for-profit school run by 3 sisters which provides benefit to a number of local women and community organizations. Each participant was paired with a maestra in good EHarmony style, according to their interests, hobbies, and compatibility, with whom they would be spending the week. Unfortunately, afternoon rains prevented us from making it to Escuela de la Calle (EDELAC is school just outside of Xela servicing local underprivileged youth) to help paint murals with the children. But some participants relished the pequeño descanso to catch up on emails or simply relax while others took the opportunity to visit the city’s Centro de Desportes and rock climb with Jay. On Tuesday, after facing another 5hr’s of Spanish with varied results, participants got to put grammatical formalities aside and collaborate with the students of EDELAC on a spontaneous mural project. Amidst a joyful chaos, 40 technicoloured kids spewed their creative juices on the exterior walls of Caras Alegres' Centro de Actividades using OGG’s donation of paint and paintbrushes, and with the helping hands of our participants and the Centros permanent staff of local and international volunteers. By evening, EVERYONE’s clothes bore signs of the afternoon’s fun and EVERYONE’s hearts the beginnings of memorable friendships.

Jay, Porschia, and María at the Centre de Actividades

Tuesday evening brought the group back to Escuela La Paz to hear Alberto recount the unofficial or forgotten history of Guatemala. A sweeping tale of 500 years of exploitation and repression told in a strong and articulate voice, which was immediately reduced to something as erudite as Green Eggs & Ham by my clumsy translation. Nevertheless, everyone seemed intrigued by the radical retelling of Guatemala’s past and pressed Alberto with questions.


Wednesday began again with Spanish lessons at Escuela La Paz, before one of the Maestras, Ana, accompanied the crew for a Tipico lunch and tour of the public Universidad de San Carlos, and its revolutionary murals depicting the school’s student solidarity and radical activism during the civil war, and more recent feminist mobilization. In the evening the group gathered with OGG partner, Quetzaltrekkers, a volunteer based trekking company and non-profit social enterprise that provides directs 100% of its revenues to support the EDELAC and the Hogar Abierto, providing free education to 225 children and accommodation and assistance to 15 additional at risk youth. Together, we set out at midnight beneath a veiled full moon to climb the 3800m cone that is Volcan Santa Maria. A 5hr ascent up steep switch-backs, that tested resolves, and pushed physical limits.

Allison, Ali, and Ben after conquering Volcán Santa María

Japleen writes:

“Many of us encountered the most physically challenge task of our lives (so far), climbing a 3700m volcano at midnight. Totally difficult but totally rewarding! We began meeting up at Quetzaltrekkers (the group in charge of the trek) at 10:30 PM to gear up and carb up on potato-curry soup. After a short ride in the back of a truck we reached the base of the hike. We started hiking a few min after midnight. The climb had many challenges but it was nothing that our group couldn’t accomplish. After 4 hours of burning calves, sore thighs and runny noses we reached the summit in time to settle down, snuggle up and watch the sunrise. Watching the sunrise on top of a volcano is something out of this world. The rising sun looked like as if it was ripping apart the dark night sky. Once the sun had risen and the sky filled with daylight we were surrounded by the most amazing views. We were up above the clouds and had to look down upon them. Mountain tops peeking through the clouds looked liked little hills. After squeezing a few hours of shut eye we loaded up breakfast and made our way back down the mountain.”

The Epic Sunrise at 3800m atop Santa Maria

To this I need only add a brief anecdote about an OGG innovation that occurred as a consequence of trekking Santa Maria, the vertical spoon. Similar to the traditional spoon it involves 2 or more people laying front to back, however, on the exposed summit, cold winds, frigid temperatures, and the restrictive rocky real-estate required a little bit more ingenuity. This led to 7 of us seeking shelter in each other’s warmth, one on top of another in a vertical pile of spooning bodies. While the manoeuvre may have stemmed shivers, shakes, and shudders, the weight of 7 snuggling (pronounced snoogling) OGers pancaked the new sleeping pad that lay beneath them, a $150 dollar piece of now flattened fabric.

The Vertical Spoon

But what goes up must come down. And the slippery slope back to Xela didn’t facilitate a quick descent with OGG getting back well after 1pm (14hrs after departure). But there was to be no rest. A micro bus quickly whisked the group away to visit a nearby community and pay homage to San Simon, a Mayan deity decked out in Ray bans, Nike’s, and a cowboy hat, that calls the town of Zunil home. But just as thoughts of mutiny began to circulate the ranks, Jay and I brought the group to Fuentes Georginas, a natural, volcanic hot spring in the hills above Zunil. Groans soon turned to moans as aches and pains melted away in the steaming torpid pools.


After a surprisingly late night, we all dutifully attended our last Spanish lessons and bid a fond farewell to our maestra’s who had so patiently endured a week savage gringo grammatical butchery. In the afternoon, we visited the Proyecto Linguistico Quetzalteco (PLQ) to hear about the current political situation and prospects for the upcoming elections. The speaker, a local political activist, provided a fantastic but hurried lesson (complete with PowerPoint presentation) on the oligarchic and commercial domination of the country’s electoral politics before the group had to rush off for an evening of dancing, dinner, and more dancing. First, a salsa lesson with an old acquaintance of mine left almost everyone clinging desperately to the last half chewed scraps of their pride (I still hadn`t recovered mine since my last lesson in 2007). But saved by the bell the group hurried off again, this time back to Escuela La Paz for some dinner theatre with Pop’vuh, a local indigenous dance troop that performed a number of traditional boogies before treating us to Kak’ik, a tipical Mayan soup, with chicken, coriander, achiote, and chillies. Finally, it being Friday night, the group unanimously voted to hit the clubs, try their new found moves, or perhaps stick to the old ones, and let loose before beginning the full day`s journey to San Marcos the following morning.

OGG with Pop'vu

TIG!

OG's Jay & Ben in front of Santiaguito

My return to Guatemala began with a whirl wind journey from Mexico City where I had been hunkered down for a week in June to Tapachula by air, over the Tecun Uman border by bicycle and finally onto a Chicken bus destined for my old stompin’ grounds, Xela. There I spent a couple of days catching up with old friends and meeting one or two new ones before heading down to Antigua to hook up with Jay, my Operation Groundswell (OG) colleague and co-trip-leader to begin a little more than two weeks of in-country preparations affectionately known as pre-con. We visited communities across Guatemala to finalize operational logistics (transport, accommodations, activities, and volunteer placements) for this summer’s OG Guatemala program.

OG Guatemala 2011

Tired after spending 10 days on buses of one sort or another, Jay and I decided to stretch our legs and tackle an old nemesis of mine, Volcan Santiaguito. Central America’s most active volcano almost got the better of me in 2007, but a maasive eruption back in February had apparently ruined my old campsite and ravaged the iconic crater resulting in its steady bleeding of lava down its backside. Excited to see my bruised and battered foe, we convinced our new friend, Anna, to join us and Kaqchikel guide, Felix, for the 2 day trek.

The Crew

The 18 km “path” to Santiaguito begins with a long climb, followed by bushwhacking through the brambles, descending a slippery watershed, criss-crossing a rocky floodplain, and finally scrambling up mossy volcanic boulders to the mirador. In good weather, the trail is no walk in the park; in rain, it’s a downright humbling experience. Falls were frequent, and were rated on a scale of 1-10 (1 hand down=1 point, 2 hands=2 points, on your ass=3 points, style points were also assessed in good figure skating fashion). Anna, after a couple of choice performances, resorted to wholly new and innovative method of descending the watershed that was not altogether flattering but, I must admit, rather effective. Reaching the sub-summit campsite at dusk and in torrential rain, we were forced to take refuge in a steady stream of water which we posthumously named the Rio Tenta. After a cozy night of get to know your neighbour, we all emerged relatively unscathed to complete the climb and view the Santiaguito’s crater and watch it huff, puff, gurgle, spit, and drool.

No words can begin to express...

Ready, set, scramble!

Jay demonstrating his best moves on the rock floor.

Standin' atop Central America's most active volcano, No Bigs!

Anna with Santiaguita smokin' behind her. 

OG laughin' it up at the Mirador. 

OG's indelible mark, TM. 

WHO USED THE LAST OF THE TP!?! 

Did I mention it rained....alot!