it is night and the whole world seems to have fallen into a gentle silence. inside the small thatched roof hut a lamp burns and from a couple steps outside the light can be seen through the cracks in the planks of wood that are the hut´s walls.
a couple more steps and I am in complete darkness except..
it looks like the night sky has fallen. They are all around me- dancing, flitting, floating, flickering- hundreds, thousands of fireflies lighting up the night. I walk away from the hut and to the open field at the top of the hill. There I sit in the wet grass and watch them; a moving canvas of light, of shooting stars.. sporadic.. breathtaking.
at night my sleep is deep, my dreams are strange, and I am the first one to awake in the morning of Cam, Allison and i. The family is already up. A fire has been lit, the chickens have been let out and are running around pecking the ground; last night´s dishes are being washed, and the second oldest daughter, Angela, is grinding corn for tortillas. She asks me if I would like to learn, I say I would, and my are muscles are soon awoken as I attempt to turn the handle on the corn grinder.
it is a day of simplicity. We explore up river in the jungle, help make tortillas, play soccer in the field, attend ¨church¨in the back of the hut, play uno with the kids, and learn new words from the beautiful language of Mopan. All 3 meals are eaten together, and we share in laughter and fellowship throughout the day.
when Cam, Allison, and I got on the bus at 4 in the morning the next day we were leaving with beautiful memories of Hemeterio, Matilda and their 4 children- Roberto, Rosa, Elvira, and Angela.
Belize was, is a confusing, poor, and pushy country-
and though I will remember it as dirty streets, begging men, and unsmiling cities- I will remember too with great fondness these few days we spent sharing in the life, environment, and generosity of a Mayan family.
sábado, 18 de julio de 2009
martes, 14 de julio de 2009
No morirá la flor de la palabra.
In my first blog entry I confessed that one of the reasons that I wanted to go to Mexico was because of what I had learned about the Zapatistas...
And though every part of living in Mexico turned into a great experience, a time finally came when I remembered my original urge to visit the Zapatistas so... the c and b adventures continued into the lush green mountains of the state of Chiapas to find the Zapatistas.
The day Carelynn and I visited the Zapatistas was an intimidating and suprising one, a day most certainly on the top of the list of the life-telling adventures of b and c.
After wandering through a chaotic market on the North side of San Cristobal Carelynn and I found a collectivo (shared) taxi that was going to the town of Oventic, a town I had heard through word of mouth was where the Zapatistas were... (what that meant, I wasnt sure).
When we arrived in Oventic we were greeted by a masked man at the gate asking for our passports. We didnt have our passports. We had no idea we might need our passports. He demanded what we were doing there and a bit startled I said that I simply was inspired by the Zapatista movement, and that I'd like to talk to them and see their village. Carelynn nodded trusting that what I was saying in Spanish was something reassuring while I fumbled in my bag to find my Guadalajara student card. I handed it to him, and h took it and then he went off to conference with some other villagers nearby. After a few minutes he returned and reluctantly opened the gate. It was then that we entered into a world of buildings covered with the most gorgeous murals I have ever seen, murals of struggle and victory, of the uniting of nations, all set against the backdrop of a pure blue sky and the ever present green mountains.
The man escorted us into a small cabin where we were smilingly greeted by a group of men wearing ski masks..(so i couldnt exactly see their mouths but their eyes were definately soft and friendly). There we were sat down on a wooden bench and questioned. I had to speak for both Carelynn and I, and as they asked our objectives, our organizations, our intentions I felt my heart race. I fumbled with my words, trying to explain how were we simply students inspired and interested in their resistence movement. As much as I felt like I was back in high school, in the principal's office getting in trouble for something or other, my excitement to be in hat room, in that place kept me calm.
They conferenced among themselves in the thick and beautiful Tsosil language, finally coming to the conclusion that we were good-hearted and deserving of a meeting with the "Junta"- the official Zapatista spokespeople (or something like that)... They led us to another building, sat us down outside, and told us to wait until we were called in.
Frantically I wrote down the questions I had for them- who were they exactly, which indigenous groups made up the zapatistas, what did they win and lose in their rebellions, what were they still fighting, what did they believe about earth stewardship... Before long I had a page full of questions and though I was prepared once we were called in and seated in front of them, 4 masked men and one masked woman, my heart was pounding once again.
Waiting.
Before we walked in to the room a huge group of woman came out of the building saying hello, welcoming us, shaking our hands- and though I don't know what it was there is something about it that even now sticks with me... It was a magical moment. Here was a hoard of woman with bright clothing, with lives, with histories rich, with a culture I would never fully understand-- and then there were the two of us, with our stories and with our cultures those woman would never know. It was all too overwhelming. Running into them, there, seemed different somehow than running into them in the city for we were right there, in the very lands they had fought for, staring out at the countryside that had become, and rightfully so, theirs once again.
In the meeting my questions were answered by a kind eyed man who kept apologizing for his lack of Spanish, while I apologized for mine...
He told me of the uprisings, rallying up the indigenous groups involved in the fight, their history with the land, current struggles..
Though the answers were not surprising and were mostly things you can read on wikipedia (and i highly suggest that you do so) what was suprising was what was in the air around us. It was something personal, something emotional, something so much more tangible than any lecture or lesson I've had in school- it was real life floating around us... real, powerful, shocking life. I felt like there were shards of glass exploding in the room, gently poking back to life some little parts of me that had forgotten why I had situated myself so far from home, forgotten why i had abandoned my community and set off in the first place. I suspect (and hope) that those little pieces of glass might just forever gently press beneath my skin at my heart and memery when I am far away in time and place from that room and those mysterious masked people.
It was over so fast.
We walked around, saw children having class outside of the beautifully painted school, sat and enjoyed the mountain view.. And then we returned to the city of San Cristobal.
And though every part of living in Mexico turned into a great experience, a time finally came when I remembered my original urge to visit the Zapatistas so... the c and b adventures continued into the lush green mountains of the state of Chiapas to find the Zapatistas.
The day Carelynn and I visited the Zapatistas was an intimidating and suprising one, a day most certainly on the top of the list of the life-telling adventures of b and c.
After wandering through a chaotic market on the North side of San Cristobal Carelynn and I found a collectivo (shared) taxi that was going to the town of Oventic, a town I had heard through word of mouth was where the Zapatistas were... (what that meant, I wasnt sure).
When we arrived in Oventic we were greeted by a masked man at the gate asking for our passports. We didnt have our passports. We had no idea we might need our passports. He demanded what we were doing there and a bit startled I said that I simply was inspired by the Zapatista movement, and that I'd like to talk to them and see their village. Carelynn nodded trusting that what I was saying in Spanish was something reassuring while I fumbled in my bag to find my Guadalajara student card. I handed it to him, and h took it and then he went off to conference with some other villagers nearby. After a few minutes he returned and reluctantly opened the gate. It was then that we entered into a world of buildings covered with the most gorgeous murals I have ever seen, murals of struggle and victory, of the uniting of nations, all set against the backdrop of a pure blue sky and the ever present green mountains.
The man escorted us into a small cabin where we were smilingly greeted by a group of men wearing ski masks..(so i couldnt exactly see their mouths but their eyes were definately soft and friendly). There we were sat down on a wooden bench and questioned. I had to speak for both Carelynn and I, and as they asked our objectives, our organizations, our intentions I felt my heart race. I fumbled with my words, trying to explain how were we simply students inspired and interested in their resistence movement. As much as I felt like I was back in high school, in the principal's office getting in trouble for something or other, my excitement to be in hat room, in that place kept me calm.
They conferenced among themselves in the thick and beautiful Tsosil language, finally coming to the conclusion that we were good-hearted and deserving of a meeting with the "Junta"- the official Zapatista spokespeople (or something like that)... They led us to another building, sat us down outside, and told us to wait until we were called in.
Frantically I wrote down the questions I had for them- who were they exactly, which indigenous groups made up the zapatistas, what did they win and lose in their rebellions, what were they still fighting, what did they believe about earth stewardship... Before long I had a page full of questions and though I was prepared once we were called in and seated in front of them, 4 masked men and one masked woman, my heart was pounding once again.
Waiting.
Before we walked in to the room a huge group of woman came out of the building saying hello, welcoming us, shaking our hands- and though I don't know what it was there is something about it that even now sticks with me... It was a magical moment. Here was a hoard of woman with bright clothing, with lives, with histories rich, with a culture I would never fully understand-- and then there were the two of us, with our stories and with our cultures those woman would never know. It was all too overwhelming. Running into them, there, seemed different somehow than running into them in the city for we were right there, in the very lands they had fought for, staring out at the countryside that had become, and rightfully so, theirs once again.
In the meeting my questions were answered by a kind eyed man who kept apologizing for his lack of Spanish, while I apologized for mine...
He told me of the uprisings, rallying up the indigenous groups involved in the fight, their history with the land, current struggles..
Though the answers were not surprising and were mostly things you can read on wikipedia (and i highly suggest that you do so) what was suprising was what was in the air around us. It was something personal, something emotional, something so much more tangible than any lecture or lesson I've had in school- it was real life floating around us... real, powerful, shocking life. I felt like there were shards of glass exploding in the room, gently poking back to life some little parts of me that had forgotten why I had situated myself so far from home, forgotten why i had abandoned my community and set off in the first place. I suspect (and hope) that those little pieces of glass might just forever gently press beneath my skin at my heart and memery when I am far away in time and place from that room and those mysterious masked people.
It was over so fast.
We walked around, saw children having class outside of the beautifully painted school, sat and enjoyed the mountain view.. And then we returned to the city of San Cristobal.
viernes, 3 de julio de 2009
the Life-Telling Adventures of Carelynn and Bethany
though leaving Guadalajara was a bit chaotic and not at all in time with regular occurances in these parts of the world (slooooow...) everything that has happened since I left has been mind-blowing and unpredictable...incredible.
top on the list are...
full moon bathing in puerto escondido
visiting the zapatistas in Oventic
running wildly through waterfalls in the jungle of palenque
staying with a mayan family in Belize
horseback riding through a lighting storm in el Peten, Guatemala
and hitch-hiking from North Guate to where we are now, Lanquin (dont worry we were 5!)
If ever I am feeling weary of this life, of the life on the road, of fragmented friendships, and of sharing the most incredible experiences with persons who might forever be in worlds apart from me, I stop myself. I look around. I breathe in fresh mountain air, or taste the salt on my lips, or marvel at the faces around and I cease to feel exhausted. I look forward to when I can stay somewhere for a while and use my hands to serve or to get to know a people more than just fragmented relationships... but while I am on the road I am enjoying every bit of adventure, every taste of new air, every sight of exotic landscapes.
Since I dont have time to recount the adventures that I have had since leaving Guadalajara for Michoacan I will simply tell a few stories from along the way.
The Life-Telling Adventures of Carelynn Loopstra and Bethany Klapwyk began on a hot Guadalajaran day when I sat in the centre Guadalajaran square and saw in the distance a tall white Carelynn walking bewildered on the other side of the park. I ran to her, we reunited, and the seed of a great adventure was planted.
Our first stop was Michoacan where we went to the Bosque Village (where I had been in April) to volunteer for 2 weeks. While there I was excited, harassed, challenged, dissapointed, and inspired by all that I learned about community through the many conversations that were had. I also spent about half the day each day on the computer trying, with great frustration, to complete my final school projects.
After 2 weeks we went from there to Pachuca, Mexico´s ¨Windy City¨, 2 hours to the north of Mexico City. We went to stay at the house of my cheery and hospitable friend Melody. While there I finished my final projects and the 3 of us went to explore the wild and hugeee Mexico city. After a day of wandering the wild and colourful streets of the city we went to a baptism party in a real and rough part of town. We danced and laughed the night away in a one room house with people of all ages, then slept the night in Doña Lupe´s house- a woman who sells churros (donut things) out of her front door. We visited the Anthropology museum the next day and after a community dinner with Quakers in the centre of the city we headed ¨home¨ to Melody´s house. There we explored Pachuca and the mining towns nearby. I stayed there for a few days longer than Carelynn to finish my school-work and then went to meet Carelynn on the beach in Oaxaca... but first I stopped for a solo adventure in Oaxaca city.
Oaxaca city was an awesome, but also a strange day of being chased by strange Mexican men, hiding in (and enjoying) art museums, eating lunch with a shoe shiner, being caught in a teacher´s protest, and sleeping in a beautiful cathedral.
I met Carelynn in Puerto Escondido the next morning. We spent a couple days and nights beach-bumming it- by sun and by moon in Puerto Escondido and then we headed to Mazunte, where we did the same. There we cooked our meals in the kitchen of the Mexican Restaurant we were staying behind and ate our dinners by candle-light under a waning moon.
Next was the beach of Zipolite and then we set of to the wonderful and bright streets of San Cristobal. While there we visited a few small towns in the mountains nearby and got off the beaten tourist path a bit. First was a town called Tenejapa. Stepping out of the collectivo taxi we had arrived in another world. We were very clearly the only foreigners around and stuck out like a sore thumb. It seemed as though a hush was over the town and indeed there happened to be a sort of spiritual ceremony going on. We tried to go in their interesting looking church but were very firmly shooed away by a religious leader in all black holding a long staff. We observed that at one side of the central square there was a line of religious leaders sitting and holding staffs, wearing hats with ribbons of every colour falling from the rim of their hats down to their eyes. We left the small central square for the market and when we tried to walk through a part of the market we were stopped in our tracks by a group of spiritual men who were standing in a wide circle in front of a house. After befriending a local who knew some Spanish (his second language after the mayan language of Tsosil) we learned that they were warding off an evil spirit that lived in the house...
As if visiting that little town was not fascinating enough the next day we made our way to Oventic, the headquarters of the Zapatista army...
TO BE CONTINUED!
top on the list are...
full moon bathing in puerto escondido
visiting the zapatistas in Oventic
running wildly through waterfalls in the jungle of palenque
staying with a mayan family in Belize
horseback riding through a lighting storm in el Peten, Guatemala
and hitch-hiking from North Guate to where we are now, Lanquin (dont worry we were 5!)
If ever I am feeling weary of this life, of the life on the road, of fragmented friendships, and of sharing the most incredible experiences with persons who might forever be in worlds apart from me, I stop myself. I look around. I breathe in fresh mountain air, or taste the salt on my lips, or marvel at the faces around and I cease to feel exhausted. I look forward to when I can stay somewhere for a while and use my hands to serve or to get to know a people more than just fragmented relationships... but while I am on the road I am enjoying every bit of adventure, every taste of new air, every sight of exotic landscapes.
Since I dont have time to recount the adventures that I have had since leaving Guadalajara for Michoacan I will simply tell a few stories from along the way.
The Life-Telling Adventures of Carelynn Loopstra and Bethany Klapwyk began on a hot Guadalajaran day when I sat in the centre Guadalajaran square and saw in the distance a tall white Carelynn walking bewildered on the other side of the park. I ran to her, we reunited, and the seed of a great adventure was planted.
Our first stop was Michoacan where we went to the Bosque Village (where I had been in April) to volunteer for 2 weeks. While there I was excited, harassed, challenged, dissapointed, and inspired by all that I learned about community through the many conversations that were had. I also spent about half the day each day on the computer trying, with great frustration, to complete my final school projects.
After 2 weeks we went from there to Pachuca, Mexico´s ¨Windy City¨, 2 hours to the north of Mexico City. We went to stay at the house of my cheery and hospitable friend Melody. While there I finished my final projects and the 3 of us went to explore the wild and hugeee Mexico city. After a day of wandering the wild and colourful streets of the city we went to a baptism party in a real and rough part of town. We danced and laughed the night away in a one room house with people of all ages, then slept the night in Doña Lupe´s house- a woman who sells churros (donut things) out of her front door. We visited the Anthropology museum the next day and after a community dinner with Quakers in the centre of the city we headed ¨home¨ to Melody´s house. There we explored Pachuca and the mining towns nearby. I stayed there for a few days longer than Carelynn to finish my school-work and then went to meet Carelynn on the beach in Oaxaca... but first I stopped for a solo adventure in Oaxaca city.
Oaxaca city was an awesome, but also a strange day of being chased by strange Mexican men, hiding in (and enjoying) art museums, eating lunch with a shoe shiner, being caught in a teacher´s protest, and sleeping in a beautiful cathedral.
I met Carelynn in Puerto Escondido the next morning. We spent a couple days and nights beach-bumming it- by sun and by moon in Puerto Escondido and then we headed to Mazunte, where we did the same. There we cooked our meals in the kitchen of the Mexican Restaurant we were staying behind and ate our dinners by candle-light under a waning moon.
Next was the beach of Zipolite and then we set of to the wonderful and bright streets of San Cristobal. While there we visited a few small towns in the mountains nearby and got off the beaten tourist path a bit. First was a town called Tenejapa. Stepping out of the collectivo taxi we had arrived in another world. We were very clearly the only foreigners around and stuck out like a sore thumb. It seemed as though a hush was over the town and indeed there happened to be a sort of spiritual ceremony going on. We tried to go in their interesting looking church but were very firmly shooed away by a religious leader in all black holding a long staff. We observed that at one side of the central square there was a line of religious leaders sitting and holding staffs, wearing hats with ribbons of every colour falling from the rim of their hats down to their eyes. We left the small central square for the market and when we tried to walk through a part of the market we were stopped in our tracks by a group of spiritual men who were standing in a wide circle in front of a house. After befriending a local who knew some Spanish (his second language after the mayan language of Tsosil) we learned that they were warding off an evil spirit that lived in the house...
As if visiting that little town was not fascinating enough the next day we made our way to Oventic, the headquarters of the Zapatista army...
TO BE CONTINUED!
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