Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Why I Used to Live in 1998,

even when it was 2008.

On the occasion of me joining Facebook and recently getting my first American cell-phone, I thought it would be a good idea to restart up another form of social media- my blog. I'll have to think of a new name, but I think about that later.

So anyways, on the occasion of me getting Facebook, here is something I wrote a while back about all the reasons that I can be a Facebook hater.

I hope this isn't too vindictive, but just remember, there is a reason that I am on Facebook now, and that is that it also offers lots of cool/useful functions. So useful that every business and NGO nowadas has to have one.

"WHY I’M LIVING IN 1998

I live-happily-without either a cell phone or a facebook account. I will grant that both of these things have definite positives that no one can deny, but the longer I spend without these conveniences and the smaller the minority of college students without them becomes, the more I become convinced that they are having very serious, and negative, social effects that we have failed to notice.

A lot of my views on communication were formed during my semester abroad in Ecuador. While in Ecuador, I watched as friends of mine seemingly spent their life waiting in anticipation for the next email or facebook message from home. After the brief period of joy that apparently always accompanies the message, “Hey Lucy! Was thinking of you! Hope everything is going great!” my friends were forced to go back to **gasp** the real world.

My American friends in Ecuador were maddeningly obsessed with facebook. To me, this long distance communication was basically substanceless, like cotton-candy, as Staley lecturer Shane Hipps called it. More importantly, this substanceless communication had the tendency to pluck ones thoughts away from the present and into the past. It felt like the ease of this long distance communication was taking away from our experience in Ecuador. It was way too easy (even for me) to, in effect, stay at home, rather than engaging in what was right before our eyes: Ecuador and our new group of friends-two things for which, even without the distraction of facebook, one semester was not nearly enough time.

Far more troubling, however, than the way in which facebook and cell phones can keep us insulated from a challenging world, is the insecurity that I think rampant use of facebook and cell phones can create. I have come to the conclusion that extreme use of cell phones and facebook is an indication of, and an ineffectual stopgap for, our own insecurity.

Maybe it is just that I value my time alone more than other people, but when I constantly see people walking to and from class on their cell phones, texting in class, and basically filling up any downtime with their cell phones, it makes me wonder if we all have just become afraid to be alone.

Along with other emotions (like sadness and discontentment) I think our society is teaching us that being alone and bored is simply not acceptable. If you are feeling alone, you must be a loser and not have any friends. You have to have your cell phone at the ready to prove to yourself that, should things not be super exciting where you are, a friend of yours is there to keep you company. We end up living our lives trying to figure out where we could be having the most fun or being the most productive instead of making the most of our current situation.

Egregious use of cell phones also reveals insecurity in our friendships. Why do parents buy their high-school kids cell-phones: because they don’t trust them and want to be able to keep tabs on them. Now I know most of you aren’t calling your friends or significant others because you don’t trust them, but this aspect of keeping tabs is defiantly there.

Constantly checking up to see “what’s going on,” sounds a lot to me like, “you’re not doing anything without me are you?” As if friends doing something without you means you are suddenly not friends. It is simply not true. I think true friendships would allow space for our friends to fully engage in their current surroundings.
Maybe without cell phones we would all be a little bit better at making new friends, or simply enjoying the company of strangers. Texting, short phone calls, and most certainly facebook surfing can be a fruitless way of hiding our insecurity from ourselves.

I know cell phones and facebook are not going away, and one day I myself might find myself with one or both. However, I think we should all take a moment to make sure that these new technologies are not, in fact, hindering our social interactions by limiting our ability to engage our present surroundings and fostering insecurity in our relationships."

Thursday, July 9, 2009

I´ve been away

Team meetings, Livingston. lot´s of fun. 4 or 5 days
visiting students in their communities. Awesome and reewarding.6 days
traveling with Jenny. lots of fun. week, two weekends.

now I am finishing up, doing my final reports and enjoying as much as I can my last days at school, at home, and with Jenny before we go to seperate countries... again.

Jordan

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Host Famly part. 3: Carmela

Carmela: Host mom, some 40 years old. A leader of the women at the church. As a mother she has to spend a lot of time in the oftentimes smoky kitchen, making tortillas over the wood fire (which she sometimes does to the beat of a song), but when you are in the kitchen with her, she is a fun person to talk with. She is not as much of a jokester as Matias, but she also laughs rather easily and is easier to have a sustained conversation with. I have had some very fun chats with her in the kitchen. Along with normal cooking duties, she also sometimes has to chop wood into smaller pieces sometimes too. She is very dedicated to the church, very confident in God and his work on earth, and she is an extremely good prayer. I have watched her launch brooms like spears at ducks and chickens in part of the never ending battle to keep them out of the kitchen.

Jordan

Monday, June 8, 2009

Memory and coming to terms with the end

I have always known that one year sounded short, even if at times it defiantly felt long. But about a month ago MCC sent us information on preparing to come home, two days ago I sat in one of my favorite places in Cobán, drinking a strong mixture of some of the best coffees in Alta Verapaz (famous for it´s coffee fincas) along with cake and surrounded by beautiful and rare orchids and wrote a list of things I should still try to do, personal and work related, and then sat down to writing what might serve as my toast to Elijah at his and Sina´s stateside wedding reception. Beginning to prepare for something outside of Guatemala is probably the most notable sign that soon I will leave.

I still have a month and a half, but the middle part of that month and a half will be taken up by travel with MCC, travel to visit some students, and then travel with Jenny. And the months have been passing by flying. May past by as fast as its´ frequent afternoon showers come and go. One losses himself in the overwhelming power of the rain and thunder, and in a few hours, its´ chaos seems like a strange dream.
Yesterday I went running along a little route along a river. The river is bigger and faster, and if possible, maybe even a little bit greener than the last time I ran along it. I ran past recently seeded corn fields, hills that have been replanted with trees, and a group of women or two doing their washing. There was a beautiful light sprinkle perfect for running, but I did not push myself but went slowly and enjoyed my solitude on the small path which sometimes is simply the path that a water line going to Carchá follows. I wondered what this place will look like in my memory. Memory lies, but I think in the case of a traveler, photography is the bigger culprit. I thought as I ran that it would be nice if I could have my camera along, but I am sure that I would take no picture that would be satisfactory. At the same time that I don´t trust my camera to capture what I see, I also know that I need to take some more pictures, and fast, of my host family and students at Bezaleel. It really is too bad that here people do not smile for pictures. Even the people who otherwise seem to not be able to stop smiling and laughing, will turn dead serious for a photo.

Thankfully, in my memory, they will be smiling. And in my memory, the river I run along side will still look like melted jade. And the water from the spring at the end of the run will be sweeter than I can describe. In my memory, my host mom will be looking down at me, while in my photo I´ll be head and shoulders above her.

Photos really are such liars.

Jordan

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

GIVE ME MY MONEY, HOLLISTER

I see all these Hollister “CALIFORNIA” shirts around here in Guatemala and I have to wonder where Hollister gets off selling me so shamelessly. Where did it find the audacity? I was born and raised in California. I am a living part of the legend that Hollister so shamelessly uses to sell it´s T-shirts. I have even visited other states, Europe, South America, and now Guatemala, in effect, spreading the coolness and popularity of California all around the world. When people ask me where I am from, I don´t say the United States, I say, California.

And now Hollister is taking the name California all around the world (right into the lonely Guatemala mountains), printing it on T-shirts and in the process turning what was once cool about California into factory produced lameness. Who gave Hollister the right to make the name California synonymous with preppy, act like I am too cool for school, pretend to be rebellious high schoolers with nothing better to do but shop in malls for shirts that are too tight. I feel like Snoop Dogg and every rap enthusiast in Los Angeles must have felt when the author of “Gin and Juice” went on to sell “Big Macs and Apple Pie” at that wonderful joint, McDonalds.

Betrayed. We can only hope that the people from Hollister are a bit more ashamed than Snoop Dogg was.

At least anybody who has to pay bills can understand Snoop Doggs selling out, but I don´t see a fat wad of money in MY pocket.

That´s right. Betrayed once again by shameless business practices. Hollister is stealing. Not only are they not giving me and my friends from California the money that we deserve, they are doing something far worse: They are stealing my identity. How am I supposed to continue saying that I am from California when hearing the name fires of the same synapses in peoples brains as those ugly little letters, “AF.”
Hollister is, metaphorically speaking, doing the same thing that Canadian gold companies are doing in Guatemala. That is ripping apart mountains, contaminating water, and paying small wages in exchange for gold being sold around the world. Myself and other Californians are the gold being sold around the world, and it is our souls that are being ripped apart.

Obama, your governmental regulations on business practices are not nearly tough enough. I want money for property damage. Essentially Hollister is lowering the value of all California property. I want money for the time I spend with a shrink trying to find a new identity for myself that isn´t bottled up and plastered onto high school boys chests. I want Holister charged for identity theft, and I want them to pay. I want a shirt that says, I am California, and I hate Hollister.

Jordan

Ps. I used to have no answer to fellow students in Kansas when they would ask me why I decided to move (in a baffled tone of voice). Now I do… and it is written on thousands of 20 dollar shirts.

Friday, May 29, 2009

Host Fam part 2: Matias

Matias: host dad, 40 some years old. Works hard everyday either with his construction job or on a house which the family is building for one of their children. Matias loves to joke around and is also very energetic. Every other Sunday he leads a sort of pre-service Sunday school. Often times he comes home from work and we shake hands while we talk about our day and how we are. I have gotten way better at shaking hands since I have been here in Guatemala (one usually shakes everybody´s hand in a room when he walks in, and handshakes can last a long time. He has a slight. Once I turned around in the bath house to see him in the chicken pen holding one limp rooster and using it to attack another rooster, I watched for about five minutes and I think it was as much for the fun of it as to make the one that was getting beaten to stop attacking the one that my host father was using to beat it up. He eats his food fast and then drinks his glass of tea in about five seconds flat, leans back and lets out a long “wwwoooooww” wipes his mouth and moves onto the next activity. He is always concerned for my well being. Sometimes he will grab his nephews, and hold them very clothes, cheek to cheek, for fairly long periods of time.

Jordan

ps. and I also had a very fun trip following Dave Janzen around the mountains surrounding Nebaj. Rachel and friends were also along for the fun.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

The Political Crisis in Guatemala:


The normal: Impunity, crime, corruption. The judicial system desperately needs to be fixed. On the one hand, way more police are needed, but on the other hand, law enforcement itself is quite corrupt. While in Mexico big name drug traffickers are lined up in front of huge arsenals of weapons after they are caught, in Guatemala you read about arms being stolen from the police. The absolute lack of police enforcement in some rural areas has brought the return of community justice (beatings, burnings, etc). The congress cannot pass a desperately needed fiscal reform bill.

The new: Recently a Harvard and Cambridge educated lawyer filmed a video message three days in anticipation of his assassination blaming his future assassination on high ranking bank officials in cahoots with drug traffickers and the president and the presidents wife himself. His client and client´s daughter were earlier assassinated. The lawyers claim is that Banrural, the biggest bank in Guatemala, takes money from drug traffickers and cleans it… the banks´ other biggest client, the government, stands idly by. Documents have been produced showing apparent anxiety by the Presidents personal secretary about the lawyers client. The president claims that this is the latest act of a long campaign by drug traffickers and others unsympathetic with the leftist government to destabilize his government. When I first got here the president was just finding out that he was being spied on. Now some hopefully impartial organizations such as an organization set up by the UN will be investigating the claims made by the deceased lawyer.

Anyways thousands have taken to streets to protest and call for the resignation of the president. Today the government organized a protest in support, but the paper here ran an article saying that the participation in this march wouldn´t be quite as voluntary as the other. On the other hand, the paper is a city paper, and I hear that the president did better in rural areas, and the support for the counter rally apparently came from people outside of the city.

Colom is moderately liberal and those of us here working on social justice have had hope that he could make changes that would force the government to serve those that it has never served: the huge rural population of Guatemala that constitutes the “other Guatemala.” But what good is a golden head on a broken body? What could Colom do anyway if the legislative and judicial bodies are so screwed up?

This is why education is so important. Good education not only creates a more adept workforce but creates a more self-conscious public that has the skills and the confidence to demand, no require, better governance. Schools like Bezaleel can and are creating competent individuals who dream of a better Guatemala, and who simply through their quality of character will make a more just Guatemala.

On a lighter note a few weeks ago the paper ran an article on a town that said it was being terrorized by the spirit of a dead person some kids and unwittingly dug up. The author also noted that members of the reporting team also experienced some kind of supernatural event.

Jordan

ps. speaking of education, I hear that CA is going to have to make cuts on education. That seems dumb...

My host family part 1

Selbil: Little brother of 17 years. Energetic and chistoso, he smiles and laughs rather easily. He is in an accounting program in Cobán, where he attends everyday wearing the obligatory nice pants, nice shoes, button up tucked in shirt, hair about as long as it is allowed. He calls me “cushO” (I am spelling it how it sounds) and sometimes attacks my shoulders like Rusty Moyer when he is giving someone a “massage.” He is a good soccer player. Besides playing soccer he likes to attack our little cousin, the lovable “pescadito” (little fish). Unlike many young people, Selbil does not dream of leaving for the states, but realizes that there are possibilities here in Guatemala and that his friends and the people of his community are truly important for him. He goes to church every Saturday and Sunday, prays before meals, and wonders aloud about theological problems such as homosexuality. Selbil is very easy to get along with and I am thankful for how he reached out to me from the very beginning.

Monday, May 18, 2009

My previous post

was entitled "evil spirits?"...

and it seems to have dissappeared

dun dun duuuuuuuunnn!!!

sorry,
Jordan

ps. I have fond memories of watching old episodes of "the twilight zone" my freshman year of college. The one with the miniature "aliens" totally fooled me. If I could remember the opening monologue, I´d write it, but I guess I am not that big of a nerd after all.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Reflections from Feb. 26

Reflections 2-26
The hardest part about being in Guatemala has been, without a question, dealing with missing what I left behind. I am happy to say that for the most part I haven´t let the conspicuous absence of all the people I ever cared about during the first 22 years of my life ever, really, bring me down. I am basically writing this because of some recent conversations by email or chat (for once I let myself use internet without rushing myself to finish everything in 30 minutes) with college friends about dealing with not being so physically close to so many of our friends. It seems to be something that all of us have trouble with upon graduating and going on to something else.

I deal with that too, but fortunately going to Guatemala has distracted me quite enough to not to feel too nostalgic about all that stuff. I defiantly do spend some time just being nostalgic, or thinking about seeing people when I get home, but I think for the most part that this has been healthy. As planned, being in such a different place has given me a lot of other things to think about besides what I am missing back home. I am generally content, usually happy… and every now and then, things are something approaching glorious- lets say I am walking the 6k home, there is a beautiful yellow glow on endless green hills, there is a only distant human made noise, and one can hear different bugs and birds calling, and a good song stuck in my head… !calidad! (quality).

I miss the people and the easy social life that I lived back home. The comfort of knowing exactly what my role was. Being confident that I said the right thing. All those things are just harder living in a different culture.

On the other hand, in the absence of these things I have been able to accept the biggest gift that I think Guatemala will give me. That is the gift of showing me a new ways to live. I have found that I can be pretty flexible. From new things to eat, to new ways to bathe, to new ways of greeting people, I have become accustomed to a new kind of lifestyle, and I hope that I will be able to apply some of these things to my life back home. I think of the song A New Way to be Human, by Switchfoot, though song is talking about less material ways of changing and deeper, more profound ways we can change. It is possible I have changed in more profound ways too, but I doubt I would have realized that yet.

Sometimes having as much free time without much to do as I do in the evenings is a little bit frustrating, but mostly I have been very happy to read a lot, get plenty of sleep, listen to whole albums straight without interruption, or just lie down and think. While the work I do is focused on helping others, I also have plenty of time to just be quiet, to listen… I think of how somewhere the Bible says ¨be still and know that I am Lord.¨ These are all luxuries that I did not really have in the hectic college life, and I am making sure to enjoy it. I think my life hear has been very healthy. Very healthy in some ways that college is, perhaps, a little unhealthy.

Jordan

Saturday, May 2, 2009

My work, as succinctly as possible. (for the actually succinct version, scroll to the postpostscript.)


WHAT IS BEZALEEL?

I work at a school, Bezaleel, that has about160 boarding students. The grade level is equivalent to middle school and highschool. We are located in a beautiful little valley just outside of a small town called Chamelco which most people describe as tranquilo. The school was started about 10 years ago because of a call from Mennonite Churches in Alta Verapaz for better education for their children. Eastern Mennonite Missions, which evangelized and has had a continued presence here in Guatemala provided and continues to provide lots of support with workers (long and short term), money, and materials was instrumental in creating Bezaleel. A successful Mennonite colony in Belize also provided lots of support. MCC, in collaboration with Fundameno (an organization like MCC for the Mennonite churches of Alta Verapaz) also provided support for the building of Bezaleel. Obviously all of the churches and Mennontites of Alta Verapaz were instrumental in the building of Bezaleel also.

BACKROUND: STUDENT´S SITUATION, WHY BEZALEEL IS IMPORTANT, AND CHALLENGES

Throughout Latin American indigenous peoples live on an unequal footing with the dominant Latino culture. Right now, Bolivia is becoming a possible exception with the leadership of the first indigenous president in Latin America, Evo Morales and an organized indigenous political movement. Guatemala, however, is not an exception to the rule. Small Q´eqchi´ communities simply do not get the education that they have a right to. Bezaleel, supported by funds from generous Mennonites represented by EMM, provides a relatively cheap (families pay about 1/8 of the cost to attend along with a donation of corn) option for students who want to continue their education.

Bezaleel faces many challenges in properly educating the students. Many students arrive at Bezaleel ill prepared by the primary classes they received. Many of their parents do not know how to read or right and so cannot educate their students themselves. Smaller communities often do not see the benefits of education. There is little access to reading material, Q´ekchi´ is most of the students mother tongue, making classes in Spanish difficult.

WHAT I DO (ON THE OCCASION THAT THINGS ARE NORMAL AT BEZALEEL)

I work in the library (7:30-4/5) and am available to help students with their work at any time. Students have become more and more comfortable with asking me for help, though often times, I think, they do not ask for help because the do not realize they need it, or do not care.

A typical conversation is this

What are you doing? “work” well, what are you working on “science” But what are you doing “copying” or “a project” well, what are you learning “saber profe” (who knows teacher).

And at that point I can usually get the kid to talk about the little bit that he understands and explain concepts or words that he or she does not know. Maybe that is not very different from a conversation with anyone of their age, but it can still be a bit frustrating. Tutoring in this manner is my normal work. I also do quite a bit of just chatting with students and try to mentor some of them a little bit and am always trying to turn conversations educational in someway. Sometimes kids are super interested in worldly things that I can explain that they had no idea about, and sometimes I don´t do a good job and a glazed look comes over the students eyes.

I also work with a few advanced students with English, though this happens with frustrating irregularity (though at the moment with more regularity). I also often bring the daily paper to school and through this have the opportunity to talk to the kids about current events and encourage critical thinking which is generally lacking. I work with a small group with which once a week (in theory) we read an advanced article on a theme that together we have decided on (we have read about Evo Morales, Fidel Castro, the current economic crisis, water issues on Latin Americaa, and sustainable development) the next will be about Rigoberta Menchua or mining in Guatemala. I am not trying to form students into a certain political ideology, I want them to be more aware of the world around them and to learn to understand and think critically about what they read. I am also just starting a program to read short stories with younger students who need the Spanish practice and work at understanding and looking a little bit more in depth in what they read (this actually may be about as dead as it is new). And finally, after urging a couple math teachers, they have told students that they need to seek my math help, and that has happened (yay!, large square root problems all over again!!) The problem with all of this has been, how frustratingly hard it is to find times that work for people. The school sometimes constantly seems to have special events which pulls kids out of class and has them working on less (traditionally speaking) educational projects. Probably the biggest difference I have made with students at the school is developing a bit more of curiousity in some of the students… I just hope that that continues to be cultivated at Bezaleel and afterwards. OH yeah, and I come in Saturdays, usually along with a helpful YES team member or two and open the computer lab for students to work on projects and continue learning to use computers. I just help when they can´t figure something out. These Saturday´s are fun and relaxing.

I have a few other ideas I have thought about trying, but we´ll see what happens.

On top of it all, I feel I am very much loved at the school and have developed good relationships with many students that I think will leave a lasting positive affect.

Ok, I said succinct, and this might be as good as it gets.

Jordan

Ps. Coming soon: a portrait of my wonderful host family.

Pps. This is a succinct version of what I do: if you have seen the movie I heart Huckabees I am like the fireman (Marky Mark) yelling at his daughter as he is being pulled away from her “never stop asking questions… never stop asking questions!!!” except that I am not THAT funny, or that crude, but I am constantly asking students to think just a little bit more about what they are doing. Maybe you could call me Marky Marcos. I go by Marcos here, or “cush” in kekchi. Or cusho o cushito.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Semana Santa Pictures

soccer field in the small town by the caves "muc´bil ha´" (Hidden water). Here I had a nice conversation with a man by the town.

I like this picture.

At Tikal. Spectacular.

host cousin Maynor, host brother Selbil, and closest, cousin Marvin. We went swimming two or three times in this pristine river near where we live. Now I like to takes runs along the river, though I am a little afraid of snakes.

don´t worry my "what I do" post is coming soon.

Jordan

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Questions

A few questions I was puzzling over the other day.

If WalMart had started out as a do-good NGO with the purpose of providing food and other household projects at a cheaper price while freeing up their time by reducing shopping time, would we consider it today a hugely successful attempt to help and attend to the needs of ordinary people?


And secondly, if WalMart had really started out with high minded intentions, would it have been nearly as successful as it is today. Instead of a hugely successful capitalist enterprise, would we think of it as a being disturbingly communist-like in its huge big-blockness, destruction of individuality (especially with its destruction of small businesses), and its big picture central planning. And instead of having hordes of minimum wage workers, would it maximize its efficiency with smiling volunteers, knocking down prices everyday.


If washers and dryers had been taken up as a cause by womens liberation groups to free women from having to slave away hand washing clothes, would anybody today be using them? Or would whatever organization have handed out a few thousand and found that then, most women wouldn´t except washers and dryers, being something that they didn´t need, and therefore unable to accept as a hand out.

Why don{t most large businesses "have a heart"? And more importantly, why don{t we demand that businesses have a heart?

Any comments or emails on these questions would be greatly appreciated,

Jordan


And for the record, I try to avoid WalMart, but maybe that is just because I have enough money to afford disdain for it.


Ps. I already have written a post on what I actually do here, so look for that soon.

me at "hidden water." Looking cool. I finally found a cord and got some pictues onto my USB, so I´ll also probably post some more pictures soon.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Thoughts from Guatemala

I just read in a Spanish paper (El Pais) about Obama´s announced plan to build high speed rail roads in the US and I am super excited about it. We have all been waiting for one in California for a long time. I just hope that it stops in Fresno. But maybe I am just being selfish. I never had a model train, built a train, or have any cualifications for being a train enthusiast, but I have always held a romantic view of train travel. Even the brutal Newton to LA route holds a place slightly mushy space in my heart. Besides Imagine not having to deal with traffic coming into SF or LA.Imagine getting there faster than ever. Ok Ok, obviously in some ways train travel isn´t as convenient as car travel, but, especially if the city you arive at has a good public transportation system, I think it would work out great.

Obama just had talks with Mexico about drug trafficking.

Not long ago the Mexican president (Calderón) said somemthing to the effect of the United States being to blame for drug trafficking and all the violence it brings along with it, because all the demand comes from the United States. At first I agreed pretty whole heartedly with the Mexican President. The United States certainly can´t ignore the fact that drug trafficking wouldn´t exist if we weren´t such a lucrative market for ilegal drugs. Upon further reflection though, I thought, you know, supply and demand is a two way street, supply can cause demand, and demand can cause supply. And we are talking about chemically addictive (that is except for marijuana) drugs here. The larger the supply, the easier it is to get more people hooked and thus create more demand. Remember the Opium War… a Little something about England calling for FREE TRADE with China (to sell opium), China being upset about England selling their people opium, a short war, and China ending up divided between many western powers. Is the Opium war China´s fault now?? Those silly Chinese and their protecthinist ways **tisk tisk**.

Speaking of free trade, I a reading about Africa right now. England opened up Africa in the name of eradicating slavery, starting comercial enterprises (most important), bringing in Christianity, and civilizing the natives. They thought of it as a rightous effort… but free trade ended with European domination that had Africans in virtual slavery anyways. Destroying trees in order to obtain rubber and killing elephants for tusks. The current author I am reading, does little to talk about these failures of the righteous efforts of Europeans.

Back to today. I just read a Little article with some students (An advanced group with which I will read advanced news articles) about water in Latin America. Not long ago countries such as Argentina, Uruguay, and Bolivia tried out privatizing water, and the results were not good.

Not to get on an violently anti free trade kick or anything.

With the students, I stressed that I felt that these examples showed us that we should always be on the lookout that business organizations (especially big ones) are not being destructive, but are being productive and providing some kind of service to others. There are examples of mining companies in Guatemala and the rest of Latin America that destroy local wildlife (uglify, if you will), use up poisen local water supplies, provide only a few jobs, and sell gold or whatever material it is northward. So it doesn´t work out very well for Guatemalans.

But how did my original idea of a post which had a the idea of ¨let´s not just blame America and the west¨suddenly take a turn the other direction???

Maybe that is just easier (I could still go on),

Not that that does not make it incorrect,

Jordan

ps. I have got a couple of blog posts I have already written that will be coming soon! Puzzling questions. And finally, a post on what I actually do!! oh yeah, and some pictures once somebody lets me borrow their cable.

Monday, April 13, 2009

A hasty review of my Semana Santa

Saturday I stayed home and went with my host younger brother (Selbil) and two host cousins (Marvin and “pescado”) to Las Islas, which is a natural pool in the river that flows through carchá. El pescado (fish)… as we said is not a very good pescado. He does not know how to swim. So we tried to teach him a little bit, but mostly he enjoyed standing in shallow parts and sliding down a slide where I would catch him before he went under water. It was a lot of fun and charming to have such fun with the pescado. I actually don´t know his real name. My host mom said that yestday, the day I returned, he kept asking about when I would get home.

So anyways, Sunday morning I left home early and passed by a Catholic procession on my way to the bus station. I got to Coban and ran to catch a microbus that was heading in the right direction. I got dropped off at a place called “mucbilha´” which is “hidden water” in Kekchi. It is a community run tourism thing. I got a tour through two huge caves and after lunch went back to one of them and had a lot of fun being on my own at the entrance to a huge cave with a stream coming out of it taking pictures and making noises or singing into the dark cavern. I visited the small community next door, 60 families strong, and hung out with a guy there looking at the tiny Catholic church. The have a large soccer field with horses and a bull grazing, and goals made of round wooden posts. You can´t reach the village by car and the area is protected so you are surrounded unmolested forest.

I left early in the morning, hitched a quick ride to a crossroads where I got on another microbus to Sayaché, crossed the river by boat, and got on another bus to Flores. Floresis the closest town to Tikal (ancient Mayan pyramids). Flores is an island in the center of a lake, a very cool tourists spot with lots of restaurants along the shore. It is also much cooler because of the lake (literally cooler I mean, Flores is in the Peten which is a terribly hot place, like Cambodia with its humidity). I ate at the side of the road in St Elena, the surrounding town, visited flores for just a bit and then hopped on a bus to Tikal. There I got into the park after being usuccessful at finding a place to stay (because of people with bad directions). There I walked about35 minutes to the tallest tower where there was a group gathered to watch the sun go down. Despite some annoying French girls, it was nice.

The pyramids are spectacular, so tall and steep. It is quite amazing.

I went back and found where I meant to stay, and rented a tent for the night. I bought an orange juice and then a watermelon juice and then 1.5 liters of water to try to satisfy my thirst. My main source of water earlier had been just a bag of mangos I had bought. I think these were the principal cause of the stomach problems I had this night. I made three trips to the bathroom before I took on of my magic pills I have had in my little green bag since I bought it. The next day, despite some weakness, I explored the Mayan ruins, at first very pleasantly on my own and then with a group of a German, an Englishman, an Israeli, and a Norweigen.

We left the park around luchtime as it was going to start to get hot (Though it was a fabulous day to visit, as a cold front had just come through). I ate a disappointing hamburger and booked a ticket to get back to Flores. I had planned to do more with the pyramids, but I wasn´t feeling great and just wanted to rest.

So I got back to Flores around 4:30 and found that the only hostal in Flores was full because of a HS group from Texas. I looked around a little bit and briefly toyed with going to a friend of a friend in Flores who I met once but instead went back and rented a hammock wich the hostal has in its social area.

For dinner I went to the place which is owned by the friend of a friend (friend of Galan and Phyllis who used to work either with MCC or with EMM and now lives there and runs a café bar by the lake). I ordered a cinnamon role and a coffee sat alone for a while before getting into a conversation with a hippish looking Guatemalan woman who sat at the table next to me. It was a good conversation and I later ordered a sandwich and fries which I had to take home partly in a doggie bag. As I was heading back to the hostal I crossed a couple with whom I had shared waves with before and they invited me to come watcha movie with them back where I had just been. I said yes. He was from Norway I think and she was from Italy and we all spoke good Spanish. It was fun and we enjoyed a depressing documentary about the Zapatistas in Mexico.

We also watched another catholic procession go by. The blaring horns are great.

I returned to the hostal to play jenga with some English, one of which was the same as I had hung out with earlierin Tikal. Three of them I shared a van with back to Coban the next day.

Over all it was avery fun trip. Though I have to report the disturbing loss of every singlie container of water that I either carried with me at the beginning or bought on the way.

I am now happy to be at home with my own bed.

The last couple days I enjoyed relaxation, reading, and trips to the river to swim with my host family

Much too hasty

Jordan


Monday, April 6, 2009

clarification

The point of the picture in the last post (of my friends Adolfo and Enrique) is to continue making fun of an overly romantic view of some sort of Q´eqchi´ higher spiritual knowledge of the earth. That´s all. They were my best friends when I worked at the Fundameno office and are really neat guys who are normal like the rest of us.

alright, I am about to go see Mayan ruins, so I hope you all have almost as much fun as me!

Jordan

Saturday, April 4, 2009

The Maya

A snippit from Days of Obligation: An Argument with my Mexican Father by Richard Rodriguez.

"So I ask my friend at Oxford what it means to him to be an Indian.

He hesitates. My friend has recently been taken up as amusing by a bunch of rich Pakistanis in London. But, facing me, he is vexed and in earnest. He describes a lonely search among his family for evidence of Indian-ness.. He thinks he has found it in his mother; watching his mother in her garden.

Does she plant corn by the light of the moon?

She seems to have some relationship with the earth, he says quietly.

So there it is. The mystical tie to nature. How else to think of the Indian except in terms of some druidical green thumb? No one says of an English matron in her rose garden that she is behaving like a Celt. Because the Indian has no history – that is, because history books are the province of descendants of Europeans--- the Indian seems only to belong in the party of the first part, the first chapter. So that is where the son expects to find his mother, Daughter of the Moon.”


Thank you Richard Rodriguez. I live with “Indians” and while the Q´eqchi´ might be more spiritual than I am, while some still believe that there are Mayans (they have heard their music) in the untouched parts of the forest, while corn might still be holy... these are all still parts of a culture that have come right along with everyone else into the 21st century. The Mayans are now protestants who go out to villages to pray for those in times of trouble. The Mayans are now my host mom who cooks over a wood fire and would like to have a car so she didn´t have to walk so much. The Mayans are my cousin who is exchanging her huilpil and corte (clothes enforced long ago by Spanish occupants) for modern clothes from America made in Guatemala or SE Asia. If you still want to call the Q´eqchi´ Mayans, then the Mayans are cutting down there own forest and trashing their own rivers,

If you want to find the old Mayan spiritual practices, you still can. It is even on display at some touristy places like Chichicastenango. I am sure it is much stronger in small villages. In fact I hear there is a bit of a revival going on right now. Corn is still holy. I was super excited to hear stories about people hearing the ch´ol cuink ("heart men" or the mystical Mayans that some blieve still live in the forest) and my librarian buddy talking about the mountain God. Despite reservations as a Christian (a Christian brother to them, as they are Christian too) more than anything I was just interested to hear about beliefs these two had that are a continuation of religious beliefs that were here before Christianity. There is something impressive about that, and besides, I have not been here near long enough to argue spiritual points with people here.

But I am not going to regret the loss of ancient culture. It is a choice for them to make. I will regret changes that, along with changes Europeans made long ago, lead towards unhealthy relationships with our surrounding world and can lead towards harmful things such as global warming. I don´t want to see Q´eqchi´ people cutting down the forest, but not because they are “betraying the traditions that run in their blood,” but because they are taking part in an almost completely modern problem that could have bad results for all of us. I regret that while many might shed a tear for the loss of ancient culture, we deny that that culture, being stuck in the first chapter of history books, has anything to teach us today.





My friends Enrique and Adolfo (Qeqchi (decendets of the Maya!!)) celebrating Obamas victory. Maybe there "spiritual connection to the Earth" told them that Obama would be better than Mccain.... I don{t know....



Jordan


ps. I actually bribed them with cake.





Thursday, March 26, 2009

I am 23 years old

Tuesday, my birthday I took the day off because it was my birthday and because I had worked Saturday and Sunday.
-I worked Saturday because now I am opening the library and computer lab on saturdays and trying to start a small reading program with some of the younger students, and Saturday might be about the only option... I think the reading could develop into a really good thing, but as seems usual hear, good ideas and plans just seem to constantly get swamped by other events. Sunday I had to prepare for a MCC team meeting that will be here-

anyways, I was sleeping soundly when suddenly I was startled by the brazen sound of an accordian. I jumped out of bed and looked out my window, but only saw a new fire wood stack. I ran to the door and what did I find, a small mariachi band serenading me! It was awesome. The sang a few songs, I stood there in just my shorts before grabbing a blanket unsure of what to do. It was great, 5 members from the church band, including the pastor came to my house at five in the morning to start off my birthday right. they sang, we ate tomales and cake, the pastor said a prayer and read some scriptire and we just generally had a good old time. I felt very special and am very greatful to my family and band members for doing that for me. Sorry that sentence is so dull, I am trying to write as fast as I can...

In the afternoon me and some friends went to missionaries Galan and Phillis Groff{s house and made bread. WHICH WE ATE WITH MY FAVORITE JAM FROM MAILED FROM REEDLEY, straight from the Paul and Ruth Buxman{s farm, "just fruit and sugar" or something like that. It was deliecious. On top of the plum and peach jam selections, we had a fruit salad of mango{s, pineapple, and watermelon... delicious.

then at around 11 30 pm I think, I received a call from my house. This was no normal call from my home however. It so happens that the BC concert choir sang in Reedley that night and my parents took in for the night Jenny, Kyle Unruh, and Evan Fast (the later two are former roomates and if you don{t know the first, well, peddle a little faster (as my dad would say)).

using parenthesis within parenthesis makes me happy. If you are alllowed to do it in Math, I think you should be able to in English also.

ok, that{s all.
Jordan

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Word of Mouth, “If you haven´t come to the Lord yet, now is the time.”

Last Thursday evening there was a meeting between directors of schools in the Carchá area. On Friday our director had a special meeting with all the workers at Bezaleel and then a special meeting with all the students too. The theme, the stunning news from the day before: the sharp rise in recent crime was the result of a group of 600 well armed men who “do not respect property rights,” who forced people to strip down to make sure they didn´t have tattoos (to make sure they weren´t gang members), and who raped women. Most all of the teachers had heard about this group, and the details weren´t all too far apart. Nobody knew who they were, communists was the word thrown around the most, the old guerrilla, somebody even suggested they were from the government (and the director, though he thought that not true, seemed to think that would be a good thing). The director was making the proposal that the men and women change residencies because the entrance to the men´s side has a gate, and that way women would not need to cross the road much, he didn´t think his advice would be followed, but said that if they didn´t and something happened, his hands were washed. “What can we do against 600 men.?”

I could not believe all this and thought that it must have been extremely exaggerated. I was saying to a friend how the number could be way, way less… how could anybody know that they are 600? But he had heard from friends from the police. The group was from a few small towns up North of us and they knew the amount of men from the town or something like that.

In the morning with the students we prayed and one of the professors recited some Bible versus. The director said “If you haven´t come to the Lord yet, now is the time.” Anything remotely gang like needed to go, girls should not have ear rings and should all dress in the traditional clothing.

At church on Sunday, the pastor said that parents needed to watch over their kids even more and make sure they weren´t “getting into anything that they shouldn´t be getting into.”

On Monday the boys told me how they had cut their hair, and ho now, all about the outskirts of campus, amongst pines, banana trees, bushes, and the little birds that take up their song in the steep hills that surround campus, were buried chains and pants that were just a bit too big.

On Tuesday, I asked the teacher if he had heard anything more about the group. He had known a decent amount on Friday. “All lies” he said.

Jordan

analysis later

Friday, March 13, 2009

The Most Difficult (but most fun) language lessons, part 2.

I seriously suggest reading part 1 (below) before venturing into part 2.


“Were you scared

As an American male, I am not scared.

“Were you scared on 9-11?” “no, not really, I was scared for other people, but I wasn´t scared” “Oh, I was scared by 9-11.” Why was my host dad scared on 9-11, while I was not? I had far more reason to be scared. The simple answer is that the Spanish word for scared asustado also kind of means surprised. I guess I can admit to being surprised, but rarely that I was scared. I wasn´t even scared when robbed at gunpoint, seriously I took it quite calmly, maybe it was scary, but I wasn´t exactly scared.

This is not about weather some third party impartial judge would rule me scared or asustado by any one event, this is about trying to figure what the heck is the difference between what I think when I say that I was asustado, and when they here that I was.

Once again, let´s start with me the fairly typical American male (I think), when I say I was scared by something I was so scared that there is no plausible way that someone would believe me if I said I wasn´t, I am half joking, or I am trying to get a better hold of the way Guatemalans use the word. For me, being and admitting to being scarred has little consequence other than in the moment and whatever blow my pride will face from people believing that I was scared.

In my short experience here, Q´eqchi´ Guatemalans seem way more preoccupied with weather one was scared or not. It does not have to do with pride. If one was, in fact scared, it can have serious repercussions. There are two basic reasons I think: ancient beliefs and recent traumatic events.

I made the early mistake of admitting that I had had a bad dream one night. I did not understand why my family took it so seriously. My host mom reminded me a couple times to say my prayers before going to bed. I am a fairly vivid dreamer and I had problems as a kid getting over a spate of bad dreams (some of which I still remember), but it has been a long time since they deserved such worry. Recently I said how I had a dream (I think it was a dream) where I was in bed and I couldn´t move any of my limbs, I said it smiling because I thought it had been kind of neat and because I was purposefully trying to put off their worry. My host dad and brother looked at me very seriously and asked if it had been pesadilla (something pretty bad), but were visibly relieved that I hadn´t been asustado.

I recently heart my fellow librarian trying to diagnose a student who was saying he was having problems studying, he gets bored, can´t focus, and overall is just tired. There were lots of interesting things brought up in this conversation, but I´ll keep it short and simply recall a small part of the conversation Did you have a scare somewhere?” “no” “are you sure, did you have a scare somewhere” “I don´t think so,” “I don´t believe you. You got scared somewhere. You were scared. You might not even remember it now, but you got scared. That´s what happened to me” According to the Mayan beliefs he says, you have to do something with a doll (I forget exactly what you are supposed to do.).

In another conversation between my fellow librarian and another teacher which was full of magical tales that they themselves had lived or heard about there was a particular preoccupation with being scared. I hope to write more about this subject later, but this will do for this entry.

My host father has admitted to me of not being able to sleep because of bad dreams, and I think he might have an actually fairly real problem of dealing with some sort of post trauma disorder. He spend of a lot of his life in a country going through a terrible civil war. So when I say I didn´t sleep well because of a bad dream, they associate that with the actually serious bad dreams of my host father, not with my easily dismissible soul stealing monsters or whatever new invention of my mind.

Some peoples bad dreams here could be serious trauma inducing events I can´t admit to being scared (even to myself) despite the fact that I am sometimes very jumpy when people come jogging up behind me (I was robbed once and punched once by people running up behind me in foreign countries). I am pretty easily asustado by people joking around and jumping out of shadows at me, but if you do that to me and ask me if I was scared, no I will say, you surprised me, you did not scare me.

Here, being scared can call up both recent memory and current afflictions with post traumatic events problems and can recall ages long ideas about a spiritual world totally separate from our western faith in science, progress, and a one true God which we can get to know personally.

Jordan

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

part 1: The Hardest (but most fun) language lessons

The language lessons one can never learn. One of the funnest, but perhaps one of the most difficult, parts of learning a new language occurs at the busy intersection between cultural values and language. Because of this confusing mangle of words that carry alternative meanings, words that mean one thing but might imply another, and words that have simple English translation that fail to capture the true sense of the word in Spanish, even the fluent foreign language speaker can be left rather confused, or even angry. There are words that I knew before I took my first Spanish class that I am still trying to figure out.

A well known example of this frustrating (but fun) part of language learning is Gordo(a). A good friend of mine, Jake Harder, came back from Guatemala when I was young and started calling me Gordo (instead of Jordo). Gordo means ¨fat.¨ It was ok because we were good friends, I was just a kid and not worried about physical appearance, and I was defiantly not fat. He explained however, as I am sure many of you know, that in much of the Latino culture calling someone Gordo or Gorda isn´t really taken as a insult like in the states. I am sure there are a lot of very weight conscious people in the Latino world who would be up set to be called Gorda, but the word is just not applied or received with the same manacing intentions or with the same sensitivity as in the US. Sometimes it is a simple statement of acceptable fact, and sometimes it is just used in a more friendly manner.

In the United States we are taught that being fat, or just a little chubby, is horrible. Admitting that one was fat or chubby would be like admitting to oneself that they were justly looked down upon by the rest of society, that there was something that everyone (including themselves) knew that they should do in order to make his or herself more acceptable to the rest of society. Allowing oneself to be identified as ¨fat¨ in Latino culture does not carry with it the same social death wish that popular culture in the states suggests that it is.

But that ´s an easy one.

“Are you sad?” “huh?.. no I am not SAD, I just want to sit alone for a bit.” How many times have I been asked if I am sad here? Triste means sad in Spanish, and it is such an easy, perfect translation, that is easy to forget that triste might encompass a far wider range of emotions than sad does. It seems to, at least where I am in the Q´ekchi´ culture in which I live. After being asked so many times whether I am triste, I have finally begun to realize that maybe those around be could be right. Maybe I can be triste and not be sad.

How could that be?

Let´s look at myself first. A general part of US culture is that we do not admit to what we think of as negative emotions. If I were back at school I would site some article by a sociologist that we read once in a history class about this aspect of American culture. We are always, “fine, thank you “ (as all the English learners at Bezaleel learn to say). If you would argue that this is not true of US culture, I can at least say that it is true for me. Sort of. I am not going to get into weather sometimes I think maybe I am sad or angry without admitting it to myself, if I am sad, but don´t realize it, am I actually sad? The end result is, anyhow, that when I am sitting on my own reading (something few Q´ekchi´do) while others are playing soccer and my host father asks me if I am triste, I invariable heartily deny this proposition.

On the other hand, however, Q´ekchi´are much more ready to admit that they are ra sa´ lin ch´ol “sad in my heart.¨ Ra also means pain.

Many Q´ekchi´ children grow up sleeping in the same bed as their siblings. My host brother of 26 years has never had his own room. Latino families are known for cuddling up, the whole family, on one big bed to watch the TV. People don´t leave their parents until they are married, sometimes not even then. The US is well known to be the opposite. The individualism that arose from single male pioneers going out to conquer the wilderness, or individual immigrants in whatever stage of history going out to make a name for themselves has made us into a culture that values striking out by oneself. The grandiose picture of individual hardiness, whether true or not, is a centerpiece to our societies self image. Catholicism (dominant religion in Latin America, if not where I live) stresses society salvation through the mediating Unniversal Church, while Protestantism (as in the states) stresses an individual relationship with God.
So when I openly sequester myself a little bit, my behavior is quite abnormal. And at least in the limited vocabulary of Q´ekchi´ Spanish speakers (using the easy and direct translation between ra and triste) I seem rather triste.

Am I right then, to deny this?

My actions, according to their cultural definitions of normal human behavior, most defiantly mark me as being triste. In the states, I would say that I am not sad, I just want to be alone for a little bit. And this is the point where the seemingly perfect translation between triste and sad fails. Where I am living, the emotion of “wanting to be alone” can be conveniently shortened and jammed in with the other meanings of triste. I am not sad because in English we do not like taking an emotional state and applying a negative label like sad. More importantly, wanting to be alone is extremely respected. Here, this is weird, possibly disrespectful, and certainly indicates an unhealthy state of being.

hopefully there will be more to come.

Jordan

Monday, March 2, 2009

Wow,

who lets me put stuff like that (previous post) on the internet... what is wrong with me?

I guess posts like the previous post are a result of a weekend where nothign happened. Idle hands....

well, I did run the most gruelling 11 kilometers of my life, so that was something.

hope all of you are doing well

Jordan

Saturday, February 28, 2009

Weird fanmail

Wow, it has been a long time since I responded to my fanmail. I think the last time was even before I left for Guatemala. I guess there has just been so much…

Matthew Root, former Commy strongman, writes:

Dear Jordan, I love reading everything that you write about on your blog and I am disappointed by your lack of entries in the month of February. While struggle to write a my seminar paper this year, I just can´t help but think about your seminar paper and how good it was. Anyways, my insightful question is, How are you?

Man Matthew, I had thought that Penny Moon´s absence from your life this semester would help raise your self esteem, I guess not. I suppose she is not the only one who makes fun of your ridiculous hair. As for your question, my insightful answer is that I am good and happy.

Peter the Great , Russian Tzar, writes:

Dear Jordan, I can´t believe you are still in Guatemala amongst all those Catholics and Mayans. Anyways, I heard from a friend that you have grown a ¨really manly beard,¨ is that true? Don´t you know that all the cool people shave? I banned beards in Russia in my time so that we could move up in the world. Obviously you have been infected infected by that creole curse (just by being born in America), making you inferior and doomed to always be behind us Europeans of pure blood.

First of all, Peter, today people make fun of you for your ridiculous beard tax. Beards have nothing to do with anything. Second of all, if you look at any mural of the Spanish conquest (who are way more European than Russia is) all the Spanish had beards. Duh! Third of all, I think you starting this no beard thing for Russians has started it on an irrevocably self destructive path. Putin, current leader of Russia is beardless, and he is obviously sub-consciously suffering from a beard inferiority complex and is trying naively to try and assert Russian power in Europe through strong arm military and economic pressure which will, in the end, only make Europeans that much likely to reject Russians as Europeans. So your beard policy has, in effect, had the opposite effect from what you were hoping.

…. Anyways, My beard is only ¨really manly¨ if you think of it in comparison to the facial hair exhibited by people such as Kyle and Alex Unruh (Alex can still pass off as a High Schooler). Thankfully, because of my close contact with these two very special people, I can feel kind of good about myself. I have also run into some envious Guatemalans. It is not full (some parts are thicker than others), and it is strangely blond, but I think that in a few years a beard might not actually be a bad look for me. The experiment has been worthwhile.

Moctezuma, last Aztec Emperor, writes

Hahaha, silly European blooded, weak stomached ¨American,¨ I have read your entries on Diarrhea, and I couldn´t be more happy. Remember the small pox that killed between 60 and 80 percent of my people while your ¨conquistadores¨ played us for fools and ¨conquered¨ us here in America. Well I´ve got news for you! I´m back and your loose bowel movements are my doing…. Let every traveler to America beware, I am alive and well!

Thanks Moctezuma for trying to keep a 500 year old fight alive in your letter. Actually, my stomach has been doing quite well here. I finally had about 24 hours of diarrhea about a week ago, but it wasn´t too bad. I want you to know, Moctezuma, that you really don´t need to be trying to take out your revenge anymore. In some ways you´ve won. There are a lot of Mayans still around me. Richard Rodiguez in his insightful book Days of Obligation writes about how he sees ¨Indian faces¨ everywhere, but wonders, ¨Where are the conquistadores?¨. The virgin, La Virgen de Guadalupe appeared to an indigenous person, and now, the strongest base of Catholocism in the world is characterized as exhibiting very strong ¨folk¨tendency, that is, they do things that aren´t Catholic per se… it is their own religion, not the Popes. Maybe you should start focusing on my productive things than amebas.


Jordan
ps: I recently received peanut butter and nutella in the mail. Bannanas with peanut butter and nutella is delicious. Tortillas with PB and Nutella is delicious. Soon I will try putting all four together, and it will be delicious....

Friday, February 20, 2009

The Other Day in Carcha

two men were caught trying to rob another man and they were stripped nakced and parated down the street. My mom told me that one jumped in the river to try to get away but pepole went in after him. I do not know if these men were delivered to true authorites.

Meanwhile on the news yesterday was a story about a man getting shot in the city and the police not doing anything about it.

One polititian calls for radical change in the government and a renewed effort to respect human rights. These rights, he said, immediatly (magically through the powers of a free trade system) bring wealth to the country. Sounds great, and despite the fact that he claims that this is how China found such success (WAY OFF, IDIOT) the whole new respect for human rights jargon sounds pretty good.

THen there is news on one station about how the news in the best paper available in Guatemala, The PRensa Libre, was started by the CIA ans still carries a strong bias against certain political canidates. One in particular is very popular among many people I have talked to. He did good things for the people. He also, however, stole money from the state.

In order to exacerbate all this confusion, the educational system is far from being adequatly funded....

What is one to believe in Guatemala??

saber

Jordan


me playing soccer on valentines day. I made one awesme goal. If you look closely you can tell I am in the middle of an.... interesting... experiment with facial hair.



Saturday, February 14, 2009

Boxes

The other day I dreamt that I choked a rooster to death with my bare hand.

““ Reverse” “Racism”” ??
All the quotations aren´t just to be funny. But partially.

The other day I was asking some girls at the school who would be willing to have a Canadian girl accoompany them during a normal day of classes, work , and socializing. Some were excited. Soon they began to ask for thin ones, tall ones, blond ones, pretty ones, beautiful ones. I told them I didn´t have control over that. Ok, so that´s not racism, but it is definitely a box taped down by ignorance and ideas about white women shaped by TV… though probably not many would have TV´s at home… not sure. I didn´t really mind because they are quite young and their ignorance is sort of understandable. On the other hand, it would sort of be like the Canadian girls asking for ¨really short ones¨or ¨ones with gold stars on their teeth and can´t stop smiling¨ "I want one who wears traditional dress" "I want one who carries baskets on her head." When you don´t know, but have only seen; when you haven´t communicated, but have only dreamt, these people for all that we have decided to respect and love are still just dolls in the theater of our imagination.


And I am not sure that there is a lot to do about that.

Jordan

ps. despite what this post might idicate it is a beautiful day topping off a fun week and here in Guatemala I am everyday realizing that it is going to be difficult to leave.

pps. sorry I have spelled cynicism wrong... as if anybody would even know in these days of ¨spellcheck¨and other cheap cheats... hahaha