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mediconico · 6 years ago

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Tajumulco

Volcán Tajumulco stands guard over all of Central America as its highest point rising to 4,222 meters, a dormant volcano with an eminent history and mythological significance to the indigenous Guatemalan tribes that populate its slopes. According to an ancient mam legend, at the beginning of the earth (Qawuj) a judgment was made and Tajumulco took in all of the land around it and its resources in order to protect them. Some great time later, a huge number of ants named zampopos began to pour out of the volcano, which passed unnoticed to the townspeople until sometime later a large woodpecker went to the hillside to hunt the ants and returned with frijoles in its beak. The village people thus decided to follow the woodpecker up the side of the mountain, where the volcano revealed all that it had protected for eternity: maiz, frijol, animales, agua, aire, semillas, fuego, and madera, among others.

It is no surprise then that along with the other 37 volcanoes in Guatemala, Tajumulco has been an important cultural resource not only during times of peace and economic growth, but also in times of conflict. After the Spanish conquistador arrival to Guatemala in 1524 and subsequent invasion of the Guatemalan altiplanos, the indigenous Mayan tribes fled to the safety of the bosques that lined the hillsides of Tajumulco, effectively demonstrating early guerrilla warfare. But it was not direct violence that led to the ultimate demise of the Mayan regime in Guatemala; just as the Europeans eviscerated the Americas, the Spanish brought a plethora of foreign diseases including smallpox and typhoid fever to which the native Mayans had little to no immunity. And thus, while the Mayans fled and hid in the relative safety of their mountain refuges, they could not escape the grasp of disease. In the end, it is estimated that over 3.5 million indigenous Mayan peoples died from diseases brought to Central America by the conquistadores.

Tajumulco continued to protect its culture and way of life during the Guatemalan conflict that began around 1975 and peaked in the early 1980s. A brief history of this conflict is warranted here, especially for an American such as myself studying healthcare delivery in Guatemala. The stage was set in 1954, when the United States CIA supported a military coup d’état that deposed the democratically elected Guatemalan President Jacob Árbenz. The United States, acutely fearful of emerging communist regimes in the early Cold War period, had decided that the economic policies of Árbenz had approached a point that required intervention. It was, as is frequently in United States foreign policy, a decision motivated by power, money, and maintenance of the status quo.

Guatemalan President Jacobo Árbenz, in office 1951-1954

The policy of Árbenz that drew the most attention had to do with American corporate and Guatemalan elite interests in farmlands, including land owned by the United Fruit Company, which exported large amounts of bananas and platanos at the expense of Guatemalan indigenous peoples and campesinos. This became known as the Banana Republic, which does not in fact only refer to a popular U.S. fashion retailer but more importantly to the political instability of Guatemala dependent on the exportation of the single product of bananas. As Chilean poet Pablo Neruda (1904-73) writes in “La United Fruit Co.”:

In the 1950s, much of the land owned by the United Fruit Company and other large fincas controlled by the Guatemalan elite was not actively used as farmland. Árbenz, a staunch populist, proposed and passed a law that allowed the government to purchase the land at its original proposed cost, which he then proposed to sell to the local indigenous groups that lived in these areas who felt as if they had rights to the land and needed it to support their local economy. Landowners fought back, because they had originally bought the land far below its current market value by devaluing its purchase price. Now, they had to pay the consequences.

The United States feared that such a policy approached communism so closely that it decided to continue with the military coup d’état supported by the CIA described earlier, installing the military regime of Carlos Castillo Armas, who was succeeded by a series of strictly conservative military presidents. The consequences of a rise to power by the power-hungry Guatemalan elite and military reverberated about the country for the next 30 years, culminating in the Guatemalan genocide of the 1970s and early 1980s. Rich finca owners, in collaboration with the political elite and paramilitaries, staged a systematic massacre of over of over 40,000 native Guatemalans, of which the majority where indigenous Mayan peoples. The basis of the conflict lay in instilling fear in the Guatemalan campesinos, greed for money, power, and land, and ignorance and fear of the traditional Guatemalan way of life.

Tajumulco once again played a key role in the survival of the Guatemalan guerrillas, as its lush forests and relative lack of oxygen provided a sanctuary for indigenous rebel fighters armed at most with machetes who could only hope to run when facing fully armed military forces. The rebel fighters built entire villages in the mountains, abandoning their traditional homes in the foothills upon the arrival of the bloodthirsty paramilitaries. And they staged traps and ambushes in their villages, preventing the ascent of the government forces hungry to destroy everything in their path. It’s an indelible story of incredible bravery and sacrifice in the face of terror and unspeakable atrocities.

Portrait of indigenous Guatemalan activist and political organizer Rigoberta Menchú, whose work led to a Nobel Prize in 1992.

So when I decide to trek to the summit of Volcán Tajumulco with a group of friends along with a local tour business in Xela, Quetzaltrekkers, I’m cognizant of the symbolism of our ascent, my footprints on the trail, and the surrounding landscape.

We arrive to the trailhead about 2 hours west of Xela, having driven a winding course up to the small pueblo of Tajumulco that sits at the base of the volcán. Pueblo may even be incorrect in describing the size of Tajumulco; it’s a small collection of about 4-5 restaurants, a few tiendas, and some run-down hotels mostly populated with hopeful tourists. At 10,500 feet, the air is thin and the sun shines strongly, lush green farmlands stretching above into the distance.

Involuntarily, we are joined by 3 local wild dogs whom have learned that they're better off begging for food from unsuspecting viajeros than the jaded locals. Excited to have a new group potentially more generous than the last, the three dogs jump and bark wildly around us for several minutes. The most vivacious of the group, a scrawny pale-haired mutt who barks at nearly everything, has earned herself the endearing nickname cabrona from the Quetzaltrekkers guides who run the trip twice per week.

The first leg of the trek is uncomfortably humid. We take a wide dirt road up through the farmlands, last night’s rain evaporating around our ankles in a sluggish fog. Although the trail is not steep, the humidity, altitude, and latitude-strengthened Central American sun all work together to tire us quickly. We take several breaks, during which our guides hand out small sugar candies for additional bursts of energy.

After about an hour, we have passed beyond the farmlands and into the foothills of Tajumulco, where the landscape changes dramatically. Having gained perhaps a thousand feet in altitude, the temperature graciously drops, and we enter into a clouded spruce/pine forest. The nearly neon green of the hills below shifts down an octave, as in the forest we find ourselves surrounded by muted pistachio-colored pine needles, sparse lichen, and low-pile carpet-grass meadows.

But there is yet one homage to the energetic colors in the valley below. At our feet every few hundred feet or so stand the bright vermillion red caps of the psychedelic Amanita muscaria mushrooms native to this region. As with many bright colors in nature, this red serves as a warning signal, as the mushroom contains a highly toxic volatile organic acid as it exists in nature. However, explains our guide Peter, drying the mushrooms in the sun for a few days causes a conformational change that eliminates the toxicity, leaving behind only the psychedelic compound mescaline used for generations in traditional Mayan ceremonies. In the markets of the mountain towns below Tajumulco, a pound of Amanita sells for Q25, not a bad price for local mushroom foragers.

After perhaps another hour or so, I begin to notice more acutely the effects of the altitude. While we are hiking slowly, my breaths become labored as my lungs ache to squeeze every last oxygen molecule out of the thin air. My heart rate becomes elevated, and without stopping frequently for water, I notice a tension headache arising just above my orbital sockets. But with frequent pauses, I along with the group fight our way up to base camp, altitude 13,000 feet.

Taking a well-deserved break at base camp above the clouds.

Upon arriving to base camp, we are exhausted not only due to lack of sleep (we left Xela at 5am) but also physical exertion and the effects of altitude. Our tents have already been graciously pitched by two local boys paid by Quetzaltrekkers to haul some of the gear up to base camp by mule, so we crawl in and set up our sleeping mats for a nap. It turns out we’re just in time, as a downpour begins shortly after. We wonder as we drift off to sleep if our gamble with attempting to summit a mountain during the rainy season will pay off.

When we wake up, the rain has graciously stopped. Some days in Xela, it begins raining at 4pm and doesn’t stop for the rest of the day. Today, it looks like we’re lucky; it only rains for about 2 hours, and we’re left with a clear opening around dinner time.

Outside, our guides are cooking a massive spaghetti dinner for us while the sun continues its course toward the horizon. One of our tour mates, Braden, exclaims that we can’t miss this sunset - it’s perfect visibility, and we might get a good view from the ~500ft hill rising above our campground. He grabs his camera and boots and begins running up the trail, and I follow with the rest of the group in tow.

The scene is mystic, with a dense fog shrouding the long grass fields leading us toward the summit. Braden and I pause for a minute to chart our course further up and snap a few photos.

Shortly thereafter, we crest the hill short of breath and are greeted by a stunning panoramic vista of the valley below dotted with pueblos. It’s one of the most majestic sunsets I’ve seen in my life, difficult to capture with a photo. At a loss for words, we scramble along the ridge line, searching for further views. We stop a few paces later, sitting in awe of the cloudscape drenched in peach and periwinkle. “This,” whispers Braden, “is why we do this.”

It’s 0315 the next morning when the guides wake us up. Between the freezing cold, barking dogs, and relative lack of oxygen, I’m convinced none of us has slept more than a few hours. But the allure of a sunrise summit of Central America’s tallest peak is compelling, and we pack our bags and layer up before hitting the trail by 0400.

It’s a relatively short but steep trail to the summit, gaining about 1000 feet of elevation in only a mile. Dotting the path are a series of small white altars displaying various biblical scenes, highlighting the importance of the Catholic religion to Guatemalan culture. Shrouded in darkness with only our headlamps to guide us, we watch in awe as lightning storms reverberate around the valleys beneath us, their flashes blunted by the clouds in which they are contained. While I am by no means well-versed in the Bible, the experience strongly calls to mind this well-known verse:

Even though I walk through the valley in the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

-Psalm 23:4

Just 45 minutes later we reach the summit. It’s still dark, so by headlamp we find a small outcropping to set up sleeping pads and sleeping bags to wait for the sunrise. Although I’m wearing six layers and long underwear, it’s positively Arctic on the peak. However, just a few short moments later we are greeted by the faint warming of sunrise. The return of the sun reveals an expansive and celestial cloudscape beneath, and it’s then when I recall the significance of the name Tajumulco in the original mam language: above the clouds.

Here we are, above the clouds at 0500:

Around 0600, we begin our descent back to base camp for breakfast. We take a different route down from the summit, this time descending through a golden grass valley towards the sun rising over the clouds. I close my eyes, sifting my fingertips through the tufts of the grass stalks at arm’s length. This time, I am envisioning the paradise known as the Elysium, which in Ancient Greek mythology is the paradise where adorned and righteous heroes go as they pass into the afterlife.

In Virgil’s Aeneid, he describes an encounter between Aeneas and his father, Anchises:

In no fix'd place the happy souls reside. In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds, By crystal streams, that murmur thro' the meads: But pass yon easy hill, and thence descend; The path conducts you to your journey's end.” This said, he led them up the mountain's brow, And shews them all the shining fields below. They wind the hill, and thro' the blissful meadows go.

The journey up Tajumulco has been a rebirth of sorts. Having endured the long trek, thin air, sleepless night, freezing cold, and dark morning, the sun and our descent through the fields seems as good a new beginning as any other in life. The symbolism is too vivid to ignore.

So when I arrive to base camp, I join my fellow trail mates on a small hill overlooking that same golden cloudscape. Everyone is silent, some with eyes closed, praying, meditating, chanting silently awash in this new life seemingly blessed upon us. I join in the spiritual pause, closing my eyes to appreciate this rare brief moment of clarity that so frequently escapes our busy lives.

Sitting on the hillside I feel an immense peace, gratitude, and security under the ever-present watch of Tajumulco. Here above the clouds, safe from whatever wars lie beneath, I find perhaps just a hint of the majestic mountain energy that has against all odds sustained the Mayan culture for generations.

#tajumulco #quetzaltenango #mountaineering

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nana-glass-chillhop-radio-hour · 2 years ago

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Nooo that sucks, I'm sorry that didn't work out! I hope you get a chance to study it one day! If you do end up going to Guatemala at some point and you want to study Q'eqchi specifically, you probably would need to go to an area of Guatemala where it's widely spoken (probably the city of Coban is your best bet for finding instructors) but Guatemala in general and the city of Quetzaltenango in particular are kinda famous for Spanish language schools and I know at least at the school Proyecto Linguistico Quetzaltenango you can study Quiche (which is the most widely spoken Mayan language in Guatemala) and at least at one point you could study other Mayan languages too (I wanna say Mam instruction was available?) though almost all the other students are there to learn Spanish.

here’s the thing: the more i learn about english, the worse it gets, but like, that makes me want to learn another clown language. what other languages can i learn that are buck fucking wild, very counterintuitive, and where even native speakers can be asked why they do things and have no answer? (ik ik every language has some of this bc we’re hubritic monkeys, but like, i need a language that has english or higher levels of WHYY)

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cindyjane · 7 years ago

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year 2 teaching diary #2: week 2

For teaching diary #2, I wanted to write about so many different things, but here’s a story about Sergio, my 20-year-old student:

I have a huge soft spot for this gentle, old soul. Sergio’s first language is Mam, which is an indigenous language spoken by the Mayans in Guatemala. He had to learn Spanish quickly to communicate with his Spanish-speaking peers at school. I wonder if he feels lonely, knowing that he’s had to learn another language just to be able to communicate with his classmates since no one else at this school speaks Mam except his brothers.

I’d like to believe that Sergio knows that I care for him. He was one of the 11th graders in my Immigrants’ Rights class the end of last year. On the very first day that we had a field trip for that class, on our way back to school, Sergio walked away from the group. At the time, I was in the back of the line, unaware that he had left until my colleague from the front of the line called me to tell me that Sergio was missing. I called Sergio countless times, and he didn’t pick up. I was actually nervous that my colleague and I lost a kid, an 11th grader no less, on our first field trip. After a couple minutes of walking back to school, we were crossing the street when one of my other 11th graders, Andres, suddenly turned around and laughed at someone. I turned to see where Andres was looking, and there was Sergio, who quickly hid behind a wall near a bus stop once he saw that we noticed him. I told the group to continue moving as I ran towards Sergio, who was still hiding behind the wall. I quickly approached him, and he simply laughed and said, “Oh hi Miss, good to see you.”

I was pissed because I was initially so scared that I actually lost him but so relieved that he was actually okay.

“Sergio. I called you multiple times and you didn’t pick up. Did you know that I was worried that I actually lost you?”

“What do you mean, Miss? I needed to leave.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before you walked away from the group? I thought something happened to you. You do know I’m responsible for you right?”

“But Miss, I need to go pick up my brother from school. I can’t walk back to school when the bus stop is right here. I don’t want to waste time.”

“Sergio. If you need to go, then you need to tell me. If you have other responsibilities, don’t you think I’ll let you go? The most important thing is that you are safe. But you need to let me know where you’re going so I don’t have to worry about you.”

Sergio was quiet.

“I’m sorry for making you worry.”

At that moment, the bus arrived.

“I need to go pick up my brother. Can I go now?”

“Yes. Thank you for asking.”

“I apologize Miss. I don’t want you to worry about me.” And then he got on the bus.

Flash forward to this past Tuesday of week 2.

My students had begun taking a CCSF college prep course on Tuesday and Friday afternoons – my colleagues and I made the decision for this current batch of seniors to start their senior year taking a college prep course, knowing that our seniors last year struggled a lot taking 2 CCSF college when they started in the spring. Most of my current seniors are enrolled in the CCSF class; Sergio was one of the 4 students from my class who needed to finish independent study courses in order to complete his graduation requirements, even though he was more than qualified for the CCSF class. On the afternoons that most of the seniors go to their CCSF class, Sergio and his other Independent Study classmates meet in my colleague Lindsay’s room, and I go from time to time to help support my students.

Anyway, lunch had just ended, and Sergio wasn’t in class. I called him, and he picked up.

“Hello Miss. How are you?”

“Sergio, where are you?”

“Miss I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon, I’m on my way.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

30 minutes pass. Sergio still hadn’t shown up. 45 minutes pass, and still no Sergio.

Knowing what happened on our field trip last year, I had a feeling that he had something else to do, but I was upset that 1) he lied to me and 2) there was a possibility that he really was on his way back to school but got hurt. Highly unlikely, I know, but in the moment, I was, yet again, worried and scared for his safety. I called him again and again, and he didn’t pick up my calls.

In my meeting with my colleague Amanda that same afternoon, I told her what happened, and she decided to try calling him anonymously. To no one’s surprise, he picked up the phone.

“Hello, who is this?”

“Sergio. This is Ms. Amanda. Where are you?”

He responded on the phone, and Amanda gave me a look.

“You’re going to work. Why did you lie to Ms. Cindy and say that you were coming back to school?”

He responded again, to which Amanda replied, “You’re telling me you didn’t lie to Ms. Cindy, when she’s right next to me? Do you want to tell her that?”

Before he could respond, I said to Amanda, “Can I talk to him?”

Amanda said on the phone, “Sergio, Ms. Cindy wants to speak with you.” She gave me the phone.

I stepped outside, took a breath, and said, “Sergio. Why did you lie to me?”

He laughed a little nervously.

“I needed to go to work.”

“Then don’t lie to me and tell me that you’re on your way. If you are going to tell me that you’re on your way to school, yet don’t show up for 45 minutes, what do you think I’m going to think? That you could’ve gotten into a car accident? That you could’ve gotten hurt? That you could’ve gotten killed? How many times do I have to tell you that I’m responsible for you? It’s not even about you lying to me or not coming back to school. It’s about you making me worry about you even though you are 20 years old, even though I know you can be responsible with taking care of your brothers and going to work, yet you can’t even be honest to me about where you are going and responsible to your teacher for your own safety.”

I was absolutely livid. Sergio paused before saying, “Miss I’m sorry.”

“You can apologize all you want, Sergio, but you need to prove to me that you don’t need me to worry about you anymore. I was actually scared that something happened to you. This happened last time during our Immigrants’ Rights class last year, and this happened yet again. Can you just not make me worry about you?”

“I’m sorry Miss. I appreciate you caring about me, and… I’m sorry. I really do appreciate you caring for me. I appreciate that.”

I took a deep breath and asked him to tell me what he would do differently next time.

“i will come talk to you if I need to go to work or leave school. I don’t want you to worry or be scared for me anymore.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The following day, I was standing outside my room telling students to get to their next class on time (our 11th/12th grade students are on block schedule and NOT on the regular bell schedule, which means that students must get to class on time without following the bell… crazy crazy). Sergio walked by and, once he saw me, sheepishly walked back to me and said, “Hi Miss. Thank you, I appreciate you.”

“Hi Sergio.” I extended my hand for a handshake. He shook my hand, and I said, “I’m glad you’re safe.”

He smiled and said, “I appreciate you worrying about me. I’m sorry. I’ll see you later.” And then he walked away.

I don’t know if things will change with Sergio. I wonder if he truly understands how much I, as well as other teachers, care about him. He has so many other responsibilities that it’s understandable why he would put those things first. But more so than anything else, I just hope this doesn’t happen again – the more this happens (where Sergio disappears from class or a school function to tend to his other responsibilities), I might begin to think that he’s really just lying to me and not trying to come to school, and I might just stop calling or looking for him… until one day something does happen to him, and I will absolutely regret not reaching out more or checking in on him more often. I guess I’m still figuring out how to best support my students without taking away their sense of agency… how to protect them but not baby them. I just want them to know that I care and worry about them, as though they were really my own children (even though they’re all only about 4-6 years younger than me). I don’t know.

Still figuring things out. Still trying my best to love and care for these kiddos. Still learning how to be the best teacher I can be for my students.

** UPDATE **

Today, students had interviews for internships this semester. Sergio had his interview at 1 PM with an organization called Friends of the Urban Forest, and the interviewer was coming to school to interview students. Students who were waiting for an interview either on site or at a later time off-site were required to stay in my colleague Lindsay’s room, which was also where I was stationed to help support her keep track of all the students in her room. At 12:55, I noticed Sergio shaking his leg in his seat, fidgeting with his hat and hoodie, repeatedly reading over his resume. He was so nervous! It was too cute. At 1:00, Sergio was looking at the clock and asking me, “Miss, are they coming?”

“Yes, they will be here, Sergio. Just keep practicing your answers to your interview questions.”

At 1:05, Sergio was still watching the clock. At 1:10, he gave a big sigh and asked, “Miss, are you sure they’re coming? I’m getting bored.”

“If you’re getting bored, then it means you’re not nervous anymore. Maybe you won’t be nervous during the interview!”

Literally, I kid you not, in that exact moment, a tall white male with a bright “Friends of the Urban Forest” shirt walked into the room and asked where he could interview his potential interns. I introduced myself to the man, Andrew, and asked the 4 interviewees to follow me and Andrew to my room down the hall. Sergio waited outside as the first interviewee stepped into my room to interview with Andrew. Sergio began pacing in the hall outside my room. He unzipped his black hoodie and revealed a nice plaid polo, which I assume he was hiding from his peers.

“How are you feeling, Sergio?”

“Nervous. I don’t know Miss, I always get nervous before I have to do stuff like interviews or presentations.”

When it was Sergio’s turn, he took off his black hoodie and his hat (which he NEVER takes off in class), took a big breath, and walked into the room.

I swear, it was one of the most unexpected things to see coming from Sergio. He took the interview really seriously, and it was so encouraging to see.

Who knows how else he’ll surprise me this year.

#teachingdiary

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jennymanrique · 7 years ago

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"In Guatemala there is a lot of violence against children. You have no way out."

Photo: iStock

Ale, a 17-year-old indigenous immigrant from Guatemala, is currently part of the 67 Sueños program at Met West High School in Oakland, California.

Ale, as she requested to be called, is a 17-year-old indigenous immigrant from Guatemala. I met her in Oakland through the 67 Sueños (Dreams) program, which began in 2010 out of the campaign to expand coverage of the Federal Dream Act. That bill, which was introduced multiple times but failed to pass Congress, aimed to create a pathway to citizenship for undocumented children who grew up in the United States. Today, 67 Sueños is a one-year youth leadership development program for migrant youth from different schools in the Bay Area, such as Met West High School, where Ale studies, or Oakland International High School.

Linda Sánchez, a 25-year-old indigenous Zapotec from Oaxaca, is the program director of 67 Sueños. She says the program teaches students to “think critically about human rights issues, the relationship between the forced displacement that their families live and policies in their countries that forced them to migrate, as well as the treatment of trauma.”

The program is youth-led. “We have a very young staff, mentors between the ages of 18 and 20, who hold talks in schools to offer the program to undocumented children,” Sanchez added. “We do healing circles, we use music-therapy and community healers. If the traumas are very severe, we refer them to therapy, making sure that it is a safe and culturally competent space."

At the moment, the program works with 15 young people.

This is Ale’s story in her own words:

I came here when I was four years old. My dad came to San Diego first and found work there. He sent us money because in Guatemala there is a lot of poverty and violence and especially the rural area where we lived, in Todos Santos, Cuchumatán.

In Guatemala there is a lot of violence against children. There are the northern and southern gangs, depending on where you live. They catch you. One day, a 13-year-old cousin left school and did not get home. The people started looking for her and found her dead. She had been buried beneath the earth. They began to investigate and it turns out that they had raped her, cut her, mistreated her. They said it was the gang because their dad owed money. And the police do nothing and also are killers themselves. You have no way out.

One day, my mom and I agreed we would leave and my dad organized everything. He paid a coyote to lead the way here, we crossed the desert and he was there waiting for us. We started our trip in San Diego where we could arrange things to go to Florida and be with my aunts.

We needed money to pay for food, coyotes and more people who could help us, but there was an accident on the way. We were all traveling in a small car, migrants from Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador. We were on the road through Nebraska when the car lost control and turned over three times in the snow. My mother died in that accident.

It was very fast. I was four years old and we were very close in the car. I had gone to sleep lying across her legs covered with a blanket. My mom was closer to the window, when I woke up she was lying in the snow and my dad was crying, grabbing her, hugging her, telling her not to leave.

I was no longer standing there, I did not know what had happened, I did not feel anything, I was traumatized. After the ambulance came, the migration authorities came, the police came, some tried to escape but they could not because they were very hurt. Other migrants had also lost their lives together with my mother. They put me in an ambulance and I was conscious again and wanted to go with my dad, I was afraid becauses I did not know the people, I cried and they put an anesthetic to make me sleep.

After the funeral, we sent my mother to Guatemala to be buried there, we stayed in Nebraska for at least a year, waiting to see if we were going to be deported. They let us stay for having lost my mother and because I could not stay without my father. We came to Oakland with an aunt. It was hard because we did not know anyone. My aunts were also undocumented migrants, working hard to survive with their families.

We lived two or three years with my aunt. My father became an alcoholic after the accident and became ill. He did not find so much work and spent all the money on alcohol. After three years living here in Oakland, he started a long-distance relationship with my stepmother who was in Guatemala and sent money for her to come. She had to leave her eight-year-old daughter with her grandparents. It was hard but I adapted because I needed a mom, a partner to talk to, I needed a woman who could give me advice. After 13 years she got pregnant and had my little brother. Her daughter graduated from school in Guatemala and at 18 they brought her here. We all live together. I feel complete. The happiness of the family puts you in this situation where you feel that you must fight for them to get ahead.

During school sometimes I was discriminated against because of the skin tone I have and my accent. The language that I really speak is MAM and they called me indigenous. That made me sick because I was beginning to hate myself, I was ashamed of where I came from, my language, my color. But arriving at high school I had the opportunity to choose an internship and went to see 67 Dreams. At first I did not talk, I did not want to work with other children in the program, but I did not want to be alone anymore. I was very shut up and silent. I was too scared to open up and be mistreated again.

I was not thinking about having therapy with anyone or taking advice. The first person I spoke to was one of my mentors in 67 Sueños. One day I just had too much on my shoulders. I felt like I was drowning and I decided to talk to him and he helped me a lot.

Every year we have workshops where they bring a woman who works with plants of our culture, we make circles, we tell stories. We learn how to make teas. We use natural medicines, not pills. If we are in a moment where our head almost explodes, we breathe in a way that helps us relax. A guy came to show us different special instruments that he had made with his own hands. He did a session to relax, where we lay on the floor and closed our eyes and listened to him play the instrument. We all said different things about what the sound stimulated in us but it was very therapeutic.

Today I think those things happened in my life because they had a purpose. Now I really can say that I am strong, I am not ashamed of anything, I am very proud of where I come from, my culture, my people. I am a fighter and I am indigenous.

Now we have a president who wants to deport us, says we are bad and that we came here to do more damage but that is not true. He does not know what we have to go through when we are crossing the desert. A very dry place where we could not find any water. Some had food and some did not, but we learned to share. And here we are.

Originally published here

Want to read this story in Spanish? Click here

#English #Mental health #Guatemala #Violence #Donald Trump #unaccompanied kids #67 sueños

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cleopatrarps · 6 years ago

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Guatemalan family mourns accountant daughter shot dead on U.S. border

SAN JUAN OSTUNCALCO, Guatemala (Reuters) – For Claudia Gomez, the 19-year old indigenous Guatemalan who was shot last week by a border patrol officer, the chance for a better life in the United States outweighed worries about a crackdown at the border, her family said on Sunday.

A general view shows the village where the family of Claudia Gomez, a 19-year old Guatemalan immigrant who was shot by an U.S. Border Patrol officer, lives in San Juan Ostuncalco, Guatemala May 27, 2018. REUTERS/Luis Echeverria

Gomez grew up in the village of San Juan Ostuncalco, surrounded by cinder block homes built with dollars sent home by relatives in the United States and a road the community had paved with a collection of remittances.

Interviewed at their home, her parents said she had set off despite what they had heard about tougher policies toward illegal immigrants under U.S. President Donald Trump.

“Yes, you hear about it,” said Gilberto Gomez, Claudia’s father, when asked about Trump’s policies. “But sometimes you hear that a lot of people manage to make it through, so because of that, she thought of leaving.”

Gomez was shot last on Wednesday in south Texas by an officer who opened fire after several people “rushed him,” the Border Patrol said on Friday, backing away from a previous statement that said migrants had attacked the agent with blunt objects, and that Gomez was among the assailants.

Women prepare tamales for the invitees to the house of the family of Claudia Gomez, a 19-year old Guatemalan immigrant who was shot by an U.S. Border Patrol officer, in San Juan Ostuncalco, Guatemala May 27, 2018. REUTERS/Luis Echeverria

On Sunday, his wife sat in their home next to pictures of Claudia displayed on a table. In one, Claudia wore her graduation gown from high school, in another, a colorful frock of the Mam group of Guatemala’s native Maya.

Women neighbors made tamales outside to feed others who stopped by to offer their condolences.

Claudia finished an accounting degree from a technical high school two years ago, but she failed to find work in the nearby town, where every place she looked asked for a college degree, her mother Lidia Gonzalez said. Her parents could not afford to send her to school.

Slideshow (10 Images)

“So she asked for my permission to go. … I said no, you do not leave,” Gonzalez said, fighting back tears. “‘Mom,’ she said, ‘I’m grown up already, I’m going to achieve something, I’m going earn my own money to study.’”

Now, Gonzalez is unsure when her daughter’s body will be returned. “I didn’t say good bye to my daughter,” she repeated to herself, her face beneath a handkerchief, between singing religious refrains and speaking phrases to her absent daughter.

“Right now, what we want is for justice to be done and that whoever did this, pays for it,” her father said. “She was a quality girl with a lot going for her. That is why it hurts so.”

In the months after Trump took office, the number of migrants caught along the U.S.-Mexico border and Mexico’s southern border with Guatemala fell dramatically. But arrests have crept back up since.

Data from Mexico’s migration institute shows deportations of Guatemalans fell in the first three months of 2017 compared to the prior year, but they have been rebounding close to 2016 levels to nearly 13,200 in the first quarter of 2018.

Poverty, as well as deepening violence from with criminal gangs and drug traffickers has driven hundreds of thousands of Central Americans to try and cross the U.S. border illegally or to try and seek asylum.

In the area around Gomez’ village, locals pay human smugglers more than $9,000 to get them across the border, said one of her relatives who noted that he had snuck into the United States and preferred not to give his name. People often mortgage their farms to get the funds to go, he said.

Fernando Vicente, a 73-year old farmer, saw both his children leave for the United States. “Here, the option is to go there, because there is no work here, there is no opportunity,” he said.

Writing by Michael O’Boyle; Editing by Richard Chang

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dragnews · 6 years ago

Text

Guatemalan family mourns accountant daughter shot dead on U.S. border

Interviewed at their home, her parents said she had set off despite what they had heard about tougher policies toward illegal immigrants under U.S. President Donald Trump.

Women neighbors made tamales outside to feed others who stopped by to offer their condolences.

Slideshow (10 Images)

“Right now, what we want is for justice to be done and that whoever did this, pays for it,” her father said. “She was a quality girl with a lot going for her. That is why it hurts so.”

Fernando Vicente, a 73-year old farmer, saw both his children leave for the United States. “Here, the option is to go there, because there is no work here, there is no opportunity,” he said.

Writing by Michael O’Boyle; Editing by Richard Chang

The post Guatemalan family mourns accountant daughter shot dead on U.S. border appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2IT7gJ8 via Today News

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dani-qrt · 6 years ago

Text

Guatemalan family mourns accountant daughter shot dead on U.S. border

Interviewed at their home, her parents said she had set off despite what they had heard about tougher policies toward illegal immigrants under U.S. President Donald Trump.

Women neighbors made tamales outside to feed others who stopped by to offer their condolences.

Slideshow (10 Images)

“Right now, what we want is for justice to be done and that whoever did this, pays for it,” her father said. “She was a quality girl with a lot going for her. That is why it hurts so.”

Fernando Vicente, a 73-year old farmer, saw both his children leave for the United States. “Here, the option is to go there, because there is no work here, there is no opportunity,” he said.

Writing by Michael O’Boyle; Editing by Richard Chang

The post Guatemalan family mourns accountant daughter shot dead on U.S. border appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2IT7gJ8 via Online News

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newestbalance · 6 years ago

Text

Guatemalan family mourns accountant daughter shot dead on U.S. border

Interviewed at their home, her parents said she had set off despite what they had heard about tougher policies toward illegal immigrants under U.S. President Donald Trump.

Women neighbors made tamales outside to feed others who stopped by to offer their condolences.

Slideshow (10 Images)

“Right now, what we want is for justice to be done and that whoever did this, pays for it,” her father said. “She was a quality girl with a lot going for her. That is why it hurts so.”

Fernando Vicente, a 73-year old farmer, saw both his children leave for the United States. “Here, the option is to go there, because there is no work here, there is no opportunity,” he said.

Writing by Michael O’Boyle; Editing by Richard Chang

The post Guatemalan family mourns accountant daughter shot dead on U.S. border appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2IT7gJ8 via Everyday News

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casa-xelaju · 1 year ago

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Aprenda Mam en Guatemala

Laura Gonzalez, bibliotecaria en las escuelas publicas de Oakland, CA, comparte su experiencia estudiando el idioma maya Mam en Quetzaltenango, Guatemala. Ella trabaja con estudiantes de Todos Santos en el estado de California.

Video: www.casaxelaju.comwww.cx.edu.gt

#guatemala #quetzaltenango #spanish immersion program #study spanish #visit guatemala #study abroad #xela #study abroad guatemala #studyspanish #spanishschool #mayan culture #mayan languages #mayan language #study mam #study mam in quetzaltenango

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learnspanishfans · 8 years ago

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Mayan Languages: How I Learned to Speak Tz’utujil in Guatemala

Have you ever wondered what ancient Mayan languages sound like? I did. My curiosity, in fact, led me to the indigenous town of San Juan La Laguna in Sololá, Guatemala where I volunteered my time at a health clinic and studied the language of Tz'utujil in my spare time. [caption id="attachment_20189" align="aligncenter" width="700"] San Juan La Laguna, Guatemala.[/caption] Six months have passed and I haven’t been able to leave. I’ve had too much fun.

What is the Tz'utujil language?

Tz'utujil is a Mayan language considerably younger than its ancestor K'iche' which predates it by thousands of years. When I first arrived in San Juan La Laguna I was pleasantly perplexed by what I heard spoken on the streets. It sounded like a peculiar form of Arabic. With a sound system characterised by glottal stops, clicks (I'm not kidding) and unorthodox consonants such as the 'j','r' and 'l' sounds, my ears had never experienced anything like it. Some say that the clicks were inspired by chickens. The three main languages spoken along the shores of Lake Atitlan (K'iche', Kaqchikel and Tz'utujil) could be, but are not considered, dialects of one another. They are close enough to be mutually understood by many speakers, albeit with some difficulty. Another interesting feature of these languages is how easily they morph from generation to generation and even from town to town.

Guatemala’s Disappearing Mayan Languages

When the Spanish colonised Latin America, they nearly succeeded in obliterating all evidence of one of the most advanced civilisations on earth. Calendars, religious texts and descriptions of the cosmos were burned, but the living languages of the Maya survived! They're still spoken today. Guatemala has 22 officially recognised indigenous Mayan languages, many of which are edging closer to endangerment or extinction. With an estimated 47,000 speakers, UNESCO has classified Tz’utujil as vulnerable but not endangered. Since the peace accords of the mid-1990s, efforts have been made to revitalise these languages with only limited success. Ultimately, the younger generations are more inclined to opt for Spanish for various reasons. All Mayan languages are presumed to stem from one original, theoretical, proto-Mayan language. Scholars generally agree that this ancient language branched into about five or six major language groups, one of which is K’ichean which includes both the K’iche�� and Tz’utujil languages. While many Mayan languages are closely related, others share little in common save for some grammatical and phonetic features. Tz’utujil and Kaqchikel, for example, might be considered as close to one another as Spanish and Portuguese, whereas Mam and K’iche’, both spoken in the city of Xela but belonging to different language groups, are mutually incomprehensible.

Is Learning a Mayan Language Difficult?

As I continue to study Tz'utujil, I've made up my mind that it's not difficult. Why not? Because if you say it's difficult, then of course, it becomes difficult. [caption id="attachment_20188" align="aligncenter" width="700"] San Juan La Laguna, Guatemala.[/caption] It’s curious how different languages reflect different decisions about how their native speakers break the world up into concepts. The presence or absence of certain expressions and grammatical features tells a story about how the world is perceived. For example, in Tz’utujil the verb ajob’eneem can be translated as to love, to want and to accept. K’utuneem can be translated as to ask for as well as to teach. Furthermore, what English-speakers would consider to be past and future are understood in Tz’utujil in terms of completion and potential. Personally, understanding these subtle differences in perception constitutes a major motivating force for me in learning a language. Given that the roots of Tz’utujil date back thousands of years, it seems intuitive that the living language itself provides insights into the cosmovisión (world view) of the ancient Maya. In this post, I'd like to share some insights I’ve gained on fruitful ways to go about learning an indigenous language. I’ll also discuss some of the challenges I’ve faced, and how I’ve overcome them. I hope you’ll find something useful in what I share, whichever language you are learning. So, onto my seven tips on how to learn indigenous languages. Here goes:

Tip 1: Seek Out the Elderly

One of the things that blew me away when I arrived in San Juan La Laguna was seeing wide and authentic grins on the faces of the elderly, which is almost unheard of in my country, where old folks are sequestered from society in retirement homes and geriatric institutions. There is no division here between young and old. People of all ages are well-integrated into society, but there are generational differences. In terms of language, the ancianos of San Juan, though they can understand Spanish, typically speak very little of it. Instead, they converse almost exclusively in pure, unadulterated Tz'utujil. The reverse is true for the youngsters. Among the youth, there can be a certain vergüenza about speaking Mayan languages, a certain sentiment that they are slightly backwards, uncivilised and out of touch with modernity. If you want to learn a Mayan language, then, it is imperative to seek out the elderly for conversational practice! Luckily, they're some of the friendliest people around.

Tip 2: Hang Out in San Pablo: The Town with No Tourism

Three kilometers north of San Juan La Laguna (Xe´ Kuku´ Aab´aj in Tz´utujil), an offbeat sister town named San Pablo La Laguna (To k´or juyu´) hides in the shadows. San Pablo is also Tz'utujil speaking, but there is virtually no tourism there. It seems to be the butt of all jokes in San Juan. If Lake Atitlan were a high school, San Pablo would be the kid that everyone makes fun of, but never to his face because they're afraid they'll get beat up. San Pablo has a reputation for being poor, unhygienic, "tough" and just generally backwards. This is the type of place you have to go to really learn a Mayan language. Why? Because if you walk down the streets of San Pablo, you won't hear a single person speaking Spanish. You will, however, hear plenty of hip-hop and witness a thriving evangelical community. Oddly enough, hip-hop and evangelical Christianity have something in common in that both are, in their own respects, social movements designed to spread a message and appeal to marginalised groups. Aside from these two notable exceptions, however, San Pablo has remained remarkably resistant to outside influences compared to its neighbours. In other words, it is one of the most authentic towns, and the ideal place to learn Tz'utujil. Seek out the San Pablo of your indigenous language community and figure out a way to spend time there.

Tip 3: Talk to Tuk-tukeros and Tortilleras

When you’re learning an indigenous language, it’s a good idea to talk to whoever you can in the language. Some of my best conversations in Tz'utujil have been in the tortillerías, the small nearly-empty rooms inhabited by only a stove, a bowl of masa and three women slapping tortillas together with Toyota Prius-like efficiency (FYI: There are no Toyota Priuses in Guatemala). While you sit on a stool and wait for your tortillas, you'll have the opportunity to practice. Everyone in there will be speaking Mayan, except for the kids. Don't be shy! Tell them what you did that day. Ask them about theirs (all they've done is make tortillas). In my case, I fell in love with one of the tortilleras and asked her out, five times. She never really said yes or no. A wise man once said that anything other than a yes is no, but that didn’t stop me from persisting. How do you ask a girl out in Tz'utujil? La nawajo' naatij kape' wik'iin ja chuwaq (do you want to drink coffee with me tomorrow?) will work. Technically, you should ask her parents first, which I didn’t. In the tuk-tuks, the little red go-carts that shuttle people around Guatemala at a speed of about two kilometers an hour, you'll have the opportunity to strike up dialogue with passengers and drivers. Most of them will ask you about Donald Trump. Chicken buses, which are former US school buses that have been flamboyantly refurbished for the Guatemalan esthetic, also offer excellent speaking opportunities. They constitute the most economical (and blood-curdling) method of travel in the country. For the record, I’ve never seen a chicken on one. Locals refer to them as camionetas and in Tz’utujil the name for them is nimachijch (big metal thing). They blow a whistle that sounds like a locomotive and light up like Las Vegas at night, though it’s safer to ride them during the day. They would not pass emissions inspections in any country with any environmental standards. When you get on one, you’re in for a wild ride! You’ll either be crushed by other passengers or find yourself sliding off your seat while a reckless driver, with absolutely nothing to lose, accelerates into each turn. These buses, as I mentioned, are a fantastic place to practice your Mayan language. Be aware that the person sitting next to you may not speak the one you’re learning. For example, the bus from San Pedro La Laguna to Xela typically carries a mix of K’iche’ and Tz’utujil speaking passengers.

Tip 4: Scavenge for Educational Materials (They Can Be Hard to Find!)

During the Guatemalan civil war, in many communities indigenous people, language and culture were under attack. Following the peace accords of 1996, powerful movements were born with the aim of strengthening and revitalising Mayan languages in Guatemala, many of which were and are still dying out. If you’re interested in reading more about this, I’d recommend reading the 1998 paper Mayan Languages and the Mayan Movement in Guatemala by Ajb'ee Odilio Jimenez Sanchez. Out of this movement, the Academy of Mayan Languages (ALMG) was born. ALMG promotes Mayan languages in Guatemala in part through its publication of educational materials for school children. Luckily, you can also purchase these materials at their offices scattered throughout the country. There is no Rosetta Stone for Tz'utujil, and online materials are scarce. However, the materials developed by ALMG are of high quality and come in a variety of media including textbooks, magazines, audio and video. There's only one caveat: you'll have to know Spanish in order to make any sense of them.

Tip 5: Be Prepared to Start from Ground Zero

If you're like me and have learned a handful of Latin languages, by learning an indigenous language you’ll enjoy the challenge of having absolutely nothing handed to you (except a Westernised alphabet). If you already spoke Spanish and Portuguese, for example, learning how to speak Italian would be akin to learning ukulele when you already play guitar and banjo. No big deal. Now try learning the bagpipes. Unless you already speak another Mayan language, you'll be starting from ground zero which means you have to be patient with yourself. If you're an English speaker learning a romance language, you get a lot of words for free (e.g. “composition”, “description”, “revitalisation”, etc). Not so with indigenous languages; you will have to earn every word. The silver lining? There will be no false cognates to trip you up. Plus, you'll discover in a whole new way how another group of people choose to arbitrarily break up the world. When I first got to San Juan, I struggled to tell the faces of my coworkers apart. Everyone looked the same until I got to know them. And it was the same with nouns and verbs in Tz'utujil (e.g. k'amooneem, k'uluuneem, k'aqooneem, k'ulub'aaneem, k'otz'ooleem, ka'muluuneem). Are you kidding me? In terms of grammar, you may struggle to make sense of directionals, ergative subject/object relationships and Mayan prepositions, which some say don't exist. Finally, you will have to learn to produce all the curiously charming sounds that characterise your chosen Mayan language, which brings me to my next tip.

Tip 6: Walk Around Making Funny Noises

I learned to roll my Spanish Rs in Jamaica Plain's Arnold Arboretum walking around like a madman saying guitarra over and over again. It worked! People looked at me strangely, but it worked. In San Juan La Laguna, it took me a while to be able to pronounce the glottalized q' which is essentially a click from deep within the throat. One of my teachers described it as the most serious sound in Tz'utujil. For months, I couldn't find it at all. Then, maybe one out of a hundred tries I could get it. Certain words were more conducive to success. For example, I found the sound more easily with the word ruuq'a' (his arm) than with the word q'iij (day). But in the end repetition was the most important ingredient. Whenever I went for a walk, I repeated ruuq'a' over and over until I could get it one out of fifty, twenty-five, ten, five and eventually every other time. Across many of the Mayan languages, the phonology is similar. For an English speaker, there are a few tricky sounds but nothing that can't be overcome with a little determination and locura (insanity).

Tip 7: Enjoy Making People Laugh (At You!)

This much is true: When you start speaking a Mayan language in Guatemala, you will make everyone in the room laugh, in addition to the people standing outside. If I've learned anything about Mayan culture in the six months that I've been here, it's that these people love laughing. They value it over almost any other activity, except making money. And nothing could be funnier to an indigenous Guatemalan than a kaxlan winaq (foreigner) speaking his or her mother tongue cumbersomely. Of all the San Juaneros with whom I spoke Tz'utujil, no one laughed harder than my coworker Elena. She didn't even try to restrain herself. Every word I uttered in Tz'utujil would send her into an uncontrollable fit of foot-stomping hysterics. I started saying things to her just to get her going. [caption id="attachment_20190" align="aligncenter" width="279"] Author Stephen with his co-worker Elena.[/caption] Truthfully though, although the folks in your Mayan community may (will) laugh at you, their faces will also light up, huge smiles will come across them and their eyes will grow wide when you start speaking their language. They may even thank you. For some, you will make them proud of their heritage. Don't be surprised if they start opening up to you in ways that they didn't when you spoke to them in Spanish. Finally, expect to gain a deeper understanding of their culture beyond the usual tourist-friendly façade. The takeaway message: it all starts with you making a fool of yourself.

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