My Trip...Part 1...For Now...

I said that I would be writing this weekend, and I had every intention of writing yesterday, but I ended up succumbing to a Guatemalan recovery illness. I lost my voice to an extent and stayed in bed for the last two and half days.

At this point, I just have the energy to list some highlights from the trip:
• The quiet and stillness of the countryside. Zapote where I stayed for 6 days is a remote village where the community knows very little Spanish, if at all. The language of the village is one called Q’eqchi’ (pronounced kek chi). They greet one another with a saying that translates, “How is your heart/soul?”
• Being surrounded by the goodness of others. Every day I was greeted with greetings- generally too early for me to appreciate-not being a morning person even in Guatemala. People would escort Francis and I to all of our meals and provided wonderful and tasty meals for each of us. Breakfast was a mix of beans, eggs and sometimes spaghetti with sauce and of course homemade tortillas. Lunch and dinner was ALWAYS a homemade chicken soup that was a typical fare for visitors and guests of import, and homemade tortillas. For drinks there was always something hot- coffee colored sugar water or a coco water, as the water was not safe for me to drink, I had some trouble staying hydrated.
• I went to the local tienda (store) and bought some goodies a couple days. Their cookies in small packets were the ones my parents would never have let me have when I was little, and really after two bites of the treats I was ready to hand the goodies off to the kids that would gather around. They also served orange drink- Miranda which sent me back to my childhood and the handful of times our family went to McDonalds for a meal. We ordered happy meals and had to get the Orange drink because it was better than pop. I was reliving this memory with Aris- one of the priests who journeyed with me and he just laughed. I was told that Miranda is what people drink when they are sick….Hmmmm…
• The liturgies were intense from a cultural standpoint. I had a lot of need to place my western understanding of liturgy and behavior aside as I participated in the liturgy. Children were running all over the churches, a game of kick ball made its way into the church, a boy (12-14) was smoking outside the church and the smoke blew into the church, one legged races, etc. …My cultural understandings of behavior were challenged and disregarded by the local community in part because of a lack of catechesis of what was really happening, and also significant cultural differences. Yet, the most basic element- our identity as brothers and sisters in Christ who were participating in their liturgies in other parts of the world- some in complete silence—others in war zones—others with noise levels some where in between—we were all united in our prayers, we were united in our fervor for the care of God’s creation and the wonder that encapsulates all- the silence and the noise.
• I have gone to the last couple of peace vigils at SOA/WHINSEC in Fort Benning, Georgia. I was able to really contextualize what the trips mean for me know. I met several “catechists” or “catecistas” who carry and pass on the faith to members of the community. These are the men and women who were targeted by the military for their belief that they have human dignity, and for sharing that belief with their brothers and sisters in Christ. This really hit me when we travelled to Zapote and were met by the Head Pastoral leader and his associate. They had met us in a city where we all journeyed together to Zapote. These men would have been risking their lives and the lives of their families 20 years ago. Even with the violence in the past, I am not sure that I would be brave enough to hold such a position in the community. When we travelled to Guatemala City- the capital we went to the cathedral and on the gate outside the cathedral were the names of every person who had suffered violence during the war. Every person from Guatemala, who had been beaten, killed, disappeared, raped, and tortured.

I am still trying to figure out what to do with all of this. There is a lot running through my head, which I am sure is part of the reason I fell sick. So much of this trip was framed from my time at St. John’s. I kept recalling when I was being pushed/shoved out of my comfort zone, that part of the fun of cliff diving, is falling. Opening my eyes and watching the world whiz by was glorious. I learned in a classroom what the teaching of subsidiarity was- the idea that we as one culture have no business telling another culture how to run their lives. What we do have a right to do is participate in their lives through their understanding. I think I did that to the best of my ability in this trip. My next trip to Guatemala will I am sure bringing even more challenges, and call to mind even greater reflections.