Musings on Guatemala

8/3/2008 - Day 1
Arrived Guatemala City 4:40 am after a red eye flight. Everybody is exhausted (not much sleeping on the plane) as we set out. First step is Semilla, the Mennonite Seminary in Guatemala City. I enjoy seeing places I have heard about so much. It is a nice compound, I would guess typical of a middle class property in the city. Block walls, metal gate, razor wire, and garden oasis inside. We enjoyed a breakfast of scrambled egg, pureed black beans and fried plantain. It was excellent. Then to an introductory lecture by Eduardo (whose family is one of the 2% who control 80% of the wealth in the country). He talked for about 2 hours about the problems in Guatemala and the path forward (which in his mind resembled the path of Costa Rica). Mostly it was from a capitalist point of view, but with some care for the earth thrown in. On 2 hours of plane sleep, we were all nodding off.

Next to a giant relief map of Guatemala to see where we are going, and off to Coban. We stop for lunch (a couple of tamale like things) and a giant cave used as an ancient Mayan holy site. We approached the cave at exactly the right time of day with sunbeams entering and tracing distinct paths through the thick incense smoke. We dropped down about 100 feet into the cave, enjoying views of giant stalagmites built up over hundreds of thousands of years. Rob offered a very good description of Mayan spirituality. The interfaces between the underworld, the overworld and our world are especially holy. So for example, a bird can live in both, or a lily pad can be the interface between our world and the underworld. At the same time, I was in awe of the place and wanted to just sit for an hour in silence… to be. I felt extremely western, going to a holy place, talking for 20 minutes, and leaving. This cave called out for silent reverence. For time. For listening.

What can I expect on this trek? I know that I look for the details of a future trip. But am I surprised so far, at the possibility of a retreat. Time to contemplate. To pray. What can I learn and gain from this mesh of Mayan/Catholic/Mennonite spirituality?

8/4/2008 - Day 2
Breakfast – cold black beans, 2 halves of a hard boiled egg and sweet, sweet tea. The beans are not pureed this time, but just as flavorful. We spent the day in Coban. First a trip to Bezaleel, The Mennonite High School in Chemulca. It is a co-ed, residential school. We visited for about 20 minutes just to see the agro-ecology project. This is basically a farm that students work to provide food for the kitchen. It is about 3 years along and has saved approximately 80,000Q in food costs. It makes me think about the FSHA garden. Maybe we set up a system to sell food to the kitchen at half price or something. And we too need to think of ways to keep the garden going over the summer. They use scholarships to get students to work. Again I wish we had more time to be in the garden. This would be an excellent place to bring a school group.

We went to coffee and listened to stories from a Q’eqchi’ elder. We heard the story of the introduction of corn and weaving to the Mayan people, the defense against the Spanish invasion, the creation of the Sun (jaguar-deer) and moon (lady moon) and how jaguar-deer introduced both sickness (through trickery) and a cure to disease to the Mayan people. We again heard the oneness of TzulTaq – the God of the mountains and the valleys. Although God has many faces (13 in Mayan tradition) it is still one God. I was enthralled by this man's stories and surprised with my Spanish. He sat at our table while waiting to start and I was able to ask basic questions. Who knew? In the afternoon we wandered Coban. I bought an ankle bracelet, mostly to break my 100Q bill. And in the evening went back to Bezaleel for a program with the students. They sang, played the marimba. We sang. Rob showed us the vocational arts building where they have metal working, wood shop, baking, sewing, etc. classes. And from the looks of things, they could have used an electrician’s class. My mind gets expansive at times like these. I think it would be a total blast to come here, to live, to teach at this school in the garden, or the voc arts. But I also see that it would need to be along term commitment, to learn Q’eqchi’. To not fall sway to the “need” to pay for programs out of pocket. Is it ever possible to not be the rich American? Probably not. What can I take from here? I love to teach! To show students that their minds can be expansive about the possibilities before them. How will this trip be transformative for me? for PMC? for FSHA? for Pasadena?
Tomorrow we trek.

8/5/2008 - Day 3
We start the trek early when a small 4-wheel drive Toyota pickup with a bed rack pulls up. The bags are all tied to the outside of the bed rack and 16 of us hop in the back for a 2-hour drive to the end of the road. Since the road was not paved, the 2 hours only covered 20 miles. We get out, arrange the porters (even hiring 2 additional people from the road crew where we are stopped) and begin walking. The path is up and down, but overall we go down. The path is steep in places and very muddy. We are not prepared for this. Shoes get stuck in the mud and are slipping everywhere. We begin to play HORSE. If you fall, you get a letter. Kimberly in particular has difficulty and it turns out walks very slowly, so Wendy and I hang back with her. At one point, we come to a Y in the path and are not sure which way to go. So I pick. After about 20 minutes of nervous walking on this path, one of the porters comes up to us from behind which confirms our choice. Our scheduled lunch stopping point is reached at 3:00 and we trudge on through about an hour of rain to reach a community by about 5:00. We are 2 hours late and 1 mile short of our original destination. I check the GPS and we have walked 5 miles in 8 hours. It turns out the last mile or so we hired a mule from the village and Kimberly bravely rode in spite of her obvious fear of large four legged mammals. The mule was gentle and its guide compassionate of her fear, and this saved us from hiking in the dark. Upon entering the village, we get water and are split into two groups to get dinner and a bed with local families. This village was not expecting us, but still they open their doors and feed 20 people for dinner and breakfast and provide a lunch for the road the next day. As a matter of course this is offered. People who come in are taken care of. This is true hospitality and we are humbled. After our dinner of noodles and tortillas, we set up to sleep. I hang my hammock from the rafters and climb in. The sounds of the jungle surround me. Well… the baby next door was crying so a radio with lullaby’s was turned on and left on most of the night. Around 2:00 am, the roosters start crowing and the calls move up and down the valley from one house to another and back again. But when the sky began to lighten around 5:00 I was not exhausted, so I must have slept at some point.

8/6/2008 - Day 4
Rice, beans and tortillas for breakfast and we hit the trail. The mule returned for Kimberly and we walked the last mile to the river. Here we waited for about an hour for the inner tubes to be inflated. It turns out that the plan was to have them ready early, but the porters opted to have breakfast first. So we wait. Once the first half were ready, we again divide into two groups and send some of us for a three hour float down a lazy river. This first group’s goal was to get a jump on hiking at the other end to make up time lost by our morning hike and waiting for inflation. I was in the second group and we too finally enjoyed about four miles floating down the river. It was lazy, beautiful, hot and cold (depending on the clouds), … just amazing to sit and bask in this piece of God’s creation.
We made good time on the river to find that we had caught up to the forward group. They had waited about 5 minutes only at the end of the river and we set out together. We got back in the tubes and crossed the Rio Negro before ditching the tubes and beginning the afternoon hike. I stayed back with Rob to deflate and bundle the tubes and wait for the porters to put them back in the packs. By the time everything was stowed, we had spent about 1.5 hours and we began our hike, with Rob and I each carrying a pack to make room in the porters bags for the tubes. After just over an hour, we caught a trailing group of hikers that was walking about half speed because of the difficult terrain (again, steep, wet, slick). I stayed with this group and Rob went ahead to catch the forward group and make introductions at the next village we were planning to stop at. My group was treacherously slow, with Kimberly having difficulty with traction and agility on the trail. Fortunately, one of Rob’s friends (David) was acting as the guide for this second group and he was able to provide support and encouragement for the entire walk. We were tired and thirsty and when it started getting dark, realized that the only light we had was a dim penlight left by a porter and a single headlamp that we pulled out of the pack I was carrying. For about an hour we walked gingerly through the dark with this one lamp, David directing Kimberly’s steps in the lead and the rest of us following carefully. But no matter what care, the trail conditions lent themselves to slipping forward, backward and sideways. At one point, Justin and I stop on the trail to admire the majesty of the silhouetted, cloud covered mountains across the valley. The jungle at night is completely different than in the day. Stark and forbidding and amazing. In spite of the extremely difficult walking, I am glad for this opportunity to see a different perspective of our surroundings.

Fortunately, some guides had been sent back from the village ahead with more lights to help us get out, and the last hour of the walk was accomplished with two additional lights. And once we attained the cocoa orchard, Gwen, Justin, Amanda, Michael and I pick up the pace with a second local guide as David and Kimberly send us ahead. We are walking too fast now, ready to be finished with this leg of the journey. Our two lights cast shadows and glimpses of the trail, but we are not really confident in our footing, and we continue to stumble along. A couple of times we call out to the guide to slow down. As we walk/stumble in the dim lights, suddenly Michael disappears out of view of the light ahead. He had mis-stepped and fell off the trail. Fortunately, he had only fallen about three feet into some bushes, and Justin and I pull him out. We don’t stop to think or be frightened, but continue to head out of the jungle. My own mishap was not so glamorous, as my slipping feet led to my first (and hopefully last) corn stalk enema. When we finally arrived at the finca (plantation) buildings, we allowed ourselves to be washed by those already there and we let the emotions of a late march through the jungle wash over the group. Both the leading and trailing groups were overwhelmed with emotion and exhaustion. We needed sleep.

8/7/2008 - Day 5
A morning pow-wow was called to discuss our situation. Since the finca has an airstrip, do we call in a plane to fly out any who don’t want/are not able to walk? Or do we all try to walk. If the latter, it would be 6+ hours of walking at our slow pace. Based on the now late start time, this would probably mean walking again in the dark. Everybody wants to walk but I offer to join a plane trip. A bush plane trip through the jungle would be very cool and I know Kimberly would never fly out alone. She agrees and the two of us are set to fly out and meet the rest of the group back in Coban that evening. A volunteer from the finca sets out with a cell phone on a 2 hour round trip hike to the top of a nearby mountain to find cell service and call the airplane. The others all prepare to cross the river to begin the hike out. We find out that the community across the river is very concerned that we are a group surveying for a hydroelectric dam project that will flood their town. Rob goes across and discusses with the village leaders the option for the group to sign an official document that we oppose the project. This seems agreeable and the walkers are sent on their way, while Rob returns to wait for the plane with Kimberly and I. A couple hours later, many of the local kids are returning from school in that village and are all chattering about how the group is still being held in the village and have not yet left. Discussions ensue about how to proceed. Is this a hostage situation? Should the police be called? Should we wait? Every one has different opinions, with the police option being favored by a few of the locals. They will come in with helicopters, air drop in armed soldiers and “negotiate a release”. Others say wait, don’t escalate the situation. I guess this is where it is fortunate that a cell phone call requires a 2-hour hike up a mountain. We wait. There is speculation that the village across the river has called to cancel the plane. So again a trek is made to the top of the mountain with cell reception to call the plane. It is confirmed that it is coming. We wait. Kimberly copes with the unknown and the stress in her way (to talk, to speculate, to question, to seek answers) and I in mine (sit quietly, nod, remain silent). Another couple of hours and Rob decided to reach cell reception himself and make some calls. I spend most of the next hour with binoculars glued to my face, inspecting the mountain across the way. Fabulous shapes and designs in this vertical array of trees and vines. I see what appear to be caves, paths and many times carvings of people or faces. It may have been illusion, my brain searching for patterns like looking for faces in the clouds. Around 5pm Kimberly and I decide the plane is probably not coming and begin to mentally prepare for staying the night. Five minutes later, the kids run out of every house yelling Avion! Avion! and Rob is still on the mountain. When the plane lands, we are told to hurry, get in, it will not turn off the engine to wait. We gather all our stuff and Rob’s when we see him running down the mountain. He has made it. A couple words exchanged and we depart.

This is a bush plane and a bush pilot. The plane is bright orange, has only a seat for the pilot and a small storage area behind him. The 3 of us and our small collection of bags fill it up. After one of the smoothest take-off’s ever, we are in the air. The pilot knows the community where our friends are held and decides to do a flyby so we can see. He does 2 circles around the village and we see only kids playing soccer. On the way back to Coban, we are given a treat. We fly through a river gorge. This is Indiana Jones, video game flying. We bank left and right through the gorge, each wing tip (without exaggeration) a wings length from the trees on the steep mountains on either side of us. We follow the river upstream and pop out of the canyon above the river where we ended our tubing. A couple of minutes later, we fly by a waterfall which is a spring flowing out of the top of a mountain. On the second pass by this waterfall, the pilot opens the window to allow for better picture taking. And a couple minutes later, our fearless pilot decides that Kimberly needs to get a picture of Rob and I in the back. To communicate this need, he has both hands on her camera and is focusing full attention to the problem of this photo. I guess planes fly themselves. Finally we land and in all, we have had a 15 minute adventure. We head back to Casa Damasco, showers, and dinner with the Cahill’s at a nice little Cuban restaurant. Still we have no idea about the status of our friends. Rob plans to hike back in to the community in the morning to negotiate a release, but around 9:30pm we get a call from David that the group is on a bus and headed back to Coban. They had been walking since about 4:30 and everyone is safe. We meet the bus in the city center where everyone can get some food at the local grill carts, and then back to Casa Damasco for showers and sleep. They are exhausted.

As well as I can gather, this is the story of “The Captivity”.
After crossing the river, the town leaders said our group needed to wait until a few more community leaders arrived. These new leaders would be able to verify that our group had no connection to the hydroelectric project. The group waited, but was not given meals or water. They mostly sat around in the little school room, a few of them interacting with the kids of the village, showing pictures, etc. After waiting most of the day, they are brought to the village meeting area for an interview. Each is asked to state their full name and occupation, and to record their passport numbers in the town minutes. Since not everybody had their number with them, phone numbers or other random numbers were provided instead. Village leaders formed a large circle, with our group in the center, and individuals gave speeches opposing the dam, opposing oppression, opposing U.S. immigration policies, opposing Americans sense of travel entitlement, and many other things. There is a call and response element to the meeting, with the entire community circle letting out a cry of “No” or “Yes” at appropriate times during the speeches. Over time, the outer circle began to squeeze a bit, and individuals were making it known that they had machetes on their belts. Not every villager was entirely sober. This expression of hatred and anger toward our group, the manifestation of a mob mentality is disturbing and frightening. In hindsight, there may not have been real physical danger, but this was not necessarily apparent in the moment. Finally, around 4:30pm, the group is released, and told to return the way they came, but without the support of the river boats. At least one of the porters is deciding to quit and the group gathers their stuff and begins to walk, not sure of where to. The villagers mind is changed and the group and the porters are all sent forward on the original path out, for a 3 hour walk, arriving at the fortunately waiting bus in the dark. Right near the end, with the bus in sight, again the group walks too fast in its eagerness for the end and Lisa sprains her ankle. She is carried a ways first by Justin and Erik, and then a porter returns to carry her the remainder of the way to the bus.

8/8/2008 - Day 6
In the morning, we walked to the adjacent Dominican Monastery for a morning of conversation and debriefing. This was a meaningful event for me as people identified their fear and anxiety, reliance on each other and God, and opening of new eyes. I lamented that day that I was not part of the experience. We used the following reflection from Henri Nouwen as a focus for our discussion.

Receiving is often harder than giving. Giving is very important: giving insight, giving hope, giving courage, giving advice, giving support, giving money, and most of all, giving ourselves. Without giving there is no brotherhood and sisterhood. But receiving is just as important, because by receiving we reveal to the givers that they have gifts to offer. When we say, “Thank you, you gave me hope; thank you, you gave me a reason to live; thank you, you allowed me to realize my dream,” we make givers aware of their unique and precious gifts. Sometimes it is only in the eyes of the receivers that givers discover their gifts.

It was interesting to see where we were the givers in the event and at other times the receivers. Both were essential. After several readings and much sharing, we concluded with singing “Lord, Hear our Prayer”, with Jamie’s voice leading the group. I knelt on the cold tile and wept. And I don’t do that. I have cried twice in my adult life and the fact that I can actually count perhaps shows the significance. The rational part of me is looking for a cause and effect link for this weeping, and yet found none. I was simply overwrought with emotion. And the more I tried to think, I could feel the emotion wash away. So I tried to stop the analysis. To sit quietly listening to Jamie’s voice. The experience is confusing on many levels as I try to think about it. But it is powerful…and likely to remain confusing.

For the remainder of that day, we wandered around Coban. Michael and I found the terminal market and just walked around wide eyed. Michael was on a mission to find a particular brand of chips he had tried, so we bought several. I bought superglue to repair some toenails I had noticed cracking. Then several of us met up at a coffee shop for drinks and relaxation and conversation. That evening, we went to David’s house for dinner and more relaxation, of which the highlight was a bottle of rum and hanging out with friends, and stories by Yuli.

8/9/2008 - Day 7
This morning, Justin, Michael, Gwen, Amy, Jen and I joined Tara and the kids on a hike through San Vicente and then on to a Swiss lodge. The remainder of the group gathered for a drive directly to the Swiss lodge. We started with a truck ride to the end of the road (standing in the back again). With the Cahill kids along, we had three narrations going on simultaneously and learned a lot about the local people, flora, and fauna. We only had to stop twice on this leg for an emergency run into the corn field. Something we ate affected us all. We started walking around noon and the hike was nice, mostly on paths through corn fields with a stop for lunch in San Vicente. After lunch, we went up into the cloud forest and then back down to the lodge. The key phrase here is up, and down. I felt like I was in the middle of a cardio workout which required one hour of consecutive full body lunges. The steps on this trail were often 18-24 inches of vertical gain and it wore us all out. Fortunately, we arrived at the lodge just as the rain started and while it was still light. The only potential mishap was a slip off the trail for Justin. I heard a crash and looked back to see two legs sticking straight up in the air and one hand holding Jen’s camera. He has more concerned for the camera than his life. Hot showers and great food fixed my weariness at least.

8/10/2008 - Day 8
This was a great day. We hung out at the Swiss lodge watching several species of hummingbirds flit about and Lisa identifying them for us based on her earlier lesson from the Cahill boys. Homemade bread and cheese for breakfast and then off for a walk to Seabas (a local Mennonite community). Wendy and I are the only two willing to walk the next two days, so we set out with Rob and his 12 year old son John. We do 7.5 miles in 5.5 hours. This is a leisurely walk compared to our first days. When we arrive in Seabas, there is some maneuvering about who will serve dinner, who will host, etc. We have dinner (beef caldo soup with tortilla), and head to our hosts to clean up. After about an hour, we head to church.
Things I learned or observed at Iglesia Evangelica Menonita Seabas:

• No amount of amplification is too much amplification. At one point, someone noticed the red overload light on the amp was blinking on once in a while. This person proceeded to turn up the volume so the red overload light was on nearly constantly.
• Electricity is a community affair. Since the generator was on, every cell phone in the community was plugged in on the stage of the church.
• Every congregation has an Ezra Muthiah. For the first 5 minutes, this congregations Ezra sat squeezed between Rob and I, and played the air drums like a maniac. But that was enough “sitting still” and for the remaining 2 hours, he danced in the aisles.
• Women carry their babies on their back using a head strap like the porters did with our bags. They had extreme confidence in their system since never did a hand move to support the baby or hold the attached sling while walking, kneeling or conversing with others. Only upon sitting was a double twist reverse spin move required to change to position of the baby from hanging in a sling from the mothers head to sitting in the mothers lap.
• The difference between a chorus and a hymn is that a hymn has an ending.

I have no concept of how this form of church leads to spirituality. It is so loud that there does not seem to be any community edification from coming together. I could get the same experience from my ipod on maximum volume. The purpose of the service seems to be to offer the individual the opportunity to pray, I guess. I know I don’t get the charismatic version of church, but I really don’t get the charismatic version of church. I would love to sit down and ask individuals in this community about their spirituality. Where is the Mayan tradition? Where is the Christian community? How do you describe or interpret your own spirituality on a day to day basis? How does the church assist/deter from this? After a 2 hour service, I have no real insight into the Mayan Mennonite faith life.

8/11/2008 - Day 9
Slept last night on two 12 feet long 1x16 planks pushed together on the floor. Let’s just say it was a case of sleeping as long as one could on one side, and then rolling to the next. And although I remember every turn, I woke at 5 am refreshed (or, at least not exhausted). We went to breakfast and Wendy got to try her hand at making tortillas. Her one attempt was pretty pathetic, but it got a great laugh from the women. It was strange, but I felt honored as a man, to be allowed into the kitchen to watch this whole process. One of the major things I noticed was the smoke. With two fires inside, my eyes were watering almost immediately. And these women spend almost an entire day inside.
Today, the four of us walked on a road the entire day. We did about 10 miles in 5 hours. We walked through fincas, both active and abandoned, through a pine forest that felt remarkably like Shaver Lake in the Sierra Nevada’s and John was a perpetual laggard as he looked for birds. Rob and I were able to talk about a possible trip for FSHA and it was good to get details on that. I need to figure out with Nancy how to organize such a thing. When we get down the mountain, we met the rest of the Cahill’s and Lisa and Amy to tube a portion of the river. Rob described it as a lazy river. I was expecting the Kings River on a summer day, a 3 hour float in which my eyes could be closed for 2 of the hours. No such thing. It was a constant negotiation of some fast water and shallow rocks. I only hit my butt twice, but everyone was working during this trip. Lisa’s ankle continues to be swollen and sore. Afterwards, we walk for about 30 minutes back to the hostel before Rob comes to pick her up on a motorcycle. When the rest of us finally arrive at the hostel, I am beat and go to take a shower immediately. Sometime in the past two days I have severely burnt my head (the bald part) and feel it now. But after a shower, all is good. We have dinner and hang out in the bar, sharing stories and letting Lisa buy us all drinks. For me, this is pure pleasure to sit back and enjoy some people I really like. By the end of the night I had 7 or 8 bottles on the table in front of me, but don’t really know how much I actually drank. We seemed to buy one bottle at a time for the table and pass it around. Probably better that way.

8/12/2008 - Day 10
I woke up and thought I saw the sky getting light. So I went out to do some writing and look at the stars. Today we go to Semuc Champe, which is a river that flows into a cave and an amazing tourist destination. As of now, I think I may be done. After the river yesterday, I am not sure that I feel like getting wet again. I feel like walking leisurely, enjoying friends, trying to put the week together in my mind. Some observations:

• I am a helper. At one point, Jen said to me, “Service is your spiritual gift”. I don’t know that I have ever thought of it that way, but I definitely like to be the helper. I have taken on the role of – medic, walk last, carry extra, think of everything – person. I realize now in writing how much of a touch person I am. I have enjoyed caring for others by caring for their feet. Holding and examining for blisters. Cleaning before moleskin and tape. It was meaningful for me to be able to serve in this way.
• I am energized by the abnormal. This entire trip is abnormal, outside of my routine. I wonder how easily I will slip back into the routine. Early on, my mind flirted with the thought of how enjoyable it would be to commit to a work in a place like this. Annika would not necessarily choose this as a primary interest. And now I think I would not be energized by it either. But I love it as abnormal. So the question of the hour… What next? How to integrate this experience into “real life” through more than a couple of stories. How am I changed as a person? How will I be different in addition to what will I do different?
• I lament that I was not present in the village with the group while they were detained. Partially I feel left out of the group. Partially, that is exactly the thing I love to experience. Partially I think my personality and insights could lend something to the interpretation of the experience. But I was not there, and so do not have a voice into the thinking/feeling/intuition of the group. My thoughts include a perception that this experience will dominate the discussion of the trip when we return. And is evolving in exactly how it is remembered. What are the important pieces to bring out? The detention? The pain of the local community? The fear? I have a sense that writing a Pauline letter to the community might be cathartic for our group. Talking as someone without any real memory of how Paul writes, my sense is that Paul was able to encourage a community, while at the same time chastise them for incorrect thinking or actions. Could we write such a letter to the community? Exhorting and supporting, yet reminding that the fear they instilled was wrong and leads down a path that, while it may actually accomplish their immediate goal, will not help them as people of God. I guess I need to read more Paul to see how that works. And again, as the outsider, I am not really the one to contribute.
• I really like this group of people. I wonder anew about how one gets new friends. Is it really possible to be peers with these “youngsters”? How does one pursue friendship without “stalking”? How does one avoid “letting it happen organically” such that it never happens? And how do I integrate Annika into these new potential friendships when she does not have the same shared experience?
• I am really kind of nervous about going home and jumping back into my busy life.
• I guess when I woke up, it wasn’t as near to dawn as I thought. It is still very dark. Perhaps I will go find a hammock.

8/13/2008 - Day 11
We catch a coaster back to Coban. This is probably the closest we get to a revolt. The coaster has 22 seats and no real standing aisles. However, the driver allows 37 people on board. I am sitting with one cheek on a seat and the other on the leg of an older woman. Twice, five people need to get off so we can lighten the load and make it up a steep hill. Fortunately, arrival at a little village 30 minutes later results in 14 getting off, the remaining 3 hours being much more comfortable. After showers and a brief rest, we all go to a restaurant for a nice dinner out, and then back to Casa Damasco by 10pm. Most people were tired and just crashed, but Lisa and I stayed up to play cards and talk. One thing we noticed was the lack of evening camaraderie amongst the group. In general, we woke up, did our task for the day, and went to bed. We never really “hung out” as a group. Perhaps a theme for an entire future trip would be to do 10% less. Slow everything down to enjoy the process that much more.

8/14/2008 - Day 12
I am ready to go home. We drive from Coban to Semilla in Guatemala City for our last night. We spend some time in the central market to shop. I bought only a kilo of rice to make a heat sock for Lisa’s ankle. We had a late pizza dinner at Semilla and spent about an hour sharing before people again crashed. Everyone is as done as I am. Wendy prompted us with the question, “What is one thing you enjoyed on this trip”. Most of us responded with “I really liked getting to know the group”. Perhaps we were too tired for deeper discussion. My highlight was the conversation we had at the Dominican monastery after the detention day, and the willingness of the group to allow me to serve them in many ways. I continue to wander about what this trip is. What was it supposed to be? How will I integrate it into me? Will it be more than a good story? Who am I and how am I different because of this?
The End.

8/16/2008 - Memory Blurbs from Guatemala 2008

• When someone describes the feeling that Benadryl gives them, Gwen responds with “That is exactly what I feel like when I am on cocaine”
• A hand fishing around in the mud for Kimberly’s shoe
• Michael searching for The Perfect Chip
• Vertical corn fields
• I am sure that some of the stalactites in the Mayan cave were carved to look like faces
• Sharing, and really enjoying, a chocolate bar only to realize that it was powdered hot chocolate mix
• Jen’s response when asked her name for a morning coffee purchase – “Lisa?”
• Michael bringing a leach out of our bungalow – apparently dropping off of Ty’s clothes from the river
• Kimberly on the mule
• Santiago carrying Lisa with the sprained ankle
• Santiago publicly estimates Lisa’s weight at 70 or 80 pounds.
• Jen scurrying from the roach that crawled out of her boot, and Juan stepping on it to save her life
• Yuli sharing the text of his recently completed radio opera – “I will open my gate, come in, come in”
• Yuli and David hiking in their underwear
• Erik and Jaime spending so much time “writing” and some time writing
• The pigeons mating above my bed at 4 am every morning
• 37 people in a 22 passenger bus
• Standing on the trail in the dark, in awe of the view of the dark jungle
• Floating down a lazy river on a tube
• Nearly losing Gwen to a “not so lazy” Rio Negro
• “Kimberly, swim to me. Keep coming Kimberly” – David
• Rob and his dancing shoes
• A bottle of rum that was half empty nearly before it was opened.
• The Mayan prayer cave
• 8 different species of hummingbirds an arms length away
• Cliff jumping at Semuc Champey
• Standing in the back of a Toyota 4x4 with 18 of my closest friends
• Singing Siyahamba at Bezaleel
• Mayan folktales
• Santiago’s speech – “I live up here, they live down there”.
• Eduardo’s bubbles
• Morning roosters
• The Crazy Cahills
• Tortilla’s – both good and bad
• Cell phones everywhere
• Good Coffee, Sweet Tea and something which may have been either
• The amazing head/neck strength of our porters
• Rob and his queen size box spring and mattress (which we slept on the floor)
• Justin’s deficiency (and Eric’s prowess) in playing B.S.
• Jamie’s narration of everything with sound effects
• Walking is a mode of transportation
• Mud, mud, mud
• Playing a mystery card game with Ruth, using Lisa as the table
• Michael falls off the trail in the dark
• Justin falls off the trail, but saves Jen’s camera
• Lisa falls off the trail, and yells “Broken Leg”.
• Ty falls off the trail and becomes intimately acquainted with a corn stalk
• Eating soup with a tortilla
• Playing HORSE on the trail
• Pureed beans, cold beans, hot beans, bean paste in a bag, bean filled tortillas
• The plucked (yet living) chicken that looked very dinosaur like
• Traditional Mayan dances, and freaky painted mask dances

8/24/2008 - Epilogue
I drafted the following letter as a potential response to the captivity community. I will test this with the rest of the group and see what they think. At the very least, it is good for me to think about how to write what I consider a "Pauline letter". Not sure how well I did, but it is a first draft. Other peoples blogs are starting to roll in, so that is also fun to start to see other perspectives on the whole trip.

To the community across the river from Finca Santa Rita

Grace and Blessings to you. If you recall, our group of tourists visited your community in early august of this year. We were traveling through on a journey of exploration and tourism, to learn more about you and your country. We are a group of Mennonites, people who are committed to justice, committed to standing in solidarity with those with fewer resources, committed to acting without violence, committed to supporting each other in community and committed to living together to become a people of God. These are serious commitments for our people.

Before we arrived in your community, we had heard of the plans to build a hydroelectric dam on your river, and that this project would likely destroy your community. We expected you to ask us to sign a statement stating we were not part of the hydroelectric project. When we entered your community, we were ready to stand in solidarity with you, to sign this statement, and to write an additional stronger statement stating our opposition to the project and support for your community. We were ready to hear your story and to learn from you. We appreciate now that you have shared with us your frustration, your mistrust, and your anger. And we apologize for any arrogance that we may have brought with us by virtue of our own citizenship and privilege.

Now that we have returned to our homes and our own communities, we reflect back on our visit with a mixture of lament and hope:

• We lament that our experience in your community was based on fear and anger. We hope that your community will learn to fight oppression without the use of violence, fear and intimidation.
• We lament that the conversation was one-sided, with your leaders talking at us instead of with us. We hope that future conversation will include dialogue, that each would be able to offer and to receive from the other.
• We lament that those assisting us were denigrated and made to feel worthless. We count these who served among us as friends and we hope that you also would work to restore good relationship with them.
• We lament that your community has suffered, been ignored by those in authority, and been lied to, resulting in a culture of distrust for any outsider. We hope that our presence with you is the beginning of opening your heart to developing new friendships.
• We lament that our desire to stand with you and support you was not heard. We hope that you are able to receive the gifts of solidarity that groups might offer you in the future.

Through our time in your community, we feel we have seen a small portion of your history and received a small taste of your present, and this has enriched our lives. We pray to the God who reigns over the mountains and the valleys that your future would be full of peace.