Wed. March 4th

I, Jennifer, am sitting on the patio, which extends over the river at Backpackers in Rio Dulce, it is overcast, about 75. I’m listening to Jamaican music and the water lapping against the shoreline. I have a Dorado Cerveza in hand. If I ramble on, you now understand. Lee joins me part way through to offer the male perspective.

We woke up really early today…4:45 Edmundo (Ed) was in the shower. Then Diane, then me… (not all together) the 1st part of the shower was nice and warm, then with shampoo in my hair the water turned ice cold. I shaved, conditioned and finished in record time. Burr!

WE left the center in Guatemala City and headed for the jungle. The driver was late b/c of bad traffic, so we also hit bad traffic on the way across town. It was interesting looking at the city after spending so much time in the smaller communities where the indigenous people live and those cultures thrive.  Indigenous is an interesting word I think to call a people. I’m not certain I like that word used as such. It seems demeaning. The city was bustling, lots of traffic, literally bumper to bumper-each person out for himself-rarely would someone yield the way. Motorcycles fly by between the vehicles in the lanes of traffic-some riders with helmets, some without, some riding solo, some riding 2 up, some women riding english style(both legs on 1 side) on the back. Most motorcycle and vehicle drivers were men. A few were women. The homes are packed in tightly, it appears there is no difference  between commercial and residential areas. Most homes have large gates or fences that prevent us from viewing what’s inside. Most home fronts are the cinder block or cement from wall with bars over the windows and doors. There are many walkers along the highway. Chicken buses speed along kicking up black smoke. Lee says they don’t use the same diesel fuel as we do in the states. High sulfur content. Ha! The buses stop in odd places and in the lanes of traffic. People jump off in traffic and others jump on the bus. Some people hang outside the bus door rather than taking a seat inside. Even though the traffic lanes are marked, they’re rarely followed 3 lanes were sometimes 5 lanes. Signage was not, except the major highway. We drove fast or so it seemed as I was riding in the front seat and the engine is under us so there is no hood on the  micro bus. We’re actually only traveling 50-80km (30-50 mph). We’re in the car for a long time!! Hours and hours literally. The semi traffic is heavy. There are few passing lanes. When we pass 1 truck we get caught behind another. Our driver is cautious. We see no railroads. We see no wildlife, only dogs, turkeys and chickens. We drive through some of the most panoramic country I have seen. The mountains are huge, the valleys deep. Slopes of up to 80%, heavily grazed. When we leave the city, it turns dry and there is little farming. The cattle are skinny.

We were traveling to meet a new group of basket weavers. Diane met with them June 2008. They are desperate for work. We’re a little lost when we come into the village. No roads are marked, it is all gravel/dirt. Diana calls and a nice young man, Eduardo comes to meet us on his bicycle and we follow him a few miles down the road by the river to his home. His mother, Irma is the leader of this group. Irma’s home is nice from the front. Adobe walls, metal roof, there’s a small store up front and a nice covered patio to one side. The school appeared to be next door and the kids were just leaving. The store was doing a bustling business. Or maybe they were just checking out the Americans. We’re invited to come up and have lunch. They have prepared us a traditional soup, a piece of chicken, rice and corn tortillas. The soup is really good, potato, carrot and basil. They also have the hot sauce of jalapeno’s and carrots. Oh, ya, a Coke. We pour everything together and eat it with a spoon. The silverware and china plates don’t match. The concrete floor is shiny, we’re sitting on plastic chairs. As we eat, roosters, chicken, cats and dogs come and go at will. One chicken is missing most of it’s feathers. There are a few little pups….they are shooed away with waggin tails.

The ladies gather around after lunch and use the table we ate at to display their baskets and weavings from palm tree leaves. The baskets are very nice, well done and cute styles. These ladies are more organized than some groups. They have a committee, speakers, president, secretary and treasurer. 2 of the ladies are missing. 1 is sick and the other had to stay home and fix lunch for her husband. It is the harvesting season and the men go to the fields early and have lunch early too. The basket weavers get their palms from the men climbing the palm trees and cutting the palms. They are then laid out to dry and the women buy the palm leaves for Q1 per palm  (12 ½ cents) depending on the size. 1 palm will make 1 basket. It takes 1 lady, who works 3 hours per day, 3 days to finish a basket. The village has 50 basket makers. They aren’t doing well financially and  they aren’t selling baskets. Sometimes they are so desperate for money they sell the baskets for a cheap price like Q5 at the market. They don’t know what they should charge or how to compute a price. The group doesn’t know really how long it takes to make the baskets or how much pay the makers. They have been making baskets for 2 years. Sometimes they sell on consignment and get ripped off by consigners not paying them or don’t get paid for a long time until the baskets are sold. They don’t know what to charge for transportation.  We are hoping that one of them  can come to the Sharing the Dream workshop in 2 weeks that deals with fair trade pricing.

Irma’s yard has several mango trees…HUGE mango tree’s. They are probably 571/2 feet high and are full of unripe fruit. They climb the trees to pick it. Irma also had coconut, banana and a lemon or Clementine tree…the type of tree was lost in translation.

The women work in their homes as the group doesn’t have enough money to rent a building. Maria lives the closest to Irma, and she is a 30 min run or a 60 min walk away….straight uphill or downhill. Literally. The building the group wanted to  rent was Q800/month.  ($100) They can’t afford that so they meet, for now, at Irma’s.  We all go through introductions.  This group speaks Spanish so it is much quicker. After much talk about how the group is organized,  Diane gets ready to place an order and begins asking about the basket prices. They are so inexpensive that a few of the items Diane says we should pay more.  The size and quality should dictate we pay them more. We again ask how they arrived at the price and it’s clear they don’t know how to calculate it. Diane asks how the makers will get paid and who will make the money.  They are unsure. The business process seems elementary, but then I really look at the complexity of the issues. How do you begin to teach a person/people with little education, from several cultural backgrounds and languages, who might be illiterate, can’t add, who only has a dream and a talent to make something, about fair trade? It’s daunting.

Diane is good at keeping the ladies on pace and says that she would like to do business with them, would they like to business with us. The ladies look at each other with the biggest grins and smiles. They all nod their heads. They seem excited. Very excited.

We hop in the van to go on a little tour of their village….there are 15 of us now in the van as we have added a few of the women to take them home.  We head up the hill to Maria’s house first. When I say up the hill. I mean straight up the hill. Lee’ll help me here. The grade is 15% to 20%. The road is gravel, mud packed with large rocks. We bottom out a few times and think we’ve left the oil pan or lost a wheel in our climb. We need to lighten the load but it’s the little locals jumping out. As we travel up, we pass curious faces staring at us, dirty faced little kids in partial dress to men with crossed arms. We bounce along to  a lady’s house. It was partially carved from a hill and had a cement floor, thatch roof and electricity. There were several people living there...each taking his turn to peek out at us. She showed us some of her baskets. On the wall was a picture of a paratrooper. We assumed that was her son.

After we dropped the women off and visited the home, we went back down the hill.  We continued out of town toward Rio Dulce. Throughout the week Diane said it was safer to travel or be outside in the day…at night was when the robberies and problems happened. It turned dark and I kept thinking about that. We arrived safely at Backpackers at 7pm.

As we drive down the road, my mind ticks away. I think about the reason these people are so poor and caught…I ponder how you better yourself, your family and my thoughts went to education. But, if these people can’t afford food, they can’t afford education…how to afford food and education? I asked Diane about birth control and if they teach it and if they don’t, why don’t teach it in Sharing the Dream classes. Or at least say something about birth control and offer condoms. She said religiously people don’t practice birth control. That children are a gift from God.

( Note from Diane)  It is very difficult to go into a village when we are trying to build a relationship and then tell them how they must live….  It is easy to see things through our North American eyes, more difficult to see things through the eyes of the people.

Jennifer,  Lee at times…. And the group.