Maya Pedal, Chimaltenango Guatemala

Wow! What a busy past couple of days I've had. I'm now sitting at the kitchen table of Maya Pedal, the bike project I was originally going to volunteer at in Chimaltenango, Guatemala. I didn't think I was going to make it here, because the coordinator (who is actually based in Canada) had told me there was no space for new volunteers until February. But then in San Cristobal the other day I got another email from her saying that sometimes there are cancellations and that I should call, so I did, and lo and behold there was, in fact, now space for me, so I decided right then to book a ticket back here asap and get going. I was feeling so bored and restless in San Cristobal... I think that if I had been there as part of an actual project or something it would have been different, but since I was just kind of hanging out in a hostel it all began to feel a bit empty. I did, however, get really inspired by all the amazing stencil art that was painted on many of the buildings (I took lots of pictures) and added a few of my own, which at the very least gave me a bit of a project to put my energy into.

But anyway, so I got back on a shuttle at 7am Wednesday morning, reached the border around 11, had to wait nearly two hours for our connecting shuttle on the Guatemala side, and then finally arrived back in Xela at La Casa de l@s Amig@s around 4:30 pm. The first thing I did was stop in at PLQE to collect all the mail that I didn't receive in time for Christmas, and I had a fabulous little Christmas moment all over again with the adorable cleaning lady looking on and commenting on all fabulous vegan booty that I got. It made me so happy that people had actually put a lot of time and energy into sending me packages, and I was definitely glad I had decided to go back when I did. I was also really pleasantly surprised that I actually still knew almost everyone who was staying at the hostel, since I had assumed they would have mostly finished out their time and moved on by the time I got back. So it was nice to be welcomed by familiar faces, too.

The rest of my time in Xela basically consisted of having my laundry done (cause it's super cheap there, especially compared to Mexico), doing email, and eating the quinoa and chocolate that I got in the mail. I got on the bus with so much baggage it was embarrassing at 2:30pm yesterday afternoon and arrived here in Chimaltenango at about 7:30 at night. Luckily the cab driver let me use his cell phone cause I realized that I didn't actually have an exact address, though I think the driver pretty much knew where it was anyway. I was warmly greeted by a whole crew of other Americans, which was a bit of a surprise but also something of a relief, since I was worried that maybe I had misunderstood the woman I had talked to on Wednesday- I was envisioning showing up at this random place in this totally non-touristy town and be turned away, forced to try to find shelter elsewhere or maybe even flee to Guatemala City! But no- everything was fine. Three of the folks who were here when I showed up were film students from Chicago, making a documentary about the project in the hopes of helping get more funding/ other support. They were super nice but unfortunately they were leaving today, so I only got to hang out with them for a little bit. But my last 24 hours have definitely been full of activity. Upon my arrival I was shown up to the living quarters where all the volunteers stay, which is basically 3 rooms above the bike shop with some "beds" (I use the term loosely) and a toilet, and a shower which at the moment doesn't actually have any water. A very friendly girl named Laura announced that I would be sharing her bed, since it was the only double bed of the eight they had, but in the end she decided to sleep on the roof since it was a beautiful night and I had the bed all to myself. I guess I get it tonight, too, since she went to Guatemala City for the night to go visit her boyfriend there. After that I'll take one of the less cushy ones recently vacated by the Chicago-ites, which is fine, too.

Anyway, today everyone else got up at 6:45 to go on some nature trek that the main director guy, Carlos, had planned, but I was super exhausted from my last few days on the road and stayed in bed until 9am. It felt really luxurious, but eventually I reminded myself that I am here to work, not hang out, so I got up, tried and failed (due to the lack of water) to take a shower, and eventually got downstairs and made some breakfast just as a group of about 8 visitors showed up for a tour. The main lady who runs the shop, Johanna, gave little demonstrations of all the different bicycle-powered machines they make here, including corn grinders, coffee grinders, clothes washers, water pumps, and, (my personal favorite, albeit the least actually needed), the bici-licuadora, or bicycle powered blender. Then she led everyone upstairs to the bicycle showroom, out of which are sold the bikes that the shop puts together out of other old bikes. I was a little surprised at the relatively high prices of the bikes, but one of the other volunteers explained that they have to pay super crazy taxes to import all the old bikes here from the United States, where the bikes are collected and packed into shipping containers to be used for parts and new bikes here. Apparently too they had a major problem with their shipment last year, wherein it was actually held up in customs for almost the entire year, leaving the project with virtually no income and no materials for a very long time. Anyways, I also learned that the machines made here are also sold, at cost, to various indigenous groups locally and even to cooperatives as far away as Africa, since many of these communities don't have electricity and this allows them to process their own corn, coffee, or whatever (one women's collective near here uses the licuadora to produce natural shampoos) they need to generate some income and become more self-sufficient. It's a pretty amazing concept, so I'm hoping that during my brief stay here I can actually make some kind of a contribution.

Even though I was all set to jump right into working today, Johanna told me that since the Chigago folks were leaving they had all agreed that today would be a mellow day w/ a little celebration to see them off. While we waited for the others to get back from their hike, I attempted to install some brakes on a bike that is about halfway done, but after hours of digging through old brakes and brake pads, only to discover that the ones I had finally matched up are actually not long enough to reach the rims, I gave it up. It really made me realize how very little I really know about bicycles, because even though I have done a few basic repairs on my own bikes over the years, I have never built a bicycle from scratch, and much less with only used, often ill-fitting parts to choose from. It's going to be slow going, I think.

But the other thing I did today was play with the adorable puppy the two girls who are here from MIT found abandoned in the market yesterday. She totally has worms and probably lots of other problems, so the two guys were both like, "ew, don't bring that thing in here", but I was like "whatever, the least we can do is get her de-wormed and vaccinated" so today we got the ball rolling on that project. When they brought her in last night she was looking super ill and sluggish, and basically just wanted to burrow into our arms and sleep, but then today after some food and water she was already looking way healthier and was jumping around and playing a lot more. She is sooo cute! We named her worms, for obvious reasons, but hopefully after we give her her pill and the garlic we've been feeding her it won't be such a relevant name anymore. One really cool thing about being in a tiny town is that every tienda has like 4 purposes, so in order to get her sorted out we just walked down to the cell phone/ canned goods/ veterinary supply store and bought a de-worming pill for 10 quetzales, and also learned that they do parvovirus vaccinations for 37.50 Q (about $5 US) so we're gonna bring her in tomorrow for that, too. It's amazing how everything is just so much cheaper here- in the US it would cost like $50 just to take her to the vet and then another $20 or so to have her vaccinated, whereas here it's as simple as taking her to the corner store. Lucky for her, and for us! I don't really know who's gonna look after her when these MIT girls go back home though, although one girl has already offered to adopt her and bring her back to the US. I don't know how viable that is with immigration and stuff but I guess we'll just have to look into it and hopefully everything will turn out okay for her! It's so sad though how many stray dogs there are here- people simply can't afford to spay and neuter them, so instead they just breed like crazy and then run around in packs till they starve to death or get some disease or run over by a car or something. And then of course, just like in the US, there are STILL pet stores selling intentionally bred puppies- it is soooo crazy! Very little makes me more frustrated than people buying animals that were bred on purpose when there already so many going hungry and dying for lack of a good home. I guess I could say the same about children, though, too (and I do).

Anyway, so once everyone got back from their hike we all piled back into Carlos' truck and headed to this hot springs nearby, only to discover that we had come at the exact time that the water there gets cleaned every week (it's like a man-made pool that is fed by natural hot springs). So that was a bit of a disappointment, but then we went to this other weird sort of amusement park thing that had a pool (not hot) so a few people went swimming, and we had a fabulous picnic and everyone gave little goodbye speeches (they were really rolling out the red carpet for the film folks) and it was all just lovely.

So that's kind of been my last couple of days. I'm kind of amazed at how relatively smoothly everything has gone, since it is me, after all, and it is Guatemala to boot. But I'm not complaining! My only complaint right now is how much crap I'm hauling around at the moment, but a bunch of that is getting mailed back home as soon as I'm in Miami so once I embark on the South American leg of my journey I hope to have substantially lightened my load! At the moment I'm hauling my backpack, a huge blanket that requires it's own bag, a hammock thing I bought, my regular purse bag thing with my laptop in it, and a huge, heavy box that is mostly fiilled with food but also contains a few things I bought in Mexico to send home. I'm super sad though that I somehow managed to leave behind a whole bag of really nice goodies that I had bought in Chiapas, both for gifts and for myself! Wah! I'm hoping that maybe if my friend Spike comes down to Guatemala he will have grabbed the stuff and can bring it down for me, but it seems like a long shot so I'm not holding my breath. It wasn't anything expensive, but there were some really sweet Zapatista-related things that I really can't find anywhere else. And also my ipod has just mysteriously stopped working.... hmmm...

But yeah, I guess since these are my biggest problems at the moment then I'm in pretty good shape, so wish me luck and let's hope things stay this way! Thanks for reading and as always, keep me posted on what ya'll are doing! Huge hugs to all, xoxo Pike.

Zapatista Encuentro, Ahoy!

Hi Everyone! Well, sorry this has been a while coming. I haven´t really had much access to the internet as of late, so there you go.

I´m currently in the town of San Cristobal de las Casas, in the state of Chiapas, Mexico. I took a couple of buses up here from Guatemala the day after Christmas so I could attend the Zapatista Women´s Encuentro con las Mujeres del Mundo, being that I am, in fact, a mujer del mundo (woman of the world).

So I got into San Cristobal around 4pm on Wed, the 26^th, after an arduous 9-plus hour journey from Xela, and flapped around in frustration for a bit while I tried to get SOMEONE to give me change so I could use the phone to call the girl I was potentially supposed to stay with. Nobody but nobody was trying to help me break the 100-peso note that the ATM had given me, not even the people inside the bank when I eventually gave up on the shops and stood waiting in the line to talk to a real human teller. Now I´m no expert, but when someone at a BANK tells you that there is no way they can possibly make change for what is the equivalent of a $10 note, you know that something is seriously amiss. As it turns out, this was an important introductory lesson to Mexico, as I have now come to expect the look of shock and sweeping panic that appears on the face of any vendor I approach with any money worth over $1. It´s as if there´s a national conspiracy to Not have change, and just about everyone is in on it.

Anyway, so eventually the parents of a friend I had ridden the shuttle there with suggested that I try to just use the phone in their hotel, or at the very least try to get change for the phone there. So I did, and after much misunderstanding the guy finally gave me the denominations I needed to make my phone call- hooray! But success was not yet to be mine: I very rapidly then discovered that actually, none of the phones here take change- they only work with a card you have to buy, for a minimum of 30 pesos. Well. We all know that I have sort of a pattern of ¨harsh landings¨ when I get to a place, so I tried to bear this in mind as I then eventually went back to the evil tourism office that had originally been the first to deny me the change, and after much ado managed to use one of the phone booths there to make the call. And… nobody answered. At this point I decided that it was time to give up and move on, so I consulted my little list of potential places to stay, got a free map from the evil tourism place and headed toward the cheapest hostel on the list that looked close.

I never actually found it, but I wound up at a different one for the same price (60 pesos, about $6US) and just stayed there for the night. I managed to email my friend Rahel (who I had met at Spanish school and who I was supposed to meet up with to go to the encuentro) and so I spent the rest of the evening kind of wandering around San Cristobal and then taking out my extensions and redying my hair (it was looking bad). The showers were hot and again, I just have to express my extreme joy at the very concept of hot showers. I slept well.

In the morning I got up and was making breakfast when Rahel turned up, right on time at 10am, so we sat and ate and then headed straight back out to the buses from there. She was a real trooper considering that she had just spent the entire night before on a bus from Punto Escondido, a 13-hour bus ride away from San Cristobal. We caught a collectivo to Ocasingo and from there, by sheer chance, ran into a couple of punks from Spain that were able to direct us to the pickup that then shuttled us another 2 hours or so to the caracol of La Garrucha, where the encuentro was being held.

The pickup ride was kind of an adventure in itself, since there were 13 of us herded into the back of the truck with a big wire frame all around it. 3 of us sat way on top the whole time (I wasn´t one of them- not so much for lack of interest as lack of spots on top) and the rest of us either stood or sat on top of a backpack or pile of blankets for the bumpy, dusty ride. Those of us who were sitting couldn´t really see anything, so when the truck stopped for the last time and I stood up to look around, it was kind of a really funny surprise when the first thing I saw were the ski-mask-covered faces of about 15 traditionally dressed indigenous women looking up at us as we stood and began to jump down from the truck. They were the ¨registration committee¨, and once we had finally all provided our names and personal details, we were escorted past various mural-covered buildings to the large concrete room beneath a giant stage that would serve as the main bunking quarters for all those of us who did not have tents for the remainder of the encuentro. The middle of the space was slung with at least 20 hammocks, all diagonally tied side by side like a line of cars in a parking lot. The rest of us had to stake out spaces on the floor all around the perimeter, and those unfortunate souls who came too late had to stash their stuff in a corner and then try to sleep on the floor under the hammocks once it was time to go to bed. I wasn´t really sure what the policy was on taking pictures, so I erred on the side of caution and resisting the urge to shoot all of the amazing murals and signs that were covering nearly every outdoor surface. My favorite was the handwritten sign that was posted in various places, stating (in Spanish, of course): In this Encuentro, men are NOT allowed to participate in: relating, speaking, answering questions, translation, or talking of any kind during the meetings. Men are ONLY allowed to assist with the following tasks: Sweeping and cleaning the areas, especially the latrines; cooking and preparing meals; caring for the children; and washing and cleaning whatever needs to be cleaned. I thought it was super interesting, then, that so many men were there anyway, ostensibly to support their ladies (or, perhaps, to meet one?) At times, in fact, it looked like there were more men than women, though in actuality the numbers were probably about even since a lot of times the women were off in meetings somewhere, leaving the guys to kind of mill around in the center and hang out with each other.

Soooo, the meeting(s): Wow. I came having no real idea of what to expect, since I have never before been to a Zapatista caracol (the word means ¨snail shell¨in Spanish, and is used to indicate an opening or portal to outsiders by the Zapatistas- there are five different caracols, each one the ‘center of government’ so to speak for a respective community) or meeting. The day I arrived was actually the day before the encuentro officially began, so we kind of wandered around and tried to find some food or a kitchen to cook in, eventually locating the one tienda that had black beans and tortillas ready to eat and turning in for an early night. We made friends with the folks sleeping in the spot next to ours, two students from D.F. (Mexico City) named Carmen and Jorge. They were super nice, and patient with my bad Spanish. They, too, had not been to a caracol before and we all speculated a bit on what the next couple of days would be like.

The next day was pretty mellow for the most part. I had been expecting that there would be more opportunities to kind of jump in and help stuff like setting up, childcare, or whatever, but there really wasn´t much they seemed to need done, so eventually I jumped in and painted a couple of signs for the latrines encouraging the ladies to not throw hygiene products into them, but rather into bags that were provided. This was about the extent of my active participation, I´m sorry to say, but it soon became apparent that that´s just kind of how this gathering was going to be. The food situation was interesting, too, cause rather than one or two kitchens serving everyone like I´m used to at big outside events, there were a number of tiny eateries that had been set up by various families, each with a set menu of basically either rice and beans (15pesos) or chicken in soup w/ veggies (25pesos). Later a few started offering empenadas, some of which were even vegan (just beans or potatoes inside a fried tortilla), much to my delight. There were also little stores selling everything from bottled water and toilet paper to cookies and other junk food, so rather than pay a donation or fee to attend the whole gathering, we kind of just paid for what we needed as we went along.

Okay, yeah, but so I still haven´t even started talking about the meetings… geez I talk (write) a lot… I just hate leaving out details, and actually I usually already am anyway so just remember, this is all in the interest of giving you a clear idea of what I´m up to!

The opening meeting kicked off in the early evening, and began, as all the other meetings would begin, with a blast of insanely loud Mexican polka as the Compañeras, in balaclavas and grouped by caracol (indicated by different colored ribbons on top of their ski masks), walked single file across the main field and into the auditorio, a rough wooden building that had had the front (back?) removed to allow more benches to be placed there for people to sit and listen. After the Compañeras were arranged either on stage or in their seats in the audience, the rest of us women would file in and locate a seat on one of the benches. The first two days of talks were mainly about the differences many of the women had observed between their lives as women now as opposed to before their uprising in 1994. In Zapatismo, women are unequivocally granted the same rights as men, which is actually something extremely significant in many of the cultures these women come from. Many shared stories of how women were treated `worse than animals’, being deprived of the right to an education, to choose whom or whether they married, how many children they had, or the right to expect any sort of assistance from their husbands in household tasks, including raising the children. They spoke too of how alcoholism had decimated many of their communities and oftentimes there was no money left for food because their husbands had spent it all on booze (which made me think of several of my grandmothers´ experiences). There is no drinking permitted on Zapatista land, and people who are considered Zapatistas are generally expected to be clean and sober, so this, too, has been a significant improvement. Various women described the efforts they´ve made to build their own schools, clinics, and other forms of infrastructure free of the government, and of the profound difference it has made to simply have something as basic as a clinic to treat infirmities that for most of us wouldn´t be a big deal but that for poor campesinos with no access to treatment, were often deadly. It is difficult to comprehend the extreme level of neglect that the indigenous people of Mexico had been facing prior to their uprising, but hearing about it firsthand made it all the more incredible to me that in the face of so much need these folks were able to pull together and form a movement powerful and cohesive enough to not only force the government to pay attention, but to grow and thrive in the face of brutal governmental backlash, stronger now fourteen years later than they could have imagined when they started.

So although it seemed to me at first that a lot of the speeches were more overviews and a bit heavy on the dogma, I still think that for what it was, it was incredible. I do wish that the format had been more open, because basically the structure was very “us” & “them”, not really allowing for much actual interchange or discussion. On the last day there was time for various visiting groups to get up and talk for 5 minutes each, and at the end of each session of speeches there was a 5 minute period allotted for the reading and answering of questions that the audience had written down, but a lot of these went totally unanswered if the women didn´t really know what to say or didn´t like the question. So it definitely wasn´t perfect, but again, for what it was, it was certainly worthwhile.

Anyway, aside from getting totally bedridden-ly ill on the third day of the conference (I was totally incapacitated with a winning combination of nausea, diarrhea and menstrual cramps- what fun!), I don´t really have much more to report. It was nice to spend the New Year there, in a totally sober environment for once instead of being surrounded by people who are totally wasted, like most New Years. I danced a lot to the Mexican polka with my friends, and they even played a couple of songs that were NOT Mexican polka, so that was cool too.

The trip back to San Cristobal on New Years Day was sort of miserable, since it was raining and by the time we got from La Garrucha to Ocasingo, all the collectivos back to San Cris had left for the day, leaving us to try to find our own way out. It was only a few hours til dark but we (me, Rahel, and our new friend Spike) decided that we had to at least try to hitch a ride, and after about 25 minutes of unsuccessfully attempting to get to the nearest gas station, an already full pickup stopped and offered us a lift all the way to San Cris for 50 pesos each, only a dollar more than the collective would have been, so we apologized to everyone already in there and hopped in, shoving our bags as best we could into the already huge pile of luggage. Poor Rahel spent the next 3 hours perched on the tailgate, trying to stay warm and dry as best she could as the rest of us just dealt with being super crammed together.

Eventually, though, we made it back, and after several attempts managed to find a hostel with some space where we spent the next few days. Now I´m at a place called La Finka (the farm), though why it´s called that I don´t really know since it´s totally urban. I guess they have some houseplants that look pretty good… Anyway, there are tons of hippies but it´s okay. Okay, I´m gonna post this now cause I´ve got one minute left on the computer! Bye! Love me