Rabinal and the Lives of Others: We are all in this world together

November 7-8

Oscar, another Coordinator of Social Anthropology of EFI-IFIFT invited us to join the local university San Carlos archaeology field trip to Rabinal, Baja Verapaz his hometown located in a rural valley 4 hours drive up and down mountain sides. Crammed into the mini Toyota bus, all 17 of us headed out of Guatemala City. Their professor specializes in ceramics in archaeology.  All throughout the trip there were so many wonderful and unique 'chicken buses'. Driven down from the US Auctions, these old school buses have become the pride and joy of these Guatemalan owners, of which I recommend you watch La Camioneta: The Journey of One American School Bus on Netflix. One man's trash is another man's treasure, and boy, do they get used! Cristian (understandably) was not interested in us take them and can attract some sketchy people.

"chicken buses"

 The windy roads become a roller coaster of adventure to what sharp cliff or awing scenery awaits the next steep turn, as driving through all-but-white fog up the tops of mountains. It's a wonder how hard Guatemalan vehicles work, as the driver has to down shift to 3rd and 2nd, at times just barely making it up the hills. The smell of burning metal brakes reminds me of the times going up and down the mountains of the Cabot Tail, Nova Scotia.  Death to whomever gets car sick, as this turns show no mercy. I have to thank my upbringing in bush planes for my strong stomach and sense of adventure.

Tuk Tuk's 

The little three wheeled 'tuk tuk's' mozying down the highways along with the normal traffic reminds me of the tortoise and the hare, and how much I still want to live in India to see more of them. The more rural the community, you see more of them, as a taxi. Also if I forgot to mention, Guatemala is a haven for mopeds and motorcycles. Don't mind traffic safety, pile as many people on them as possible, the better.

All along the way, I notice left over campaign signs for the recent election and in the most remote and random places. I recognize quite quickly that any surface can be dibbs for election advertisement like red ' Lider" party painted on every surface: rock faces, hydro polls, and even people's shops and houses. I feel slightly uncomfortable about this as feels no different than vandalism.

We abruptly arrive at our first destination off a dirt road and an abandoned cement structure. We walk down a narrow grassy footpath, garbage strewed all around until we stop at an encirclement of old cement and wood huts.

A gracious family indeed

Here Oscar introduces us in Spanish and Achi. The whole family is around, their grandmother shelling nuts, when I realize they are serving us a treat they made us. I instantly get butterflies in my stomach and get the feeling to drop to my knees and tear up. Here is this poor family, to our standards to having nothing, and they serve us all well fed beings their food that they made my hand. Served in their painted Jicaro gourd bowls, the pudding-like serving was called Atol, white maize and cocoa growing from the branches overhead. 

Jicaro gourd they turn into bowls

Feeling extraordinarily humbled, Cristian does remind us of the proper etiquette to eat it all, and the use of thumbs to eat clean is suggested, of which I graciously continue to do.Then the mother takes us and shows us the clay she retrieves and uses to make figurines and bowls with. Her daughters curiously and shyly peer out behind her. I smile and say Buenos Dias, and the little girl holds her eyes and giggles. I must have opened her confidence because after she came to the front to make her own figurine and to repeatedly show me. Showing us the different forms of dyes as clays, they also shared with us their family method the precision and process to make these bowls: carve them out, soak them, clean them, sandpaper them with a specific leaf, paint and polish. We are given the chance to mold something our self. Asking "cuanto questa? " I buy a yellow and red bowl, and lady figurine. I realize how cheap they are selling it for the work and effort it takes to make them and leave them some extra. 

Clay making 

The older girls later hands me a figurine of the sheep smiling, I assume because of their gratitude! I try my best to say I have chickens to, and we all bid them a big Muchas Gracias, and head back to the bus. Cristian tells me, because Oscar in the past has been a guide in the past, he is has been making inquiries to some of these families to come into our home and show us what they do to live and make in order to live.

Our next stop was on the side of the road to Ceramica Artesanal Decorativa Saraliz where this particular family specializes in pottery. 

An expert crafts-family

All around are hundreds of pieces of pottery, while I realized we were walking through their house and personal property, I begin to feel guilty and humbled with their openness to share. We find the father outback working at his pottery wheel. The structure is made out of wood, and the wooden wheel he moves with his foot, he explains his profession of pottery was taught by his father and his father. He explains his methods, and within  15 minutes he has already made 5 different shaped bowls, flower pots, and vases! Consistency is most definitely the key, in making sure an equal amount of pressure while it spins. Once shaped, he let's the pottery dry for 8 days, sometimes 12 for the big ones, while on day 3, he can begin carving with incredible detail. He then let's us the chance to try at the wheel. We realize very quickly, how poorly we are, and how very skilled he must be; truly and expert. 

Us Anglophones found it amusing that every time someone went to the wheel the students played "Oh, my love - The Righteous Brothers from the Ghost soundtrack! 

The Skilled Potterer

Such detail

On our way our we gave some attention to the skinny white kitten, and then proceeding to choose out what we would like to buy. Hopping back into the bus the heat and humidity of 30 degrees, I felt I was going to melt. Talking with Erica who lives in L.A., we both cannot get over the differences in temperatures we can and cannot handle. I am definitely a northerner and she southerner.

We arrive in Rabinal at our enclosed hotel and drop off our things. We are famished, so head to the nearest restaurant, which is definitely someone's home. After refreshing ourselves, we head to our next destination, down narrower and and unbeaten roads. I still don't know how the driver never hit all the other tuk tuk's, cars and motorcycles. We pass by what looks like a soccer/sports stadium. Cristian tells me he is quite upset about this because it was over top what used to be an army garrison from the war, and the last time he, Oscar, and Heidy, were there they were exhuming mass graves there. When they were there they had whole families flocking to them crying to them if they had found their family members and why they couldn't stay longer. Cristian said that he could hear Heidy crying all night. He said solemnly, as I could tell he was very upset about it, it is a terrible shame because the well where they had dumped hundreds of bodies was now covered by cement. He very much suspects it was covered up by the government so they could no longer access it.

Foot Pottery

We park the bus and walk down a grass path between barbed wire, cow and horse dung. The smell gives me a slight comforting feeling, remember the smells when we had our large farm animals. We enter what looks to be the family's property, while a bunch of boys and men, give us curious stares. Further in, we see rest of the family and the husband and wife take us to an over hang to what I can assume to be their house. Here, they do a more basic method of pottery, of which they tend to make more for themselves. Here she shows us how to make  the clay into pottery with just her feet and hands. She opens for us to try, first showing how she puts first some sand help bind and stay, then she kneads the clay with her feet as it is much to straining of a task for the hands.

Chicken bowl

A few of us proceed to try. Then she takes a bit, to the side, adds water to her hands and the clay and begins to spin herself around, evenly molding the clay, only slightly using a piece of cloth for the finishing touches. The husband shows us some of the pottery they make as big pots, vases and chicken feeders. A few of us proceed to try; a taller student struggling greatly, getting dizzy, making it even or without it falling apart. After, we are explained that today their family is celebrating to remember a father, of which they will continue into the night. We are then invited to join in their celebration. I can definitely sense we are all overwhelmed by their offer and generosity in their very personal gathering. I go to the fire and see what they are making. I believe they were very happy I was so curious and approved of the smells. One girl shows where they have a large pot of tamale (covered in banana leaves) simmering.

Hot Tamales

We are then invited to where they have music and an alter set up with candles, and slowly burning pine branches which smells so wonderful, I wish  I could capture the smell (or you could now go and do so yourself). I am informed that the 3 marimbas (xylophone) players have been playing since 5 am when they began preparing for the food festivities and will continue till about midnight. There were two old men playing an old violin and a hand drum. If I could not feel even more humble and honoured, one of the older family members offered us a hot tamale and tortilla. He also offers us to drink from a goblet of their home-made spirit. The youngest of children to the oldest of grandparents, we're around us, some emotionless, some smiles.

All generations

On our way out some of the woman and girls offered us to try making own tortillas over the fire. They giggled at up as the 3 of us where struggling to get the perfect sized circle, but we did share the watery eyes from smoke in our eyes. Before we headed out, and then them be before more guests started coming in, one gave me one of their bird bowls and the rest of our tortillas. The gratitude is and was overwhelming.

Getting to dusk, we decide on our way back to stop at the cemetery where some memorial are of the massacres in the region. Rabinal is the site of some of the bloodiest massacres in Guatemala's Civil War, including those of Plan de Sánchez and Río Negro. The actual town of Rabinal was also the site of a large-scale massacre during the Independence Day celebration of 1981. The monuments were set up by the Association for theIntegral Development of the Victims of Violence in the Verapaces, Maya Achi.

A monument does not fix the problems but does recognize it

There was one overhang with candles and oranges hanging in which families of those who have committed suicide because they can no longer deal with the pain put pictures there. The graves are raised due to the dry, hard dirt, and blacked areas to where the family would have burned the surface, probably left over from Day of the Dead. The realization hits hard for me in experiencing such generosity and kindness from the these community member only to be reminded of how much their community and country has suffered such trauma and loss.

We go out for dinner in the market as a big group. It feels refreshing being out with new people besides language barriers. Cristian had given the heads up that tonight would be our first night to have street food (he has been wary of letting us do so far), when some of the Spanish students invited me to go find something else beside chicken the others we going to set down for. And boy, am I glad I agreed: Gringas, smoothies and being able to finally talk with them, formally introduce ourselves. It is always a fun feeling when you have the time and opportunity in a group trying to effectively communicate when we all work together. They ask if I want to go dance. At first a bit of hesitation at first because not sure when the rest are, they end up all coming. Never would have expected to go to a local Guatemalan diskotek with such a diverse crowd. There definitely were a few stares from the local crowd but more curious than anything. Dancing in field clothes and big hiking boots was on the hot side but at least I had a firm grip to the ground! It was also a new experience dancing with so many people and rather amusing thinking of it, they all wanted turn with short Canadian girl?! Despite minor experiences from one of the other girls from crude "police officer", the vibe was definitely positive overall; a fresh outlook from the side of violence, and knowing people have got your back.

Morning came to a pleasant awakening to the sound of roosters, rather than blaring mufflers and horns of the city. Breakfast was good as usual. The only thing that kills me a bit inside is the lack of clean free tap water and having to by another bottle. The other thing is the amount of stray, skinny dogs. Here, the presence of dogs is not really a pet with another mouth to feed. From our experiences, if owned they are strictly for protection, and help save crops and livestock. Actually, it is rather a reflection of the extremes of some of the pampering done by North Americans and Japanese I have seen.

The family works together to put food on the table

Expert carving before our astounded eyes

Our final destination in Rabinal was at another family, down a dirt place, and 30 degree sun. This family specialized in the carving and painting of the Jicaro gourd. One of the family members who introduced us, showed us the stages of their processes and carved out a beautiful design had come to us in a police/security uniform only to quickly change once proceeding through the processes. It is a multi-stage process involving cleaning and removing, soaking, scraping, polishing with a specific plant that comes from a mountain, soaking in black natural dyes,  boiling this special read silk bugs for red dye, then carving, from other conversations with other family members I found out that their father had been killed in the Conflict, due to town member giving false accusation, and still in this more recent generation had had the same destruction happen with threatened neighbours who came and destroyed some of their work.

I was overjoyed when San Carlos students wrote well wishes on the drumsticks I had picked up from the night before. Reflecting on the way back up, down and around the mountains, I realized a recurring them from our destinations. Despite how 'little' these families had, or how much trauma they have gone through, they were still highly rich in family, generosity and skill. All times there individuals had showed us up with their mastered skill and creativity. Whatever kind of socio-economical difference, our dignity does not does not change . We all unique and wonderful capabilities in the world, especially when we share and work together.