it's alive

One thing about Guatemala--there's just so much life here. Let's face it: In the United States, we live in a pretty sterile environment. There is not much microscopic life swimming in the drinking water that comes out of your kitchen sink. Heck, you can even drink out of the garden hose! Not so here. There could be giardia, amoebas or other parasites merrily anticipating a romp around your stomach lining in any drop of unboiled water.
The same is true for people, plants and animals. Due to a mix of machismo, religious tradition and societal values, families here are big--far bigger than the average family in the U.S. It seems no matter where you are, whether its at a city council meeting, in a restaurant, visiting someone's home and especially in the Health Center, there are always a ton of little kids around.
Stateside children are relegated to specific parts of life. They have their own table for meals, and you don't take them somewhere that they could make a disturbance. Even our lives are divided into childhood, adulthood, parenthood and retirement. And unless you actively seek to make children a part of your life, they won't be.
Sometimes it's sad, like when you see a dog that is so skinny it can't nurse its puppies, or you see a kitten with one foot in the grave. Sometimes it's annoying, like when something you left under your bed for a week is already moldy. Or the fact that you have to be so proactive at killing insects and arachnids in your living space.
But I like that it's such a family-friendly society. And, like in all areas of my life, I'm learning to make accommodations for things and people different than what I am used to.

my new friends

Let me start at the beginning.

My most recent adventure began at 4:00 a.m. Thursday. I was awakened to the sound of deafening explosions outside my home. Once again, back in the states this would be a grave call for alarm and a definite call to the police. Here, it registered little more than sleepy annoyance. Then the church bells began. Then the praise music, complete with a bone-rattling bass. This is all a part of the continuing celebration of Guatemala's Independence from Spain. At 5:00 a.m. I summoned the will to get out of bed, and by 6:00 a.m. I was on a bus headed for Huehue, from which I would take another bus to Xela. The purpose of my trip was to poop in a cup and hopefully discover the cause of my ever-more-frequent trips to the outhouse.

Just past the neighboring town of Colotenango, the bus came to an unexpected halt, and, after some deliberation, everyone on board, including myself, got off and continued toward Huehue on foot. We walked for hours, through the rain, through throngs of angry indigenous men protesting a national identification card program. I walked until I found a ride with an extremely zealous evangelical man.

"I asked God this morning, 'God, who can I share the Word with today?'" he said. "And here you are!"
And share with me he did. He told me his theories on original sin, the fall, the follies of Catholicism and Mary worship. The truth is, I didn't agree with hardly anything he said, but I swallowed my words and my pride and smiled and nodded the whole way. I sold my soul for a 20 kilometer ride to Huehuetenango. Lord, please don't let me have a real moral test, like Dietrich Bonhoeffer or Martin Luther King, Jr.

I did finally make it to Xela, a day later and much poorer than I expected to after having to buy a hotel room and several suppers when the bus protest continued for the rest of the day.

I have occasionally written here about my loneliness. Well, I have one source of comfort, at least for a little while. When I feel sad, alone in the universe, I have this mantra to soothe me: "At least my parasite friends are with me."
That's right. As I write this right now, there are a significant number of amoebas gallivanting around my stomach lining.

And any of you who have ever attended one of my dinner parties know that if nothing else, I am an excellent host. :)