Nourish Goes to Guatemala

By Steve Mullaney

This is anarchic. This is thoughts thrown on a page with a minimum of editing. I don’t care.

One of the things that we’ve talked about ad nauseum is avoiding unintentional harm on this trip. Admirable. I mean, whenever I’ve told people what I’m doing in Guatemala it’s never been followed up with “and I hope that this really messes up the culture of the town we’re in.”

Thoughts torn in many directions inspired from interactions with the wise people in my life rush into my head. The following quotes only get at the surface level of the wisdom that these people have.

A very good friend who has been abroad for a while: “Just like people of color need to prove themselves every day within a racist white aesthetic, so to do white people (in the case of this trip: people with enormous class privilege) need to prove themselves and do uncomfortable things if they want to be in true solidarity with people of color.”

A formal mentor: “The people are resourceful.”

My Mom: “Something needs to be more than just interesting for someone to want to do something.”

A classmate from social justice class: “This is not a game, this is something that affects me every day.”

Aziman, a chief of the Bunun Indigenous Group (Taiwan) explaining how he uses traditional farming practices coupled with organic/sustainable methods endorsed by the Taipei-based Taiwanese Ecological Stewardship Association.

My best friend, a brilliant theorist, researcher and organizer: “Whatever man. Whatever.”

Keep reading...

- Carlos Toriello

I spent the majority of our early morning bus ride staring into the eyes of a young girl. While our group has spent a fair amount of time out in the field and traveling across Guatemala, we have spent the majority of our time with each other. Chapel Hill, Durham, Minneapolis, Los Angeles, Boston and even Guatemala City have very different eyes from those of La Pista. Not to say that our group is in any way homogeneous; on the contrary, we are a very diverse bunch but we have had the time to understand one another in different situations. We are still getting to know each other but there is no doubt when you see us shoveling tons of dirt, uprooting trees and even unearthing forgotten pottery that Nourish Guatemala has become a team. Our group is a functioning unit with outcomes and goals in mind for the next couple of weeks that directly impact the community we are working with. And yet, we are very far away from understanding Nebaj, and even more so, from understanding La Pista.

Intelligent development, one of the ways that Nourish chooses to describe its projects, involves an in-depth understanding of the contextual reality surrounding the community and the “developers.” I don’t think you can do development work without it, which is why you see our team carrying around 250 page course packs on top of their water purifiers and Cipro (this massive antibiotic has made its debut. How is that for contextual reality?). Our last discussion featured one of my favorite, must-read, service articles “To hell with good intentions” by Ivan Illich. I have never read a more direct opposition to the kind of work that we are doing. The words “do not come to help,” in reference to service work in Latin America, have a particular sting when you just spent the entire day moving wood around a construction site to aid local masons. On the ground we have successfully gained the respect of the team of construction workers and are asked if we are coming back tomorrow. They are only a small part of the community but if they want us there, I will easily choose to ignore Mr. Ivan’s advice.

When I stared into that little girl’s eyes I could not find any common ground to stand on and understand her. We just looked at each other for endless minutes in that unabashed silence that you rarely achieve with adults, but there was a gap between us. I know that the community was not so long ago entrenched in civil war and that presently her village, a former refugee camp, has dust streets and little running water, not to mention minimal access to modern communication or a formidable medical service. This little girl and I were sharing the same bumpy ride but the distance between us was still great. Ideally the next few weeks of work and homestays with families in Nebaj and La Pista will help bridge that distance, but for now it is still very present. If we are unable to understand each other, even a little bit, then should we be involved in this kind of work? As the leader of this team, am I just paving our road to Illich’s hell? Or are we successfully avoiding it and achieving something “good?”

I don’t know, but I’d love to hear what you have to say…

- David Palacios

This past weekend I experienced one of the most severe allergies in my life. Nebaj is surrounded by beautiful mountains with a rich variety of trees and plants. I rarely get allergies, but Nebaj’s natural diversity and weather have given my allergies a comeback. I began to take amoxicillin to alleviate my symptoms. After taking this treatment for several days, I did not get better at all. The next step I took was talking with my doctor who told me to start a treatment with an antibiotic which is stronger than amoxicillin.

There are over a dozen pharmacies in the central area of Nebaj, but I had to go pharmacy-hopping until finally I found one pharmacy that had the medicine that I needed. I took this super strong antibiotic on Sunday night and by Monday morning I was feeling significantly better and well enough to go to work at AcTxumbal (La Pista).

We all felt anxious about our first day of work at La Pista. That morning, we met with Miguel Brito from Community Enterprise Solutions to plan our daily tasks. We ate the most energizing breakfast that we could given the time constraints and then we took a 20 minute bus ride to La Pista.

When we got to the construction site we started by clearing the area where the greenhouse is going to be built. We collected the trash that was spread throughout the area and removed all the plants that would hinder the construction work.

I think all of the team would agree that everyone was incredibly productive. Some of us were successful in removing large plants after battling with roots that went very deep into the ground. Others focused on preparing the land for its future uses by picking up all sorts of things from the ground such as pieces of glass, wood, plastic, etc.

I remember hearing some of our team members talk about how rewarding this day had been for them. Personally, I view my time at La Pista as a way of putting forth an effort to try to make a positive contribution to this community. This contribution could develop in different forms in the long term.

I think that these forms can be seen as three types of capital on which we are investing. By investing in them, La Pista is more likely to attain higher wellbeing levels in terms of nutrition, health, housing, education, job opportunities, and reduced violence.

The first type of capital is human capital. A more robust educational system in La Pista is likely to make its economic growth more sustainable in the long term. I hope that the Exploration Center strengthens the education levels of La Pista by helping the future generations to learn more about their interests, talents, and skills.

The second type of capital is financial capital. Increased inflows of financial capital will empower the locals to create more wealth or capital for their own community. The greenhouse is likely to make a difference in this aspect if it encourages the members of La Pista to diversify their agricultural production, produce with more efficient methods, and engage in more commercial activities. Also, I hope that eventually the center facilitates trade amongst the members of the community by serving as a small-scale market.

Lastly, fostering civic capital could be beneficial to increase the inclusion and pluralism of the members of La Pista in their community. The Exploration Center and the greenhouse might be able to create more cohesion in the community through the involvement of the parents. Also, by enhancing the education of the children, the center will have the capacity to shape future leaders who might strengthen the regional democratic institutions such as municipalities, offices of the judiciary, and local governance committees.

Our first days in Nebaj and La Pista have nurtured us more than a college-level course. We have been able to learn about the region’s politics, economy, and social issues with a great amount of detail. Moreover, our readings of articles on development have also expanded our views on the subject and have allowed us to evaluate their ideas in relation to our project. Yesterday we had a seminar on different readings which gave room for debate and an exchange of perspectives. Without any doubt, this project will be an esoteric experience that is representative of the social reality in which most Guatemalans live in.

 By Nick Cuneo
On the morning of the 16th I awoke early to an unpleasant sensation in my intestines and a need to get the bathroom as soon as possible. While I was expecting to be hit by travelers’ diarrhea at some point during my time in Guatemala, I was on some level clinging onto the hope that I might be spared—especially given how good I’d been so far in observing basic food and water precautions (in contrast to previous, diarrhea-free excursions I’ve had in other developing countries where I was much less cautious). Anyway, I was pretty miserable for a couple hours, not only due to the antics taking place in my gut, but also because I was missing out on time at the Colegio (the Colegio Miguel Ángel Asturias) which I’d really been looking forward to since the beginning of the trip.

The Colegio is no ordinary school, by any measure or standard. Providing a transformative education rooted in ideas of social justice and equality to over 200 students K-12 on an operating budget of just $50,000 a year (no, I did not forget a zero), the Colegio is unique within Guatemala in its approach to education and emphasis on leadership.

Guatemala’s education system was ranked last within Latin America just four years ago by UNESCO and has not seen improvement since—indeed, while Guatemala’s population is growing at an annual rate of 3%, funds devoted to public education are barely increasing at all. What this translates to in practice is a situation in which “of every ten children, only eight step foot in an elementary school, and all but three drop out before the end of sixth grade.” Of the seven not making it to the end of sixth grade, it is without doubt that indigenous children (especially girls) make up the great and disproportionate majority. Manifested in such daunting statistics as a 65% illiteracy rate among indigenous adults (in contrast to a 30% rate among European descendants), the Guatemalan government’s historical approach to indigenous education has been reprehensible, at best. Unfortunately, even after the 1996 peace accords which ended Guatemala’s bloody 36-year civil war and promised greater equality with regard to government spending, not much seems to have changed. Fueled by insidious and inveterate racism towards Guatemala’s indigenous population, inequalities within Guatemala’s education system have resulted in a disheartening 66% of indigenous children’s not having access to basic schooling.

In response to these overwhelming numbers, the Colegio has brought children from Guatemala’s most vulnerable sectors together through scholarships and a well subsidized tuition rate to learn under its dramatically improved version of the government’s curriculum, infused with the methods of Paolo Freire and an emphasis on human rights. Consequently, the school’s primarily indigenous student body has achieved outstanding success in national tests, placing the Colegio in the top 10% of private schools in the nation and flying flat in the face of widespread racism regarding “innate differences” in learning capacities within the country and indeed world.

This is why I was upset about missing out that morning on our visit to the school. Fortunately, I was able to come later on in the afternoon, after my intestines had calmed down a bit. After researching the Colegio a great deal while in the process of applying for a grant on its behalf back in the States (before I had even set foot in Xela), I certainly enjoyed getting a glimpse of how it operates.

After our day at the Colegio we ended up at “el Sabor de la Índia,” a tasty Indian restaurant in Xela, with Jorge Chojolàn—the director of the Colegio and Guatemala’s first Ashoka fellow—and his wife and four daughters. I had the pleasure of sitting next to Jorge at one end of the long table with Pavak, Erin, Catarina, and Russ. Throughout the three-hour-long dinner we got to discuss a variety of topics with Jorge and learned quite a bit about his life, interests, and efforts in establishing the Colegio. Little to say, I left the table completely overwhelmed with respect for the man.

The next day was spent traveling to Nebaj, a destination we have been looking forward to for some time in anticipation to begin our work in the country, the reason we are actually here. After some amazing behind-the-scenes coordination by Carlos and David, we ended up with a van and driver—free of charge—through David’s father’s company. Needless to say, the free and extra space made possible by the van was greatly appreciated throughout the five-hour drive. We arrived in Nebaj late that afternoon safe and sound, ready to begin exploring our home for the next four weeks.

Explore is indeed what I got to do the next day with Russ, Steve, and our Ixil guide, Felipe (quite a cool guy) on a five-hour hike across the mountains of Nebaj to a pastoral, cheese-producing community on the other side of the mountains. I say cheese-producing because its main attraction was the large cheese factory on its outskirts, surrounded by idyllic pastures and many, many cows. After tasting its renowned product, a mild Swiss-like cheese that was actually quite good (Latin America is not known for its cheeses, it turns out), we decided to buy some for the group and head back to the hostel on one of the area’s many “microbuses,” almost identical in setup to the many “bush taxis” or “tro-tros” I took in West Africa. That is, a small van with four rows of back seats into which upwards of 20 people are packed for a small price (in this case four quetzals, equivalent to $0.50).

So that’s that. In just three days, I got to visit a remarkable school, have an unforgettable conversation with an amazing man, and hike through beautiful mountains. Not too bad, if you ask me. And I got to eat some decent cheese, too.

By Catarina Saraiva

The Quetzal, Guatemala’s enigmatic and rare national bird, thrives in the hands of ecstatic 8-year-olds. I discovered this little-known fact at a small school in the country’s second biggest city.

Although the Quetzal is the national symbol, represented on everything from the currency (called Quetzales) to city names, much of its natural habitat has been destroyed by human growth. This bird can’t be seen in zoos, as it simply can’t survive in captivity – a pretty sweet trait for a national symbol, huh?

We left beautiful Lake Atitlán yesterday for Quetzaltenango (aka Xela), where we visited an alternative school run by Guatemala’s first Ashoku Fellow. Jorge Chojolán, the school’s founder and director, spoke to us last night about the need for innovation in his country’s education system. He told us only one out of every ten children finishes high school here.

At the Colegio Miguel Ángel Asturias, however, children from kindergarten through the first year of high school learn from teachers who use practical methods for engaging young minds.

Patty, Jorge’s 18-year-old daughter who’s already in medical school, told me that she remembers most of her history lessons from the Colegio because her teachers took their classes on field trips to the actual locations of the historical events. Instead of simply teaching math by memorization, kids are taught to think of how many candies they can buy if they only have a certain amount of money, Patty said. This way, the material has relevance to their daily lives.

After a hearty breakfast at our Catholic hostel early this morning, the troop left for the Colegio, armed to visit classes and offer any lessons the kids might enjoy. We were one man down, as Nick struggled through the deadly Dengue Fever (or maybe just a stomach ache).

At the school, we were greeted by Ryan Richards, a Juniata College graduate who’s dedicating two years of his life to working with the Colegio, mentored by Jorge. Jorge organized us according to our skills and led us to our classrooms. I was to sit in on Paola’s second grade class. The twenty or so kids were learning about shading in art, but quickly became far more interested in the camera. I was filming them as they were coloring, but they gradually crowded around this new device.

After we spent about half an hour in the classrooms, Jorge rang the bell for recess. The kids had an intense championship soccer game to play. Off they went, complete with an older student serving as the referee. Teachers shouted tactics from the side-line and other children screamed their team’s name. These kids are the future of Guatemalan soccer, as I have no doubt they’ll take the country to the World Cup. Upon arrival to Quetzaltenango yesterday, our boys played against some middle schoolers in a heated game. They “tied…” yeah right. The kids probably got a little slack at the end, feeling sorry for their guests.

Some of the school’s team names include “Clean environment,” “Pumas no longer extinct” and “Super rights,” true to the school’s extensive and progressive curriculum.

The Colegio is built like most buildings here in Guatemala, with a central, open-aired courtyard. At the school, this courtyard is paved and serves as the soccer field and basketball court.

We went back into our classrooms after the soccer game, this time to teach. I spent a good amount of time teaching the 8-year-olds how to fold paper Quetzals. I basically had them make paper cranes, bending the tail downwards to replicate the bird’s long tail feathers.

After they colored their birds, Jorge called for a school-wide assembly. The children all sang us their school song, “queremos paz y libertad en nuestro mundo” (we want peace and liberty in our world). Of course, some of sang our school songs as well and, at the childrens’ eager pleas, Carlos brought out the guitar for some further entertainment.

After the assembly we broke for lunch. Nick, fully recovered from his bout with the Dengue Fever, joined the rest of us and Ryan for a wonderful meal of salpicon (spiced shredded beef) and horchata (rice milk with cinnamon and sugar).

Ah, paradise…

 By Russ Spitler

Today was our second day in Posada Jaibalito, the hostel on the shores of Lake Atitlan. Our little clan took its Sabbath a day late this week, since all we did was eat, read, journal, hike, and swim. We engaged in “team building” exercises, which equated to making fools of ourselves in front of some Jaibalitans fishing on the pier next to us. It was great fun.

Last night I was determined to watch the sun rise over Central America’s deepest lake. I have been waking up pretty early without electrical assistance since I have been here, so I thought getting up at 5:00 wouldn’t be too much of a stretch. I was right; “Buenos dias” replied the man carrying wood through Jaibalito’s sidewalk, shrouded in the darkness still covering the nearby volcanoes. I set up shop with the camcorder on a pier nearby and waited for the engaging pink light to arrive. Presto, I made contact with the staggering surroundings and giggling children around me. What an experience.

I returned to home and met Herb, a San Franciscan who has spent his life in emergency medicine. He has great stories about his time in Afghanistan (pre-Soviet invasion), Bosnia, Sri Lanka and Indonesia after the tsunami, Katrina, etc. He asked me if I minded listening to his stories. They were too fascinating to miss. I enjoyed meeting Herb. He told me I should get involved helping in crisis areas. “It’s easy. You just look around and see what needs to be done and start. I’ve worked with a bunch of people like you.” We’ll see what the future holds.

Herb and I looked at a few of the gorgeous plants in Hans’ garden. This led us to eventually try an orange banana. There are 30 varieties of banana in the world, but only two are exported to the U.S. Yesterday I tried a two inch long banana. Each variation tasted different from the kind back home. Oh the joys traveling brings. The rest of the day held more amazing comida. For $1.50 I ate one of the best breakfasts I have ever experienced. Very nice!!

The other highlight of today, besides not doing much of anything, was hiking for about 15 minutes with Carlos, Cat, and Nick to find a sweet swimming hole. The views proved to be out of this world and there was a lot of cool vegetation on the path. Eventually our little band arrived at a destination we approved worthy. We passed through the yard of a house owned by Carlos’ mother’s former boss. It was a beautiful place. Luckily while swimming I had an epiphany: opening my eyes under water. There wasn’t much to see, but the water was an awesome shade of blue, and sunlight streamed through the waves, bouncing around below the surface to put on a show more dazzling than any human form of entertainment could ever provide.

I should write something deep and philosophical, something along the lines of the conversation most of us had last night as avocados fell onto the kitchen’s roof, making a huge racket. However I am an individual. I have feelings. These feelings matter because, gosh darn it, people just like me. You should realize that I am still wearing my bathing suit, and I am perfectly happy to just ramble on right now and make up Happy Thoughts, à la Jack Handy. One item of note that I cognated today was the idea of continuity. Even though there are a lot of differences between here and home, there are many things that are the same. People want the same things: to provide for their family’s needs, to raise their children well, to feel a sense of accomplishment after achieving a goal, etc. The waves still roll in the same pattern as they do in North America, the same sun still governs our activities, food still can taste good or bad. You get the idea. I have been very slack about my reading, so I will do some now. Buenos noches!!

By Erin Mulfinger

Today we woke up at the Molina to a wonderful breakfast and a presentation about FUDI, a local organization working to promote schools, agriculture, and health. We then were taken on a tour of the mill, given by Mario Gutierrez, the manager for the past five years.

Following that, we went on a hike in the mountainous woods behind the mill. Wow. The air seemed so fresh, so clean, and the vegetation so lush and green. There was a clear path we followed up the mountain, and then down the mountain.

For lunch we were served estofado, a traditional dish that mixes different meats and spices, and then we were off! Due to issues with transportation (see previous posts) we were without a second car. However, we did have the use of a pickup truck and Pavak and Russ happily volunteered to ride in the bed in the hopes of photo opportunities. It began to rain as the cars were loaded, and they both resourcefully put on ponchos and jumped in the truck. The rain stopped pretty quickly, and after a few minutes on the road we were stopped by some roadwork. Children selling fruit, candy, soda, etc. walked by, and some of us ate fresh mango and bananitos de oro. After a curvy and bumpy trip we arrived in Panajachel, and took a boat to Jaibalito.

Carlos' cousin, Sofia, lives here in Jaibalito and she was telling us about the current state of education. In the areas surrounding the lake, teachers have been on strike for two months now. Two months children have not been going to school! Sofia said the reasons for the strike have been many, but most likely all stem from the fact that teachers' salaries are some of the lowest in the country. We will be hearing much more about education in Guatemala from Colegio Miguel Angel Asturias tomorrow, and I hope to really gain an understanding of the entire system, and the differences in opportunities for education between Guatemala and the United States.

By Steve Mullaney

No, I know what you’re thinking—I didn’t get arrested. Yet. (Just kidding Mom and Dad). Our car broke down on the side of the road in rural Guatemala. We were stranded for a while and have no clue what we’re doing tomorrow or for the rest of the trip as far as transportation goes. The police had to help us—and only because we were in danger of getting hit by other cars or robbed if we were to stay where we were at. Oh, and by the way, did I mention that at the end of the day nobody panicked and this was universally viewed as an INCREDIBLY POSITIVE experience for our group to get through?

Intrigued? Well, I’ll get to that…first onto other things.

We got to meet with Community Enterprise Solutions (http://www.cesolutions.org/) which was amazing. One of the dangers of doing community-based work is going in with an expert mentality, or the assumption that everyone wants exactly what I (read: the middle class within the US) have. CES gets it, and they’re there for the long haul—building relationships and working with communities for sustainable solutions to problems which the community itself identifies. Being around people who are passionate is contagious, I know we definitely fed off of their optimism and their passion for doing the work that they do. A little clearer, (tolerance of ambiguity is such a plus for travelers), we left to visit Maya Pedal (http://www.mayapedal.org/), another group which Nourish is indirectly partnered with.

Maya Pedal is insane. You should just go to their website, there’s no other way to really describe them. Essentially, this man builds things like blenders, washing machines and water pumps out of old bicycles. How cool is that?

From there we were back on the road to get to Carlos Toriello’s house to spend the night, when one of the cars broke down by the side of the road. Reflecting on the experience, it was almost as if it were a hokey hippy-dippy trustwalks-in-the-woods exercise—only effective. Carlos assured me he did not sabotage his car so that we would bond.

Nobody panicked or brought down morale, everyone pitched in whether it was looking for rocks to keep wheels from slipping, using mechanical skills to diagnose the car or keeping spirits up with jokes. Long story short, everything and everyone made it—although I was transported up a hill by the Guatemalan police. As we regrouped I offered to ride with Carlos in the broken car (it had since suddenly come back to life, sort of) and it was decided that Pavak, the one with the most car skills, would go with Carlos. I quipped, “That’s probably a good choice; I’m an English major, the best that I could do if the car broke again would be to write a poem about the situation.” Pavak laughed and told me to actually write the poem. I did, and it is the high-water mark of American poetry.

An elegy for Carlos Toriello and Steve Mullaney who died writing this poem instead of fixing the car

As plumes of smoke exploded
and burning rubber smells flash flooded the area
so you taste toxins with every breath
Steve Mullaney quibbled with a notebook at the side of the road
counting syllables for a poem which would most certainly not fix the car.

Alone, Carlos works his pair of cell phones
thumbs dancing across the keys
punching out SOS and mayday
in frantic attempts to save the sluggish car.

“Steve, put rocks behind the wheels,” Carlitos urged the bookish frump.
however the only things Steve hauled were mixed metaphors
and awkward juxtapositions
into a hasty haiku.

Five, seven, five.
The haiku, that Japanese dabbling over which Steve spent sweat
ignoring Carlitos’ request to work on vain scratchings.

“Did you put rocks behind the tires?” Carlitos asked,
dripping with exasperation.

“Yes!” Steve exclaimed.
Carlos stuck his head neath the car
and was decapitated as the car rolled backwards
spreading guts like a Quentin Tarrantino wet dream
and tumbled down the hill into the traffic below.
Whereupon, Carlos’ sad body was smeared
across the highway
by a bus.

“Whoops.” Steve thought.
And justified in his head how the ‘yes’ referred to excitement
over finishing the poem
not an affirmative celebrating rocks under tires.

With that, Steve read his poem aloud.
To nobody in particular.

“Ahem.”

A Haiku Explaining our Unfortunate Situation

By Steve Mullaney

We are stuck right here.
I wish that the car would work.
That really sucks. Dude.

At this point, God himself shook the clouds off his sneakers
and came down to earth
to correct this ironic injustice,
and berate Steve for his rotten poem.

With one swift motion God smote Steve
and his accursed atoms spread in the four directions
to avenge Carlos Toriello
and punish Steve Mullaney
who died writing a poem
instead of fixing the car.

We ate dinner. We reflected. We bonded. The Guatemala Group became the Guatemala Team, and what could have been a disastrous experience was transformed into one which will catalyze us towards our goal.

By Linda Quiquivix

We’ve arrived!

Together. In one piece. Luggage intact.

Which is more than I can say for U.S. airports. Of all the places in the “third world” I’ve ever traveled to, I’ve never any problem with luggage. The U.S. wins the award for efficiency when it comes to putting my luggage on the wrong flights.

And twice!

But enough about the U.S. We’re in Guatemala! Nine of us. All university students. We’re here to save the world and we’re not leaving until it’s saved.

All of it.

Our first meal: Pollo Campero! Guatemala’s answer to McDonalds – a quite formidable answer, at that. It’s an enormous international chain with restaurants in almost every Central American country, Mexico, the U.S., Ecuador, Spain, and even Indonesia.

Indonesia.

Eating at Pollo Campero is an absolute must for anyone seeking the “authentic” Guatemalan experience. If you’re a vegetarian (as are Pavak and myself) you can chomp down on Campero’s french fries. The ketchup is sweet. It’s not quite the same experience, of course, but one that can be lived vicariously through your carnivorous, chicken lovin’ friends.

And plenty of them on this trip we have.

Carlos’ grandfather, Eddie, hosted our first night in his lovely home. There, we were treated to frijoles revueltos (refried black beans), handmade corn tortillas, and guacamole (in Guatemala, it’s pronounced without the last syllable: “wah-kah-MOL”).

Guatemalans like to shorten words a lot.

Guate’s national beer, Gallo (in conjunction with every nation’s national soft drink, Coca-Cola) helped us wash it all down.

We expect to have many more encounters with the aforementioned foods throughout the remainder of the five week-trip. (Five weeks is exactly how long it takes to save a world, in case you’ve always wondered.)

This morning, Eddie treated us to breakfast. Pollo Campero! (The menu is totally different in the morning – it’s a whole new experience.) While driving to breakfast we experienced traffic slow down on Avenida de las Americas – protesters – voicing their anger at the government’s (lack of) response to the recent Banco de Comercio scandal which robbed many of their savings.

The Banco de Comercio scandal involves sleazy bankers, off-shore accounts, unsuspecting customers who sign up without reading the fine print. The bank had served as a proxy, depositing customers’ money in off-shore banks instead of in the actual bank.
The bank collapsed at the beginning of the year; as did its directors; as did the off-shore dough.

Its customers have no recourse. Because their deposits were technically made to go into off-shore banks (something they consented to by not reading the fine print when they opened their accounts), it made their accounts ineligible for coverage through Guatemala’s FDIC-like – an insurance which covers up to 20,000 quetzals or, approximately 2,729 dollars and 48 cents.

(The current exchange rate: Q7.95 = $1.00.)

The way the government sees it, it’s the customers’ own fault. Documents, contracts, fine print – the institutionalization of trust has rendered the customers guilty. Guilty of having too much trust in, and unawareness of, the banking system.

This is all making me realize that I never read the fine print for anything. I have no idea how my banks operate. They’re all credit unions – market socialism where the members are all owners – so I trust them. Is this bad? Do I trust them too much? When I make deposits, am I technically making them in off-shore banks? Would that make them ineligible for FDIC?

Yikes.

This isn’t the first financial crisis Guatemala has experienced in recent months. The country’s fourth largest bank, BanCafe went under at the height of the holiday season last year.

Soon after, there was a shortage of paper money. Enough of the new bills to replace the old, worn bills hadn’t been ordered. Unless you had a credit card, you were SOL. ATM machines were inoperable. I visited here in January, arriving without any cash. I’d relied on the ATM system so often. It had never done me wrong. But this last time, I was unable to make any withdrawals. Thank goodness I had family to house me, feed me, and even spot me. (Crap, I still owe my brother 80 bucks for that bus ticket to Mexico.)

It’s only months later, and now Banco de Comercio collapses.

It amazes me how little coverage Guatemala’s financial woes receive in the international news. You’d be hard-pressed to find any online (in English, anyway). There’s one Reuters story about it from January, nothing on the BBC (unless I’m not searching correctly but I promise you, I’m a wiz at this kind of stuff). There’s nothing in the L.A. times (a place which boasts the largest Guatemalan population outside of Guatemala). And there’s nothing to be found in the news search machine that is Lexis Nexis!

(Am I doing this wrong? Someone prove me wrong, please.)

It’s making me wonder if any of this is even real. I mean, I’m seeing it, but if it’s not on the English-speaking Internet world does it not exist?

It’s on the English-speaking Internet world now.

Luckily, we had Carlos’ grandfather, Eddie to sort this all out. Eddie is the former director of Guatemala’s second largest bank, G &T Continental. He’s a fountain of knowledge on the country’s banking industry, politics, history – basically, he’s hours of stimulating conversation. So much so, that I’ve invited myself over to grill him for invaluable information come dissertation fieldwork time.

And he said “yes”. He had no choice not to.

Next journal entry: the trials and tribulations nine university students experience while being forced – forced! – to take up lodging in a mansion in Antigua complete with swimming pool, free wi-fi, and a garden in every shower (no lie).

Hi everyone,

I assume everyone has arrived safe and sound in Guatemala? Let us know when you do! Please invite friends and family to view the blog as I am sure they are interested in reading about your travels. If you need to be added to the blog as an author so you can create posts, please let Carlos or me know and we'll add you right away.

Cheers,
Joel