7 AM on a Sunday in July. The mission trip kids are sleeping, after working as hard as they’ve ever worked. My friend Liz and I are also on a mission—to get some food for breakfast. We amble, talking comfortably. Even at a leisurely pace, the 7,000 foot altitude makes my breathing labored. We are approaching the open-air market. The scene on the street is literally a riot of colors. The local women wear gorgeous dresses—a rainbow of spectacular hues woven together. Young children, clad in equally lovely traditional clothes, peek shyly at us and wave from doorways. The bright red tuk-tuks (a local mode of transportation, a kind of tiny three-wheeled taxi) trundle along, threading their way through the crowd. Entering the market, again we are confronted by color—glorious yellow pineapples, rich brown wild mushrooms. Guatemala is the most exotic place I’ve ever been, and I am loving every sight.
10 AM on a Monday. The mission team is hard at work on the site of the future Tecnico Maya School. As we make “cob” from dirt and sand and clay, as we shovel gravel and fill tires and pour concrete, we see a dream taking shape. Long Way Home, Liz’s wonderful organization, is creating a school for the little ones of San Juan Comalapa, using all recycled materials. Absolutely nothing is wasted. Up the hill by the latrine, we sift through bags of trash, and stuff discarded snack wrappers behind chicken wire—these, along with trash filled bottles, will form the core of a wall. The wrappers are slick and wrinkled—a purple bag once held candy, orange contained plantain chips. We stand back from our work and see—multicolors. We raise our eyes and gaze past the worksite. Here we are struck by verdant green—the neat rows of crops, the trees, the volcanoes beyond. Absolutely stunning, all of it.
5 PM on a Wednesday. A sudden storm. Thick tan mud runs down the streets, washing over the white paving stones on our path home. Silver torrents baptize us with water. We are much too wet to worry about our sodden shirts and pants. On our soggy walk, we see brightly colored structures in the distance. It is a cemetery, we are told, a joyous place to celebrate spirit and life. Everything about this part of the world is different. The climate, the culture (here, “bi-lingual” often means speaking Spanish and Kaqchikel). Our senses are sharpened by the newness of it all. And the oldness as well— earthquakes have shaken, but not destroyed, this town.
6 PM on a Saturday. The courtyard of the hotel. Oscar Peren, an internationally known painter and a local, proudly displays his work. Oil paintings of people and places, using a palette of brilliant shades—a celebration with fireworks, a “chicken bus”— vivid visual love songs to his home. Comalapa is known as the Florence of the Americas for its large population of native artists. Later, a trio plays traditional Mayan music on handmade instruments, bright bamboo flutes and tortoise shell drums. It is cold and as we sit to listen we’re draped with blankets…stripes of crimson and teal and gold.
2 PM on a Tuesday. Our holiday after our week of labor. We are in the colonial capital, Antigua, a magical town of slate cobblestone streets and buildings of sky blue and lemon yellow and salmon pink. Once more, we are bathed in color and beauty.
Our return to reality is abrupt…the sleek and modern Guatemala City airport, flying above the clouds, a stop in Miami, and home in the dark of night. The colors seem duller, somehow. Why is that? Here, people are rushing to catch their flights, are speeding along the expressway. Everything is a blur.
But there, in a remote and remarkable corner of the world, things are clearer. There is much poverty and want, to be sure. There is a landfill where people cart their refuse in a wheelbarrow and dump it into a ravine. Girls are pregnant too soon. Women look old before their time. And yet…
And yet. There is joy. So much joy from so little. There is pride, pride in a way of life that spans centuries. And there is love. The love of family and friends. The love for 25 strangers, who are greeted with a smiling “Buenos dias” by everyone they meet.
Our Liz lives among them. Liz, who grew up in our suburban Philadelphia church. Liz, who with her husband Adam and friend Mateo, are building a future for a place they cherish. And the people who cherish them.
We leave Guatemala awash in their joy. Buoyed by their pride. Colored, vividly, by an experience that we will remember for a lifetime.
De Colores (Of the Colors) is a famous Spanish folk song, and it rings in my ears today. It reminds me to take out my box of crayons. Make my sky the bluest and my trees the greenest. My love the truest. God gave me the tools, and challenges me, back home, right now, to color my world.
With only a year passing by I found myself back in Comalapa for another winter of service. I had told
Matt I would come back; I just didn't realize it would be so soon. Cristina, the other trip leader, and I were thankful
for the circumstances that led us back to Comalapa. Once again LWH opened its arms to a bunch of kids from the University
of Illinois, and once again it was a very memorable experience.
Returning to Guatemala was a little different the second time around because I took part in leading
the trip this year. Cristina and I brought down a great group of 9 other kids, but we did have our work cut out for us.
Some individuals took some time to adjust and it was difficult to keep the group unified. It was hard for them to see
that it's not just about building a school and leaving when your part is done, it's about building your own character
and growing from it. LWH does an amazing job of allowing you to experience something great, but it is up to the person
to take in the experience and learn from it. With time our groups true colors began to show and they began to see the
meaning of their service. Working side by side with each other and seeing our work unfold in front of our eyes was
incredibly rewarding. The accomplishments we shared and the amazing emotions we felt from them will live with us forever.
Everything came together in end, including our group, making the whole trip worth all the blood, sweat, and tears.
Though, there were a few downs on the trip, I could not have made a better choice but to return to
Guatemala. Comalapa is lovelier the second time around and I was glad to return to one of the most inviting places I
have ever been to. Not just because the staff is so kind and caring, but the locals make you feel like you're at home
too. When you're there it's like being a part of one big, happy family. Everyone cares about you, even if you just
met them. I was glad to have had the opportunity to return because Comalapa gives you a chance to take a break from
your life back home. It lets you experience the things you lose track of in the states, like good friends, family,
and health because you get caught up in the materialistic world of America. The experience in Guatemala is great, but
the best part of being a returning volunteer is seeing the work you helped to do and what had been done while you were
away. The photos and videos don't give the project the justice it deserves. Seeing it for yourself is a must and I can't
wait for the journey that will allow me to return back. They say the third time is a charm, so who knows what great
things I will be able to experience then.
Our journey to Guatemala began with a semester of doubt. Our group was initially selected to go to Ecuador, but high fees and a terrible economy turned us away. We became a miserable group of people who felt stranded without a trip. Then, we ended up devising a plan to go to Peten, Guatemala with another group from International Impact. Happy and hopeful, we were ready to embark on our journey, but SORF (our funding source) knocked us off our high horse with their new rules and we were back where we started. Then a mysterious character by the name of Mateo opened his arms to eight strangers and welcomed us to his home.
We were all weary because of previous letdowns and the fact that nothing seemed to be going our way. We were worried about our safety and we wondered even if we made it out of alive would we have enough money to resume our lives back in the states? These fears kept nagging at us, but Mateo saved us from the turmoil. He reassured our group and he understood our money situation. We decided to let go of our fears and go through with our journey, trusting a man who demanded cheez-its from all of us.
Upon setting foot in Guatemala, we were surrounded by crowds of anxious Guatemalans and smells that pierced our nostrils. Ken picked us up from the airport and Hugo, our fast and furious driver took us to the hotel. Even though each member of the group was exhausted we all stared googly-eyed at the beauty of Guatemala as we rode to our new home. At the hotel we were greeted by warm Don Feliciano, his kind family, 13 kids from Minnesota, a future monk, and a handful of LWH volunteers all of whom were ready to start off the New Year with us. This is when we knew we were in for great things during our stay in Comalapa.
Our first day found us up bright and early, a little tired from the previous day’s travels and celebrations that lasted well into the night. After taking a nature walk with Andy, I was amazed with how much LWH had accomplished from the park to Liz and Adam’s recycled house. I was intrigued by their ingenuity and I wanted to learn more.
Our second day led us to the dig site and this is where the real work began. Our group wanted to do something where could really see our efforts. The dig site was a good example of this. Even though we were seven girls and a Mike, we all tried as did everyone else, and at the end of the day we were able to see what real teamwork can accomplish.
It was hard work, but we were all in it together and it was beautiful to be doing something so great. Our labor was rewarded by some local Mayan families that day. We ate great food, danced to traditional Mayan music, and we let the happiness of everyone surround us. During the festivities we felt like local celebrities. Many children were amazed with our fancy cameras, while others were frightened by our height. This celebration was something you could not receive as a typical tourist, which made it a once in a lifetime experience that each one of us will never forget.
The next days found us growing stronger both physically and internally. They say you learn something new every day, but in Comalapa it is like discovering a new world every day. We learned about Mateo and how truly incredibly he is. I loved his optimism, his words of wisdom, and the fact that he believed in us. We learned about the LWH volunteers and their stories that brought them to Comalapa. We also learned that we could do things we never thought we could and that we can make a difference. Most importantly we learned that there is more to life than the comforts of home. When we interviewed people in the community about their water we saw that even the poorest of the poor were completely content with their lives. They showed us that life isn’t about living in your material world but living in a world with people who care about you. This is exactly what our stay in Comalapa gave us.
Comalapa was a great home away home because there we lived in a community where everyone cared for each other. It was nice to go somewhere and become the best of friends with strangers. It was nice to go to a place where you didn’t miss home. None of us wanted to leave Comalapa. We were perfectly happy living in close quarters, not showering for days, eating Maggie’s farts, and quoting everything Mateo said.
Staying in Comalapa was truly an amazing experience. It is one that no member of our group will ever forget and even if we wanted to it would be impossible because Mateo and the community we reached out to now live in all of us. Even though Comalapa rests in a country made for the tough, the little city lies above that strong exterior showing the true, delicate nature of Guatemala for all to admire, which is why our visit to Comalapa was more than we could ever ask for.
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