Common and Normal - A Letter to Myself on Guatemala

As I complete my first month of service as a PC Response Volunteer, I thought I’d take the time to share with you some of my thoughts on Guatemala. What you’re about to read I wrote after my first week in Colombia. I’ve been going back and forth on whether to share this entry but in the end decided to publish it. I originally wrote this as a letter to myself about Guatemala. I was going to open it sometime in the future. I hope that you enjoy it. 

*          *           *          *          *

Where to begin? My last day in Guatemala was March 11th 2012. I was home for almost three months, although some days it seemed like I had just stepped off the plane. After living and working in Guatemala for twenty-six months, returning home and reacquainting myself with the “good ol’ US of A” was quite a process. Everything was as I left it. My childhood home smelled and felt the same, yet something just wasn’t quite right. I’ve thought about what it could be for hours and think that it comes down to the disparity of what’s “common” and “normal” in my everyday life. 

The constant redefining of what’s normal and common was exhausting in Guatemala, although it became ever more so since getting home. A simple example of this is violence. In Guatemala, unfortunately, violence, in every sense of the word, is a lot more  prevalent. It is a ubiquitous existing cancer that permeates through all levels of society but is often somewhere between a benign entity and a malignant spreading tumor. Everyone I met in Guatemala was, at one time or another and typically to no fault of their own, exposed to a level of violence in their life. Levels of violence range from serious incidents like a homicide or a public town lynching to a drunken scuffle ending in an ER visit. Over the two years, as I grew more and more desensitized to the violence, the lines between what’s normal and common became very hazy. In the United states, I would say that the average male in his mid twenties has witnessed a drunken altercation which, more often than not, did not involve a trip to the ER. So, it’s safe to say that while a drunken altercation may be somewhat common it is by no way  widely accepted as normal bar behavior. However, every time I entered a cantina, or male only drinking spot in Guatemala, I felt that a brawl was always on the menu. It’s as if a drunken scuffle was almost accepted and expected, especially when alcohol was introduced to any equation. This isn’t to say that every time I drank at a cantina there was a fight. It’s to say that every time I drank at a cantina that violence was on the menu and it was up to the day’s patrons to try it out or not. Constantly trying to redefine the normal and common was a tiring everyday inner struggle. 

Choosing your battles is an important part of being a PCV. There were days when I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs over someone simply throwing a potato chip bag out of a Camioneta window. The blatant disregard and respect for one’s own country was astounding and to this day, as a volunteer in Colombia, I still find my blood boiling every time I witness this small, but big, act of ignorance. I use to see it as an act of apathy or simply a lack of respect. However, with time, I’ve come to see it more as act of utter ignorance. People, whether it be in Guatemala, Colombia, the U.S., or any other country in the world, who litter have, in my opinion, simply never been informed about taking care of the environment. I have  to understand it as a lack of education surrounding the matter, which in this case is taking care of the environment. However, it also has to do with the lack of trash management infrastructure put in place by the government and national authorities. Disposing of trash in a proper manner is an action that must be inculcated  from a young age or taught to the populous at large with adequate infrastructure in place to make the teachings stick and be put into practice. For all it’s beauty, both in it’s people and land, Guatemala has a serious trash problem. It takes nothing more than a trip around the hills of the western highlands to become very aware of this country wide predicament.  

Returning to defining the reality by what’s common and normal, Guatemala is plagued with a tendency to litter that is shared by everyone with little exception; thus, making it more than a normal action. I would like to say that I did have a hand-full of friends who did not litter and felt like they were constantly battling the waves of the “norm” by trying to keep Guatemala trash free. Trying to define what’s common and normal in my time in the western highlands of Guatemala was a consuming venture.  In the end, my time in Guatemala was unforgettable. I met some of the most amazing people in some of the most unlikely places. I got to know another country through daily interactions with some of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known. I lived and became part of a family, which allowed me to see the inner workings, politics, and everything else that happens in an average Guatemalan household. I made lifelong friends. I worked with community members to bring water to two remote villages that, up until that point, had never had water before in their school. I was able to travel to many places. I was able to see the immigration argument from another side. Up until Guatemala, my immigration experience was limited to 60 minute interviews, 20/20 investigations, and a semester of being an intern at an immigration law firm. Guatemalans are some of the kindest, warmest, hardworking, and intelligent people that I’ve ever met.  I only hope that I was able to give them as much, in the two years that I was there, as they were able to give me. 

I worry for the future of Guatemala. Between the increasing levels of violence and environmental contamination, I find myself wondering whether I did enough to help the current situation. I guess I’ll never have a good answer. I felt guilty leaving Guatemala in my rear-view mirror. It felt like I was leaving something behind. However, slowly that feeling has been replaced by a more positive one. I no longer feel as though I left something behind but rather that I’ll always carry something with me. As a rural preventative health volunteer, I was able to take three grains of sand and move them to the other pile. My three water projects were small steps in the marathon that is ensuring that all villages and people in Guatemala have a source of water. Water, while it may seem basic to some of us, is a precious resource that we should not take for granted. Where I stumbled as a volunteer in Guatemala, I hope to excel and push forward over the next eleven months as a PCV in Colombia.

*         *           *           *          *

In conclusion, my time as a Peace Corps volunteer in Guatemala was amazing.  I keep up with many of my Guatemalan friends through Facebook and email. I hope to return in the next couple of years to visit friends, travel, and feel that warm Guatemalan sun on my skin. Until then, I’ll continue to wear my Guatemalan national jersey with pride, as that country will always have a special place in my heart.