Heat, Fear, Loneliness and Life-- Marques de Comillas
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| Along the Route |
This time the car ride was a breeze. We left K'inal for Marques de Comillas--approximately 8 hours away close to the Guatemala border. This time, I was going to be prepared. I brought my passport, lots of water, dramamine and bug spray. My only anxiety was that I would be without my companions--without anyone who speaks my language.
I was tired before beginning this trip and slightly worried that I was developing a slight cold but I knew this experience would be unforgettable. One of K'inal's most important programs is a scholarship program for young women. After and application and interview process, young women from various communities can come to K'inal to live and go to school in the area. Many people within rural communities have to make the financial choice of which children to continue on in their education....most often young girls lose out. Though this program is small(9 youth currently), the support of K'inal has had an incredible impact on the lives of these young women.
An important element of the scholarship agreement is that the young women will use their education to support and improve their communities in some way. This trip was a chance to witness the power that these young women have discovered within themselves and to observe their continued sense of responsibility to their communities of origin. The youth had prepared a workshop on the topic of violence and the various forms that violence takes specifically, against women. My role was to entertain the children with the help from another women, Leira, who was volunteering from the Basque Country in Spain.
We made our way to our first stop in the village of San Jose. As soon as we arrived, I started feeling nauseated and dizzy. We entered the home of Ambro's family(one of the youth whom I work with daily at K'inal). I told Ambro that I was feeling pretty awful. Immediately, I was told to lay with my feet up in a hammock that stretched across the front room of the house. Ambro's abuela patted my chest and forehead with a wet towel. Everyone was standing over me laying there---pale and groaning--saying that it would pass.
Beyond the apparent heat exhaustion setting in-- I was feeling incredibly alone. The last time this sort of heat exhaustion hit me I was able to leave the heat at the end of the day on an air conditioned bus. In this moment I knew that I was far away from anyone I love and that we would not be going anywhere for 2 days. I was afraid and angry. Afraid, because in my delirium I had all the worst thoughts that I would not survive, that I would never see my friends or family again. All I could think about was how I would not have to go through this if I was back home and I became angry at myself for living such a comfortable life. I cried like a baby, pitying myself and feeling ashamed. Leira, who happened to be a nurse, stayed with me as the young women began their evening workshop.
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| Frog Race! |
By the following morning, I was feeling much better, still nervous that the day's heat would bring back my delirium. My body had acclimated and I survived the rest of the trip without anymore heat troubles. I was able to play with the children as planned, eat candy, make origami frogs, blow up balloons --laugh, smile. Each morning I watched as breakfast was being prepared. Handmade tortillas, quesadillas from fresh-picked mushrooms, corn-based hot chocolate drink, chicken soup and tamales made with plantain leaves. I observed as the women worked and laughed in the kitchen catching up with their daughters from the last 6 months apart. It was a trip filled with such beautiful and joyful moments yet, my feelings of loneliness persisted.
I was so happy that I was invited and welcomed on this trip and I was incredibly grateful for the care I received from these women in my time of need. However, after confronting death(no matter how unlikely it actually is) there is nothing like being able to speak your own language and hold the hand of someone you know and love. At the time, I was hardly grateful for the important life lessons that I was gaining. I didn't really care that my struggle was giving me a chance to more deeply understand the isolation and pain that migrants often experience. I just wanted to be back with my companions in San Cristobal, in the comfort and safety of familiarity.
When we finally made our way back to San Cristobal, I thought about taking a hot shower and sleeping in a bed without mosquitoes hovering. I felt shame for my attachment to comfort and ease. The feeling of frustration with my "manufactured needs" persisted as I thought about the many things that people find ways to live without. I thought about the way I've learned that quicker is better, that I should seek whatever is more convenient--more time-saving. I realized that on this trip I had lost track of time. In the midst of my self-pity and frustration, I was able to savor each moment, good and bad, in a way that I hadn't done since I was a child. I am still trying to figure out what to do with all this.
I was tired before beginning this trip and slightly worried that I was developing a slight cold but I knew this experience would be unforgettable. One of K'inal's most important programs is a scholarship program for young women. After and application and interview process, young women from various communities can come to K'inal to live and go to school in the area. Many people within rural communities have to make the financial choice of which children to continue on in their education....most often young girls lose out. Though this program is small(9 youth currently), the support of K'inal has had an incredible impact on the lives of these young women. 
An important element of the scholarship agreement is that the young women will use their education to support and improve their communities in some way. This trip was a chance to witness the power that these young women have discovered within themselves and to observe their continued sense of responsibility to their communities of origin. The youth had prepared a workshop on the topic of violence and the various forms that violence takes specifically, against women. My role was to entertain the children with the help from another women, Leira, who was volunteering from the Basque Country in Spain. 
We made our way to our first stop in the village of San Jose. As soon as we arrived, I started feeling nauseated and dizzy. We entered the home of Ambro's family(one of the youth whom I work with daily at K'inal). I told Ambro that I was feeling pretty awful. Immediately, I was told to lay with my feet up in a hammock that stretched across the front room of the house. Ambro's abuela patted my chest and forehead with a wet towel. Everyone was standing over me laying there---pale and groaning--saying that it would pass. 
Beyond the apparent heat exhaustion setting in-- I was feeling incredibly alone. The last time this sort of heat exhaustion hit me I was able to leave the heat at the end of the day on an air conditioned bus. In this moment I knew that I was far away from anyone I love and that we would not be going anywhere for 2 days. I was afraid and angry. Afraid, because in my delirium I had all the worst thoughts that I would not survive, that I would never see my friends or family again. All I could think about was how I would not have to go through this if I was back home and I became angry at myself for living such a comfortable life. I cried like a baby, pitying myself and feeling ashamed. Leira, who happened to be a nurse, stayed with me as the young women began their evening workshop. 
I was so happy that I was invited and welcomed on this trip and I was incredibly grateful for the care I received from these women in my time of need. However, after confronting death(no matter how unlikely it actually is) there is nothing like being able to speak your own language and hold the hand of someone you know and love. At the time, I was hardly grateful for the important life lessons that I was gaining. I didn't really care that my struggle was giving me a chance to more deeply understand the isolation and pain that migrants often experience. I just wanted to be back with my companions in San Cristobal, in the comfort and safety of familiarity.
When we finally made our way back to San Cristobal, I thought about taking a hot shower and sleeping in a bed without mosquitoes hovering. I felt shame for my attachment to comfort and ease. The feeling of frustration with my "manufactured needs" persisted as I thought about the many things that people find ways to live without. I thought about the way I've learned that quicker is better, that I should seek whatever is more convenient--more time-saving. I realized that on this trip I had lost track of time. In the midst of my self-pity and frustration, I was able to savor each moment, good and bad, in a way that I hadn't done since I was a child. I am still trying to figure out what to do with all this.
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