la vida chapina: 05

February 19, 2025

la vida chapina: 05

February 19th, 2025

This will be a letter full of colors. Even as the rain becomes but a memory, the harvest long past and the landscape dried out, colors abound. I just have to get on the bus to witness a full array of these glorious refractions of light. A singular woman could easily boast a dozen colors, swirling around on her corte and glittering as the sun bounces off the tornasoles lining her chest. “The world is a vibrant and beautiful place!” her outfit seems to scream. Smiling to myself, I agree.

The camionetas I take to and from my town are also decked out in color. Two are a very pleasant teal and another is a darker aquamarine with fuschia and beige stripes on its side. Others are the typical yellow of a USA school bus but once aboard, one sees stickers of suggestive silhouettes alongside bible verses, and realizes she is not winding her way through the Pennsylvanian countryside on her way to elementary school. Their blaring horns are colorful as well; they really are quite hard to miss.

Earlier today, after waiting for a moment on the side of a very dusty and parched road, I got on the bus and as we pulled away, I looked out my window and spied my mustard-shaded school tucked behind some houses. I leave a bit early to catch the last bus home but I can picture the jóvenes still, dressed in a mix of white collared shirts paired with black slacks or in their traditional traje. When I pay enough attention, the colors that rush by abound on my journey home. Perched upon the top of the rooster’s head is a chock of red something or other. The terrenos, usually quite small, an extension of their yard basically, have been carefully plowed, the rich brown dirt formed into furrows. The pure white of a little lamb, barely a few months old, catches my eye as we speed around a sharp corner. Gaze returned to my more immediate surroundings, something golden glitters as the chichu' throws her head back in an expansive laugh.

From my vantage point on my patio, the colors jump out at me as well. My house is a bright yellow and the potted bougainvillea pops against this brilliant backdrop. The soft green leaves of the eucalyptus tree dance down the hill and the spiky leaves of the spineless yuccas poke up towards the sun. The dark, dense mountains loom in the distance and rise up to greet the clear blue sky.

Some friends and I hiked a nearby volcano a few Saturdays ago with a local NGO and picked up trash on the way down. There, color was just as ubiquitous as the rubbish was. Bright candy wrappers, neon chip bags and old bottles of liquor littered the side of the trail. And the international accents of the hodge podge of people who volunteered their labor melded into a lovely medley of miscommunications, stories, and slang. This past weekend, I summited another volcano, this time for the sunrise. Simply put, those colors were magnificent. It felt like poetry to be perched upon the cumbre of a massive mountain surveying the world around me, wriggling life back into my fingers as the spectacular sunshine gradually warmed them.

In a slightly less colorful form, here are some work updates. The whole cohort was back in Santa Lucia for 10 ish days for Early In Service Training, which we all agreed was only marginally helpful. But no complaints cuz we got to hang out with each other for hours on end and I got to celebrate my birthday with pals! Back here in Cantel, both of my schools have started! So far, I have given little charlas on identity and values, goals, the cycle of projects, done a community map, and discussed problems facing the youth here while helping them brainstorm potential solutions. To all my teacher friends out there, I am always open to receiving advice and activities that are dynamic and engaging, centering the experiences and voices of kiddos. It's humbling out here, but I learn more every day. In a chat with my sister a bit ago, she relayed a comforting quip that Dad had gifted her, "Right now, you're the worst at teaching you're ever going to be." As long as I don't turn horribly apathetic in the next two years, I suppose they are right. With experience, I'll grow into my teaching style and poco a poco, build relationships with at least a few students. That is all for now! I have a bit more on my plate these days but am by no means as busy as I was back in my college days, so I always welcome sweet (or salty!) emails and unplanned phone calls.

corte- skirt of traditional dress here

tornasoles- elaborate patterns of beads embroidered on huipiles (blouses) and delantales (aprons)

camionetas- old school buses that serve as our public transportation

chichu'- older lady in K'iche'

cumber-peak

Charlas-little talks/lessons

poco a poco- little by little