Guatemala: NGO meeting and Arrival of Participants

Day Two

After a lazy morning drifting in and out of sleep at the hostel, I finally rose and showered. It was electric! Literally. Every time I touched the metal shower knobs, ankle-deep in water, I felt a painful shock. Looking back, I suppose it would have been quite comical to watch me try all kinds of awkward ways to shut off the water without getting shocked (towels were used, much stretching was involved).

The hostel provided breakfast: deliciously salty scrambled eggs and toast - perfectly portioned. The hostel employees were curious about me, and asked if I was Costa Rican because of my accent. I had a nice conversation with Marisol, who was in a terrible car accident years ago and lost a son.

I took a taxi into Zona 1 in Guatemala City to meet with Juan Tiney, an important member of CONIC (Coordinadora Nacional Indigena y Campesina), the NGO that my group, Farmer Solidarity Project, partners with.



I found a video (in Dutch or something) about Juan Tiney - which a Spanish-speaker will be able to understand most of. I also found some information about CONIC in a website called Hivos (Human Institute for Development Cooperation), an organization that strives for a fair, free, and sustainable world by working with local organizations in developing countries to promote equal access to resources and opportunities for development. That's information I obtained from their website, so I don't know anything else about the group. It could be a monster of an organization for all I know.

So I had a one-hour conversation with Juan Tiney, and I learned that CONIC organizes on various fronts, including agriculture, land rights, political organization, and against mining. They only have one lawyer and two legal assistants. Their office is big, nice, and there were two women dressed in traditional indigenous clothing. One of them was making calls and photocopies, and the other was typing on the computer. She had been working there for more than seven years. It was cool to see them in traditional clothes but typing and completing general office tasks.

I had a much better conversation this time around with Juan Tiney. Last time I spoke to him, in August 2009, he was authoritative and patronizing. He kept telling our group not to bring Eucalyptus because it's an invasive plant that sucks up a lot of water, even though we had never said we would bring seeds for Eucalyptus. He just kept repeating it ad nauseam.

This time, and perhaps because it was just me and not a whole group of gringos, he was positive and more willing to listen. He spoke to our liaison, Juan Tzib, who delivered some bad news about weather and blocked roads, but I learned that there is always a way. The key is maintaining relationships.

For a moment, I felt like I could really do this work. I've discovered over time that I have just enough charisma, and with my language skills and organizing instincts, I really do think that I'm cut out for this. I can fundraise. I have good ideas. I'll never give up because I know where my heart is. Plus, I'm young and I know what I want. I just need to develop expertise in sustainable international development, which I have decades to accomplish.

I went to bed that night happy because I had time alone to think and reflect, and because it felt like I was going down the right path.

Day Three

I woke up tired because I felt my sickness returning. I had a headache, my ears were beginning to hurt again, and my throat pain was back. I felt lazy and surprisingly, almost dreaded going to the indigenous communities, but I thought maybe I was just nervous about the budget and the road conditions. In previous trips, our stay felt like an eternity at the communities and I couldn't wait to get back to the hostel to shower and sleep on a mattress.

I wonder if it will be the same this time.

I hope no one gets sick or hurt.

There was much more worrying this time around, in my role as leader. It's much different being an organizer because it's not just your own safety you're concerned about. I cursed myself for not ever taking a first-aid course when they were offered in college.

The hostel team thought we would be a group of four, but I had told them that it would only be me, my sister, and the other participant. There was a room available with three beds, and they were trying to split us up into two rooms with two beds each. But Marisol, the hostel's cook and cleaning lady, was totally on my side! She told Byron, the manager, that we wanted to move into the room with three beds. He was annoyed, obviously, since he was counting on more payment, but I didn't feel badly about our request. The hostel's computer didn't have a functioning mouse, and Stephanie was bringing an extra mouse from home, and we've come to this hostel three times in the past year. Our loyalty should be reasonably rewarded.

I went to the airport to pick up the two participants for the trip: Jarret and my sister. On our way back, we bought some mangoes and plantains (which we thought were regular bananas) from the back of a pick-up truck. After a nap, we went to the Plaza Fontabela (a nice mall nearby) and had dinner. But before we left the hostel, we realized there were some French-Canadians there. Naturally, the one guy with light eyes, shaved head, and a light and scruffy beard caught my eye. But I was too shy to talk directly to him, of course.

On our way home, I negotiated down the price of the taxi, since we are always charged more when there isn't a taxi meter. We went to bed early because we were going to be picked up the following morning at 7:00 AM to head over to the indigenous communities.