Excited to be heading out to mountains at last, we woke up early and met our driver, Fausto, at the hostel. I had to take some Dramamine because of my tendency to get car sick, and I rested most of the way there, listening to my iPod, diverting my eyes from the winding roads and dangerous (yet normal) driving.
Juan Tzib was supposed to meet us at the entrance where the road is no longer paved. But, according to Juan, the roads weren't dangerously muddy, so he decided not to meet us there, without letting us know. I asked Fausto if he would take us to Tucuru, but he wouldn’t because we were in a relatively new “microbus” and in Pavel’s (the chief chauffeur) words: “Their [the locals'] perception of the roads being good is different from ours, so I don’t want to risk it.” In other words: we're used to much better conditions than they are.
So, we jumped into a microbus that locals take for 20 quetzales ($2.50) each and rode into Tucuru.
We finally made it into Tucuru and saw Juan Tzib, who quickly notified us that he was drunk. I was so annoyed! I felt redeemed for all my complaints and judgements about him. I had told the other organizers that there was something fishy about him, and I didn’t like that whenever he was interpreting for us, it really felt like he was leaving out a bunch of things.
Then Ramiro - my favorite q'eqchi man! - from Chichicaste showed up, and we all had lunch, and I refused to give Juan Tzib the beer he asked for. That’s right. You messed up, and I’m not letting you get away with it! We had fried chicken – one small drumstick was my portion. I saw a naked chicken walking around in the restaurant – fully plucked and ready to be fried. Short life span, that skinny chicken, but probably lived a better life than a Tyson chicken in the US.
We had a somewhat labored conversation about various things, but one thing that stuck out and was important was that there is a community that’s having problems with another community encroaching on their territory. The concern is that CONIC’s image as a competent advocate for the people is suffering.
We finished lunch and Juan Tzib left. Ramiro rode on the back of the pick-up truck with us, along with about 15 other locals. It was a tough ride! We were standing the whole time and poor Jarret kept leaning all his weight on me. I tried to suck it up for as long as possible, but my left arm was getting weaker by the second and I was afraid it would give out. Stephanie suggested that I sit, and there was enough space for me to do so. At first I refused, because I wanted to endure the same conditions as everyone else, but after a while I thought my arm was going to give out so I had to sit.
Then it started to pour. I gave Stephanie my poncho, like a good big sister. But we got soaked and every time Stephanie shifted positions, water that had accumulated on her poncho would spill directly on me. Right before we pulled into the first village (Sepacay), I saw Herlinda (one of the more outgoing girls) and some other kids who recognized me. The locals in the truck looked at me funny when they saw the kids were calling my name. Finally we made it to Sepacay and I had barely any strength left in my arms. I looked around for Victor, my 13-year old boyfriend, but I didn’t see him and I was sad. [Boots, I know you're laughing right now.]
Then Ramiro - my favorite q'eqchi man! - from Chichicaste showed up, and we all had lunch, and I refused to give Juan Tzib the beer he asked for. That’s right. You messed up, and I’m not letting you get away with it! We had fried chicken – one small drumstick was my portion. I saw a naked chicken walking around in the restaurant – fully plucked and ready to be fried. Short life span, that skinny chicken, but probably lived a better life than a Tyson chicken in the US.
We had a somewhat labored conversation about various things, but one thing that stuck out and was important was that there is a community that’s having problems with another community encroaching on their territory. The concern is that CONIC’s image as a competent advocate for the people is suffering.
We finished lunch and Juan Tzib left. Ramiro rode on the back of the pick-up truck with us, along with about 15 other locals. It was a tough ride! We were standing the whole time and poor Jarret kept leaning all his weight on me. I tried to suck it up for as long as possible, but my left arm was getting weaker by the second and I was afraid it would give out. Stephanie suggested that I sit, and there was enough space for me to do so. At first I refused, because I wanted to endure the same conditions as everyone else, but after a while I thought my arm was going to give out so I had to sit.
Then it started to pour. I gave Stephanie my poncho, like a good big sister. But we got soaked and every time Stephanie shifted positions, water that had accumulated on her poncho would spill directly on me. Right before we pulled into the first village (Sepacay), I saw Herlinda (one of the more outgoing girls) and some other kids who recognized me. The locals in the truck looked at me funny when they saw the kids were calling my name. Finally we made it to Sepacay and I had barely any strength left in my arms. I looked around for Victor, my 13-year old boyfriend, but I didn’t see him and I was sad. [Boots, I know you're laughing right now.]
Ramiro stuck around for a while, and I tried to call Juan Tzib but he said he’d call me back, which he never did. We didn’t have electricity in this village this time around, so I turned off the cell phone to conserve battery life. Before I did, I sent Juan a text message saying to meet us at 7:00AM at the parish.
Then it was time to entertain the curious kids! I brought coloring books and a jigsaw puzzle.
Then it was time to entertain the curious kids! I brought coloring books and a jigsaw puzzle.
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