Day Seven: A Challenging Hike to Covadonga

I woke up early and anxiously started getting ready for our trip to Covadonga, the community at the highest elevation. I was really nervous about the hike because it was extremely steep and takes about 45 minutes. I was worried about Stephanie, too. She woke up feeling nauseous and with diarrhea, so I told her to stay in Sepacay.

We set off with Pedro as our guide and I made it pretty far without needing a break, but I ended up breaking about four times up the mountain, then we kept going farther than I had been in August 2009, so I needed to rest another four times. My thighs were on fire and ready to give out at any moment.

At one point I told Jarret that if we had to keep going for another 15 minutes I would have puked – I had reached that level of exhaustion. I was soaked from head to toe in sweat. I could actually taste my salty sweat, which was just pouring down my face and finding its way to my eyes, stinging. It was quite a challenge, but it felt good that I was able to complete the hike.

We were up in the clouds and it was misty. It seemed like it was always raining, always foggy.

Pedro brought us to a room full of aromatic wood and brought us breakfast, even though I’d told him we already ate. The eggs were oily and delicious, but I just could not muster up an appetite. A bony dog approached us and I began wondering if I could give him my food, which would just be wrong on so many levels because food is scarce for the people, and even more so for the dogs.

Then Jarret threw a piece of a tortilla to the dog and I decided to risk it and threw my eggs and beans at the dog until my plate was empty. The dog was grateful – I knew because he didn’t leave my side. I was paranoid the community members would realize what I had done.

A while after breakfast, many of the men came and gathered around us. Then I said our hello’s and thank you’s and began dividing up the vegetable seeds we had brought. That was such a nightmare! They had decided that instead of planting one large community garden, each family would get a few seeds. But that meant some families only got one pepper or one cucumber seed. There were tons of onion seeds so we tried to divide them in 30 piles for 30 families, but when the men were told to take a pile, there were dozens of hands reaching and taking more than just one pile. It was loud and chaotic, and some of them could see the disappointment in my face. Next time, I thought, I’ll have to divide the seeds before I leave the US. It wasn’t enough just to divide the seeds into 4 communities.

Then I asked about making the stove, since the supplies had already been delivered, but they were having a hard time deciding where to build it. They kept looking to me to make decisions, but how could I decide? Plus, that’s not what we’ve done in the past. We’re not a bunch of gringos coming to impose order, but it did remind me of what Juan Tiney said about them not knowing how to work the land because they were so used to being under a boss and being told what to do. There was not one obvious leader among them.

Finally, it was somehow decided that Pedro would build the next stove in his house. Then they presented us with a paper, a petition written in very good Spanish. Those who were literate signed their names, and the rest signed with their thumbprint.

They asked for roofs, and doing the math, it would only be about $231 for each family to have a tin roof. I told them I’d talk to William and CONIC…and at the mention of CONIC, conversations began and lasted for a while. Finally, I asked if someone was mad, and they laughed and said No, they were just discussing whether I would go to the CONIC office and present them with the petition. They also mentioned that they have not been able to pay CONIC’s yearly dues of 20 quetzales [$2.50] per family. I wondered about their relationship with CONIC, but every time I asked, I wouldn’t get a straight answer.

I also wondered about homosexuality here and sex, in general. I mean, there really isn’t any privacy in the homes, and I wondered how often they have sex for pleasure. I imagined they do it whenever the husband wants, and it made me appreciate American and European culture of free sexuality and the idea that women deserve to be satisfied.

Then we walked around and saw all the stoves that had been built recently and took pictures. The stoves in Sepacay were neater, but Covadonga did pretty well despite not having any technical accompaniment.

After seeing the last stove, I tried to lead a composting workshop, which amounted to me just talking and pointing. They said they would try the whole composting thing in a few months because the corn had already been planted. I think the only way we can get them to take up composting is if someone stays here long term and does a test plot to show how much more it will yield.

One old man, who I remember from last trip because he asked for more seeds for his own garden, asked when we were coming back and I said that we’d try for August, but I wasn’t sure. He emphasized that we needed to come back as soon as possible because who knows if he’d still be alive. He said that in all seriousness, and it got to me. Talk about immediate needs! Sure, there needs to be a balance between projects with short-term goals and those with long-term goals. You run into trouble when you only focus on one of the two.

Then we had lunch and it tasted just like the carne en bistec that my mom makes! It was delicious and such a treat to have meat. Then we waited for light rain and began walking back the long way (not down that super steep and slick slope). This was the route that trucks take, and it was still pretty steep, but not nearly as muddy and dangerous. It took us 1.5 hours as opposed to 45 minutes up the mountain. It poured and I was soaked from head to toe in sweat and rain.

Once in Sepacay, I changed clothes and took a 2 hour nap. Then I hung out with the kids and they taught me some words. I was glad that Isaias came by to help. His cousin is the teacher, Cesar, and he’s such a smart kid, even knowing a bit of English. Then we had dinner, which was soup with chicken – possibly duck – and potatoes and guisquil and cabbage and lime. It was such a treat!

Then eventually Cesar came by and said hello. We talked for a long time and I even teared up a few times. He talked about how he wanted to cross the border into the US, but he was scared because if they captured him and sent him back, he wouldn’t be able to try again many times because then he’d be in debt. We talked about Arizona and Obama’s promise of immigration reform, and he shared a conversation they had among teachers, criticizing how Guatemala receives foreigners with open arms but the US doesn’t let Guatemalans in. I told him there were many people in the US who believe that same thing is unfair, but the people in power haven’t done anything about it, because they’re only interested in accumulating power and money. He said one interesting thing about Afghanistan – he said they don’t believe in God there. I told him they do, but his name is Allah. He asked about religions in the US and he told me he went to an Evangelical church because he liked it better than the Catholic church.

I had mixed feelings about him wanting to go to the US because he was such an asset being a teacher here – improving the education for so many kids. But how could I say that he should stay, especially when I’m so grateful that my parents didn’t decide to stay in Colombia? What hypocrisy! I’m grateful for my parents’ choice because I had the chance to attend Boston University and study in Spain for a semester, and work on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. And my parents left conditions in Colombia that were much better than Cesar’s. I mean, sometimes I do wonder what it would have been like if we had stayed in Colombia. I wonder if I’d be the same person – besides being much thinner, but would I have been a dumb plastic Colombian girl? Would I have had the same political inclinations? Would I have learned to dance salsa?

As a sidenote, there was so much litter from bags of chips and candy that kids threw on the floor, and we keep saying how indigenous people protect the Earth, but the bottles and bags of chips throw a monkey wrench in the whole thing. They'd say, "Deje que eso se pudre." ["Leave it because it rots."] No it doesn’t, actually. Not for hundreds of years. They burn all their garbage, and there should be an effort to change the kids’ habits of just chucking the garbage on the floor.

But I was happy to have such a conversation with Cesar because he assured me that they were happy to have us come and assess needs and provide support whenever possible. I was glad to hear that because I do wonder sometimes whether we really are having a positive impact.