As we prepare to head to Guate I’ve been thinking about past trips. This is definitely one of the m
ost memorable experiences. While it doesn’t relate directly to the school, it’s a good example of the kind of people that Oscar and Berly are. Berly is the director of the school and Oscar is her husband. They are central to everything we do Guatemala. In this case it was them who had befriended Felicia for years, it was their friend who knew how to find piglets and it was their little red Mazda that we drove through the hills.
We sat around the table discussing politics, love and religion. Felicia talked in her sing-song accent about the death of her husband, Baudilio, and her concerns for the future. She was probably 60 years old, but she looked much older. She lived with her daughter and several grandkids in a rural area in the hills outside of Guatemala City. I loved listening to her speak—“proveeeecho…buenas noooches…adioooos”—she stretches the words into songs. I asked her what she would want if she could have anything.
“A pig.”
“A pig? Why?”
“Because you can raise them and when they are big you can sell them for lots of money.”
“So how much does a piglet cost?”
“300 Quetzales.”
She told me all of this very matter-of-factly. She wasn’t asking me for anything, she was just answering questions. I did the math in my head…Thee hundred quetzals is about $40. The conversation continued and finally it was time to go. We said goodbye to Hermana Felicia and I got in the car with Oscar and Berly.
“So,” I asked, “where can we get a piglet?”
Two days later (and one day before I was leaving) we were in Oscar and Berly’s tiny red Mazda driving through the hills, looking for pigs. We had picked up a girl from the area that Oscar and Berly knew. She knew who had pigs for sale. We stopped by the first house. It was already dark and we heard the dogs barking. The light came on and we chatted with the family. An enormous sow lay in the mud with her litter. Unfortunately, all the piglets were already sold.
The next stop was down a dark alley. We clapped and yelled when we got to the family’s fence.
Finally a man came out but their piglets were all spoken for as well. Strike two; back to the Mazda. There was one last chance and it required driving on a narrow dirt road through the hills with the deep, dark vegetation on either side. At several points we had to get out of the car so it wouldn’t scrape bottom on large rocks. Then we hit a problem—a vela. An old woman had died and probably 50 people were gathered in plastic chairs across the road. It was too narrow to turn around and we inched our car forward. For several minutes we sat at an impasse. Finally the closest people started to move their chairs to make room for us to pass and eventually we made it through. Another bit of driving and we arrived at the house with the pigs. This time we lucked out; although the pigs were spoken for the woman was willing to sell because we had cash on hand. With a piglet on my lap we got back into the Mazda. I won’t say what the pig did on my pants on the way home…
We named the pig Chomito. Last I saw him he had gotten pretty big and Hermana Felicia was ready to sell poor Chomito. She already had made arrangements to buy three more piglets with the profits she would earn from Chomito. Funny what $40 can do.
ost memorable experiences. While it doesn’t relate directly to the school, it’s a good example of the kind of people that Oscar and Berly are. Berly is the director of the school and Oscar is her husband. They are central to everything we do Guatemala. In this case it was them who had befriended Felicia for years, it was their friend who knew how to find piglets and it was their little red Mazda that we drove through the hills.We sat around the table discussing politics, love and religion. Felicia talked in her sing-song accent about the death of her husband, Baudilio, and her concerns for the future. She was probably 60 years old, but she looked much older. She lived with her daughter and several grandkids in a rural area in the hills outside of Guatemala City. I loved listening to her speak—“proveeeecho…buenas noooches…adioooos”—she stretches the words into songs. I asked her what she would want if she could have anything.
“A pig.”
“A pig? Why?”
“Because you can raise them and when they are big you can sell them for lots of money.”
“So how much does a piglet cost?”
“300 Quetzales.”
She told me all of this very matter-of-factly. She wasn’t asking me for anything, she was just answering questions. I did the math in my head…Thee hundred quetzals is about $40. The conversation continued and finally it was time to go. We said goodbye to Hermana Felicia and I got in the car with Oscar and Berly.
“So,” I asked, “where can we get a piglet?”
Two days later (and one day before I was leaving) we were in Oscar and Berly’s tiny red Mazda driving through the hills, looking for pigs. We had picked up a girl from the area that Oscar and Berly knew. She knew who had pigs for sale. We stopped by the first house. It was already dark and we heard the dogs barking. The light came on and we chatted with the family. An enormous sow lay in the mud with her litter. Unfortunately, all the piglets were already sold.
The next stop was down a dark alley. We clapped and yelled when we got to the family’s fence.
Finally a man came out but their piglets were all spoken for as well. Strike two; back to the Mazda. There was one last chance and it required driving on a narrow dirt road through the hills with the deep, dark vegetation on either side. At several points we had to get out of the car so it wouldn’t scrape bottom on large rocks. Then we hit a problem—a vela. An old woman had died and probably 50 people were gathered in plastic chairs across the road. It was too narrow to turn around and we inched our car forward. For several minutes we sat at an impasse. Finally the closest people started to move their chairs to make room for us to pass and eventually we made it through. Another bit of driving and we arrived at the house with the pigs. This time we lucked out; although the pigs were spoken for the woman was willing to sell because we had cash on hand. With a piglet on my lap we got back into the Mazda. I won’t say what the pig did on my pants on the way home…We named the pig Chomito. Last I saw him he had gotten pretty big and Hermana Felicia was ready to sell poor Chomito. She already had made arrangements to buy three more piglets with the profits she would earn from Chomito. Funny what $40 can do.
1 comment:
Chris, you are doing great work! Love the blog! When I get a chance I will donate from facebook! Love Aunt Amy
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