Reality Hits
I got online today for the first extended time in awhile. Before the volcano at least. First thing I see is a Skype from D saying, “are you blown up or drowned? Get in touch.” His sentiment is much appreciated, especially since he and T are coming to Guate in a few weeks. We firmed up some plans for their visit and filled each other in on the aftermath here. After my weekend of Antigua bubble, I finally started to have a better idea of what was happening just 5 minutes down the street.
So, this morning I got to school and noticed a poster board with pictures of the destruction of nearby town San Miguel and Ciudad Vieja. During class, Eddie leaned over and told me he wanted to help out. He was going to hook up with a group from a church that was leaving later on. He and I talked at 9am. By 9:30 I couldn’t concentrate enough on my subjunctive to make coherent sentences. My teacher asked what was wrong and I said that I had to do something, anything, something must be going on but what? We had not heard anything, the Red Cross wasn’t around, the government wasn’t making any speeches as far as I could tell, and it was just business as usual. My teacher told me that he brother had spend the previous evening in San Miguel helping the people of that town. He was just there looking and helping and being there, but so far no one knew what to do. She and I looked at each other and then just started talking.
Where is the government? None of the donations are getting through. Where is the school? No one knows. Is there any organization? Finally my teacher said, let’s go talk to someone. I went up to the counter and asked Heidi, the secretary, where the teacher was who was organizing the volunteer work. She said, there is no teacher, but that girl there (pointing to a blond girl named Heather) is organizing something. I thought that might have been the group Eddie was planning on going with, so I went up and introduced myself.
“Hi. I’m Miriam. I hear you are putting together a group?”
She looked stunned and laughed. “No, I’m not. But I want to help, and I know of a group that is helping.” We looked at each other and then started talking.
Who’s this group? What do they need? How many people are going? Can go? Do they have money? Who has food? What do I need? Who is organizing this?
Finally, after about ten minutes of questions, we realized we needed more answers. She got on the phone to the church who was taking people to “help with the kids,” and to find out if they had a place for more volunteers. At this point there were five. Heather and her two roommates Katie and L and Eddie. I sat back down in my seat, confident that something was being done.
Five minutes later my teacher asked me, what’s wrong now? We started talking logistics. Who has a van? Who has shovels? If someone doesn’t want to work with kids, what are they going to do with this church group? We need to find someone to work with who can use us. My calm was gone again, and I got up to find Heather. Luckily by this time it was break. We talked again.
Hey, I was thinking. Maybe we should see if we can just hire a van to take us up. Or, my teacher mentioned the firemen. What about the school van?
At this point we decided to ask the school to help out. My teacher mentioned that if the driver wasn’t needed elsewhere, maybe he could take us up. The school decided to donate some shovels, and as break ended I felt confident again that something was being done.
Five minutes later, I was again thinking, we just need to see. We need to talk to people and find out what they need. My teacher was way ahead of me and saw where I was going. I went up to Heather again. “We should go up and see the town and see what they need.” My teacher agreed and we hunted down the school driver. “Could you drive us up to San Miguel?” He looked stunned. “I guess, when?” This whole time Heather and I were communicating in Spanish. Sometimes things get lost in translation, sometimes things get mistranslated, something things get misunderstood, and sometimes, all of this happens simultaneously, and it turns out to be a good thing. Turns out, our faulty communication led to us getting into the van and driving up to San Miguel, right then.
The problem with organizing something when you don’t think you are the organizer, is that everyone looks to you as the organizer. At some point, you just have to accept it. Heather and I didn’t realize what was going on until we were packing up our tables and getting in the van with our teachers and the driver to go up to survey San Miguel. Just like that, in 2 hours, our little group formed.
Once we got to San Miguel, it turned out that there was a group organizing things. Obviously, it all began at the church. Our driver’s father ended up being one of the leaders in the church organizing food and clothing. he showed us the piles and piles of clothes they had, but the lack of food and cooks. Salvavidas had driven up a big camino full of pure water, but there wasn’t any way to get that water to certain parts of the city. Much of the middle of the main two roads were under about 8 feet of mud. Mud filled with waste, water, trash and dead things.
We walked up a hill and through the flood gully river bed. Many people were out digging in the mud. Some looking for things, some looking for people, some just looking. I talked to a little girl named Gabby who was moving rocks from one side to another. It didn’t make sense to me what she was doing, but she was there with her mother and they seemed to have a goal. The mother was telling us about the sudden flood. She said it came so quick that no one had a chance to escape. All you could do was hang on. If your house was made of concrete, you were maybe ok. If your house was made of cane, you were lost.
Heather had walked down the fake river bed to talk to some foreigners talking photos. It looked like they were more than sightseers though. There was purpose to their walk and their camera shots. Turns out that they were with a volunteer force. We got the name and number of their leader, Franklin with a local coffee co-op called As Green As It Gets. (I would meet Franklin the next day, and find out that he too was a reluctant organizer. But stuff needed to be done, no one was doing anything, and somehow he became it.) On our way out of town we saw a group of the volunteers. They were covered in mud, head to toe. Most had on Wellies, but one idiot had gloves on his feet. A lot wore bandanas. I saw a girl with a cut on her arm and shuddered to think what infection might sprout from that wound.
We drove back to school with a new purpose. Thank God we had decided to go on up to San Miguel. Thank God we had met those co-op girls. And thank god Franklin was a reluctant organizer. Our job was straightforward. Meet at the school tomorrow at 2pm with shovels, boots and gloves. Be ready to work.
--
Once back, I exchanged numbers with Heather and we hugged, happy that there was purpose and not just flailing “help.” I went home for lunch and found out from Robin that while we were up in the town, the school had made an announcement to each table that there was a group organizing to help and to be ready tomorrow at 2pm. Suddenly our group was 18. I was happy to hear this, but now worried. Franklin only expected 5. Now 18? Would this be a problem? I thought, disaster relief is always crazy. I’m sure more hands are always better than less.
With that Eddie and I went to go buy some gloves and boots. The market was the best place for this, though I felt a little awkward wandering around looking for work boots and work gloves while other people were buying handmade bracelets and woven tablecloths. Still, we soon found the things and bought them at what I’m sure was a ridiculous markup. Eddie was against the work gloves, but he had a brilliant inspiration to purchase duct tape later on that evening, and it was an enormous benefit to us all, especially around our pant legs and boots. He said he had a hell of a time translating “duct” tape, but finally made his point by miming pulling tape around the entire world. Turns out the magic of duct tape is universal.
Day one of reality had begun and ended. Our work began in the morning.
So, this morning I got to school and noticed a poster board with pictures of the destruction of nearby town San Miguel and Ciudad Vieja. During class, Eddie leaned over and told me he wanted to help out. He was going to hook up with a group from a church that was leaving later on. He and I talked at 9am. By 9:30 I couldn’t concentrate enough on my subjunctive to make coherent sentences. My teacher asked what was wrong and I said that I had to do something, anything, something must be going on but what? We had not heard anything, the Red Cross wasn’t around, the government wasn’t making any speeches as far as I could tell, and it was just business as usual. My teacher told me that he brother had spend the previous evening in San Miguel helping the people of that town. He was just there looking and helping and being there, but so far no one knew what to do. She and I looked at each other and then just started talking.
Where is the government? None of the donations are getting through. Where is the school? No one knows. Is there any organization? Finally my teacher said, let’s go talk to someone. I went up to the counter and asked Heidi, the secretary, where the teacher was who was organizing the volunteer work. She said, there is no teacher, but that girl there (pointing to a blond girl named Heather) is organizing something. I thought that might have been the group Eddie was planning on going with, so I went up and introduced myself.
“Hi. I’m Miriam. I hear you are putting together a group?”
She looked stunned and laughed. “No, I’m not. But I want to help, and I know of a group that is helping.” We looked at each other and then started talking.
Who’s this group? What do they need? How many people are going? Can go? Do they have money? Who has food? What do I need? Who is organizing this?
Finally, after about ten minutes of questions, we realized we needed more answers. She got on the phone to the church who was taking people to “help with the kids,” and to find out if they had a place for more volunteers. At this point there were five. Heather and her two roommates Katie and L and Eddie. I sat back down in my seat, confident that something was being done.
Five minutes later my teacher asked me, what’s wrong now? We started talking logistics. Who has a van? Who has shovels? If someone doesn’t want to work with kids, what are they going to do with this church group? We need to find someone to work with who can use us. My calm was gone again, and I got up to find Heather. Luckily by this time it was break. We talked again.
Hey, I was thinking. Maybe we should see if we can just hire a van to take us up. Or, my teacher mentioned the firemen. What about the school van?
At this point we decided to ask the school to help out. My teacher mentioned that if the driver wasn’t needed elsewhere, maybe he could take us up. The school decided to donate some shovels, and as break ended I felt confident again that something was being done.
Five minutes later, I was again thinking, we just need to see. We need to talk to people and find out what they need. My teacher was way ahead of me and saw where I was going. I went up to Heather again. “We should go up and see the town and see what they need.” My teacher agreed and we hunted down the school driver. “Could you drive us up to San Miguel?” He looked stunned. “I guess, when?” This whole time Heather and I were communicating in Spanish. Sometimes things get lost in translation, sometimes things get mistranslated, something things get misunderstood, and sometimes, all of this happens simultaneously, and it turns out to be a good thing. Turns out, our faulty communication led to us getting into the van and driving up to San Miguel, right then.
The problem with organizing something when you don’t think you are the organizer, is that everyone looks to you as the organizer. At some point, you just have to accept it. Heather and I didn’t realize what was going on until we were packing up our tables and getting in the van with our teachers and the driver to go up to survey San Miguel. Just like that, in 2 hours, our little group formed.
Once we got to San Miguel, it turned out that there was a group organizing things. Obviously, it all began at the church. Our driver’s father ended up being one of the leaders in the church organizing food and clothing. he showed us the piles and piles of clothes they had, but the lack of food and cooks. Salvavidas had driven up a big camino full of pure water, but there wasn’t any way to get that water to certain parts of the city. Much of the middle of the main two roads were under about 8 feet of mud. Mud filled with waste, water, trash and dead things.
We walked up a hill and through the flood gully river bed. Many people were out digging in the mud. Some looking for things, some looking for people, some just looking. I talked to a little girl named Gabby who was moving rocks from one side to another. It didn’t make sense to me what she was doing, but she was there with her mother and they seemed to have a goal. The mother was telling us about the sudden flood. She said it came so quick that no one had a chance to escape. All you could do was hang on. If your house was made of concrete, you were maybe ok. If your house was made of cane, you were lost.
Heather had walked down the fake river bed to talk to some foreigners talking photos. It looked like they were more than sightseers though. There was purpose to their walk and their camera shots. Turns out that they were with a volunteer force. We got the name and number of their leader, Franklin with a local coffee co-op called As Green As It Gets. (I would meet Franklin the next day, and find out that he too was a reluctant organizer. But stuff needed to be done, no one was doing anything, and somehow he became it.) On our way out of town we saw a group of the volunteers. They were covered in mud, head to toe. Most had on Wellies, but one idiot had gloves on his feet. A lot wore bandanas. I saw a girl with a cut on her arm and shuddered to think what infection might sprout from that wound.
We drove back to school with a new purpose. Thank God we had decided to go on up to San Miguel. Thank God we had met those co-op girls. And thank god Franklin was a reluctant organizer. Our job was straightforward. Meet at the school tomorrow at 2pm with shovels, boots and gloves. Be ready to work.
--
Once back, I exchanged numbers with Heather and we hugged, happy that there was purpose and not just flailing “help.” I went home for lunch and found out from Robin that while we were up in the town, the school had made an announcement to each table that there was a group organizing to help and to be ready tomorrow at 2pm. Suddenly our group was 18. I was happy to hear this, but now worried. Franklin only expected 5. Now 18? Would this be a problem? I thought, disaster relief is always crazy. I’m sure more hands are always better than less.
With that Eddie and I went to go buy some gloves and boots. The market was the best place for this, though I felt a little awkward wandering around looking for work boots and work gloves while other people were buying handmade bracelets and woven tablecloths. Still, we soon found the things and bought them at what I’m sure was a ridiculous markup. Eddie was against the work gloves, but he had a brilliant inspiration to purchase duct tape later on that evening, and it was an enormous benefit to us all, especially around our pant legs and boots. He said he had a hell of a time translating “duct” tape, but finally made his point by miming pulling tape around the entire world. Turns out the magic of duct tape is universal.
Day one of reality had begun and ended. Our work began in the morning.
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