The most important day at the Basilica of Esquipulas is January 15, when many thousands of pilgrims flock from all over Latin America.

Ask most Guatemaltecos what is in Chiquimula and you will invariably receive the reply: “El Cristo Negro,” often followed by, “That is all there is in Chiquimula …” Undaunted by such disparaging remarks and the prospect of a long journey, I set out from Guatemala City on a trip that would end in the Basilica of Esquipulas, face to face with El Cristo Negro (the Black Christ).

The city of Esquipulas is a five-hour drive from the capital in the department of Chiquimula, which is in eastern Guatemala, close to the borders with Honduras and El Salvador. The Catholic faith arrived in the region in 1525, brought by the Conquistadors, and, after intense resistance waged by the indigenous inhabitants, a peace treaty was signed in 1530. After this reconciliation, a church was founded in honor of Santiago, the patron saint of Spain, and it was here that the rise of El Cristo Negro was initiated in 1595.

The sculpture was commissioned the previous year by Bishop Morales, from a Portuguese artist, Quirio Catano, a long-term resident of the area, who was familiar with its particular history.

Two competing versions account for the color of El Cristo Negro. The first explanation suggests that it was the result of an administrative oversight, and that the required color and characteristics of the figure of Christ were not specified to Catano. Catano delivered the finished sculpture in the naturally dark color of the wood it was made from and it was accepted. Another version credits Catano as being a man of grand philosophical vision, who clearly conceived of the black Christ as a work of national importance, a uniquely Guatemalan symbol, that would fuse the suffering inflicted on the native population with that endured by Christ. On a more practical level, he also thought his creation likely to prove a sensation with pilgrims, a presentiment borne out in the five centuries since.

Made from lemon wood and darkened further with the fumes from incense, the Cristo Negro was installed in March 1595. For the next century and a half, it resided in the church of Santiago until, in 1759, it was transported a kilometer or so to the newly built Church of Esquipulas, where it stands today. Upgraded to the status of basilica in 1961, the imposing church was financed by a group of men from La Antigua. Maintained in pristine white with a wonderful brown-orange dome, the Basilica of Esquipulas stands in its own gardens, where visitors relax shaded by enormous palm trees.

Throughout the centuries, numerous miracles have been attributed to El Cristo Negro, and large displays inside the church document these personal stories. In recognition of divine assistance, pilgrims have presented small plaques, expressing gratitude or simply small silver images of the particular body parts healed by El Cristo Negro, and these can be viewed on the approach to the statue itself. While for many centuries, visitors were at liberty to approach and kiss the statue, and did so, fervently, wear and tear (and perhaps common sense) have since dictated that El Cristo Negro retire behind a glass screen; he is now watched over by a security camera.

As I stood there, waiting my turn, pigeons flew in from a hole in the dome, swirling in circles and swooping into the midst of an ongoing service. Nobody paid any notice. The man in front took care as he photographed the statue with his cellphone, and then, after a few silent moments before the figure, he retreated, walking backward away from El Cristo Negro, a traditional Catholic show of respect when visiting such icons.

Walking around the outside of the church, visitors may be surprised to discover a second El Cristo Negro, in a covered area where thousands of candles burn, these offerings tended diligently by a priest. This El Cristo Negro is a recently commissioned replica, a practical measure that permitted the candles to be relocated outside, as over the years they had caused significant damage to the floor of the basilica.

The most important day at the Basilica is the 15th of January, when many thousands of pilgrims flock to Esquipulas from all over Latin America, in scenes reminiscent of Semana Santa in La Antigua. The people come both to request assistance from El Cristo Negro and to fulfill promises to return, made in exchange for assistance that was gratefully received. In years past, it was common for cars and buses to park inside the gardens in the days preceding the 15th, stretching out sheets of tarpaulin and creating an impromptu settlement. Today, a perimeter fence thwarts vehicles, but it is still common for pilgrims to camp in the grounds, to secure a prime spot on the big day. Another practice that is observed is that many visitors, in a display of humility, approach the basilica on hands and knees, crawling the few hundred meters or so, from the entrance to the park, up the steps, and to the church itself, before joining the long lines waiting for their turn with El Cristo Negro.

Having made the journey myself, without knowing what I would find, I was delighted to discover such a magnificent building and so many rich details of the experiences that have occurred there. One cannot help but be impressed by the atmossphere that centuries of reverence and awe have created around the figure of El Cristo Negro, and with the thought of the many thousands who have passed here before, each with their own unique story. While there may be a grain of truth in the notion that all Chiquimula offers visitors by way of attractions is the Cristo Negro at the Basilica of Esquipulas, the church stands as a singular statement of religious faith in Guatemala and a visit there can be at once a pleasure and an inspiration.

At the beginning of time, according to ancient Mayan legend, the gods from their center spun out the cosmos, setting in place the universe. The corn god laid out the four corners and erected the World Tree in the center, from whose branches grew one of everything to come. When they became too full, the ‘fruit’ fell, scattering seeds. The old tree then provided shelter for the new plants and nurtured them. The stump has continued to exist as the center of the world.

Creation and acts of the gods in making the world and regulating nature has been at the heart of Mayan thought and religion for 3,000 years. Mayan civilization flourished at the time of Christ in what is now Central America, building magnificent and colossal cities and temples. The Maya world view that survives in Guatemala’s indigenous culture looks back, contrary to the Western world view that looks to the future. For the Maya, the past sustains the present.

The weaving tradition expresses that past and the world view, full of symbolism which connects the Maya to all of creation. The Maya people center themselves in the cosmos and creation by the cloth they weave. The spindle is seen as the center, from which yarn is spun out. Myth has it that a Maya woman, led by a goddess, learned to weave by watching a spider weave a web. The back strap loom is seen as an aspect of the World Tree, the weaver feeding the loom to create. Wearing the traditional, woven costume (traje) is part of the backward focus—the importance of customs. The tradition of weaving continues in the traje, and so the Maya maintain their identity.

Girls learn to weave at age four or five. Women generally design their own blouses (huipiles) and spend several months weaving their creations. It is a costly process, both in time and money, and the huipil is worn for many years. Designs may be passed down from generation to generation, with styles unique in colors and designs particular to landscape, ceremonies and mythology of each Maya group. Yarn for the weavings is of locally grown and spun cotton or, in the colder climates of the highlands, fine wool.

The traje of an indigenous Maya woman identifies her ethnically and socially. Further information of civil status or position may be shown in the manner in which certain articles are worn.  For example, the way she wears the hair ribbon may tell whether she is married or single.

Earliest weavings used only geometric designs but then added fauna and flora. Textile motifs celebrate life, showing harmony with nature and the cosmos in symbols such as seeds, rays of the sun, phases of the moon, corn, volcanoes, birds and other animals, water jugs. Vivid colors of the weavings reflect the flowers that abound in Guatemala.

Much of the meaning of the symbolism has been lost or changed, making it difficult to research this significant aspect of Mayan clothing. And younger women, feeling more and more social freedom, choose colors and patterns according to preference rather than identity. Often huipiles are simply less expensive fabric blouses with machine embroidery. Also increasingly, there is the choice of modern Western clothes.

The weaving tradition is a dynamic art form with ties to the past. It is more than craft. Artisans have filled their weavings with memories of their people. It serves as an instrument of ethnic identity and has also become a major source of income, with tourists choosing table coverings, napkins, bags, pillows, bedspreads and more.

Remarkably, the Maya and their tradition have adapted and survived.

photos by Rudy A. Girón

Communities large and small marked the occasion with torch-bearing runners, drumbeats of school bands, concerts and speeches. Food vendors served a mouth-watering variety of dishes as locals and tourists alike joined the annual celebration.

U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton sent congratulatory remarks to the people of Guatemala:

“On behalf of President Obama and the people of the United States, I congratulate the people of Guatemala on the 190th anniversary of your independence this September 15.

“As Guatemalans the world over celebrate this special day and honor the heroes of Guatemala’s independence, we stand with you in celebration. Americans have long enjoyed the beauty of Guatemala – from the ancient ruins of Tikal to the stunning volcanoes that surround Lake Atitlán – as well as the warmth and hospitality of the Guatemalan people. Your rich culture, diversity of languages, and traditions steeped in history are a special part of our region.

“During my visit last June for the Central American security conference, President Colom and I renewed our commitment to building strong democratic institutions, promoting the rule of law, and expanding economic growth and opportunity to our nations’ citizens.

“On this historic day, I send best wishes to all Guatemalans – in Guatemala, the United States, and around the globe. We look forward to deepening the ties between our two countries as we work to build a safer, more prosperous and democratic future for our peoples.”

Also celebrating their independence along with Guatemala were Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua and Costa Rica. On Sept. 15, 1821, representatives from all those regions formally accepted a plan drafted by Mexican Gen. Agustín de Iturbide that declared them free from the crumbling Kingdom of Spain. Mexico celebrates its break from “la madre patria” on Sept. 16.

This month is doubly patriotic

Brace for a double dose of patriotic fervor this month in Guatemala. In addition to the Sept. 11 national elections (see page 54), Guatemala celebrates its 190th Independence Day on Sept. 15 with ear-shattering fireworks, resounding drumbeats from marching bands, festive concerts and more.

Guatemala is hardly alone in its jubilation this day—also celebrating their independence are Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua and Costa Rica. On Sept. 15, 1821, representatives from all those regions formally accepted a plan drafted by Mexican Gen. Agustín de Iturbide that declared them free from the crumbling Kingdom of Spain. (Mexico celebrates its break from la madre patria a day later, Sept. 16.)

Guatemala, however, did not gain complete independence with the declaration in 1821. After Spain, further entanglements—with Mexico and El Salvador, primarily—had to be undone before Guatemala was truly an independent republic two years later.

Nevertheless, Sept. 15 is the big day, and the celebrations get under way the day before when, in many communities, people carrying torches run through town to announce independence.

Fireworks and concerts commonly usher in the holiday the night of Sept. 14, followed noisily the next morning with predawn firecrackers and bombas. School bands take to the streets later, and town squares overflow as ceremonies continue into the night.

As Independence Day approaches, expect a proliferation of blue-and-white Guatemalan flags and bunting in windows, rooftops and balconies. Eager vendors will ensure there is no shortage of national colors. (Banks and other businesses close early, so plan accordingly.)

Supervised exhibits include paper making, recycling, giant bubbles and even a micro city. (Emmy Powell)

El Museo de los Niños, Zone 13, Guatemala City

If the motto of most museums seems to be: “Look but don’t touch,” el Museo de los Niños in Guatemala City is the other extreme.

Located in Zone 13, the center opened in February 2000 and has since welcomed more than 1.5 million schoolchildren from all over Guatemala. Through an assortment of dynamic games and interactive puzzles, the museum teaches kids a variety of academic subjects while informing them about their country’s culture and how to be a good citizen.

Want to teach a 4-year-old about the fragility of the Earth’s ozone layer or the importance of collecting rain water? El Museo de los Niños has all the answers and takes you on a journey through space, the human body and a coffee plantation to find them.

From a life-size version of the popular board game Operation, to a giant aerial photo of the city where children race to see who can locate famous monuments first, everything is educational and designed to make learning fun. Even the outside climbing wall depicts several of the country’s volcanoes so that as children climb the rope they “ascend” Pacaya, Fuego and Acatenango and discover which has the highest peak.

The enthusiastic guides believe that if you can teach core values and environmental responsibilities at an early age, you will secure a better future for Guatemala. Eco-friendly messages are reinforced throughout, with paper-making activities and material-separating stations to show that recycling can be fun.

Among recent visitors were more than 100 children from Niños de Guatemala, an NGO which provides access to education for the poorest children of Ciudad Vieja.

“I was completely blown away,” said Emmy Powell, volunteer coordinator with NDG who accompanied the children. “The building itself is bright and welcoming. The staffers are knowledgeable, enthusiastic and well-organized. The topics covered by the museum’s activities are interesting and diverse. Our kids had an absolute blast while learning!”

As well as containing more than 45 exhibits for children aged 8 months to 12 years, el Museo de los Niños also boasts a ball pit, a mini-football pitch and a theater, which is available to rent for birthday parties and family reunions.

They keep technology to a minimum—demonstrating that children don’t just learn through computers but also by using their imagination, exploring and interacting with objects around them.

“Chiquitenango,” the museum’s very own micro city, gives children the opportunity to “drive” around its streets, navigate traffic lights and greet pretend firefighters, gas station workers and pedestrians playing in the park. It really opens their eyes to the world around them and teaches them to respect others and abide by the highway code.

The museum collaborates with businesses and institutions to raise money so that orphans and children from public schools and NGOs can visit free of charge rather than pay the usual price of Q35 per person.

Open from 8:30 a.m.-noon and 1-4 p.m. Tuesday through Friday, and 9:30 a.m.-1:30 p.m. and 2:30-6 p.m. on Saturday and Sunday, el Museo de los Niños is a giant game for children of any age that proves learning is fun.

Since the museum is near the zoo, why not make a day of it and visit both attractions? Just don’t forget to bring your inner child—as well as your real ones, too.

Twenty years of tackling poverty through photography

Surrounded by 40 acres of toxic garbage, in the middle of Central America’s largest and most dangerous landfill, isn’t exactly where most people gain inspiration. However, for ex-Reuters photojournalist Nancy McGirr, the smell of burning plastic, combined with the sight of cardboard houses and gardens of sewage, is where Fotokids first began.

Originally called “Out of the Dump,” this unique project was founded in 1991 with the aim of using photography to break the cycle of poverty, and this month the NGO celebrates its 20^th anniversary.

“I first went to the dump to photograph a story for an Australian magazine,” says McGirr. “There were 3,500 people living, working and scavenging for food–and 1,500 of them were kids who followed me wanting to see through my camera lens. The thought occurred to me: If they had the camera, what would they see through that lens?”

Armed with three cheap, plastic cameras the first group of six students aged 5-12 began their enrollment process: taking photos of everything and censoring nothing. The students, who all lived in Guatemala City’s sprawling garbage dump, took pictures of whatever fell before their lens: drugs, violence, death.

McGirr soon realized their photographs could be used as a teaching tool to show them they didn’t have to be part of a gang to be in a group, and that cameras are a more effective weapon against poverty than guns.

By taking snapshots of their everyday lives, children from some of the poorest neighborhoods in the city began to express themselves. Children who, at the age of 7 had been exposed to more pain and suffering than anyone should witness in a lifetime, could start to dream.

A Dump with Travel Benefits

“I originally thought the project would last six months to a year, but it just took off,” recalls McGirr. “We started in July and by September had already appeared in The Washington Post.”

A couple of months later, Konika Japan sent supplies and asked them to exhibit in Tokyo, they were the cover story of various magazines and even had a film crew from London come out to record two TV episodes for a children’s art show.

From the initial six students who entered the after-school program, hundreds have passed through it. Each receiving a camera, food, photography classes and educational scholarships–while having their work displayed in exotic locations around the world.

From meeting the Dalai Lama, to working on the set of Star Wars: Attack of the Clones and exhibiting alongside Brazilian photographer Sebastian Salgado, Fotokids has created a future for many underprivileged children: a tool with which they can escape their lives of perpetual poverty, drugs and gang violence.

A Culture of Giving Back

“I never imagined going on a plane,” says Evelyn Mansilla, who started with Fotokids 18 years ago. “But at 15 I went to Spain, then to Australia and San Francisco.”

Mansilla, who grew up near the dump, now works as the administrative director of the project and believes the experience changed her life. “Without it I’d never have finished school, gone to university or been able to give back to my community.”

Giving back is an integral part of Fotokids’ philosophy. Many of the students become the teachers and work in the school in Zone 13 or in outreach programs across the city or farther afield in Santiago Atitlan and Honduras. The staff are all Fotokids graduates who feel compelled to give others the opportunities they have had.

Often they go back to their own communities, mentoring children and showing them what can be achieved if they work hard at school and stay in the program.

Challenges

“We all want to branch out and take the project to more places in the city. There are so many children of all ages here that need our help,” says Mansilla. “Around 7 years old is a good time to start–that’s when gangs start recruiting.”

As well as dealing with the threat of gangs, one of the main challenges Fotokids faces is persuading parents to let their children stay in the program. Parents often fail to see the long-term benefits of keeping children in school beyond sixth grade and would rather they start contributing to the family income.

To tackle this problem teachers work directly with communities, going into some of the most dangerous barrios in Guatemala City and giving classes to children while building relationships with their families.

“Of course, they don’t all go on to become photographers,” states McGirr. “Photography just gives them an identity and a platform”–for other opportunities they would never otherwise have had.

Entrance to Fotokids’ month-long “20 Years Capturing Dreams” exhibition is free and opens at 5:30pm, Thursday, August 4 at Artecentro Graciela Andrade de Paiz (9a Calle 8-54 zone 1, Guatemala City).

More information: www.fotokids.org

In May, the fancy for mothers turns to roses—which have more than meets the eye or nose.

Not all plants sport flowers, but those that do use them to mate with others of their species. Appropriately, we use them to hail and express love, especially in February and May. Roses in particular are favored: red and burgundy roses in the former month as passion signatures for el Día de cariño, and white roses in the latter for el Día de la madre.

But floricultores in Guatemala and El Salvador credit violet roses with the strongest aromas. The aroma science of flowering plants is irreducibly complex, since the first purpose of the aromas is to ensure that nature’s largest symbiosis never breaks down. This is the interplay between tens of thousands of plant species and many more species of pollinating insects. Without this, life in general would cease.

Insects, then, are the flowers’ first real customers, and they are even more discerning than humans. While some insects are drawn to their flower symbiotes by visual cues, most depend on a specific chemical or combination of chemicals generated by the flowering plant. Snapdragons and petunias each produce “only” about 10 complex aromatic chemicals. This, according to Purdue University researcher Natalya Dudareva, makes these flowers practical for the study of aromas. Roses, on the other hand, generate 300 to 400 such chemicals—which explains their popularity with insects. More scents, more bugs.

It also means that while new color varieties for roses are constantly obtained, the cultivation of aromas in flowers (unlike in wines) is a hit-and-miss proposition. Either way, rose production is big business in the Guatemalan Altiplano, which provides optimum soils, temperatures and altitudes for roses. In addition to domestic demand, there is a thriving export market for about 60 varieties of roses; another flower, the bird of paradise, is also a major export. More Guatemalan flowers are exported to Holland than to any other country, with the United States being a close second.

Most Guatemalan roses are grown in greenhouses in elevated beds called tablones. A standard tablón boasts 320 rosales (rosebushes) in regimented rows. With proper pruning, each plant will yield a new flower about every three weeks. All rosebushes need relatively cool air, but there is a tradeoff related to temperature. At the higher end of the cool range, rosales are more prolific. At the lower end, they produce better flowers. The quality of a rose is gauged not only by color and aroma, but also by the integrity of the petals.

Either way, the pruning removes thinner branches, so that the rosal puts more energy and more “transcription factors” into the thicker stems. These special proteins are thought to be the element that switches on the genes that entail the generation of aromas.

Transcription factors no longer operate once a rose has been cut, but if the cutting was done right, the aroma endures, and the rose itself, when potted in water, will bring a fortnight of pleasure to its owner. For this longevity, and also for the same branch to generate more flowers, the stem must be between 40 and 70 centimeters—the length varies with variety—and the cut must be below the foliolus, a cluster of about five leaves that radiate from a point a few inches below the flower. This is why the roses we buy always wear this green garland.

Other keys to a hardy cut rose are timing and warehousing. The cut should be made at the so-called “whistle point,” when the flower, more bud than corona, is just about to open; a tiny aperture at the tip is the indicator. Also, freshly cut roses are refrigerated for 24 hours at around 54°F before going to market.

The roses are sorted and bundled, with the best flowers going to florists and the export market. Those of middling quality find their way to public mercados, and those remaining are scooped up for sale by pedestrian vendors on the Avenida Reforma and at stands near the Trebol, Guatemala City’s main traffic interchange.

The yield of a rosebush can be, and usually is, staggered by cultivators. A rosal branch needs seven or eight weeks to generate a flower, so in order to meet the high demands in February and May, specialized attention—locally called pinchado—begins in December and again in March. It is not a single procedure but a combination of grafting, vigilant pruning, hand watering, humidity modulation and intensive policing against pests and fungi. The rosales consequently produce extra flowers in the days leading up to Valentine’s and Mothers’ Day. They cannot do this year-round, so the rest of the year is their recovery period, during which they produce slightly fewer flowers.

Rosebushes are perennials, with a lifetime averaging eight years. But their gift to us may enhance our own longevity. It is one thing to give roses to your sweetheart or mother; this enhances life and—who can say?—may extend it some. But roses do even more for the sick; anyone who has endured a long, dreary hospital stay, or who has brought roses to someone else who is, knows this. Few things rally the ailing like the beauty and aroma of roses, an oasis for the eyes and the nose.

50 new Peace Corps volunteers were sworn in as part of the anniversary celebration

Finishing two years as a Peace Corps volunteer in Totonicopán, Samra Brouk summarized her experience in three words: “challenging, surprising, satisfying.”

“It was probably the two hardest years of my life but at no point did I think there was anyplace else I should be,” said Brouk, 24, a native of Rochester, N.Y., who plans to go to law school upon returning to the U.S.

She was among some 500 volunteers, former volunteers and members of host families who gathered recently at the residence of U.S. Ambassador Stephen G. McFarland in Guatemala City to celebrate the Peace Corps’ 50th anniversary.

“It’s made a huge difference,” McFarland said after the ceremonies. “It’s made a difference on environmental levels, nutrition levels, health levels. Some of the municipal work and work with youth has been great, too.

“Both the volunteers and the U.S. have benefited by people getting a different view of the world and hands-on experience at affecting positive change at the local level,” McFarland said.

In addition to the Guatemala Peace Corps leadership and longtime employees, special guests at the March 25 event included Peace Corps Chief of Staff Stacy Rhodes, who told the audience, “You represent the best of our country.”

The festivities included the swearing-in of 50 new Peace Corps volunteers, including Michael Lohmuller, 23, a recent Boston College graduate from Iowa who will serve in Baja Verapaz. “I’m excited, I’m ready to get started,” he said. “Training was a good learning experience, but I’m ready to get out there.”

Also in late March, volunteers in neighboring El Salvador were treated to a visit by President Barack Obama, who was on the final leg of a three-nation, Latin America trip. The president and Peace Corps Director Aaron S. Williams met with a group of volunteers at the U.S. ambassador’s residence in San Salvador.

Established by President John F. Kennedy on March 1, 1961, the Peace Corps dispatched its first contingent of volunteers to El Salvador in 1962 and to Guatemala in 1963. Since then, some 2,100 volunteers have served in El Salvador, including about 150 today, and 4,800 volunteers have served in Guatemala, including about 200 today.

Volunteers in Central America work in the areas of community organization and economic development, rural health and sanitation, sustainable agriculture, agro-forestry and environmental education, and youth development.

Historically, more than 200,000 Americans have served with the Peace Corps to promote a better understanding between U.S. citizens and the people of 139 host countries. Today, 8,655 volunteers are working in 77 countries.

You can also read four Peace Corps golden anniversary vignettes on pages 100, 106 and 107.

For more information visit www.peacecorps.gov

While Santa Claus and Christmas trees may be symbols of the Christmas season, nacimientos (nativity scenes) are a Christmas custom the world over.

Saint Francis of Assisi built the first one in 1223 after returning from a trip to Bethlehem. It quickly became a tradition and spread throughout the Catholic world, including Spain. The Spanish brought the custom to Guatemala.

Depicting the legendary scene where Christ was born, Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus hold court in the center of the action. However, the supporting cast isn’t limited to an ox and burro anymore. From volcanoes to palm trees, Guatemalans have combined imagination and environment to make this tradition their own.

Nacimientos photos Rudy A. Girón

The celebration of La Concepción in Ciudad Vieja, near La Antigua Guatemala, is incredible!

Everyone enjoys beginning the Christmas cycle by “burning the devil” on Dec. 7. Many will gather at La Concepción in Antigua at 6 p.m. to burn an effigy of the devil enhanced with a sign notating local gossip. After the reading of his “will,” the image goes up in flames. Custom requires the burning of paper trash in front of houses to ward off bad spirits.

The fiestas feature a convite in Ciudad Vieja on Dec. 7 at about 1 p.m. with dozens of carriages/vehicles with religious, cultural and sports decorations. Convites are allegorical parades the day before a procession and are great fun to see.

On the following day, Dec. 8, Ciudad Vieja celebrates its virgin patron’s day—Día de la Virgen de La Concepción—with incredible dances and more fireworks than I have ever seen all at once in Guatemala. Mass is held at the church in the central plaza at 10 a.m., followed by the burning of granadas for about an hour. Folkloric dances are performed all day for one of the best fiestas in Guatemala!

The Dance of the 24 Devils, dedicated to the Virgen de Concepción, is a satire with men dressed as women, political tirades and daily issues.

Many of Guatemala’s folkloric dances originated in the Iberian Peninsula and have certainly acquired characteristics of their own in local towns. The Dance of the 24 Devils appears in Cataluña as early as 1150 and was probably introduced in Guatemala in colonial times. It is a theatrical dance between good and evil with moral satire. Two of my favorite figures are death and the monkey, amongst others, who sing at the end of the dance, asking the Virgin for her blessing.

Another favorite is the Dance of the Seven Vices and Seven Virtues. This medieval dance originated in Europe in the 12th and 13th centuries and became very popular in Madrid at the end of the 16th century for Corpus Christi. While we find this dance in Mexico, it is very popular today in Ciudad Vieja.

The male devil figures represent arrogance, greed, lust, anger, gluttony, envy, laziness and the monkey; the virtuous female figures represent humility, generosity, chastity, patience, moderation, charity, diligence and the virgin.

Many other dances will catch your eye, including the Baile de los Moros y Cristianos and the loas with the Indian, the devil, the mayor, the farm administrator and others represented in this dramatic theatrical presentation.

Fireworks, invented by the Chinese in the 12th century, may certainly be associated with the devil, but all Catholic religious activities are celebrated with fireworks today in Guatemala. All fiestas include great meals prepared and eaten at home.

GRANADAS: these bundlesof fireworks are set off as part of the Día de la Virgen de Concepción in Ciudad Vieja.

Guatemalan Fiambre (photo by Rudy Girón)

written by Arturo Echeverría

Nobody knows the origins of fiambre; one of the most special of all Guatemalan foods, however, legends say that it was accidentally invented by either:

1. A newly hired chef starting immediately by preparing a big banquet, only he couldn’t really cook; or
2. A family visiting the cemetery on November 1st and while the adults concentrated on prayer, their kids had fun by flinging the picnic food at each other — and the remnants were later salvaged by the annoyed adults.

Regardless of its origin, fiambre, in my opinion, is the supreme Guatemalan plate. If this is not the food of the gods, it must be something very close. Fiambre is only eaten on November 1st, the Day of All Saints, and it is so complex that it can easily take as many as 50 or more ingredients.

Fiambre is basically a big salad or a plate of assorted cold cuts, including diverse vegetables, meats, pickles and much more. It must be prepared at least one day before serving and marinated overnight in a thin sauce blend of vinegar, parsley, lettuce and hard-boiled eggs called a caldillo. Without this vital step, the dish will be flavorless. Also, the more meats that are added, the richer the taste.

Accompany this legendary dish with an ice cold Guatemalan beer or one of the country’s award-winning rums.

Kids flying kites (photo: Iván Castro/ivancastroguatemala.com)

Written by Ignacio Ochoa

The history of kite making in Santiago Sacatepéquez

On November 1 and 2, a powerful force stirs in all the towns of Guatemala. Traditional markets are filled with flowers of sempa (orange marigolds), chrysanthemums, wild daisies and the smell of copal—a pre-Columbian incense made from pine resin. People clean family graves and adorn them with cut-out tissue paper called papel picado, wreaths of fresh flowers and candles. They also honor the dead with festive foods such as candied fruits, tamales and fiambre (a cold meat and vegetable dish prepared only at this time of year). These days mark the celebration of El día de los difuntos or the Day of the Dead, a very important festival throughout Guatemala, especially in the predominantly indigenous town of Santiago Sacatépequez, where it is the occasion for a unique kite-flying ritual of the Kakchiquel people, integrating the Catholic feast of All Saints with pre-Columbian Mayan practices of remembering the dead. The kites are made as a way to communicate with the dead, symbolically attracting the spirits to earth at this special time of the year, when family members, living and dead, are reunited.

In Santiago Sacatepéquez, there are six cofradías (religious brotherhoods) dating from the 17th century, each dedicated to a different saint. Catholic missionaries instituted these brotherhoods to involve the laity in the spiritual life of the church. Indigenous populations, struggling to maintain their cultural traditions and languages, blended traditional Mayan practices with Christian rituals in the cofradías. It is the cofradías that organize and carry out all public religious celebrations.

The leaders of the cofradías are called mayordomos. Villagers choose the lead or primer mayordomo for a one-year term during which he and his family must finance everything related to the feast day. The celebration of Day of the Dead takes a year to plan and involves not only religious obligations but also coordination with municipal services and local political leaders, bestowing on the cofradía a great deal of political and social clout. The more services the cofradía provides to the town, the more esteemed its leader. Over time, this practice creates a network of reciprocal obligations among town members. Different cofradías are in charge of organizing different religious celebrations.

Preparations for the celebration begin 40 days before November 1, when young people begin the construction of the kites, a tradition dating back at least 109 years. Customarily, young men did most of the work, but today young women join them in selecting themes for the intricately designed kites, which may be political, religious or cultural. There is now a female kite-making contingency in Sacatepéquez that competes in the annual kite-making competitions.

Before the kites can be made, the unmarried men of the village rise at 4 a.m. to travel to the coast to hunt for bamboo for the frames. In the eyes of the town, this pre-dawn journey marks young males’ passage from boys to men. The journey to the coast is difficult, and once the youths arrive, the work of cutting the thick bamboo is laborious. The youths return from the coast to find the townspeople waiting for them, eager to hear their stories of adventures on the coast. The bamboo is distributed to the kite-making groups to begin making frames, a process that continues every day until the Day of the Dead.

Women’s role in the celebration has historically been less public than that of men, but crucial. They participate in the measurement, design and construction of the kites, preparing the ingredients and materials, as well as helping to decide on colors, designs and themes. Women also do the bulk of the festival food preparation, as well as the decorating of churches and public squares.

All kite materials are natural. The glue is made from yucca flour mixed with pieces of lemon peel and water. Ropes used for kite strings are made from maguey, the plant from which tequila is extracted. Kite tails are made from woven cloth (to which people often attach hand-written messages to guide the spirits in their journey from heaven to earth). Woven stalks of castilla, a plant similar to wheat, form the frames of smaller kites, while the largest frames are made from the bamboo gathered on the coast.

The kites display three main styles, each with a characteristic design and size, and are made of tissue paper, seemingly too thin to withstand the rough winds of the sky. “Crown” kites measure from three to five meters in diameter and have a circular frame around an empty center, like a donut. The inner and outer circles are connected with four bamboo stalks. “Diamond” kites range from a half to 10 meters in diameter and have a diamond-shaped frame, long tails and fly on strings of fishing line. “Moon” kites are large circles of bamboo framing with a circular paper center and range from 10 to 15 meters in diameter. On the last Sunday in October, the people of Santiago choose their favorite kite, usually showing the greatest appreciation for intricately detailed kites with themes from ancestral Maya culture.

On November 1, people begin to fill the cemetery at 4 a.m. While cleaning, repainting and decorating their family tombs, neighbors fondly reminisce about the deceased and catch up on the latest news. Community bonds are renewed and strengthened as people work side by side, sharing paint, tools and brushes to refurbish tombs, while they water flowers, pray and picnic together.

The young people await a strong wind to raise their giant kites to the skies. The kites brighten the skies and signal the traveling spirits until 4 p.m., when they are lowered and the townspeople return home to await the arrival of the souls. Families may set up home shrines or altars in honor of deceased family members, and extended family and neighbors visit each other to pay their respects. Visitors are offered boiled güisquiles (a vegetable which looks like an avocado and tastes like a potato), sweet corn, chilacayote (sweet squash) and jocotes (like a sweet olive), along with chicha, a hot fermented corn beverage that is indigenous to Mesoamerica.

Eventually, the cofradía of St. Michael the Archangel leads a procession through the streets carrying an anda, or life-sized wooden statue of St. Michael. (Because this particular cofradia is in charge of organizing the town’s Day of the Dead celebration, they get to showcase their patron saint.) Members of the procession play the harp and accordion to the delight of the public. The townspeople travel with the procession from house to house throughout the night, sharing traditional foods and alcohol along the way.

At 4 a.m. on November 2, everyone moves toward the cemetery with candles so the spirits can return to their celestial home. The townspeople raise the giant kites one final time to guide the spirits back to heaven. Later that evening, the kites that were torn by the winds are burned inside the cemetery, the smoke showing the way back to heaven for any vagabond spirits. The surviving kites are exhibited in the local Catholic Church during a novena for the deceased, after that they are burned, and the ashes are buried in the cemetery, completing the annual ritual for the Day of the Dead in Santiago Sacatepéquez.

Ignacio Ochoa, M.A., is the Academic Advisor for the Study Abroad Program at the Center for Latin American Studies of the Nahual Institute for Global Studies in San Diego, California. He holds MA degrees in Latin American Studies and Philosophy and has worked in indigenous, rural, and refugee communities in Panama, Colombia, Ecuador, Nicaragua, El Salvador, Mexico and Guatemala. Mr. Ochoa has taught at San Diego State University, the Harvard University School of Business, Northeastern University, and the Schools of Medicine and Public Health at San Carlos University in Guatemala. He was one of the judges for the Santiago Sacatepéquez kite competition from 2005-2007.

Giant Kites (photos: Smith & Riegel/atitlan.net)

Exploring the Cloud Forest Realm of the Resplendent Quetzal-Serpent

text and photographs by Thor Janson

It has been five days since I last saw the sun in my quest to observe and photograph the resplendent quetzal. Now I really know why they call this cloud forest! I’m up near the ridge of the Sierra Yalihux in the mountains of Alta Verapaz at an elevation of 7,000 feet. A bank of clouds has settled around the mountaintop and doesn’t want to leave.

Sitting by the open fire in the middle of our little hut this evening, I give thanks that I am in here, cozily writing, instead of outside in a dank tent. Our host, whose name is Rosendo Chun Pop, is a Kek’chi Indian.
Since he has no knowledge of Spanish and I have only the most rudimentary understanding of his Mayan dialect, our communication is limited to gestures and smiles. But, as we sit sipping sweet coffee, he seems happy to share his little cabin and warming fire with us and his smiles and twinkling eyes convey his friendliness better than words ever could.

The temperature outside is probably around 45° Fahrenheit, but the wet-cold of the clouds makes it feel like it is below freezing. I am here in the mountains of Verapaz with naturalist Verónica Chavajay, a 34-year-old Guatemalan native from Santa Clara La Laguna in Sololá province, a town perched above the sacred waters of Lake Atitlán.

Her ancestry includes both Mayan and Spanish elements. From an early age she has pursued an avid interest in studying nature and bush medicine; we share an interest in studying the quetzal in its natural habitat.

A Capital Offense

Although ornithologists have hailed the quetzal as the most spectacular bird in the Americas, few people, outside of the natives who live in the highland forests by death they who killed the bird with the rich plumes because it was not found in other places and these feathers were of great value because they used them as money.”

The Maya had a symbolic system of colors: black for weapons, obsidian; yellow for food, corn; red for war; and blue for sacrifice. But the royal color was green, the color of Kukul —the serpent bird.

Highland Indians were allowed to trap the birds and remove their tail feathers (which grow back each year) but they were forbidden to kill or keep them captive. After by death they who killed the bird with the rich plumes because it was not found in other places and these feathers were of great value because they used them as money.”

The Maya had a symbolic system of colors: black for weapons, obsidian; yellow for food, corn; red for war; and blue for sacrifice. But the royal color was green, the color of Kukul —the serpent bird.

Highland Indians were allowed to trap the birds and remove their tail feathers (which grow back each year) but they were forbidden to kill or keep them captive. After the cacao bean, which was used as a form of currency, the commodity that probably contributed most to the native’s wealth were these feathers.

When the great Mayan cities fell the highlanders continued to trade quetzal feathers with the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlán, where Mexico City now stands. When the Spanish conquistadors visited the Aztec city they found rulers, priests and dignitaries wearing elaborate headdresses made from quetzal feathers.

Bernal Díaz, who chronicled the conquest of “New Spain,” described how the great Montezuma, when he came to meet Cortés, was shaded by a huge canopy of quetzal feathers. But Montezuma made a fatal error. According to ancient texts left by the Mexica, Quetzalcoatl, man or god, had promised to return from the East in the year 1-reed (1519), and this was 1-reed.

Assuming that the Spanish who landed on the coast of Veracruz were the returning gods, the Aztec emperor failed to prepare a defense. Before he knew what had happened, Cortés and his mangy army of 400 had defeated and sacked Tenochtitlán. And along with plundered gold, silver and gems,
sent back to the courts of Europe were the exquisite plumes of the quetzal.

Before long there was a growing demand for the feathers. No longer would the serpent bird be protected. The new rulers declared them to be free game.

By the 16th Century central Europe had been largely deforested and the Spanish found a ready market for fine tropical hardwoods. And so they began a process of desertification that continues today.

Chun’s Place At Last

On the other side of the Motagua Valley a series of switchbacks took us up into the mountains of Verapaz.

Gradually, the sweltering desert gave way to pine forest and then a cool evergreen broad-leaf forest. An hour later we stopped in the little town of Tactic and had lunch at a restaurant called Comedor Bombil Pec, where a beautiful young Mayan girl served us bowls of the regional specialty Kak’ik, a rich turkey and chile stew accompanied by fresh roasted corn tamalitos.

After a short siesta we headed out in our Jeep down a badly rutted track, which led us into the Polochic Valley along the rushing river. Down and down we went. After hours of constant pounding we arrived at the village of Tamahú, on the floor of the valley. Here we took a right turn onto an even more rustic roadway that led up into the coffee plantations. It was hot and steamy. The vegetation was very lush with many palms and a profusion of epiphytes.

We observed many beautiful birds: keel-billed toucans, flocks of little green parrots and several colonies of oropendola, easily identifiable by their strange nests which look like miniature hammocks hanging high up in huge kapok trees.

It took us another four hours to climb up through new and abandoned cornfields and get to the forest edge. The misting rain, called cheepy-cheepy by the natives, had begun and it was getting cold. I was happy that we were nearing our destination.

Entering the cloud forest was like stepping into a vast cathedral bathed in perpetual twilight. And as soon as I had entered I felt that there was something unusual about it. Something that seemed very ancient and mysterious. Huge old oaks and alders towered up to form a canopy 150 feet above us. These massive trees were covered with a profusion of mosses in which were rooted ferns, herbs, shrubs and even small trees along with countless species of orchids, bromeliads, epiphytes and vines.

Everywhere there were giant tree ferns, many growing to more than 40 feet in height. More than a century ago the English naturalist William R. Brigham saw these forests and wrote:

“Tropical vegetation cannot well be described. The real trouble that meets the novice on the threshold of the tropics is the utter inadequacy of the English language to express the variety and luxuriance he sees in the vegetable world. Even in color his vocabulary fails him and he must include in the name of ‘green’ so many distinct tints that he often fails to try.”

It was very silent. Through the mist the only sounds that we could hear were made by water. Gurgling streams and rivulets and drops, cascading down from one leaf to another. We continued to slog up the muddy trail and it was a surprise when, after what seemed like a very short time, we came to a clearing where there stood a little thatched-roof cottage out of which arose a plume of blue smoke. Rosendo Chun’s place!

He was not home but his two daughters came out to greet us with steaming mugs of hot coffee. I used the rest of the daylight to try to locate a quetzal with no luck. It was raining steadily and all the forest creatures were staying inside their warm nests and burrows.

When I got back I found that Rosendo had returned from hunting and had prepared slabs of wood at one end of the cabin, which were to serve as our sleeping quarters. He greeted me by saying “hass capey?” which Veronica told me means “do you want something to eat?”

I replied “oos,” which means “good, affirmative.” Soon we were served hot stacks of yellow and blue corn tortillas along with a bowl of cooked green herbs called “makui,” which tasted like spinach. It was a simple meal, but one that tasted good enough for a king, especially after the day’s exertion.

I tried to ask Rosendo about the quetzal. “Rochoch Li Quetzal?” I asked, reading from the list of phrases I had in my notebook. This was supposed to mean “quetzal nest” but Rosendo just sat there smiling and nodding at me.

His whole family—wife, three daughters and two sons—was sitting around the fire watching with wide-eyed curiosity. Each time I tried to say something in Kek’chi they all burst out laughing and mimicking my pronunciation in high-pitched squeals. They laughed until they cried as if this strange alien visitor trying to speak their language was the funniest thing they had ever seen.

It was then our turn. Verónica picked up different articles giving their Spanish or English name and our host and his family would attempt to repeat the words. This only caused more uproarious laughter by everyone. In this way we passed our first evening together.

We spent the next few days getting to know the area and looking for signs of the quetzal: fruiting trees where they might be found eating and potential nest sights. One afternoon while I was trying to get a photograph of an unusually large red snail, Rosendo’s youngest son Chung came by and seemed fascinated that I was giving the snail so much attention. I looked at him, then pointed to the snail and smiled, nodding.

There Was No Escape

When I was finished photographing, the boy picked up the eight-inch long snail and put it in his pocket. He gave me a big smile, nodded, and pranced away into the forest. I went about my business, thinking nothing about the incident, except that it was nice that these people were so friendly.

Later that evening at dinner we were brought our stacks of tortillas as usual, but when I got my stew bowl I immediately noticed a strange smell and saw strips of something weird in the broth.

Then I noticed an antenna. Oh no! Chung had assumed that my interest in the snails had gastronomic implications and collected as many as he could for our dinner. The whole family sat there smiling at us. There was no escape.

It was a beautiful gesture on his part but I must admit that the slimy, half-cooked snails were among the hardest things I have ever had to eat … right up there with raw sea urchin and fermented whale blubber. But we had to smile and eat it. Anything else would have been an insult.

From then on if I was studying some spider or worm and heard one of the family coming, I would quickly divert my gaze to the trees and hope that they would not discover my true focus of interest. Nevertheless, we were treated to a variety of strange fare including wild pheasant, giant tree maggots, and smoked monkey, which, by the way, was not half bad.

Sounds Like Quetzals

One morning I awoke before dawn. Still in a dreamy state, I could hear faint but distinct calls coming from all sides. It was a sad, slow sort of cooing. I thought it must have been Rosendo’s turkeys digging around for insects and worms outside the cabin. I woke up Verónica to ask her what she thought.
“I can’t be sure,” she said, “but it sounds like quetzals.”

Adrenaline shot into my blood and I was up and dressed in an instant. In the past I had heard one or sometimes two quetzals singing while exploring the forest, but this sounded like several dozen. We went outside in the darkness. It was windy and I was startled to find the sky absolutely clear and full of the brightest stars I had ever seen.

The calling continued; some of the birds were very near while others seemed to be calling from across the valley. We stood listening until the first brilliant rays of sunlight came over the horizon. It looked like it would be a bright, clear, sunny day, a rare enough event in the cloud forest. Rosendo’s youngest daughter brought us hot coffee and we stood at the edge of the clearing surveying the forest above and below.

Over the next few minutes the cooing diminished to almost nothing. Our next move would be to go out in search of whatever had been making the sound. Suddenly, as the first beams of the sun began to touch the canopy—a spectacular sight!

Without any warning a form, a bolt of shimmering emerald green, shot vertically up from the forest. It was a large male quetzal spiraling upward with long tail feathers streaming behind. As he continued his skyward flight he made a loud, raucous cry: WAKA WAKA WAKA WAKA.

He continued swimming up through the air until he was several hundred yards above the forest, after which he dove, with wings held close to his body, streaking into the canopy on the other side of the valley.

I could hear my heart pounding in my chest. This was nothing like I had ever seen or read about. Not just the amazing display flight, but the loud, almost macaw-like cry that the quetzal had made.

Then another quetzal shot up out of the trees in vertical flight. Over and over again this expression of sheer exuberance, joy and freedom was repeated. It occurred to me that no other creature I had ever seen so embodied the symbol of the phoenix of Egyptian mythology; rising immortal from out of the ashes of destruction.

Rosendo came down to where we were standing. “Li Kukul,” he said smiling and pointing to the forest below. We nodded!

Blood Of The Dead

Standing there I wondered whether old Rosendo had any idea of the role the quetzal had played in the history of his people. According to tradition, the quetzal took part in the struggle between Spanish conqueror Pedro de Alvarado and the great Mayan Chief Tecún Umán.

After Alvarado’s mercenaries had slain 30,000 Maya on the battlefield near Xelajú (Quetzaltenango) innumerable quetzals flew down to earth and settled on the bodies of the warriors. All through the night, keeping deathwatch, the quetzals covered the bodies of the slaughtered Indians.

At dawn the birds flew into the sky again, but different than before: Their breasts had soaked up the blood of the dead, and since that day the quetzal has been red underneath.

Later that morning I was writing up some notes and I decided to try and sketch what the quetzal’s display flight had looked like, knowing that getting good photographs of it would be next to impossible.

As I looked at my drawing it dawned on me that the figure of the quetzal, flying straight up into the sky with tail feathers rippling behind, looked oddly reminiscent of the Greek caduceus: two serpents intertwined about a staff and topped with a winged sun; carried by the ancient messengers of the gods, Mercury and Hermes.

Could it be that the winged serpent of the Maya and the Egyptian symbology, which gave rise to the caduceus of Greek mythology, had a common origin? Both represented the herald of the forces of light, the Life Force. Thousands of years before the flowering of Egyptian civilization, the great sages of India had used essentially this same symbol. It stood for the serpentine power of life-energy that they termed “Kundalini” in the ancient Vedic scripture.

We spent three months living with Rosendo in the cloud forest. We logged hundreds of hours observing the quetzal’s courting, nesting, eating and rearing their young. I was able to take many photographs, which have been used in campaigns to promote the conservation of this supremely beautiful bird.

In-flight Meals

Quetzals are sedate birds who perch tranquilly for long periods. Their flight is undulating with intermittent bursts of rapid wing beats. Food is chiefly fruits, especially of the Laurel family (Lauraceae), and occasionally insects, both of which are plucked from stems or foliage in mid-flight at the end of a sudden upward or outward sally, without alighting. It is an unusual behavioral trait that the quetzal seems incapable of taking a fruit while perched.

I have spent many hours observing quetzals feeding in fruit trees and have noticed that even if the bird is perched on a branch full of fruit, and even if the fruit is within inches of its beak, it is unable to take it. Only in flight will the bird pluck the fruit. Sometimes a lizard, frog or snail is taken.

The song is simple but often very melodious, the most common being a melancholy coo-cool, coo-cool. Sometimes the male can be heard singing an unusually beautiful song of deep, smooth, slurred notes in simple patterns: keow kowee keow k’loo keow k’loo keeloo. On a few occasions I have heard them make sounds remarkably similar to a cat’s meow.

Ritualized reproductive behavior begins in March or April. Often male and female quetzals can be seen flying through the forest in small flocks, and it is at this time of year when the male’s spectacular vertical display flight is most often seen.

Once the male-female pair is formed they proceed immediately to search for a nesting site. Often pairs will attempt to return to nests used the previous year and intense competition between pairs can ensue.

The male, especially, can be seen making aggressive spiraling flights and calling loudly if any other pair is seen near his chosen nest, though I have never seen actual physical combat.

Since quetzals, because of their relatively weak beaks, are only capable of carving nest holes in the most rotten tree trunks, there are probably cases where some pairs are unable to mate because of an insufficient number of nesting sites.

Once a good site is found—and it may be either in the middle of the forest or an adjacent clearing—both male and female go to work making the hole, usually from 5 to 27 meters (16 to 90 feet) above ground. The hole is deep and similar to that of a woodpecker. In fact, sometimes quetzals will take over an abandoned woodpecker nest.

Two pale blue eggs, which measure approximately 30 x 35mm, are deposited on the floor of the unlined hole. Both the male and female take turns with the work of incubation, which takes 17 or 18 days.

When the nestlings hatch they are perfectly naked with pink skin and closed eyes. Now the parents spend their days bringing food that consists at first primarily of insects and other small invertebrates. After 10 days or so their diet is enlarged to include a wide variety of larvae, small frogs, lizards, snails and fruits.

After three weeks the chicks are fully feathered and ready to leave the nest, although often they will remain in the nest for another week or so. As soon as they leave the nest the chicks disappear with their parents into the densest part of the forest, which affords the safest refuge.

During nesting the quetzals are threatened by a variety of predators, including weasels, coatamundis, hawks and eagles.

There is a popular myth that the quetzal nest is always equipped with two holes so that the male does not damage his tail feathers entering and leaving. In truth, the nest usually has one entrance, and the male does often damage his tail coming in and out. Fortunately, the beautiful tail feathers grow back.

It is also a myth that the quetzal cannot be kept in captivity. Many zoos around the world have maintained quetzals in their collections, though to date only one successful breeding in captivity has been reported.

The Most Spectacular Trogon

The quetzal is the most spectacular member of the Trogonidae family of birds. The Trogons are comprised of 39 species and are best represented in the Americas, where they inhabit nearly all wooded areas of the continental tropics and even range beyond to southern Arizona (USA), Cuba and Hispaniola. The remaining members are found in Africa and Asia.

Since Trogons are non-migratory and move but little locally, the existence of three widely separated populations (American, Asian and African) is cited by scientists as further evidence that the Earth’s continents were once united in one super-continent.

Also, in past geological ages, when tropical forests extended far beyond their present limits, the ancestors of today’s Trogons probably were much more numerous with a wider distribution. The present-day quetzal ranges from the mountains of the Mexican state of Chiapas to Western Panama. There are two subspecies separated by the lowlands that exist in central and southern Nicaragua.

Trogons exhibit similar behavior and physical structure: They are arboreal birds of medium size with compact bodies, short necks, short stout bills and short legs. The plumage is unusually soft and delicate.

All males exhibit glittering green, blue or violet upper plumage while the breast is a contrasting red, yellow or orange. Females have a more muted coloration dominated by tones of brown, gray or slate.

Since first being described in literature in 1830, the quetzal has been assigned at least 10 different names including: Trogon pavoninus, Trogon resplendens, Calurus resplendens, Caluras paradiseus and Pharomacrus paradiseus.

Today scientists identify the quetzal with the name Pharomacrus Mocinno. In Latin, Pharo means “light” and Macrus means “big:” bird of big light. Mocinno is the family name of the European naturalist who first obtained study skins of the quetzal. Mocinno was successful in shooting numerous examples and sending them back to Old World academies, which in turn honored him by immortalizing his name.

A Legend In Peril

Most of us are aware that the quetzal is an endangered species. But if the quetzal is just one of perhaps 30 million species on the planet, why would its disappearance be of any great importance? How could this negatively impact humanity and nature?
If the quetzal, one of the most beautiful creatures on Earth, becomes extinct, it will be because we allowed humans to destroy them. Knowing that we are accountable, regardless of the fact that it is one species among many, will be the cause of lasting dishonor and sadness for the human family.

The decline of the quetzal is not an isolated occurrence. It is just one example of what is happening in general to nearly all natural-life systems around the world. The quetzal is in decline because forests where they live are being destroyed. Already more than 80% of the original forests have been eliminated.

There is small relief in the fact that there are more than 50 cloud forest reserves in Mesoamerica that protect the resplendent quetzal’s habitat.

These range from small, private reserve projects such as the one established at Chelemha in Alta Verapaz in Guatemala, to the huge, magnificent El Triunfo Biosphere Reserve in Chiapas, Mexico. Every country in Central America has its own cloud forest protected areas and they are all worthy of a visit.

We hope to preserve enough cloud forest habitat in Central America to ensure that the quetzal may continue to be the living, legendary symbol of freedom.

The trip, whose itinerary included Heaven, Hell and Purgatory, was a long one; Dante needed nine years to write the 14,000 couplets of The Divine Comedy—about four a day. Like Columbus, however, Alighieri traced a heritage from that nation with the most charming of cartographies, the boot of Italy.

I spent some of my childhood in Europe—literally, not just vicariously—where my uncontested favorite of the dozen countries we stayed in was Italy. Decades after my last departure, I remain stricken with things Italian, and understand what drives the worldwide Società named in Dante’s honor.

You may start with the cars, the eats, the history, the marbled fountains, or the lore of culture that Italy, as the locus of Western Civilization, has contributed to humanity. But you end with the literature and language. Italian (and its Florentine dialect, the lingua franca among Italians worldwide) is to my ear the loveliest of tongues. Sweet, musical, expressive—yet threatened with under-appreciation.

In 1889, Italian businessmen and scholars, anticipating this, founded the Società Dante Alighieri. The original mission was to bolster ties between the pioneers of the Italian diapora, by then underway, and the old country. When you disembarked in New York or Melbourne or Tripoli, the local Società comitato (“committee”) was your first stop.

Today there are over 500 committees in Italy and abroad, although their mission today is more to advance consciousness of Italy among non-Italians, through language courses and cultural events.

This is easy enough in, say, Argentina, where over half of the population has an Italian surname. There, every self-respecting city has a comitato, and the stamp of Italiana, from manners to neoclassical architecture, is profound.

But the Dante Alighieri Society is also in Guatemala, where the stamp, though lighter than in Argentina, is deeper than you might expect. This month, it is celebrated as the Society marks its golden anniversary on the 13th. You need not be a veteran Italophile to attend the events.

Canadian-Guatemalan opera maven Barbara Bickford, vice president of the Guatemala comitato from 1972-1974, was instrumental (along with then-president Angela Paniagua) in broadening the committee’s emphases by adding music and opera to literature, language and the visual arts. One of her latest projects has been to develop, on her own nickel, a chorus of 12-14 Mayan operatic voices of Italian music, a group set to perform later this year during Christmas events.

Bickford, like the Society itself, is strictly “non-profit.” Not surprisingly, the presentations of Italian music this month at the Italian Club in Guatemala City’s zone 10 will have free admission.
“But arrive early,” she says, “there’s always a crowd, and you may have to stand.”

Showcases Mushrooms and Temescales

If snack wrappers blemishing the Guatemalan countryside dishearten you, take heart. There are places you can go where litter is not only unseen, its demise is being plotted.

They are snapshots of Guatemala’s glory before the modern container revolution. And, primero Dios, they are foretastes of the coming restoration of that glory.

The revolution in question sprung upon Guatemala only a generation ago. Sugary drinks, salt-laden crunchies and puffed pig fat began appearing on tienda shelves, attired in zany, mass-market packaging. They were still a poor value, but at least cheap enough to be occasionally within the reach of almost everyone.

Unlike a banana wrapper, however, these synthetic skins had a way of sticking around long after their usefulness. Indeed, those discarded 30 years ago are still with us, marring roadsides and bulking out clandestine dumps.

“One reason,” says Brittany Sickler, “is that people may take for granted that such packaging [unlike organic peels, etc.], decomposes.”

The North Dakotan Peace Corps volunteer says that she herself goes to the mercado and buys blocks of cheese and other foods wrapped in “organic” packaging like milpa leaves.

Sickler labors alongside Guatemalans at the Corazón del Bosque (Heart of the Forest) reserve in the village of Novillero, at kilometer 145 on the Panamerican Highway. This education and reforestation center, which covers about 40 hectares in Sololá Department, is one of eight such projects in the province. They operate through the cooperation of several governmental agencies with Vivamos Mejor, a Panajachel-based NGO.

Most of the reserved areas are in lakeshore communities such as Santa María Visitación, with the one in Novillero being an exception. The Novillero site, however, is an ideal showcase for the entire campaign, located as it is on the most-traveled highway in Guatemala. Garbage is nowhere to be seen—save for in receptacles, and even most of that is sorted onsite for recycling.

The presentation at the education building is targeted to schoolchildren, whom the educators consider the conscience and future of Guatemalan environmentalism. It begins with a video of a puppeteer mimicking a whimsical bird with his own painted hands. The bird, unfettered by limits of time and space, shows the wasteland that Guatemala might become if erosion and deforestation continue unabated. This is followed by an orientation to tree planting, technical yet geared to young minds.

The youngsters are then taken to an area where a special hole in the ground has been prepared for each one, and given a tree—pine, cypress, broadleaf oak or the endangered pinabete—and allowed to put their learning into practice.

Vivamos Mejor executive Estuardo Girón speaks of the eight reserves as a circuit that he expects nature aficionados will someday follow. He admits that not all of the other seven “bosques” are as developed as the Novillero one. But eventually, he foresees all of them boasting a similar array of attractions.

Aside from the education center, these include nature trails, rental cabins, a restaurant, picnic areas, a playground, herbalist and cooking classes, appropriate technology exhibits, Mayan altars that are in regular use, nurseries for trees and edible fungi, and a line of handicrafts featuring such unique items as vases woven from pine needles. The restaurant offers international, típico and vegetarian fare; there is even rabbit creole and a locally famous mushroom entrée prepared by the chef, “Grandma Rosa.”

One of the appropriate technology applications saw a setback because of the May rainstorms.

“We actually had a miniature hydroelectric project,” says Sickler. “It was not only a learning tool, but it provided about half of the electricity for Corazón del Bosque.”

Sadly, the rainstorm breached the little dam that was built across the small river crossing the bosque. But the other appropriate technologies on display are still up and running, such as small animal husbandry and wall construction using bottles filled with—what else?—snack wrappers. This latter form of reclamation has long been pioneered by German activist Susana Heisse, founder of the bosque reserve in San Marcos la Laguna.

The presentations are given to visitors on a drop-in basis, but perhaps the best way to experience the Corazón del Bosque is to overnight there at one of the cabins. These are at the end of trail, in the pine-scented heights. Each has an attached private temescal, or Mayan sauna, in the form of a dome made of stones. The cabins also have kitchenettes and outdoor dining facilities. Children are reported to love the three-level bunk beds.

For more information about visiting or volunteering at Corazón del Bosque, call 7723-4140, or go to www.corazondelbosque.com

Rossmery Jocón displays a candleholder and some of the pine-needle típico of Corazón del Bosque.

The only instance, in the entire Spanish conquest of the Americas, when the local chieftain was permitted to retain the power of government.

By the year 1543, after several unsuccessful military expeditions against the warlike Q’eqchi’ Indians, the Spanish conquerors were desperate. At the same time, it had become evident to the chieftain of chieftains of the Q’eqchi’s—Aj Pop’o Batz—the ruler of Tuzulutlan (the Land of War), that the Spanish invaders could not be forever held off by force of arms.

Although he commanded one of the fiercest tribes of the Maya race, Aj Pop’o Batz was as wise as he was courageous. He decided to try to find some political modus vivendi to the crisis presented by the Spanish conquest. As a first step, he gave one of his daughters in marriage to the chief of Zacapulas, who had already been converted to Christianity, and he thereby opened a channel of communication to the Dominican priests under the direction of Father Bartolomé de las Casas.

At about the same time, Father Bartolomé, a defender of the Indians against the excesses of the conquest, had obtained a commission from the crown of Spain to send missionary priests to Tuzulutlan to try to bring the Indians peaceably to the cross and crown. Las Casas sent three Dominican priests, Juan de Torres, Luis Cancer and Pedro de Angulo, to the land of war. And these three, bearing gifts and a band of musicians from Mexico, journeyed to Tuzulutlan, establishing missions and baptizing converts as they went.

By the time they arrived at the capital of Tuzulutlan (now San Juan Chamelco) in May 1543, they were already able to speak Q’eqchi’, and they were cordially welcomed by Aj Pop’o Batz and his lords. Aj Pop’o Batz quickly accepted conversion to Christianity, and had himself baptized with the name Juan Matalbatz on June 24 (the day of St. John the Baptist). He also directed all the members of his tribe to be baptized as well.

This conversion of their chieftain caused great consternation among the Q’eqchi’ people, who lamented the loss of their own god Tzul-tak’a (mountain valley).
As a consequence, there were in the beginning (and down through the years) attempted revolts by disaffected Q’eqchi’s against Juan Matalbatz, which he put down by whatever means necessary. He protected the Dominican missionaries with his life and forged a firm alliance with them.

In February 1545 Juan Matalbatz and several of his lords journeyed to Spain under Dominican auspices and were received at the court of the Holy Roman Emperor, King Charles V. They presented the king with gifts, including 2,000 quetzal feathers and live, singing birds in cages. The king was delighted, and observing the Indians’ meager garments in the cold climate of Madrid he praised them as “men of steel.” He in turn presented them with religious images for their churches, silver crosses and censers, and the bronze bell which still hangs in the church of San Juan Chamelco.

Just as Juan Matalbatz found it necessary to keep his followers in line, so too did Bartolomé de Las Casas have to vigilantly guard against incursions by other Spanish colonists, who generally treated the Indians brutally. He maneuvered adroitly in both Guatemala and the Spanish court to make Tuzulutlan a Dominican fiefdom, answerable only to the crown.

These efforts were successful, and in September 1554 the Dominicans installed Juan Matalbatz as the first provincial governor. This is the only instance, in the entire Spanish conquest of the Americas, when the local chieftain was permitted to retain the power of government. As governor, Juan Matalbatz was even granted the right to arrest and punish Spanish transgressors of the law, which was considered a great affront by the conquistador mentality of the time.

The great alliance of the Spanish and Q’eqchi’s was celebrated in 1548 by the change in name of the province from Tuzulutlan (land of war) to Verapaz (true peace). Although there was always friction between the two races—even rebellions at times through the years—the Verapaz basically escaped the violent upheavals that characterized the conquest elsewhere.

Communal Indian ownership of the land was respected, and the Q’eqchi’s preserved their own language and culture to a remarkable degree. To this day it is assumed in the Verapaz that a Ladino will speak Q’eqchi’, not that an Indian will speak Spanish.

The Dominican rule endured until the mid-18th century, and thereafter the sheer physical isolation of the Verapaz from the rest of Guatemala shielded it from the revolutions of the 19th century. It was not until the 1880s, under President Justo Rufino Barrios, that the land of the Verapaz was finally expropriated from its Indian owners, thus ending the accord originally forged by Juan Matalbatz and Bartolomé de las Casas.

Nevertheless, the synchronism of these two powerful men of peace made what is now Alta Verapaz an island of relative tranquility in the turbulent sea of the conquest during the three centuries that followed them.

written by Guillermo Zuleta

Despite my name, Spanish is my second language. I thought I knew it well enough, having taken lessons and having spent time in Spain, Chile and Argentina. I thought I could hold a conversation with any native speaker!

It was my second month working in a bar in Guatemala; as a bartender I had the opportunity to meet a lot of people. Some came with friends and had little or nothing to share with the man behind the bar, but others simply needed someone who would listen and talk … and I certainly enjoy both activities.

It was on a Monday night, I remember it clearly because the place was nearly empty. This young man sat by the bar drinking beer and I asked a simple “how is it going?”

I certainly didn’t expect to get a free lesson of what I call Chapiñol, it is maybe 50 percent Spanish and 50 percent Chapinismos. His name was Miguel and he started throwing phrases like: tengo un gran clavo or me echan el muerto. I simply replied yes and/or no, but in truth I had no idea what he was talking about, “I have a big nail” What ???

So, I wrote some of the phrases I heard that night and asked my Spanish-Chapin speaking friends to help me out.

(Ser) Pura lata: literally (to be) like a can; (to be) pure tin. No, they are not talking about how your body looks like nor is it that your skin is particularly hard. The phrase means that one is tough or insensitive, and it is used regularly when one makes a cruel joke or makes fun of others. E.g. ¡No seas pura lata con tu amigo! (Don’t be cruel to your friend!)

Estar colgado (alguien): lit. To be hung (someone). Somehow it does imply a bit of pain, not in the neck, but in the heart if the one with whom one is in love doesn’t feel the same, as it means that someone is in love. E.g. Manuel está colgado de Karin. (Manuel is in love with Karin.)

Ser un huevón: lit. To be a big egg. Well, again, not describing the physical appeal, rather talking about those who can easily beat any record, as long as it is about laziness. This phrase, which is particularly popular, describes someone who wouldn’t work, study or perform activities that require action. I was told that this can be a bit offensive, but that depends on how it is said and, of course, if the one who says it is familiar to the lucky one who is described. E.g. ¡Qué huevón sos! (How lazy you are!)

Vos no la hacés: lit. You do not do it? You do not make it? I am honest here, best as they tried to explain it, I still don’t understand how that phrase could mean: I cannot believe what you do. It is not acceptable that you do that, when they are actually saying that one doesn’t do it. E.g. Vos no la hacés, ¡ya no tenés dinero! (You are crazy! You already ran out of money! )

Mirá pues: lit. Look then. Okay, look. I know this might seem pretty clear, but one starts to wonder if one has totally understood it after hearing it over and over. It is some kind of key phrase to start every second sentence. I think it is the equivalent to our: so or the famous you know. In any event, if you hear it, don’t turn your face around trying to see something, just pay close attention and you will be fine. E.g. Mirá pues, esto es fácil. (Okay, look, this is easy.)

Tener un gran clavo: If you hear someone saying “tengo un gran clavo” (lit. I have a big nail), don’t think they are talking about a tool that will break some world records, that expression usually means that someone has a big problem. Therefore, if the phrase goes: “no hay clavo,” (lit. there is no nail), you will know that it implies that everything is fine or that things go well. E.g. Tengo un gran clavo con mis padres! (I have a big problem with my parents.)

Echarle el muerto (a alguien): lit. To throw (to pour?) the dead one (over someone). Thank God, it has nothing to do with real dead bodies! It simply implies that you, or more conveniently someone else, is seen as guilty. It is very common that someone wants to put the blame on someone else. In that case, the one who will not take it would say: a mí no me echen el muerto. E.g. ¡Siempre me echan el muerto cuando algo sale mal! (They always blame me when things go wrong!)

Ahí la llevo: lit. I carry it there. Again, something similar to “mirá pues,” there is not actual “it” that you can see, watch or look at. It is generally used to say things are just fine, not too good, not too bad. This is a probable reply to questions such as: “¿Cómo estás?” or “¿Cómo te va?” (How are you? How is it going? Respectively) This phrase has close relatives: “pues ahí voy” (lit. Well, there I go) or “pues ahí va”, (lit. Well, there it goes) which basically mean the same. E.g. ¿Cómo te va Manuel? – Pues, ahí la llevo. (How is it going Manuel? — Well, I am just fine.)

Even though the list goes on and on, there are concepts that I found too difficult to understand; others… well, I guess Revue cannot publish such phrases, but they are really funny and/or clever. I think that is what makes regional expressions really special.

Lake Atitlan (photo by Jack Houston)

Turning a short visit into a long-lasting memory

Volcanoes. Lakes. Archeology and architecture. History and culture. Ziplines. Coffee plantations. UNESCO World Heritage sites. Plus, of course, shopping. Guatemala has all these attractions for tourism. But what about the tourist who has only a few days and less than $300? Yes, with planning and time management, that tourist can have a comprehensive Guatemala experience.

As an example, a well-established tour company recently offered a four-night package that begins on Friday night at a four-star hotel near the airport in Guatemala City. After included airport pick-up, travelers are on their own for the day. Depending on arrival time, they might opt for a visit to the historic center or artisans’ market or maybe just recoup at the hotel pool.

The package includes a sumptuous buffet breakfast before Saturday 9 a.m. departure for La Antigua, with commentary along the way for a group of about 10. First stop is a hotel-museum where the guide points out the old and the new, revealing restoration of the Dominican monastery established in the 16th century. By this time cameras are out clicking at burial places, colonial kitchen facilities, fountain and gardens.

A short walk leads to a workshop for a talk on the discovery of jade in Guatemala. After a shot of coffee and a few minutes to shop, the walk continues, toward Volcano Agua with a brief history along the way about the founding of the town in 1542. There’s a visit to the tomb of Santo Hermano Pedro, Central America’s first and to-date only saint, at the San Francisco Church, and the cameras keep clicking.

The van is waiting for a drive across town—without stops to ensure staying on schedule—past Central Park, the Cathedral and Palace of the Captains General, then on to the La Merced Church. Following must-take photos of the baroque façade, there’s a visit inside to see the 17th century Jesús Nazareno image viewed in procession by thousands every Good Friday, a look at the monastery fountain, the largest in Central America, and then it’s up to the terrace for a birds’ eye view of the town.

Almost gratefully, the group boards the van for Chichicastenango, glad for time to check photos and process images in their heads before a lunch break at Tecpán—where some hardcore shoppers escape and forfeit food for shopping.

After comfortable and quick check-in at the Chichicastenango inn, conveniently located near the Santo Tomás Church and market, each one does his own thing: wander through the gardens and the town, visit the church, people-watch with coffee…or get a head start on shopping. After choosing a simple or not-so-simple dinner, tired travelers cozy-up by stone fireplaces in rooms furnished with antiques and stocked with wood and candles, reviewing a full day, a full camera and fast-filling-up shopping bags before snuggling under welcome woolen blankets for the night.

Waiters in typical dress serve Sunday breakfast. The market is beginning to bustle, and flower-filled steps of the church lure visitors inside to incense-scented ceremony. But the van leaves at 11, so there’s no time to dawdle. Following a flurry of sights, smells and sounds, satisfied shoppers head for Panajachel, enjoying lush highland scenery along the way.

With wise planning the van bypasses the shopping and heads straight for a launch to take the 10 to the lakeside village of Santa Catarina, where they experience distinctive blue-and-green crafts and clothing. A terrace lunch refuels, with time to absorb the beauty of Lake Atitlán before returning to Guatemala City.

Early evening arrival back at the hotel offers time to reorganize, choose among many close-by dinner options and reflect on another full day, getting a grip on the fact that arrival here was only one night ago, and there’s only one day left with this package. That day is free to spend as each traveler chooses.

Some leave early for an optional one-day trip to Tikal and back. Some choose to climb active Volcano Pacaya and are picked up after that bountiful buffet breakfast. Yet others get a cab to Constitution Square to spend the day freestyle, visiting the Metropolitan Cathedral, the National Palace and the old Post Office, stopping for lunch in a historic hotel. Other options include the zoo, the Ethnic or History and Archeology Museum or a guided tour of the city. Of course there’s the market, or one might choose to spend the day soaking up the sun poolside at the hotel. Whatever the choice, the day—and the tour—is over all too soon.

One last evening and night, one last buffet breakfast and then it’s off to the airport. It was for sure a whirlwind tour. There’s much more to enjoy in Guatemala, and certainly any of the sites in this sample tour deserve more time. But when time and budget are limited, yes, it is possible to get a pretty good idea about what Guatemala has to offer and whet the appetite for a return visit.

photos by Jack Houston

This two-letter word in English has more meanings than any other two-letter word. The word is ‘UP.’ It is listed in the dictionary as an [adv], [prep], [adj], [n] or [v].

It’s easy to understand UP, meaning toward the sky or at the top of the list, but when we awaken in the morning, why do we wake UP?
At a meeting, why does a topic come UP? Why do we speak UP, and why are the officers UP for election and why is it UP to the secretary to write UP a report?

We call UP our friends, brighten UP a room, polish UP the silver, warm UP the leftovers and clean UP the kitchen. We lock UP the house and fix UP the old car.

At other times this little word has really special meaning. People stir UP trouble, line UP for tickets, work UP an appetite, and think UP excuses. To be dressed is one thing but to be dressed UP is special.

And this UP is confusing: A drain must be opened UP because it is stopped UP. We open UP a store in the morning but we close it UP at night. We seem to be pretty mixed UP about UP!

To be knowledgeable about the proper uses of UP, look UP the word UP in the dictionary. In a desk-sized dictionary, it takes UP almost 1/4 of the page and can add UP to about thirty definitions.

If you are UP to it, you might try building UP a list of the many ways UP is used. It will take UP a lot of your time, but if you don’t give UP, you may wind UP with a hundred or more.

When it threatens to rain, we say it is clouding UP. When the sun comes out we say it is clearing UP. When it rains, it soaks UP the earth. When it does not rain for awhile, things dry UP. One could go on and on, but I’ll wrap it UP, for now …my time is UP! Now I’ll shut UP.

written by Dorothy Kethle

I send a lot of emails. Sometimes it’s articles, sometimes it’s photographs, sometimes it’s jokes. Occasionally I write a proper letter. I do this in part because I live thousands of miles from most of my friends. I do this in part because I’m retired and have time. But I do it the most because life is uncertain, and I want the people I love to know I think of them often and care about them. I do it because many of the people I care about are going through difficult times, and I want to send a little joy and laughter across the miles. I want them to stop worrying about finances, about politics, about the mortgages, the lost jobs, the health problems, if only for a minute, and laugh, or look at a pretty picture—just for a minute—and to know there’s someone out there who is thinking about them, who loves them, who cares.

I don’t send the same things to the same people. I don’t have “lists.” I go through my addresses and select the ones who will appreciate a particular item. I have friends who, to varying degrees, like birds, from “interested” to “passionate.” A friend sent me a wonderful site with pictures of hundreds of birds. You click on the bird and the bird’s call plays. (Drove my cat wild one evening. He circled the computer for about 10 minutes and then settled down on the keyboard, which, of course, broke the connection.) Anyway, I sent it to three or four people, including a former colleague I hadn’t been in touch with for a long time.

Then there’s my friends who like archaeological stuff, which is one of my passions. They get the latest on El Mirador, but not the birds. Those interested in politics get tidbits not found on the evening news. The cooks get recipes; the gardeners, info on plants, especially ones I’ve encountered here in the tropics. (Since many have been snowbound this winter, it’s nice to let them know the whole world isn’t icy and snowy.) Even the jokes are selective, because some friends have a bizarre sense of humor, some like puns, some like political jokes, and some are eclectic, like me. It’s a lot like shopping for gifts for my friends. I’d never buy the same thing for everyone; I’d choose something that fits their individual personality, something I think they’d like that they might otherwise not have, something that lets them know I “see” them and appreciate them.

I love it when someone e-mails me back to say they liked what I sent, but I don’t expect it. I know everyone’s busy and I just mainly wanted to let them know I was thinking of them and, ideally, made them laugh. Laughter is so important. When I’m feeling down and someone sends a really good joke, it can change my whole day. Sometimes, if I’m really down, I have to wait until I feel better before I read it. But most of the time, I can’t wait to get my daily laughs and giggles. We can’t live without laughter, at least not really live. It helps put things in perspective somehow. It shows us what we can do something about and what we can’t. It reminds us we have a heart.

Sometimes I worry that I send too many emails. But not for long. I figure if my friends don’t want to read them, they don’t have to. Deleting is easy. No blame, as the I Ching says. I’ll never know, and even if I did, it wouldn’t bother me. They still know I was thinking of them, that they’re important to me. It’s the acknowledgement of friendship that’s important, not the content. I do try to indicate when something is a letter, so that will get read and ideally responded to, if not immediately, somewhere down the line.

So that’s why I send a lot of emails. And I hope my friends realize that motivation. I’d feel bad if someone was sick, unhappy, lonely, or worse and I didn’t know it and I hadn’t sent my little offering of love and reminder of friendship, even if it was deleted unread. They’d still know I was thinking of them, and that’s ultimately what’s important.

text and photos by Brent Holmes

This mighty, pre-classic city flourished hundreds of years before more famous classic sites such as Tikal. It was bigger by far. “The designation ‘classic’ should really apply to the pre-classic sites. Those classic guys never built anything like this,” says Dr. Richard D. Hansen “The Olmec, rather than the mother civilization of Mesoamerica, are now better considered a sister.”

I finally made my dream trip, by helicopter, to El Mirador. Thirty-five minutes by air vs. three days walking and/or mule ride makes the trip feasible for someone like me, not a lot of time, out of shape and pushing 68! Our group of 12 was ferried by chopper in lots of four from Flores Petén to the site. Dr. Hansen acted as our guide for the next 24 hours and gave generously of his knowledge and time. His passion is contagious. So far he has spent 25 years on El Mirador. He was a great host, even giving up his bungalow to five of the visitors while he slept in a tent.

El Mirador is one of the most significant Mayan sites and a must visit for those of us who are so fanatic about our studies of the Maya. Why is it so special?

For starters, El Mirador covers 38 square miles; it is larger than the city of Los Angeles. The temples at El Mirador are huge. El Tigre is larger than all of Tikal’s temples 1, 2, the acropolis and the central plaza—combined!

The El Mirador basin is larger still, encompassing territory northward beyond the Mexican border. It includes some 51 other cities, to name a few: Nakbe, Tintal, Paixsbán, Xucnal and Wakna, all pre-classic locations. Many cities in the basin were connected to El Mirador by a road system, sacbes. The roads are magnificent examples of the engineering skills of the Maya. They were 15 feet high and 120 feet wide, made of limestone and thickly plastered in white. You can see these roads by air, long straight lines with the foliage slightly elevated over the surrounding jungle. The walking/mule path route into El Mirador utilizes sacbes. A path was cut through the vegetation for man and mule using the base of the sacbes. This is a trip Dr. Hansen says he has made at least 200 times. The project has 126 mules that pack in supplies on a continuous basis.

The idea was to arrive at the summit and watch the sunset. We were late. On descent twilight quickly turned into pitch black. Most had flashlights. I did not. The path consists of partly wood stairs, a rope, vines, loose rocks and small tree stumps, two inches by six inches or so. My fellows tried to help, shining the light and calling out warnings, but, of course I slipped. I rolled sideways; I grabbed and started to roll downward but was caught by a fellow climber, averting a chain reaction affecting eight others below me. I did make it safely down but lost whatever ego I had on the way up.

We were rewarded by a visit to the adjacent Structure #34. This is a small temple that has been extensively tunneled. A string of ceiling lights, powered by a portable generator, provided light throughout the tunnel. I entered the tunnel behind Dr. Hansen. We were given hard hats, and it took about five seconds before the first crash onto the low ceiling. I was told to turn left and keep going until told to stop. “Do you see the stairs?” “Yes,” I replied, but I said I had no desire to go up them. No problem, he just wanted us to see the stairs of the original temple inside the temple. It was hot, humid, and if you had any claustrophobia, it was over-the-top challenging. All in single file, we turned around in the very narrow, low-ceilinged, not-shored-up tunnel and proceeded in the opposite direction. The group ahead of me (I was now in the rear) sort of crouch-walked past the entrance path. I smelled fresh air and decided I could miss the rest of the tunnel tour. The group stayed another 30 minutes, saw the temple inside the temple, with swimming carrying his father’s head, returning from the underworld. The frieze is of limestone and plaster, all covered with a pure white powder. But when Dr. Hansen wet his finger and touched the powder, a blood-red color came through. This monument was painted red, as was almost all in the city. The frieze is in nearly perfect condition and deserves a permanent protective covering, or a building to house it. Cost is $150,000. Donations gratefully accepted!

The next morning the group split up. We were four who wanted to visit Tikal. So together with Dr. Hansen we took the first flight out. He pointed out the sacbes and other cities that appeared as mere bumps on the distant landscape. He showed us the cleared areas that were actually bajos or swamps, as the Maya had encountered 2,600 years ago and made into fertile agricultural fields. He showed us massive present-day deforestation, the illegal encroachment into the park for lumbering or cattle grazing (narco cattle he called them), miles and miles of forest cleared. He talked with twinkle in his eye, proud of his project and left us greatly appreciative and impressed.

We arrived in time for Dr. Hansen’s 9:30 a.m. lecture at a conference room just off the helipad. The lecture hall was full, awaiting the rather dramatic arrival of Dr. Hansen, stepping off the chopper. Dr. Hansen returned to El Mirador after his lecture while we continued on to Tikal.

The Tikal trip was really interesting because of the comparisons: excavated and restored vs not; Classic vs. pre-classic. Visiting the famous central plaza flanked by two acropolis and temples 1 and 2 made it incredible to realize that all this could fit under El Tigre of El Mirador. It made us really appreciate, once again, the massive size of El Mirador.

So now I can say I have made it to El Mirador. If anyone wants to go, give me a call. Maybe we can make another trip, but I will not climb temples in the dark, and I will bring a good flashlight.

Note from the author: Any factual errors are mine, not Dr. Hansen’s.

Bougainvillea Sampler (photo Rudy Girón/AntiguaDailyPhoto.Com)

written by S.C. Johnson

Sometime, before my time, I believe it was in the 1930s when minds were preoccupied with the Great Depression, everybody had to have a national or a state flower. Now mostly, nobody even knows what they are. I was at a British pub quiz night recently and our Swedish team member had no idea what the Swedish national flower happens to be.

In Guatemala the national flower is the monja blanca, a delicate orchid that will never see the light of day in La Antigua Guatemala’s fine plant nurseries (too hot and illegal, too). So, in my opinion, I think the monja blanca’s time has come and gone and it should be replaced.

A national flower should be national in distribution. The monja blanca, confined to a few isolated mosslands is not. A national flower should be easily recognizable, especially by children, the future. Let’s face it, if a monja blanca knocked on your door, you wouldn’t recognize it. “Hello, who are you?”

Enter my candidate for the new national flower, the instantly recognizable and ubiquitous-in-Guatemala bougainvillea. No shrinking violet, the bougainvillea evokes the term my mother used for it every morning, the “wow!” flower. If one knocks on your door, you will say, “Wow! It’s bougainvillea!”

And bougainvillea has some special attributes that endear it. We have all looked up, and up and up and up, and seen bougainvillea growing high in other trees. How did it get 60, 70, 100 feet up? Since it has no tendrils with which to grasp, bougainvillea must grow out and flop over a nearby branch, ever higher and higher. A true triumph of perseverance.

Not only does bougainvillea achieve the seemingly impossible by climbing without tendrils, it is easy to start and can easily grow 10 meters in a season. There is no better flower to show a child how to start a plant, which can become a lifelong love. Simply cut a 10- to 14-inch piece, not too green, and stick it in sunny, moist ground, thorns pointing down. Within a few weeks buds will appear on the stem and your new bougainvillea is off to the races.

Bougainvillea makes an impenetrable barrier against intruders, although birds flit in and out to their nests, safe from cats, weasels or other predators.

What you think is a flower is the showy bract, with the tiny real flower in the center. Just follow the hummingbirds.

Build a bower of bougainvillea, the sunlight filtering through the bracts is truly ethereal.

Where can you find bougainvillea? You can “borrow,” with permission of course, cuttings from a neighbor. Guatemala’s spectacular plant nurseries always have bougainvillea available.

Up over the hill from Guatemala’s colonial capital or down the Pacific road from Guatemala City, about 16 kilometers from each, is the national agricultural university at Barcenas. Rows and rows of flowers and other plants are available for sale, including mature bougainvillea. Barcenas is a national treasure, free to enter and a fantasyland for plant enthusiasts.

Here is my bougainvillea dream. There are over 200 classified colors of bougainvillea. My prior favorite was San Diego Red, until a beautiful English blonde from York, near Carlisle of course, bought me a beautiful yellow bougainvillea in Oaxaca. I dream of someone reading this paean to the new national flower, discovering a new shade and classifying it as La Antigua Amarillo, propagating it and making it world famous.

text & photos by Gwyn Lawrence

For most people, the birthing process starts in the quiet, sterile, environment of a delivery room. For a camioneta, it starts in the noisy chaos of an auction room deep in the United States.

U.S. school buses are typically sold when they reach 10 years old or 150,000 miles. The manufacturers estimate that this is about halfway through their normal working life. At this point they are put up for auction. Since demand in the United States is quite low, most used school buses are exported. Different countries have different requirements depending on the intended use and topography. Agents for Guatemalan buyers review the lists of buses, looking for something very rare and quite specific. They would like an International Harvester chassis with a DT 466 engine, manual transmission, air brakes and a Bluebird conventional 10-window body. As 95 percent of U.S. school buses have automatic transmissions and hydraulic brakes, this configuration is hard to find. Even harder are two that are the same. The reason the agent wants twins is that the two buses are then chained together and one driver takes them to the U.S. / Mexico border. The only border crossing that is available for commercial vehicles transiting Mexico is Brownsville/Matamoros. So to the purchase cost has to be added the drive to the Mexican border. Delivery costs in the U.S. are 95 cents per mile.

The Mexicans have a bonding system that allows the conjoined twins to transit Mexico to the Guatemalan border. After a 1,200-mile journey across Mexico, import taxes and IVA must be paid before the convoy is allowed into Guatemala. The two buses then continue to one of the many conversion workshops outside La Antigua Guatemala in Ciudad Vieja and San Miguel Dueñas. Here the buses are going to be converted from U.S. school buses into Guatemalan camionetas, aka “chicken buses” — a gringo term for these converted, brightly painted U.S. school buses that travel between cities.

The transformation starts in the workshop. All the windows and seats are removed. If the bus has more than 10 windows, the shop will cut a 13-window body down to 10 and move the rear axle accordingly. If the motor is the usual wimpy 7.3-liter diesel, it will be removed and replaced by the 10-liter Caterpillar 3208. If the transmission is automatic, it is replaced with a six-speed manual. Often the single-speed rear axle is replaced with a two-speed. The hood is adapted for a chrome grill. A roof rack complete with access ladders is bolted to the roof. A destination board is placed above the windshield. Any rust is removed, and the interior and exterior are primed and painted. The company name is then added. Luggage racks are installed inside the vehicle. Finally, new (longer) seats go back in, and the windows are replaced. Some companies then add chrome, spotlights, antennas and a CD player. The “new” bus is inspected and put into service.

As is the case anywhere in the world, different shops work to different standards. When I first thought of bringing buses down from the U.S. for conversion, I sat at the Antigua bus station (behind the market) and watched all the different companies come and go. I finally decided that one company’s buses looked better than all the others. Six days a week for six weeks I watched the conversion process. Frankly, the workmen in the conversion shop owned by Esmeralda are some of the best I have encountered anywhere in the world. These people know buses. For them, shortening a bus body and adding a balcony on the back is, literally, all in a day’s work.
The bus now goes to work for a living. Instead of the light-duty work of taking kids to and from school Monday to Friday, the bus is ready for a far more arduous schedule: 14 hours a day, seven days a week, hauling people and their possessions over the mountains. Doubling the horsepower and having 12 forward speeds now starts to make sense. The first bus to the bus stop makes the money. The driver and his assistant (ayudante) need the bus to be full to make a decent wage. Not all companies keep their buses in good condition. As a general rule, if the company can afford chrome bumpers and a fancy paint job, it can also afford good tires and new brake linings. Buses on the more lucrative routes (Guatemala City to La Antigua) tend to be in better shape than buses on the less-traveled rural routes. The bus in Guatemala does more work in one day than a U.S. school bus does in a week.

So how about the belching black smoke and accidents? The smoke is a function of poor-quality fuel and deferred maintenance. Accidents are often the result of a combination of inadequate maintenance and driver error.

The answer, as always, is driver education and regular maintenance. Having brought two buses down from the States, having them converted and then returning them to the U.S., do I travel on “chicken buses” in Guatemala? You bet I do. But I do tend to use Esmeralda and Orellana, because I have seen, first hand, the quality of work undertaken by these companies. I choose these companies not because they are the only choices, but they are the only companies where I have spent hundreds of hours personally watching mechanics, fabricators, electricians, welders and painters do what they do best: give birth to a brand new and incredibly colorful camioneta!

First published in Revue: February, 2007

Pana, unlike La Antigua, is no predictable grid. There are countless blind corners and weird angles, all inviting, particularly in Uptown, or Old Pana, the town’s oldest quarter (downtown, or “El Centro” is considered the spot where Calle Santander starts). Uptown is the most walkable part of Pana, and its corners beckon to be rounded and savored with the slowness that only pedestrians can succor.

Uptown is eclectic, given its compactness. I could argue that visitors to Pana have not really visited unless they traipse through Uptown. Everyone strolls Santander and the waterfront, but Uptown is Panajachel at its most authentic. You meet few or no peddlers in Old Pana, and it is an arresting counterpoint to the “touristy” face of that other Pana.

Start at the intersection of Calle Principal and Palopó Road. There sits (1) El Ancla, Pana’s original general store, where they still sell a little of everything that is not perishable, from stationery to fishing line. It is Pana’s oldest retailer in continuous operation, a success owed to the Mazarriegos family’s policy of standing behind everything they sell since 1956.

The next place meriting a stop once occasioned a bizarre exchange for me with a Polish couple. They looked lost, so I offered directions. It seemed that they were asking me if I knew the “Maya Canuck.” Well, I did know Rick McArthur, a Canadian who speaks Maya Kakchikel in his work with Wycliffe translators, and who had been called this. But when I offered to lead them to Rick, they were confounded.

Eventually it dawn-ed that their destination was (2) the Maya Kanek, Panajachel’s oldest hotel, which predates the 1961 electrification of the city by decades. Its lobby, featuring intriguing codex-like murals, is unchanged from the days when it was Uptown’s only comfortable lodging. The “coffee table” is a shellacked slice of a tree trunk. Don Antonio, the affable proprietor, can answer questions about Panajachel history.

A little farther up the street, you find Panajachel’s newest and strangest landmark (3).
“Torchito,” as the statue atop the pedestal is known, was erected in 2007 to commem-orate 50 years of the annual footrace that originally linked Pana with nearby San Andrés Semetabaj; today, the torch is borne all the way to Guatemala City. One of Torchito’s feet is bare, honoring those of the original runners who ran the course on their unshod feet.

Just behind Torchito is (4) Panajachel’s city park. Behind the small, shaded promenades and the sculptures of T-rex and President Barrios, the municipal “palace” perches on a stony platform. There is nothing palatial about the building, but the platform boasts (5) a relief mural carved in 1980 by Jordán Alegría, showing an allegorization of the conquest. On the right, a resplendent, feathered Tecún Umán resists a charge from a mounted Pedro de Alvarado. The latter’s forces, on the left, are a mix of Spaniards and Alvarado’s Tlaxcaltecan (Mexican) allies. It may be my imagination, but the figures on the right seem, by design, of nobler countenance.

Continue up the street to (6) Pana’s new mercado.

The old mercado, a smelly warren of ramshackle stalls, would never have been a stop on any walking tour. Trash and vermin were never far from the wares on sale. But today’s mercado enjoys a planned layout that is a paragon of space utility, airiness, aesthetics and sanitation. The expansive rain shield protects from the elements while allowing full ventilation, as well as full exploitation of natural light. Despite this manicured presentation of a highlands marketplace, no authenticity was sacrificed. You never forget that you are in Guatemala, since all the usual ingredients are present: produce stalls, dry-goods sellers, alcoves of meatcutters, humble diners, clothiers and a local for reed baskets and mats. Your tour should include some roaming here.

A side street leads to (7) the new municipal library, the finest in Sololá Department, and Uptown’s true palace. The library, with its arched windows and wrought-iron grating, replaces an older one that burned down in 2000. It owes its existence to indefatigable American author Ann Cameron and her husband Bill, and doubles as the town museum. Labeled exhibits of historical pictures and textiles adorn the walls and pylons. The most poignant exhibit is a page from one of the 8,000 books destroyed in the fire.

After you exit the library, cross the street toward the Catholic church. Within the elegant gate you can see finely sculpted floral mounds and collared trees. Go right, following the sidewalk to the (8) church plaza, Uptown’s only open space. Pana’s City Hall departs from the norm by sitting behind the church, rather than facing it over a plaza. Open-air and official ceremonies nonetheless take place on this spot: Deer Dances, Catholic processions, and the annual feria all culminate here.

Across the street stands the medieval-looking (9) belfry, believed to be Pana’s oldest edifice. The bell inside, massively cracked, is seldom rung.

From the plaza, enter the (10) church dedicated to St. Francis of Assisi, Pana’s patron. The thick granite walls of the current church, dating from the 1800s, soften the bustle of Panajachel, making the church a favorite interfaith meditation spot.

From the plaza, go south again into Pana’s oldest commercial area, which before the tourist boom of the 80s was home to coffee and grain brokers. Even today the aroma of fresh coffee is piped into this quarter of barbers and tailors by the Roberts family of South Africa, to allure walkers to their (11) Crossroads Café, where premium coffees can be sampled and bought in bulk.

Turn left at the next corner to reach the clinic and (12) gallery of pediatrician Gerardo Barreno, a self-described “Mayaphile.” Dr. Barreno, who charges as little as Q10 for consultations, provides scultptors, painters and artisans with a free showcase that has launched careers. It may be the perfect spot to buy a memento of your walk through Old Panajachel, or, if nothing else, to see Mona Lisa with Maya features.

photos by Shaila Reddy

Chateau DeFay

A rewarding excursion to Guatemala’s first winery to produce wine from locally-grown grapes since colonial times

text and photos by Ira Lewis

Hidden behind a coffee finca on the lower slopes of volcano El Agua is the first winery to produce wine from Guatemalan-grown grapes since colonial times: Chateau DeFay. Jacques and Angie DeFay recently presented their first vintage after years of finding the right grapes, some false starts, lots of very hard work and years of nurturing the vines. The vintage is 2007, but the wines have only just become available to the public.

After a four-kilomoter drive down a dirt road from Santa María de Jesús toward Palín, it comes as quite a surprise to find this turreted chateau, which would be perfectly at home in Bordeaux or Italy. A gate on the left with the discreet initials “CDF” marks the entrance.

The three wines of the first vintage, even coming from young vines, show promise. Could Guatemala be another improbable area that will become a wine-producing country because the right soil and weather conditions exist? It all starts with one winery.

For example, North Carolina was not a wine-producing state 20 years ago. Then tobacco demand fell, a few farms planted grapes and some started to make wine. As the potential became apparent, experienced vintners came into the area and now wine cognoscenti are starting to refer to the North Carolina Piedmont region as the Sonoma Valley of the East Coast.

Jacques DeFay had previously made two visits to Guatemala, totaling about seven weeks, when he was working for the Inter-American Development Bank. When he decided to retire, he and Angie returned to Guatemala to look for a farm where they could grow raspberries. After looking for some time, they bought the coffee finca on the lower slopes of El Agua 10 years ago. There was not enough water for raspberries, but Angie planted asparagus, which she still grows, and presents as a tasty preserve—a very light pickle which enhances the natural flavor of the asparagus.

Even though people said he was crazy, Jacques decided to try grapes, and the first vines were planted nine years ago. Strictly by trial and error, he tried several varieties before finding some that took well to the volcanic soil and the seasonal variations of the area. No one could give advice except “don’t waste your time.”

Once he had his grapes, Jacques drove ahead with his plans for a winery. This was not to be a hobby but rather a serious winery producing the best wine possible from Guatemalan grapes.

A chateau was built which, besides having family living quarters, could also be used for wine tasting, receptions and other events. An 18-hole miniature golf course was placed on the landscaped grounds as well as a round, glassed-in barbeque pavilion.

Stainless-steel winemaking equipment was imported from the United States by way of Italy and France, and an Italian winemaker, Bruno Coppola, was hired to develop the wines. Jacques had worked with very little assistance developing the vines but decided he really needed a trained winemaker to properly control the winemaking process. Coppola was trained in Italy, worked there at his uncle’s winery, then added four more years experience in wineries in the Sonoma Valley and two years in New York, where Jacques met him. He’d gone on to Brazil and then to Italy as a consultant when Jacques persuaded him to come to Guatemala.

The three wines of the first vintage show great promise. Two of the three, Angie’s Blend and White Merlot (rosé) are different from the dry, full-bodied wines most appreciated in Guatemala.

There are other wines of the world, which have different standards and different tastes. They are neither better nor worse—they are different and many are excellent. It is next to impossible to find in Guatemala a Beerenauslese from a top Rhine vineyard, a great Sauterne or a dry Oloroso sherry, because they do not conform to the accepted taste standards.

Angie’s Blend is one of the few dessert wines on the market here. When served with some pieces of good chocolate or a simple pound cake, Angie’s Blend gives you an epicurean dessert. The most expensive wine in the world happens to be a dessert wine, a Sauterne made by the Chateau D’Yquem.

The Germans also use these off-dry, fruity wines to stand up to highly spiced dishes—curry or Kak-Ik. It also works well with strong cheeses.

The French make and enjoy some really excellent rosé. White merlot is a wine to sip and enjoy, a tasty aperitif that starts with a sweetish grape flavor and has a dry aftertaste. It also would go along with mild chicken and other not-so-strong, dishes.

The Chardonnay comes with a strong mineral taste from the volcanic soil. Alongside a good California Chardonnay or a Blanc de Blanc of France, it loses right now. Still it has some levels of taste that show promise. It is worth trying with strong fish dishes or strong boquitas. It should be served very cold. With a few more years to develop, it could become a very good wine.

Visit www.fincadefay.com
Complimentary tastings on Saturdays and Sundays, 10am to 4pm, by appointment only on weekdays. There is also a special tour of the vineyard and winery for approximately $3 per person.
The facility is also open for special events such as weddings and receptions, anniversary parties and graduations.

You can enjoy a tasting of the Chateau DeFay wines at La Casserole on Callejón del Hermano Pedro in Antigua. More varietals are being added each year.

The author in Antigua’s Central Park practicing her newly-learned second language

written by Linda Shaw

Was I really learning Spanish? Sometimes I was discouraged, sometimes I saw progress, but I was ever aware of the privilege of sitting afternoons in a beautiful garden under a prefect blue sky learning a beautiful language.

The day I asked to ride a cowboy was the day I knew I needed help. Traveling in Central America without Spanish-language skills gets a little stressful. I arrived in the region with a grounding in high school French, a smattering of university Italian grammar and a compact Spanish Phrase Finder, confidently planning to travel and pick up a little Spanish along the way.

Ordering breakfast seemed to go well enough in Nicaragua, until someone in San Juan del Sur pointed out that I had been ordering my Thursdays “over easy.” The words jueves and huevos sounding pretty much the same to my gringa ears, I remained smug in having mastered the expression for “over easy.” And though typically eggs did continue to arrive on my plate, I nonetheless felt a growing loss of confidence whenever they arrived scrambled.

My confidence continued to erode until the day it no longer existed in Costa Rica. While contemplating a wonderful horseback ride I’d taken along a white-sand Guanacaste beach, a bad feeling crept over me. I verified it in my dictionary. Yes, at the stable I had indeed asked for a caballero to ride for two hours. Then it made sense why all the stablemen had started to laugh and point at each other. Which gentleman did she fancy? they no doubt discussed. I felt a further humiliation recalling that after giving me a good look up and down, they had quickly saddled up a frisky caballo.

My Fodor’s guide, listing 25 language schools in Guatemala, assured me that this was the Spanish-language teaching capital of the world. Arriving in La Antigua, I started spending every afternoon testing the patience of my wonderful tutor, who would take my French-Italian hybrid imitation of Spanish to something… well, something closer to Spanish.

Learning a new language is neither for the timid nor the middle-aged. Many afternoons I thought that my brain was overheating and sending smoke out my ears. I created a daily ritual of generously offering to treat my tutor to coffee and cake as a device to buy an extra 10-minute break. Mentally exhausted most nights, I’d fall asleep just before 9, color-coded flash cards of irregular verbs dropping from my hands. Was I really learning Spanish? Sometimes I was discouraged, sometimes I saw progress, but I was ever aware of the privilege of sitting afternoons in a beautiful garden under a prefect blue sky learning a beautiful language.

We were interrupted one afternoon by a man who apologetically asked my tutor to find someone from the school office. We had just been reviewing verbs. No doubt conscious of interrupting my paid time, he pressed me to pronounce some verbs while she was gone, pointing at them on the white board. I confidently pronounced the word volver, meaning to return, confidently because we had just been working on its pronunciation. No! he said loudly and emphatically, you just said… something else I couldn’t catch and proceeded to pronounced it just as loudly and emphatically. From my angle with him standing and me sitting I had a good view of the roof of his mouth and most of his dental work. And from my angle I could clearly see the fuller formation of the vowel “o” then the tip of his tongue as it touched the back of his top teeth to form the final “r” sound. It was quite a graphic demonstration. I repeated the verb, with an awareness of what needed changing in my pronunciation. No! he repeated just as empathically and demonstrated again. At that point I resorted to my usual defense mode and giggled. I indulged him by trying again, all the while hoping for my real teacher to volver, more appreciative than ever of having a professional tutor and not someone off the street with little understanding of foreign-language teaching. My tutor and I continued with our afternoon session. At our break I was informed that the man was the university-level oral language examiner for the school. I left early that day just after coffee and cake.

Learning a new language is neither for the timid nor the middle-aged. Many afternoons I thought that my brain was overheating and sending smoke out my ears.

This year 100 percent of the proceeds will go to a local ecological educational and informational project that will concentrate on getting the word out to the nearby population about the cyanobacteria breakout that is threatening the health of Lake Atitlán. On the drawing board are educational cartoon-illustration books for adults who can’t read, ecologically-minded coloring books for kids, ecological material for the schools and an eco-programming schedule for local radio and television broadcasts in Tz’utuil, Kaqchikel and Spanish.

Once again, the roster of performers is quite impressive: festival participants include Iguanamanga (reggae), La Trova del Lago (trova nueva), Grupo Maya Tz’utujil (cofradía music), AjBatz (Kaqchikel rock), Marco Trio Electric (get down boogey), The LeRoy Mack Band (bluegrass), Naik Madera (New Age feminist), Kyla (Latin folklore), Zanates en Stereo (rock chapín), Pablo Robledo (soloist), Steve James (finger-picking guitar), MaF Saenz (soloist) Percush (percussion), Star Maya circus, Grupo Sotzil (Maya dancers), Cósmica de Guatemala … and even more groups soon to be announced. There will be an art gallery offering local paintings for sale that will also benefit this year’s good works recipient, as well as demonstrations: for instance, bring a T-shirt and have the festival logo silkscreened on it while you watch. Kids are definitely not left out … there are some great activities planned for them like flag painting, face painting, a small playground, storytelling and a mini-circus!.

The Festival Atitlán will be held in a beautiful pine forest outside of Santiago Atitlán. Organizers suggest that you plan to come and camp overnight. There will be plenty of security, and the night time jams around the campfire are legendary. If you need a hotel room, make a reservation early because the hotels will fill up. There will be plenty of good food and drink, and if you decide to bring your own, please remember that this is an ecological festival: there are no bottles allowed, and you are asked to avoid plastic. Food will be served on banana leaf and biodegradable plates, beer sold in cans will be recycled by local kids, planners are doing their best to keep the festival’s “footprint” as unobtrusive as possible.

This is undoubtedly the most interesting and eclectic alternative arts festival in Guatemala! Come and join in!

For more information and updates about the festival please visit
www.festivalatitlan.com

text and photo by Maya Moore

Thirteen Threads (TT), a Maya women’s education and empowerment project based in Panajachel, Lake Atitlán, proudly completed its first five years of operations this year. What began as an 18-month pilot project designed to provide resources to 16 groups of artisans working with two fair-trade organizations, Mayan Hands and Maya Traditions, has turned into a valued organization in its own right. Today, TT serves over 400 Maya women from 21 rural Guatemalan communities. 

The mission of Thirteen Threads is to empower organized groups of indigenous women to bring about changes, through their own efforts, that will alleviate the adverse effects of poverty and improve their quality of life. To this end, TT offers trainings and workshops in four focus areas: new and improved artisan skills; democracy and group organization; health and well-being; and small business skills, including micro-credit loans.

Participants consistently express sincere appreciation for the skills and knowledge that TT has given them. Over the past year, TT has offered sewing classes, a soap-making workshop and rug-hooking training using recycled cortes and huipiles. TT’s three community facilitators continue to make monthly visits to each group. This year, the focus has been on group administration for self-sufficiency, including themes on division of responsibilities, management of funds and resolution of conflicts.

TT, as an organization, is growing, as well. An ambitious proposal for the next three years has been developed, presenting a variety of innovative ideas for transitioning into a more democratic and sustainable operation. TT hopes to continue to inspire others and is thankful for all of the dedicated support that it has received for this ever-evolving project.

Wish List
Used laptops, projector, funds to make a film about the project.

For more information on how to volunteer or donate, please visit the Thirteen Threads website, www.oxlajujbatz.org. You can also find the latest project updates on Facebook and Twitter.

All year he hides under the bed or in the junk piled up in the corner, casting misfortune or worse on helpless mortals. But on Monday, Dec. 7 at 6 p.m. sharp, the devil gets his comeuppance, as he is tossed out of the house along with the trash and set ablaze in the Quema del Diablo (Burning the Devil), a tradition in many Guatemalan towns that literally sparks the beginning of the Christmas season. —Juan Carlos Ordóñez

Dec. 7 & 8: Celebrations honoring the Virgen de Concepción featuring elaborate celebrations in Ciudad Vieja with parades and processions, fireworks and folkloric dances and dramas. Traditional food for sale includes estofado and pepián, a traditional Mayan meat dish made with a spicy sauce of chile gaugue and pasa, cilantro, tomato, onion, toasted sesame and pepitoria seeds. The favorite dessert on this holiday is crab apples (manzanillas) prepared en dulce. See related article on page 29 and photo spreads on pages 72 and 76.

Dec. 8 is also the official day for setting up nacimientos (nativity scenes) which is a strong family tradition in Guatemala that requires skill and a lot of patience. The scenes include Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus (who is covered up until the 25th), also shepherds, a mule, an ox, sheep and three late-arriving Wise Kings. The finishing touch, an aromatic chamomile ring, creates the wonderful scent of a typical Guatemalan nativity. Nativities will not be put away until Feb. 2 when the traditional Christmas season comes to an end. —Desireé de Ceballos and Karla Ceballos (Casa de Artes, La Antigua) See related article on page 18.

On Dec. 12 the Virgen de Guadalupe is celebrated throughout the country. Many children dress in indigenous clothing and participate in parades and church blessings. One such procession begins at the La Merced Church in Antigua.

Dec. 15 marks the beginning of nightly Posadas in a reenactment of Mary and Joseph’s journey to Bethlehem. Pilgrims accompany them, singing carols, beating turtle shell drums and playing other typical Guatemalan instruments. They knock on doors seeking shelter but are turned away until they reach the designated home where everyone is invited inside. As the holy couple is bedded down in solemn ceremony, the pilgrims scramble for refreshments. The journey continues to another house the next night, for a total of nine nights.

On the 24th of December, Noche Buena/Christmas Eve, many are doing last minute Christmas shopping, visiting friends, catching buses bound for home. At 10pm the midnight Mass/Misa de Gallo) begins, celebrating the birth of Jesus. When the clock strikes midnight, Navidad / Christmas Day, Dec. 25) is celebrated with prayers, fireworks, good wishes, and traditional food is shared and enjoyed throughout the night. With the dawn comes time for rest, the day is quiet—with the exception of more fireworks and bombas at noon.

The traditional Christmas Eve dinner is tamales and of course punch that includes papayas, pineapple, crab apples, prunes, raisins, cinnamon, cloves and shredded coconut, served hot or cold when friends or family come to call. Hot chocolate is another holiday treat, as are buñuelos, fried puff pastry fritters served with syrup of molasses or brown sugar, anise and cinnamon.

Jan. 1: HAPPY NEW YEAR 2010

Last May, Emma, a 35-year-old mother of nine, passed away from cervical cancer, now considered a sexually-transmitted disease. Her premature death was a terrible and preventable tragedy. After hearing a radio announcement about a WINGS-sponsored screening in Chimaltenango, she came for her first such screening two years ago, but the test revealed Emma had advanced cancer.

Feeling helpless at first because she couldn’t afford any treatment, Emma found great support from WINGS’ staff members, who arranged for her to be seen by a doctor and to receive available treatment, including radiotherapy, from INCAN, the Guatemalan Cancer Institute. Unfortunately, Emma’s cancer was very advanced by the time it was discovered, and the treatment was unsuccessful.

During her lifetime Emma, like 60 percent of Guatemalan women, had never used any contraceptive method because she believed, as do so many people here, that contraceptives cause cancer. After attending the cervical cancer clinic, she learned that this widespread belief was actually a dangerous myth. Until her death, Emma continued to spread the word to other women in her community that all women are at risk for cervical cancer and that cancer is not caused by family planning methods. She encouraged all the women she knew to be screened, telling them that the test could save their lives.

Cervical cancer has a major impact on women’s lives worldwide, particularly in developing countries where it is the leading cause of cancer deaths among women. According to the latest global estimates, 493,000 new cases of cervical cancer occur each year, and 274,000 women die of the disease annually. Because the disease progresses over many years, an estimated 1.4 million women worldwide are living with cervical cancer, and two to five times more—up to 7 million worldwide— may have precancerous conditions that need to be identified and treated.

If it is not detected and treated early, cervical cancer is nearly always fatal. The disease, which affects the poorest and most vulnerable women, sends a ripple effect through families and communities that rely heavily on women’s roles as providers and caregivers. Four out of five new cases, and a similar proportion of deaths, occur in developing countries where screening programs are not well established or effective.

In Guatemala, cervical cancer is the leading cause of cancer-related deaths among women of reproductive age, with 3.77 million Guatemalan women currently at risk for this potentially fatal cancer. Over 60 percent of female cancer cases attended by the National Cancer Institute in Guatemala are cervical cancer, which accounts for more than breast, skin, ovarian and stomach cancers combined.

Cervical cancer is a slow-growing cancer, easily prevented through regular screen ing and treatment of pre-cancerous lesions, which can reduce incidence and mortality by as much as 90 percent. Unfortunately, Guatemala, like most developing countries, has no effective national screening program, and hundreds of Guatemalan women continue to die unnecessarily each year from this preventable disease. Women in poor, rural areas are at especially high risk for cervical cancer due to factors such as unfaithful partners, early initiation of sexual activity, high fertility, poor nutrition and lack of access to health services. More than 75 percent of the women living in Guatemala’s rural areas and poor urban communities have never been screened for cervical cancer.

At least two organizations are working to address the widespread lack of cervical cancer screening services in Guatemala. The Women’s International Network for Guatemalan Solutions (WINGS), an NGO based in La Antigua Guatemala with a mission to create opportunities for Guatemalan families to improve their lives through family planning education and reproductive health care, operates a mobile cervical cancer detection and treatment program. Because many women are not aware of the risks of cervical cancer or methods for prevention, WINGS also conducts educational outreach to expand knowledge and increase demand for screenings. Women who attend WINGS’ talks or clinics are encouraged to share information about cervical cancer with their friends, relatives and neighbors. In 2008, WINGS screened more than 4,300 women at its mobile clinics.

Faith in Practice is an NGO that aims to improve the physical, spiritual and economic conditions of the poor in Guatemala through short-term surgical, medical and dental mission trips and health-related educational programs. Last year, Faith in Practice screened almost 3,000 women and provided training for Guatemalan doctors and nurses who went on to screen over 12,000 women at public health clinics.

Both WINGS and Faith in Practice utilize the low-cost VIA/Cryo method (visual inspection of the cervix with acetic acid and same-day treatment using cryotherapy), also called the “see and treat” method or la prueba rápida. This technique is especially appropriate for low-resource settings because results can be given the same day, and up to half of abnormalities detected can be treated immediately using cryotherapy, a simple procedure which involves freezing the surface of the cervix. VIA/Cryo greatly diminishes the need for return visits, which are often prohibitively difficult or expensive for women in isolated or low-income areas. In addition, when the result of a screening is negative, the test only needs to be repeated every three years, whereas Pap smears should be repeated annually because of the high prevalence of false negatives with the Pap smear test. VIA/Cryo can be performed by any trained healthcare provider, not necessarily a physician, and costs less than $6 per patient (including the cryotherapy needed by some 5 percent of the women). The cost per person of the WINGS program, including the follow-up treatment that WINGS pays for (colposcopies, biopsies, assistance at INCAN) comes to $14 a person.

The Guatemalan government has also shown that it may soon make fighting cervical cancer a higher priority. Although government health clinics have traditionally used Pap smears to screen for cervical cancer, some public health providers have recently undergone trainings in the VIA/Cryo method in order to expand the screening services available at government health clinics. Earlier this year, the Ministry of Health announced an extremely ambitious goal to screen 85 percent of reproductive-aged women by the year 2012 and has asked WINGS to advise it on a national screening strategy. This request provides hope that someday in the near future all Guatemalan women will have access to detection and treatment services and that the hundreds of deaths that occur annually from cervical cancer in Guatemala will be prevented.

About the Authors
Sue Patterson, the founder of WINGS, graduated from Duke University before serving in the Foreign Service for 25 years. She now lives permanently in Guatemala and donates her time to WINGS.
Laurel White, a graduate of the New York University School of Law, is the Development Director of WINGS and has been living in Guatemala since August 2008.

To learn more about WINGS’ work in Guatemala, please visit www.wingsguate.org or email info@wingsguate.org