This week, I´d like to share about last weekend´s adventure, which was very interesting but for much different reasons that the Day of the Dead extravaganza the weekend before. We actually got to take a much anticipated day trip to visit the worksite of the two volunteers, Katie and Sarah, that work outside of Cuernavaca in a puebla in Guerrero. If you remember, when our volunteer group arrived here we spent a week in orientation and visited everyone’s worksites except that of these girls working in Guerrero. They spend three days in Cuernavaca, working at the office that directs development programs in the village, and four days a week they spend in the village itself. Because it’s a pretty long hike to get there (two hours up some pretty windy mountain roads), there wasn’t time to go during orientation, so we planned our visit for this past Saturday. I was excited, but I had no idea what to expect. The very words puebla or village are pretty ambiguous; the first thing that comes to my mind (unfortunately) are images like dirt huts, but the girls told us stories about the Coke and beer trucks that race through town everyday, which didn’t seem to be congruous at all with what I was picturing. So I was very eager to see it for myself.
Before we actually went, we attended a presentation at the organization’s main office in Cuernavaca to discuss the issues that face this village, some of the harsh realities of life for the people there, and a few of the development strategies that are at work (when I say “development,” I don’t necessarily mean modernization, or making sure they have grocery stores and access to American products. I mean better health care, working with women to improve self esteem and confidence, improving and expanding education, etc.). Even after having some idea about what these people face after hearing stories from the girls, it was still daunting and, honestly, depressing to hear about all the problems this village faces. It’s an extremely poor and marginalized community, where everyone makes their living by producing woven palm baskets. Some people go to the forest to cut palm, some dye it and sell it, some sell the actual baskets, but everyone’s livelihood in some way depends on palm. I asked where and who they sell their crafts to, since if everyone’s making the same thing they’re obviously not buying each other’s stuff. Apparently there are people (not tourists; it’s too far off the beaten path to be a tourist attraction) that come and buy their wares for dirt cheap, and them sell them at much higher prices in markets in bigger cities (that tourists do visit), thus turning a profit for themselves but cheating the actual artists. Many of the people live in houses made out of corn husks tied together, and cook over three stone fires (actual kitchens and stoves are few and far between). More than just poverty, though, there are significant health issues in the village. Perhaps the most obvious is a significant water shortage; water is very hard to come by in the village, and the water that is there is contaminated with lead and arsenic. They live on less water per day (every day) than people in severe disaster zones. There are a few wells in the village, but because of the contamination it’s not drinkable. Any drinking water has to be bought, and if they can’t afford it, then they drink the contaminated stuff and take their chances. There are pockets of dangerous metals in the soil too, and many have only dirt floors, so they’re living right on top of it. There are issues with malnutrition, birth defects because of the toxic metals in the water and land, worms and other parasites. There’s rampant alcoholism amongst the men, as well as male migration to bigger cities and to the U.S. and very strong machismo attitudes towards women. Most people are not educated, many of the older women can’t read, lack of knowledge about birth control or family planning… the list goes on and on. And this was all before the actual visit! I know this sounds trite, especially because we´re all working in poorer or marginalized communities here, but it’s hard to think that things we take for granted everyday, the fact that we can drink the water that comes from the tap, that we have a stove, that we live in towns with drainage and sewer systems, are not givens for everyone.
So, last Saturday, after a couple hour drive, we finally arrived to see it for ourselves. I’ll admit that my first thought when we pulled into town was that it looked better than I expected; at first glance the buildings and roads didn’t seem that much different than those in Cuernavaca (we were told, however, that you need to venture off the main road through town to see how most of the people really live). We visited the community center where the volunteers both work and sleep; there are classrooms, a sewing room, medical exam rooms, lots of people coming in and out and not a lot of extra space! There was a lunch set up when we got there, and maybe about forty or so young women from the community milling around (as I understood it, they are supporters/participants/educators/promoters of the program in the village). They gave us a warm welcome, especially to Peter, another YAGM volunteer – there were several questions directed at him regarding his age and if he had a girlfriend; I enjoyed it very much. I kind of felt like I was back in high school, surrounded by teenage girls laughing, whispering to each other, shyly and a little hesitantly participating when called upon. I guess I’ve gotten used to being the only young adult in a classroom full of five year olds. Very different work environments, that’s for sure. After our initial welcome, we were sent off on a several hour tour of the town with two young girls as our tour guides. They too were shy, and whispered to each other as we walked. They took us on a tour of the wells where people gather water, of the three churches in the town (which is divided into three barrios, or neighborhoods, each with its own church) and then up to the top of the mountain to the best, most reliable well in town (this town, by the by, is literally on the side of the mountain, and thus most of the roads are quite steep). It was quite a hike to get to the top, climbing over rocks, and one of our guides had an empty 18 liter water jug strapped to her back. When we got to the top, we filled the jug from the well and then each took turns carrying it. It was heavy. The women carry water on their backs with a strap going across their forehead, and the girls start doing this at five years old. What’s more, they climb this mountain to get water three times per day! I couldn’t believe what an arduous process it was to simply get water; I couldn’t handle carrying the jug for more than a few minutes. After this, we made a visit to a woman’s home, where she was cooking in her “kitchen,” a corn husk structure with an oil drum lid perched over a campfire. We not only got to talk with her, but try our hand at what she does every day – weaving and making tortillas. It was an interesting role reversal; I think the tendency is usually for the person with more education, more expertise on health or nutrition or whatever to give the instruction. Eat this, don’t drink this, do this when you’re sick, don’t do this when you’re pregnant, etc. I’m sure this woman has gotten a lot of that, but on this visit, she was the expert. My tortillas were lumpy and weird-looking, and I ended up breaking or burning more than a couple. Her tortillas were perfect, and delicious (mine still tasted okay, they just weren’t very pretty).
Then we each got to make a small basket, and while she was demonstrating how to weave, her hands moved so fast my eyes couldn’t keep up. She ended up making most of my basket for me, because I was just too slow, and she said that she can make up to thirty of these in a day (here´s her/my finished product). As beautiful as her craft is, however, it sells for very little money, barely enough to scrape by. Meanwhile she told us about her life and her children; she was very friendly and open, and reminded me a lot of the women I work with in La Estación. It still really impresses me that, even with all the work they have to do on a daily basis, these women still take the time to open their homes to us, put up with our bad Spanish, field our questions, and share a glimpse into their lives. I think it’s an incredible display of hospitality. After an hour or so placticando (chatting), we headed back to the community center, rested for a bit, had a bite to eat, and then headed back to Cuernavaca as the sun started to go down.
Before we actually went, we attended a presentation at the organization’s main office in Cuernavaca to discuss the issues that face this village, some of the harsh realities of life for the people there, and a few of the development strategies that are at work (when I say “development,” I don’t necessarily mean modernization, or making sure they have grocery stores and access to American products. I mean better health care, working with women to improve self esteem and confidence, improving and expanding education, etc.). Even after having some idea about what these people face after hearing stories from the girls, it was still daunting and, honestly, depressing to hear about all the problems this village faces. It’s an extremely poor and marginalized community, where everyone makes their living by producing woven palm baskets. Some people go to the forest to cut palm, some dye it and sell it, some sell the actual baskets, but everyone’s livelihood in some way depends on palm. I asked where and who they sell their crafts to, since if everyone’s making the same thing they’re obviously not buying each other’s stuff. Apparently there are people (not tourists; it’s too far off the beaten path to be a tourist attraction) that come and buy their wares for dirt cheap, and them sell them at much higher prices in markets in bigger cities (that tourists do visit), thus turning a profit for themselves but cheating the actual artists. Many of the people live in houses made out of corn husks tied together, and cook over three stone fires (actual kitchens and stoves are few and far between). More than just poverty, though, there are significant health issues in the village. Perhaps the most obvious is a significant water shortage; water is very hard to come by in the village, and the water that is there is contaminated with lead and arsenic. They live on less water per day (every day) than people in severe disaster zones. There are a few wells in the village, but because of the contamination it’s not drinkable. Any drinking water has to be bought, and if they can’t afford it, then they drink the contaminated stuff and take their chances. There are pockets of dangerous metals in the soil too, and many have only dirt floors, so they’re living right on top of it. There are issues with malnutrition, birth defects because of the toxic metals in the water and land, worms and other parasites. There’s rampant alcoholism amongst the men, as well as male migration to bigger cities and to the U.S. and very strong machismo attitudes towards women. Most people are not educated, many of the older women can’t read, lack of knowledge about birth control or family planning… the list goes on and on. And this was all before the actual visit! I know this sounds trite, especially because we´re all working in poorer or marginalized communities here, but it’s hard to think that things we take for granted everyday, the fact that we can drink the water that comes from the tap, that we have a stove, that we live in towns with drainage and sewer systems, are not givens for everyone.
So, last Saturday, after a couple hour drive, we finally arrived to see it for ourselves. I’ll admit that my first thought when we pulled into town was that it looked better than I expected; at first glance the buildings and roads didn’t seem that much different than those in Cuernavaca (we were told, however, that you need to venture off the main road through town to see how most of the people really live). We visited the community center where the volunteers both work and sleep; there are classrooms, a sewing room, medical exam rooms, lots of people coming in and out and not a lot of extra space! There was a lunch set up when we got there, and maybe about forty or so young women from the community milling around (as I understood it, they are supporters/participants/educators/promoters of the program in the village). They gave us a warm welcome, especially to Peter, another YAGM volunteer – there were several questions directed at him regarding his age and if he had a girlfriend; I enjoyed it very much. I kind of felt like I was back in high school, surrounded by teenage girls laughing, whispering to each other, shyly and a little hesitantly participating when called upon. I guess I’ve gotten used to being the only young adult in a classroom full of five year olds. Very different work environments, that’s for sure. After our initial welcome, we were sent off on a several hour tour of the town with two young girls as our tour guides. They too were shy, and whispered to each other as we walked. They took us on a tour of the wells where people gather water, of the three churches in the town (which is divided into three barrios, or neighborhoods, each with its own church) and then up to the top of the mountain to the best, most reliable well in town (this town, by the by, is literally on the side of the mountain, and thus most of the roads are quite steep). It was quite a hike to get to the top, climbing over rocks, and one of our guides had an empty 18 liter water jug strapped to her back. When we got to the top, we filled the jug from the well and then each took turns carrying it. It was heavy. The women carry water on their backs with a strap going across their forehead, and the girls start doing this at five years old. What’s more, they climb this mountain to get water three times per day! I couldn’t believe what an arduous process it was to simply get water; I couldn’t handle carrying the jug for more than a few minutes. After this, we made a visit to a woman’s home, where she was cooking in her “kitchen,” a corn husk structure with an oil drum lid perched over a campfire. We not only got to talk with her, but try our hand at what she does every day – weaving and making tortillas. It was an interesting role reversal; I think the tendency is usually for the person with more education, more expertise on health or nutrition or whatever to give the instruction. Eat this, don’t drink this, do this when you’re sick, don’t do this when you’re pregnant, etc. I’m sure this woman has gotten a lot of that, but on this visit, she was the expert. My tortillas were lumpy and weird-looking, and I ended up breaking or burning more than a couple. Her tortillas were perfect, and delicious (mine still tasted okay, they just weren’t very pretty).
Then we each got to make a small basket, and while she was demonstrating how to weave, her hands moved so fast my eyes couldn’t keep up. She ended up making most of my basket for me, because I was just too slow, and she said that she can make up to thirty of these in a day (here´s her/my finished product). As beautiful as her craft is, however, it sells for very little money, barely enough to scrape by. Meanwhile she told us about her life and her children; she was very friendly and open, and reminded me a lot of the women I work with in La Estación. It still really impresses me that, even with all the work they have to do on a daily basis, these women still take the time to open their homes to us, put up with our bad Spanish, field our questions, and share a glimpse into their lives. I think it’s an incredible display of hospitality. After an hour or so placticando (chatting), we headed back to the community center, rested for a bit, had a bite to eat, and then headed back to Cuernavaca as the sun started to go down. It wasn’t the longest visit, and I wish I could have gotten to spend more time observing my fellow volunteers in action (Katie was leading a second tour group, and Sarah was teaching a class all afternoon, as she works with education in the village). But I’m very glad I got to see the town, and after seeing it I’m thoroughly impressed not only with Katie and Sarah for the hard work that they do, but also with the women and how they make their lives in this place. When I was carrying the water jug, a woman in my tour group (who declined to participate in the activity) commented on how gutsy and strong I was for carrying it. I replied that I was in no way either, but the women that do this all their lives, day in and day out, certainly are.
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