New (swedish) entry on the SweFOR blog
I wrote another blog for SweFOR, this time about the complex issue of Patrullas de Autodefensa Civil (PAC), Civil Defense Groups. The PAC were civilians, often recruited by force, who themselves took part in many of the human rights violations comitted during the Guatemalan civil war. Read the text here http://guatemala.krf.se/2015/06/18/fordjupning-civilforsvarspatruller-offer-och-forovare-i-guatemalas-inbordeskrig/.
Public transportation the Guatemalan way
One of the things I love the most about Guatemala is it's public transportation. It's happy, efficient, helpful and immensly diverse.Let me guide you through some parts of it:
Camionetas
The word camioneta literally means “small truck”, but in English they are usually refered to as “chicken buses”, due to their diverse cargo of everything from people to live chickens. Chicken buses are american school buses given new life in Guatemala. Outside theyŕe painted in bright colours, inside proverbs and prayers and pictures of Jesus the virgin Mary share the space with banners for FC Barcelona. They usually work on a fixed schedule, but not too fixed. I've both missed buses that weren't supposed to leave in five more minutes and ran to buses that then stood still in parking lots for 45 more minutes before taking off.
Picop (the big ones)
The larger pic-ups, with sturdy walls and often brightly painted, are used as cattle transportation, goods transportation, human transportation... When they're designated only to transporting humans they usually work on a fixed schedule. They leave in the mornings with the teachers going from the town to the communities up in the mountains, or to bring people down from the mountains to the town on market days. If they transport goods, and aren't too full, you can usually signal for them to pick you up when they pass. I have so far not shared a picop with cattle. Though, when I think about it, there was once a pig travelling with us on market day.
Picop (the smaller ones)
The smaller pic-ups are privatly owned, usually with welded railings on the sides and above so that people can hold on and goods can be stacked higher. I haven't worked out yet if there's a system or a schedule to these, but I don't think so. Normally you just stand on a street corner or on the road and wave at passing cars, asking them where they're going, and if they're going your way you get on. You pay the driver when you get off, and in some magic way it seems the amount is always the same for the same distance, even though the drivers and the cars change. I really like this way of organizing the public transport simply by picking up hitchhikers and have them pay a couple of quetzales for the ride. It's a great win-win.
But the greatest thing about public transport in Guatemala isn't the beautifully colored buses or the diverse travelling company or even the way you can ride on the back of a picop into the mountains at sunrise. The best thing are the smiles, the helping hands, the way people make room for each other where there really is none. The way it's almost impossible to get to the wrong place because there is always someone putting you on the right bus. My best example yet is going to Lago Atitlán this weekend. We got to the bus station at three minutes before 7, saw the bus leave, and spoke a number of ugly words before a man looked at us, asked us where we were going and put us on a different bus. We were kind of nervous, because this bus definitely didn't say it was going where we were going. When the helper came to charge us and we said we were going to Santiago Atitlán, he said “I don't go there, so you'll have to go with me to Patulul and change buses there. Don't worry, you can't go wrong”. He said it would take an hour and a half to get there, so when we'd been travelling for two hours we were once again a little nervous. But we did arrive in Patulul, and the helper and the driver signaled to us to get off, yelled to the driver of the bus we were getting on to wait and pointed us exactly to where we were going. It turns out it was the same bus that we had missed by ten seconds two and a half hours earlier in Guate, and we arrived in Santiago just on time.
The things I miss the most
1: Friends and family: Talking about this and that for hours on end, and hugs.
2: Playing the clarinet: My amazing teacher and wonderful orchestra in Stockholm and practicing for hours on end.
3: A room of my own: To rest, to reflect and to practice.
There are really good things happening too. Last weekend I went with A to Lago Atitlán and met up with friends working in Mexico. I'll most likely have T visiting me in July-August. I'm getting to know more people and making new friends. I'm doing important work with an amazing team.
Some days it's just kinda rough being on the other side of the world, no matter how great that side is.
A blog for SweFOR
Hey you people
I published my first blog post for my organization, SweFOR. It's it Swedish, but can nonetheless be found (and maybe google translated, if someone's that interested) at Guatemala.krf.se. It's just a reflection, and being me I already after reading it again this morning want to change everything about it. But that's okay, there will be more opportunities to write.
In other news I'm back in Guate after my first field trip. Tired, but happy, and absolutely certain that what we do here matters. And that's a pretty awesome conviction.
I'll try something more substantial soon, for now you will have to make do with the Swedish post.
Oh, and please, please comment, or email, or like the Facebook-post, or do something to let me know you're out there. Blogging stinks in the respect that I can see that an anonymous crowd has read what I've written, but without the response of emailing. I'd email each and everyone of you if time and Internet access allowed, but sadly it doesn't =(. I miss you, that's all.
Love
~me
Ideals that don't travel well
One thing that I've been thinking about a lot over the last little while is how my ideals and choices change here fron what they're like at home.
In Sweden I don't eat meat (if it's not served to me by someone else or part of a few very special dishes that I can't resist), Here I do, often without even asking if there's a vegetarian alternative.
In Sweden I recycle...everything. Here, I recycle...nothing.
In Sweden I by my hair- and skin products in an expensive webshop that only carried organic brands. Here I by them at the supermarket, and don't read the list of ingredients.
In Sweden I would never dream of taking a car or a taxi to go two blocks. Here I do that a few times every week.
It's not because I want to. It's not my fault that people look at you super funny if you ask for vegetarian food, that there are no recucling stations, that you can't buy (as far as I know so far) organic hair- and skin products or that you can't even walk three blocks alone after a certain hour in the capital.
But at the same time, some dark, hidden part of my soul kind of rejoices. In not having to take responsibility. In not being able to do everything right, and therefor being able to what's easy. It's kinda sad. I wish I felt worse about throwing my plastics in the "miscaleanous" (=only) bin.
At least I still don't eat giant shrimp (which are probably called something different in English, but you know what I mean).
Love
~me
The thing about packing...
...is that you always fail.
Things I brought to Guatemala that I'm never going to need:
- two warm sweaters
- two even warmer sweaters
- a (warm) fleece jacket
- warm pyjamas
Things I didn't bring that I already miss:
- my own computer
- my light summer jacket
- thin long sleeved shirts and blouses
- shorts and short skirts
- my epilator (to be able to walk in shorts and short skirts without being stared at more than I already am)
- shawls (to protect my shoulders from the sun or for nights when it's just a tiny bit cold)
Thank goodness there are stores in Guatemala. The only thing that worries me is how in the world I'm going to be able to bring everything home? My bags where bursting already when I got here. Maybe I'll get someone to visit me who can also bring a few warm sweaters back to Sweden...? (Do it, come visit! I already have a long list of places in Guatemala that I want to see and experience, with you!)
In other news I'm out of the capital (yay!) and spent the entire day the other day out of this town as well, walking the mountains for hours on dirt roads and narrow paths. Photos might appear at some point, but right now I don't have a cable for my camera. What I do have is sore legs and burnt skin, but that's alright.
Love
~me
Dawn on the roof
It's cloudy, so the sunrise isn't quite as spectacular as can be, but nonetheless this is definitely the best part of the house at its best time of day. Flat concrete strewn with some leftover building materials, a wonderful view of the city with mountains in the background, the sun rising in the middle of a yoga routine, and complete solitude.
Living so close with so many other people is a joy and a challenge. A joy because I never have to be alone if I don't want to, because I never have to cook and eat by myself and because I don't have to trust my own far from remarkable social skills to make new friends. They're already here. A challenge because I'm a person who needs space and solitude to rest and who'd rather hang out in groups of two or three than of 10, at least most of the time. The roof is my answer to the first challenge, we'll see with the second.
There are, of course, many other things about Guatemala so far that can be characterized as either joys is challenges. A sample:
Mercado central (central market): definitely joy, with more fresh fruit and vegetables, dried herbs, colorful beans and lentils and any other kind of food that doesn't need a fridge than I've seen in one place in my life.
Pulgas (bed bugs): a challenge, but after spending two days washing bedding and spraying the room with insecticide (I'm sorry, it was an emergency!) their absence have turned into a great joy.
Nawal, A'peró, Las Melaza, la Garífuna and Señora Pu (restaurants): joys. Nawal is a Palestinian bakery and take away lunch restaurant with Malmö-quality falafel. L'aperó serves the world's best pizza, AND has outdoor seating even at night, which seems to be almost unheard of in this city. Las Melaza is the perfect lunch place with local food, with the perk of great vegetarian alternatives (which I'm pretty sure they make up on the spot when we ask for them). La Garífuna serves huge and delicious plates of Caribbean food and at Señora Pu you sit around the tiny kitchen and watch (and smell!) as your traditional maya dish is being prepared.
Spanish: both. I hear approximately 142,8. new words an hour, on average. Some stick, some don't. I get terribly tired at times from always thinking in a foreign language, and increasingly frustrated when my grammar messes up in the middle of a sentence of when a word I was sure I knew just hides somewhere in my head and refuses to make itself known. But then there are those moments when I realize I've been talking and laughing and joking in Spanish for hours without even thinking about it. Those times when I hear a word or a grammatical structure come out of my mouth that I wasn't even aware I knew. And wow.
Love
~ me
First week reflections
First week In Guate, check. A ton of new impressions, lots of nostalgia from Peru (a lot of things are definitely different, but many things are also similar in the way things work, how the cities look, etc), and quite a bit of jet lag sums up the week.
__________
One of the things that affect me most here, and that I'm not at all used to from home, is the security situation in the city. You can't really go walking after dark, and even during the day there are a lot of places that are dangerous to be in on foot, or at all. It changes very suddenly too, so that the block one side of a street or avenue can be fine for walking, while the block on the other side is controlled by gangs and super dangerous.
Public transportation is also quite scary, someone told me today that a busdriver is killed every day in the city. I don't know if that was an actual fact or just an estimation, but regardless it says something about the security situation in general. Suffice to say I won't be taking the city bus. Taking a cab in the street can appearantly also lead to robbery, sexual assault and other very undesirable experiences. Luckily there are taxis you can call and know that they're safe, so you never need to take that particular risk.
It's impossible not to reflect on the fact that many people take (or drive) those buses and cabs every day, or live in areas where I don't even dare to enter. One part of that is that the way I look makes me a more likely target for attacks (foreign signals rich equals more likely to be carrying valuables). That in itself tells a lot about the unjust global structures of power and economy. Another part is that not all people have the economic means to choose the safer, but more expensive, alternative. So here I am, already confronted with those constant reminders that follow from being in the global south of my own position as privileged, the doubts about my role in the global economy and the awakening of a consciousness that too often slumbers at home. Who am I to complain about petty things or wish for new things or nicer clothes when my very pattern of comsumtion and way of life, and the unjust global structures that make them possible, contribute to the poverty and insecurity I see around me here?
__________
With all the security issues in the city (Guatemala City that is, though here it just goes by "the city", "the capital" or "Guate") it's easy to feel a little claustrophobic. That's only one of the reasons that we are taking advantage of the privilege of having time and money and spending the weekend in Antigua. A lot more touristy, but also very pretty and a lot safer. Yesterday we just hung out, walking around, looking at sights and eating good food, today we're planning a Guatemala must-do: hiking a volcano. I'm excited.
Keep in touch you peoples!
Love
~ me
(The "love ~ me" part is stolen, I hope you don't mind, you from whom I stole it!)
Ciudad de Guatemala
I'm here. It's still almost impossible to grasp, but here I am. I'll write better and longer and more inspired things once I've settled in a little more, but for now I just want to fulfil the promise of letting you all now I travelled safely and I'm well. More than well, actually, I'm doing absolutely wonderful, I'm super excited, and can't believe how fortunate I am to be here.
I'm hoping to stay in touch through this blog, Facebook, messenger and so on, and hope you'll all stick around to be in touch with. Also, could somebody please tell me how to change the language for autocorrect on my new iPhone =p? It's drivning me crazy, and if I can't fix it I'm afraid I'll just have to give up blogging in English alltogether =p.
I love you all, un abrazo fuerte!
(Oh, also, this is an old blog adress that I haven't used in years. I take no responsibility for any thoughts or opinions expressed by the younger me in previous posts, should anyone venture to scroll down =p.)
Upp och ner, ner och upp...
Ibland går det bra, ibland inte fullt lika bra.
Idag har jag insett att jag kanske måste tänka om vad gäller min C-uppsats, haft sönder min cykelpump och fått påhälsning av Radiotjänst. Jag är rädd att radiotjänstmannen kanske fick ta en del av skiten. Det är ju inte hans fel att han har världshistoriens mest otacksamma jobb. Jag bjöd in honom till och med, för att jag tänkte att nu ska jag minsann överbevisa dem (har dålig erfarenhet av radiotjänstmänniskor som påstår att man ljuger), men han fick visst inte gå in. Nehej, synd för honom då, jag HAR ju verkligen ingen TV.
På plussidan har jag pluggat bra många timmar och sprungit sex kilometer på sisådär knappa 30 minuter idag. Det var bra jobbat, båda två. Dessutom var det alldeles fantastiskt skönt att springa, oj vad det behövdes. Oh, och jag har bokat hembiljett till imorgon kväll. Det är också guld.
Om att inte vara lärare
Jag läser Maceij Zarembas nya artikelserie i DN "Hem till skolan" och inser plötligt exakt varför jag inte är lärare.
Jag är annars en sådan där lycklig människa som i vissa situationer känner att jag har ett kall, att jag hör hemma och är "wired" för en viss sorts uppgifter, har ett flow i vissa ögonblick. Alltid pedagogiska sådana. Att få stå inför en klass och leda, fråga, diskutera, lista ut nya sätt att tänka.... Att visa med penna och papper exakt varför arean av en triangel är basen gånger höjden genom 2, fundera över varför man på engelska säger att "it bugs me", och se hur glödlamporna tänds ovanför elevernas huvud och hur roligt det är att lära sig när man förstår, inte bara memorerar. Att läsa läxor med tonåringar eller lära ut segling och simning glada kollobarn. Att få bidra till den där fantastiska känslan av stolthet och glädje som infinner sig hos en människa som genom eget arbete och kraft lärt sig att göra något som han eller hon tidigare inte kunnat. Det är det absolut bästa jag vet.
Men när jag läser om skolan i DN, eller när jag pratar med vänner som är eller har varit lärare, då inser jag varför jag inte är det. Varför jag väljer bort den där glädjen och finner intresse i annat. Det är ganska skönt, på ett sätt. Att känna att jag har annat som jag (också) brinner för, och jag behöver inte gräma mig över vad jag inte gör. Samtidigt är det lite sorgligt. Jag vill ändå mena att lärande kan vara det absolut roligaste och mest givande en människa kan ägna sig åt. Det hade ju varit fantasiskt om vi kunde ge den upplevelsen till våra barn och unga.
Blogglösen
Alltså, jag gissar aldrig rätt på första försöket när jag ska försöka komma ihåg lösenordet till bloggen. Det är lite komiskt, speciellt som jag varit inne varje dag i det senaste.
Fantastiska saker med att ha ett eget hem (från i förrgår):
Man kan baka och laga mat och stöka i köket en hel dag utan att störa en människa.
Man hittar alltid vad man letar efter, för det är alltid man själv som flyttat på det.
Man kan bjuda vänner på fika när och hur man vill.
Man kan sitta vid köksbordet till midnatt och låtsas att man kan teckna och prata med en vän och veta att ingen försöker sova i rummer brevid.
Man kan låsa sin dörr och stänga av sin telefon och var helt onåbar för världen.
Man kan vänta med disken, eller städa hela lägenheten från golv till tak, utan att någon blir irriterad eller någon annan sabbar ens ordning.
Man får låsa upp sin dörr på eftermiddagen och känna lugnet i kroppen som betyder att man är hemma.
Det finns fler saker. I grunden handlar det om att kunna välja vem man släpper in när och hur. Jag är nog en bubbelmänniska, även om jag älskar att ha folk omkring mig. Jag vill kunna bestämma själv.
Hur man bygger en modell
Idag har jag kommit på hur man binder ihop olika ritde figuren i Word till en enda modell... Så att man kan flytta och förstora eller förminska alltihop på en gång. Det kanske inte låter så märkvärdigt, jag kan ana att det är något de flesta redan har koll på, men inte jag, så jag är ändå nöjd! Dessutom gör det att mitt teoretiska ramverk till uppsatsen, som sakta med säkert växer fram ur intet, ser mycket proffsigare ut. Och det är ju trevligt, speciellt när man känner att allt som får det man skriver att verka smart behövs =p.
Teoretiskt värre
Sitter och låtsas plugga. Det har varit svårt med både koncentrationen och motivationen de senaste veckorna, tror att jag behöver förändra något (mor säger att om något inte fungerar, ändra på det, vilken aspekt som helst, och se om det funkar bättre). Jag fnular på om det är arbetsmiljön jag behöver förändra, skolan känns inte längre som kunskapens källa utan snarare som stressens högborg. Sitta hemma med en kopp varmt te och en veteskorpa eller två känns mysigare, kanske kan jag också lyckas få det att bli effektivt? Dagliga rutiner är en annan sak man kan förändra, tänk om jag skulle börja träna på morgnarna, plugga för- och eftermiddag och spela klarinett på kvällarna istället för att plugga hela dan och sedan trycka in fritidsaktiviteterna där de får plats? Låter ju onekligen roligare, och roligt är ju ofta effektivt.
Att hitta nya former av avslappning och vila är ju också värdefullt. Dra igång yogan igen, den går som alltid i vågor, eller hitta på någon ny kreativ sysselsättning? Jag köpte faktisk pennor i olika hårdheter och ett ritblock häromdagen, jag som alltid sagt att jag itne har någon som helst konstnärlig ådra. Jag kände mig bara sugen på att sätta mig ner och verkligen fundera på ljus, perspektiv, skuggor och former. Vi får väl se om det blir något av. Jag vet att det bara är April, att halva terminen är kvar och att jag dessutom fick åka på semester förra helgen och inte borde klaga, men mitt medvetande och min kropp är helt enkelt inte på samma plats just nu.
Surdeg som pluggflykt
Metodrapporten ska vara inne på tisdag. Jag kan inte påstå att jag har kommit särskilt långt, även om jag har ett hum om vad jag ska skriva, och jag borde nog få panik snart och börja råplugga. Men jag och F sitter hemma idag, och då finns det ju så mycket annat att göra.
Först måste man städa lite i köket, för jag kan inte koncentrera mig om jag sitter mitt i ett bombnedslag. Sedan är det ju dumt att vara hemma en hel dag (något som händer mig ytterst sällan) utan att uttnyttja den till att baka bröd eller tvätta eller något annat som kräver en längre stunds närvaro. Så jag bakar, ett bröd med mycket hög potential som jag hittat på själv. När sedan A skriver ett humoristiskt blogginlägg om ett surdegsbröd som är hårt nog att begå mord med, och C undrar om jag möjligen är intresserad av att få vildjäst på aprikoser, då är det kört. Jag kollar recept, letar böcker och smider planer.
Rapporten är glömd.
Men brödet blir nog gott =).