Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Photo gallery

If words don't inspire you, maybe pictures will.
Antigua: Play for Peace
Guatemala City: Paint
Volcano Pacaya: close to lava
San Juan de Argueta: kids
Sololá: market
Livingston: Garífunas
Antigua: baking bread
Panajachel: kids and hockey

A title is born

What’s in a name?
I struggled with the title of my blog like with the most existential question of all times- ‘why?’. Kinia’s words-pictures did not sound nice to me, too rough, not evocative enough. But what I wanted is for my words to be worth a thousand pictures, I wanted to paint ideas, impressions… Ryszard Kapuscinski is such a difficult role model to learn from. Every time I read his ‘reportages’, the descriptions of Africa or Latin America are like a glass of water with a droplet of ink, the ink being a splash of poetry. By reading, you savor the mixture and suddenly look up at the world again, seeing, understanding it through a new tint. Yes, I admit it, he is my imaginary teacher and my idol. I bought a copy of his ‘Football War’ for Ana, my supervisor, because I was ecstatic to find a book by my favorite Polish writer in the middle of Guatemala City. And because she is so kind. Waking up too early this morning, around six to be precise, the title of my blog evolved in my head into ‘Pictured wor[l]ds of an Eternal Spring’. Still a bit too pompous, but already closer to what I’m aiming for. Land of eternal spring is Guatemala’s nickname.
Zona Viva
I’m back in Guatemala City with ants in my feet (ant bites as well). It’s killing me to sit in an office for a WHOLE day. But I have to compile all my information before I move on. I’m almost done about five Uniterra articles. Yesterday, I spent waaaaay too much time pitching stories to papers. I realized that I’m halfway through my mandate and a cascade of emotions rushes through my body- anxiety, sadness, stress… So many things to see and time is running through my fingers like sand. I live in Zona 10, or Zona Viva, the ‘nice’ zone of Guatemala City. By ‘nice’ I mean chock-full of nightclubs, pretty restaurants and clean streets. Guatemala is divided into more than 2o zones, the urban planning done by the same man who mapped Paris. It’s designed like a snail, with zone 1 in the center of the creature and the others follow spiraling out until we reach the edges. There are zones you shouldn’t be caught in walking alone at night. During the day you wouldn’t strut your Rolex there either. Red zones, like 1 and 3.
Sophos
Sunday, when I returned here from Livingston, I fell upon a jewel of a literary café, Sophos. Mountains of books from around the world, including by my beloved Kapuscinski. It is also a café/resto, tables sprinkled here and there within the bookstore, juxtaposed to a fair-sized interior garden filled hanging candelabras, jungle plants and flowers illuminated from within by projector lights (just like I had in my former apartment, just like I love…); the hustle and bustle of Avenida de la Reforma slightly tamed by the vegetation. I immediately bought two Guatemalan books: Ruido de Fondo by Javier Payeras and Guatemala: las Líneas de su Mano by Luis Cardoza y Aragón . I didn’t buy Nobel-prize winner Asturias, I can find him in Canada. I’m almost done with Ruido de Fondo ( which I would translate as Background Noise, or Bruit de Fond)- a vulgar, poetic, dramatic depiction of Guatemala City through Payeras’s rebellious glare on society: sensitive hearts refrain from reading the following excerpt:
(even without knowledge of Spanish one can fish out some meaning)
‘Un rápido tour por el Centro Histórico: travestis, cocaína, niños en la calle, ladrones, violadores, hijos de violadores, putas, hijos de puta y policías- a veces todos ellos en la misma persona—; cumbias en restaurantes chinos, pastores evangélicos gritando y gritando, ventas de tacos y carnitas: la hermandad de pepenachencas, registrabolos y buscavelorios que se hacen visible pasadas las nueve de la noche. Guatemala city (según los catálogos del INGUAT) Aleluya. El país progresa, se ve, ¡comercio, pujante comercio! Soy el patriota alcohólico que quiere contarles su corta vida’ (13)
The first time I ate at Sophos, I succumbed to my chocoholism and drank a cup of melted chocolate with cardamom. I returned the next day for more- this time they served me the Mayan version with (spicy) spices. That night, Sophos hosted an intellectual evening about social imaginary. In the garden illuminated by dancing candles, a selection of Guatemala’s young academicians held a panel discussion about Guatemala’s post-war culture, issues of gender, racism, alienation of woman/wife, deconstruction of the man/God/father paradigm… Heavy but interesting. I even felt comfortable enough with my Spanish to intervene. And of course, quite a few references were made in regards to Javier Payeras, which allowed me to nod approvingly because by some strange coincidence I had bought his book a day earlier. And so I could agree with the role of the artist in breaking the vicious circle of violence within social imaginary.
Sophos: café para sibaritas
Sibarita adj.n.com 1 [persona] Que es aficionado y a los placeres [...] refinados. [...] de Sibaris, ciudad al sur de Italia célebre por su riqueza y lujo de sus habitantes.
Will I be back for another cup of chocolate? Absolutely.
Journalism in Guatemala
(according to photojournalist Emerson D.)
A (photo)journalist should be the voice of those who do not have voice, try to show people’s reality so they can understand it. A good journalist is one who wants to help by showing things that can provoke change. There is a Marxist vision here, we believe in socialism. A journalist has a tendency to be revolutionary, hoping for an equal society. A journalist should be sensitive and should see the indignity of injustice. A journalist is a controller of the truth. Liberty of expression? You can say what you want here, but the press has a set agenda, it’s controlled. The press has lost its credibility because the political structure doesn’t allow for journalism to provoke change. The social role is limited- the information is centralized, most of the themes relate to Guatemala City. You can say what you want here, but most people don’t care. The population doesn’t believe you and thinks the media favor corporations. A good journalist is prepared. A journalist which doesn't know anything about literature, that has no general culture, that doesn't understand the problems of his country and of the world in general... is not a good journalist. The truth is not enough. There’s three main newspapers here: Prensa Libre is the most conservative, has the most credibility, readership 740 000. El Periodico has more diversity in terms of themes it explores, it's more classic and focused on economics, readership?. Siglo XXI tries to blend both strategies, is not as successful, has a readership of 15 000 (vs. Nuestro Diario which boasts a readership of 300 000 daily and is not considered the most serious newspaper around).

Monday, May 29, 2006

Livingston, jewel of the Atlantic

Guatemala is an ethnic mosaic. In the north the earth exhales humid, salty air which makes your legs feel like lobster getting boiled for supper. The Garinagus don't seem to mind- they are used to the heat in Livingston, a small town bordered by the Atlantic.
I spent about 5 days following a photographer from Prensa Libre, Guatemala's most respected newspaper, on an assignment to capture the daily life of Gariganu people (or Garifuna- a mistake often made by touristic guides. Garifuna is the language, Gariganu the people.)
They are descendants of African slaves who wanted to escape their fate of encaged servants.
I wanted to know how the press works here. My maestro, Emerson, explained that Guatemala's school of journalism is influenced by marxism, with a socialist orientation.
As a photojournalist, he feels he should be 'the voice of those who don't have voice'. A journalist that doesn't develop general culture, that doesn't know the problems of his country and of the world in general isn't a good journalist. The truth isn't enough, he explained.
During those days, I learned the patience required to penetrate a cultural community. After two unsuccesful days (Garinagu are so secretive) we met Wamada who was washing himself in the ocean with Maracacao leaves. He agreed to be our guide and led us into the heart of the community: the soul of the people... (click for pictures)

Saturday, May 20, 2006

Naive girl thinks she can escape indigestion

It was going to well for a week. I was eating food cooked by Andres's (a volunteer) mother and I was just fine. A week passed by, I thought, yay- I escaped stomach rebellion.
No, yesterday proved me wrong and today I am exhausted.

I was supposed to climb the volcano Pacaya today with two Swedes I met, but it was wiser to rest. Tomorrow perhaps?

Antigua has a touristic glow, it is something of a painting that people are buying. Gringolandia, the locals call (gringo= stranger). Maya women in their beautiful attires ask you to buy their knit works. Gracias senora, mas tarde.

I spent the last two days here in the Casa Joven with ex-bandilleros and people working to give kids alternatives to the streets. They can learn to bake bread and cookies, to use Word, learn karate...

I'm starting to see the genger issues quite clearly. Girls have so much less agency. I assisted a ceremony inaugurating a leadership program for students. All the new leaders celebrated were boys. But when interviewed they said they want the same for girls... Hay que involucrar la mujer tambien. What bothers me is that's it's institutionalized, the fact that girls are not encouraged to speak up as much.

Three girls and a boy were learning to bake bread. So quiet, they are taught not to speak. My questions were answered with giggles and short, quiet answers.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

First impressions

George Lovell described Guatemala as a beauty that hurts. I'm trying to focus on the beauty now. Without denying the underlying hurt but with the hope of shedding a bit of light on the sunny aspects of the country.
The beauty of children, which are everywhere. Their smiles are genuine, shy, welcoming. There are so many kids here. On their mom's back, munching on a frozen banana covered in chocolate, or carrying a fruit platter on their head.
The beauty of Mayan culture, whose people account for more than 50% of Guatemala's population. Most Maya women wear traditional skirts and blouses woven in intricate patterns depending on the Maya group they belong to. Their culture is very resilient, a safekeeper of traditions and languages: 21 indigenous languages are still spoken in Guatemala today.

The beauty of its nature. With its many volcanoes, pristine lakes and luscious vegetation, Guatemala is a seductress. The last few days I've been living with Andres and Sara in the country, some 30 kilometers from Guatemala City, the capital. The hummingbirds and blue/green chameleons greet you every day (if the four labradors living there don't scare them away). The house bathes in flowers, thick, green foliage, and fruit trees. In the evening, fireflies offer a free, twinkling show.

I've begun my journalistic work, taking a closer look at a program called Play for Peace and at San Carlos University's volunteer network. Youth are great interview subjects, their answers so candid, simple.

I asked 11-year-old Alejandra why she had her paintbrush out during a great repainting campaign of Guatemala City's historical center.

"Our country isn't trash. We must respect it."

36 years of civil war ended in 1996 have caused destruction and pain. The sequels are still present. Yet there seems to be a genuine desire, from kids and youth at least, to rebuild a country whose beauty would live up to those of its hundreds of flowers.
For more pictures CLICK