We arrived in Guatemala City at night, and took a bus to Antigua to stay the night.  As it was dark, I could not see much of the landscape, but even on the bus ride I began to get that thrill of being in a new place.  The hotel in Antigua was lovely and comfortable.  The next morning after breakfast, I went to the rooftop to see the view.  When I saw the beauty of the land and the buildings surrounding us, I got tears in my eyes.  Nervousness gone, I felt excitement for what awaited us the rest of the week.  ​

At the end of the work portion of the trip, we had free time back in Antigua.  Even though my husband and I could have gone off on our own, we continued to spend time with other team members because of the bonds that grew from this experience.  By the time we left Guatemala, I was simultaneously sad to leave and eager to be home.  What I gained from this trip will remain (and I’m not talking about the souvenirs we bought!).  My hope is that many more people will get to experience what I did.    ​

The unexpected on the last day, receiving a hug and a very long thank you and God bless you from a student I didn’t know I had touched so intensely.  The boy who sang a song once with the group and then had to have the title written down to take home to his family; the teenager who brought a gift he had made, a woven tortilla cover, to thank us for all we had done;  so many of the children bringing phones to take pictures of themselves with their “teacher”.   Yes, those students made a life impact on all of us. ​

by Nelva TeBrake

Guatemala City at 11:00 p.m. on Saturday night was virtually a ghost town, and it was a slightly eerie introduction to Guatemala. We followed a narrow two lane highway out of town, getting accustomed to the sound of grinding gears as our bus climbed out of the basin where Guatemala City is situated. But we could not get accustomed to the sights around us: deserted streets in a country’s largest city; no people walking around; low, simple buildings; many hovels lining the highway.

Antigua was our destination, only an hour’s drive from Guatemala City. Just outside of town, at midnight, we were stopped by Guatemalan police at a checkpoint. Our tour leaders, Laura and Mike Richards, explained that this was not unusual, and after some negotiations with Archie and Jose, including an exchange of money (a “tax” to get into the old city of Antigua), we were on our way, escorted by the police, over rough cobblestone streets, to our hotel. Antigua is a charming Spanish colonial town and an international center for language study. Its narrow streets are lined with one or two story stucco and stone buildings (a necessity because of earthquake destruction), colorfully painted, and with flowering bougainvillea and jacaranda trees.

We entered our hotel complex, amazed at the outdoor courtyard around which it was built, brimming with green and flowering plants and trees, with a fountain in the center. Our room was simple, but included our own toilet and even a shower! We dutifully remembered NOT to brush our teeth using tap water, and fell into bed for a short five-hour night’s sleep.

Sunday, February 28
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We were up at 6:15 a.m., and after a bountiful breakfast complete with fresh Guatemalan pineapple and papaya, boarded our trusty bus, with Archie at the helm, for the drive to Chichicastenango. Chichi was to be our home for the week. In the beginning the drive wound through truck farms rich with green lettuces and cabbages. As we gained elevation, dry hills and mountains became more wooded, and patches of cultivation became smaller, terraced on the steep hillsides. We climbed into the Highlands, the part of Guatemala where most of the indigenous people live, and where traditional dress is worn. Here, too, they maintain old customs, many of which combine old Mayan religious traditions with newer Catholic or evangelical ones.

Around noon we arrived in Chichi, a bustling city with “chicken” buses arriving from every direction, overloaded vehicles full to the brim carrying indigenous folk from the surrounding mountains, to market day. Smaller vans held as many as 17-20 people, packed carefully, and with colorful embroidered cloths holding goods bought at the market on their rooftops. The sound of intrepid engines, grinding gears, and friendly honks resounded through the narrow streets, competing with upbeat Guatemalan music. It felt like a big, chaotic fiesta, quite the contrast to our quiet entry into Guatemala City late on Sunday night.  

We settled into our exquisite Spanish colonial hotel, Hotel Santo Tomas, right on the main street through town. We were in the middle of the action! Fortunately, while our tiny second floor balcony gave us a bird’s-eye view of the frenetic activity on the street, the door to our room again opened onto a lovely courtyard, with two fountains, and exquisite flowers everywhere. It was a tiny paradise where the grime and noise of the street fell away.

At 3:45 we were on our way to the Methodist church for what we hoped would be a peaceful interlude from the market frenzy. I had taken one skirt along for the occasion since the Quiche women wear their bright-colored Mayan skirts and blouses every day. The cinderblock and stucco church was small, but it was in excellent condition, painted pristine white with gold letters over the open doorway (there was no actual door): “Templo Nacional Metodiste, Dios Con Nosotros.” It held about 50 worshipers. There were two pulpits in the front of the sanctuary, usually because there is the need for translating sermons from Spanish to Quiche. Today there were two interpreters, including one to translate for us, from Spanish into English. 

The minister was a jovial, wiry, high energy man, perhaps in his late 30s. Since today was a once-a-year “offering” Sunday, all the congregants had brought a gift from their “bounty” to place on the long table in front of the pulpit. There were roosters and chickens in small cages, a rabbit, clusters of blue corn and yellow corn, flowers, squashes, potatoes, oranges, avocados, and more. Throughout the pastor’s animated sermon, women kept coming forward with more gifts. The minister inspired us with his quick smile, and his reminders that this community of faith gave generously, putting Dios first, especially when they needed money to finish building the church. They had acted on faith, not knowing where the money would come from, but the whole community came together to continue building. “Dios es primero!” He sprinkled his sermon with Biblical texts, about trusting in Dios above all, especially when it is most difficult to do so. There were more women than men in the pews, and lots of children, who were very well-behaved for a sermon lasting 45 minutes. Everyone seemed very contented and relaxed to be gathered there. After the sermon there was singing, accompanied by synthesized keyboard music. A young man projected the words on the wall behind the pulpit. The tunes were familiar, “Onward Christian Soldiers” and “Thine Be the Glory,” and everyone sang in Spanish with gusto.

We could barely wait to get started. Marco and Manuel explained our jobs. Rebar needed to be bent, using a primitive tool, and shaped in to “C clamps.” Joy and I set ourselves to this task, one of us holding onto the rebar for dear life while the other pulled with all our might to bend the steel rebar around a nail. We switched off regularly in order to rest our challenged biceps. Charlie and Lisa worked next to us, forming their own rebar-bending team. We enjoyed the project, hot and difficult as it was.

​The team took good care of each other. The First Aid Team (Wayne and me) reminded people to take water breaks. We also cleaned and covered the inevitable scrapes and scratches, using liberal amounts of antibiotic ointment. Carolyn brought around mid-morning energy snacks. Then, on to work, twisting freshly-cut wire ties (Wayne’s morning job with Carolyn and Steve, the pastor from the Loveland Colorado Methodist Church), using a pliers to twist it tightly around the rebar C clamps which in turn held together long fifteen foot rebar “ladders.” These ladders would form the inner reinforcement skeleton of the foundation as well as the six columns that will hold up the “casa.” It was tedious detail work, but important preparation for the pouring of cement.

We walked down a hard-packed clay road toward Catarina’s mother’s house where the family has been living. Tall, twisted, dry, brown corn stalks stood above deep furrows, forlorn in the heat of the morning, many plots not yet burned for the ash which provides fertilizer for next season’s planting. Clusters of the adobe buildings with clay tile or tin rooftops lay tucked back from the road a bit. Many houses have no windows, while others may have a couple of small windows covered by wooden slats. Children played happily with each other, with little supervision, and yet seemed to have no altercations that would require intervention. They peeked around corners at the “gringos” walking by, responding to our “holas” with giggles and curiosity. Often they would venture closer, eager to exchange pleasantries: “Como se llamo?” Quanto anos tiene?” Women walked familiar, worn paths, or followed the clay road, on their way to and from the village. Their supplies, carried on their heads and wrapped in the colorful woven cloths, also provided them much-needed shade. As women walked, they often were weaving long pieces of straw into bands for hats. As they disappeared from sight, around a bend, down a hill, I found myself wondering about them: How far into the hills was their daily trek? How many children awaited them? Were a couple of the children lucky enough to be in school for half of the day?
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We saw a farmer hoeing his furrows, and another making adobe bricks. After the harvest of corn and beans has been secured in the months of January and February, and during this dry season, it is very difficult for the men to find work. They may travel a bit to a nearby slightly larger farm to do day labor. Or, some of them may travel three hours to the Pacific coast where they stay for two to three months, working for low wages for Chiquita Banana, Domino Sugar, or a coffee plantation. For some men leaving the Highlands from Monday to Friday has become the norm, returning to their families from work in Guatemala City, three hours away, only for the weekend. For now, these farmers have plenty of beans and dried corn stored for making their tortillas, but by August and September, food sometimes runs out. The rainy season in May and June becomes a very busy time again as planting begins after the first rain. ​

The sisters guided us into the large, stucco church. The nave was painted white, while the floor had decorative green and red tiles. The roof and ceiling were rough-hewn timbers, and there were wooden benches. Behind the altar was a painted stucco altar piece, bright green, with a variety of spiraling colors on the columns around it. At the top, in a cage of heavy metal, was the Virgin Mary in Quiche dress, and beneath her, also imprisoned, San Sebastian, the patron saint of the village of Lemoa. Sadly, since people had broken into the church to steal the valuable statuary, the town had placed all of its saints in iron cages. The sisters lamented that their beloved saints needed to be under lock and key. We sat on the wooden benches as the sisters recounted the religious history of Lemoa and the surrounding areas. While before La Violencia 95% of the people were Catholic, now most of them had converted to evangelical churches. During La Violencia, men who would not convert were tortured and murdered, and, in fact, the sister’s living room had been used for torture. Even young boys were rounded up and taught to kill. I asked the sisters if they had ever been in danger. Since their primary mission has always been a contemplative one, the police were less threatened by them than if they had been community organizers. Sister Helen recalled that shortly after her arrival in Lemoa, the police had come to check out their presence at the church, but found nothing suspicious, and had never bothered them again. Instead of one large Catholic Church like San Sebastian, there are now approximately eleven small evangelical churches, all with small memberships of perhaps 20-50. Sister Connie expressed their sadness that the people no longer gather together as a large community as a result of this splintering of churches. Mass is celebrated only once a month in this large church. For other celebrations of the mass, the sisters drive to the town of Santa Cruz twenty minutes down the mountain road. ​

A morning of festivities was planned for us, and as we stepped off our bus, we were greeted with a sea of bouncing color. About 175 happy children gathered outside in the clay courtyard awaited us, and they called out their excited greetings. Pura Vida has an ongoing relationship with the teachers and students at the Rosario School, and some of the children whose families would not be able to afford even the small expenses for supplies, receive scholarships from Pura Vida. A stage at the far end of the courtyard, fashioned from the ubiquitous reddish clay, was decorated with a Bienvenidos banner, student-created clouds, a sun, and balloons. Teachers skillfully shepherded their students into rows near the stage. The girls wore their traditional woven skirts and embroidered blouses, and the boys looked like any American schoolboy with t shirts and jeans. To one side of the stage, student chairs awaited their American guests. A covering of pine needles provided a green carpet for the stage, edged with a lovely line of pink blossoms and white calla lilies. ​

After lunch at the retreat center, we returned to Felipe and Magdalena’s house to continue building. The smiles on the children’s faces, and their warm hugs of greeting, were all we needed to put in our best work. Ana Maria especially was at my side all afternoon, sifting sand for concrete, filling the one wheelbarrow perfectly to the top because that was our measurement for making concrete. Today we needed cement for the “U block” layer which is about half way up the wall, a sturdy layer containing more rebar ladders. Ana Maria ran the empty buckets back to the beginning of the bucket brigade each time we emptied one. We worked late today because we had extra cement which we did not want to waste.
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Tired, dirty, and happy, we placed ourselves in the care of Archie for the ride back to Hotel Santo Tomas for dinner, devotions, a little journal writing, and bed. ​

Ana Luisa’s six children scampered happily around us, dodging around trees, darting in and out of work areas. Ana Luisa was pregnant with number seven. Her husband is often gone seeking work. Through our interpreters Jose and Manuel, she spoke to us in Quiche, thanking God for us and for this house where she feels safe. She, like many of the Quiche men and women, had very few teeth in her mouth. Some of them have gold fillings around their front teeth. By the time we left Ana Luisa’s complex, the children had missed the school bus so they hopped on the bus with us for the short ride into Lemoa center and the escuela publico.

Archie dropped off most of the workers at the worksites, and then drove eight of us who were teachers back to the Cornstalk School to spend time in some classrooms. Chris and I went to a sixth grade classroom where Laura was the teacher. The students ranged in age from 11-14, depending on their skill level. Since they were engaged in a hands-on project using yarn and colored paper to fashion simple cells, we had the opportunity to ask Laura some questions. With the help of Archie, we had a fascinating conversation.

Is it difficult to keep a disciplined classroom with sixth graders? Yes, it is hard work because of their age.
Since the public schools end after sixth grade, will any of your students go on to Basico (Middle School)? No. No one in this class of twenty students will go on, either because they cannot pay the necessary money for uniforms and books, or they don’t have the motivation to commute to Chichi or Santa Cruz, a twenty minute bus ride, each day. 

What do the students do after finishing sixth grade? The boys mostly work with their fathers. The girls usually marry at sixteen or seventeen, and begin having children.

Are there any big problems, especially the young boys hanging around with little to do? Drugs? Gangs? Vandalism? Not really. The villages like Lemoa have Mayan leaders who have strong leadership. If a boy is causing problems, he must meet with them and receive a warning or a punishment. Generally, that is enough to deter bad behavior. (Sisters Helen and Connie had also told us a story about village justice. One boy in Lemoa was using drugs. The Mayan leaders called the village together on the steps of Iglesia San Sebastian. The young man stood on top of the stairs, with the village calling out to him not to do drugs. He apologized to the community. This deterrent seemed to work to help him change his ways.)

Do you teach sex education? Yes, we do, but it is very difficult to break traditional patterns. This is a machismo culture, and men think women should have babies. (Laura showed us her teacher’s manual which covered human anatomy.)
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Where do you live? I am from Lemoa, and I have taught at the Rosario School for four years. I love this school. I have two children, and my daughter has a Pura Vida scholarship to attend Basico in Santa Cruz. My husband travels to Guatemala City for work because there isn’t much work here. He is gone Monday through Friday, and returns for the weekend.

Hello! My name is Savannah Carlson and I have been raising funds for the water filtration project partnership between Pura Vida and Ecofiltro. There is no free access to potable water in Pura Vida's program villages, so the need is great.  Luckily there is a simple and affordable solution.

In 2014 we oversaw fundraising for the distribution of point-of-use water filtration systems to 40 families in Pocohil. We were lucky enough to see 100% satisfaction and returned last year to oversee the distribution of over 100 filters and in Pocohil and three more villages –Chontala, Patalup and Lemoa. Even more fortunately, there has still been 100% compliance and satisfaction and 95 more filters will be distributed in June.

So how exactly does this work?  Ecofiltro is a company based in Antigua. They are a social business that sells water filters to middle class families. In selling these filters, it subsidizes the cost of a more basic filter for the rural families. The families we are helping to provide filters for are all very poor. Our program raises money to get them their first filter.  Upon delivery, each family pays a small down payment for their filter. Then, they pay a small monthly tax of less than two dollars in order to ensure they get a new filter once theirs stops working after two years. No family is forced to pay and no one is forced to get a filter.  This is all monitored through a water board with the village leaders to ensure it is a sustainable program.

This system creates a market at the local levels and increases pride and ownership in the filter. This is essential because it ensures the filters will be maintained and properly used –since these families have bought them. The families also save money because they pay for less firewood (to boil water), less medicine and less sugary drinks. It also greatly improves their health, improving work and school attendance, which opens doors for the family’s futures.
Our goal is to get water to the people who need it in a sustainable way. There are no free hand outs or westernization or loss of money through corruption. Every cent is accounted for and the feedback we receive tells us if the program is successful. Ecofiltro is a very well organized company that does this already, we simply use the resources we can get to support the villages of our friends we have made. It is a wonderful program and we look forward to continuing our support of water in rural Guatemala for many, many years.

If you are interested in knowing more, have questions or want to get involved, please contact us.

I look forward to hearing from you, and appreciate your support of Guatemalan water!

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