Increíble

31.1.13

            As soon as we landed in Guatemala City, I felt like I was part of a movie. Everything was absolutely perfect. We stepped out of the airport (recently found luggage and all) into a busy street. We loaded into a tiny bus (minus seatbelts) with the feel of constant use. Everything shouted película, down to the little flowers on the linen covered sheets atop the seats. We drove through the narrow streets, complete with waving motorcyclists and brilliant colors visible even through the dark. Arriving at “Semilla,” the seminary housing us, we hauled our bags up four flights of stairs and made our way back down to los snacks.

            The morning followed suit in the aspect of perfection. I awoke to sun, the sound of birds and shouting children, and the hum of life. Making my way to the window, I immediately looked for what was cloaked in darkness the night before. Increíble. That was my only thought as the light exposed the city, mountains, and green just below the balcony outside of my bedroom. Bringing my Bible and journal to the balcony outside our room, I couldn’t help but praise God for the incredible works He had made. In searching for a way to praise His works, I opened to Psalm 145: “Great is the LORD and most worthy of praise; his greatness no one can fathom. One generation will comment your works to another; they will tell of your mighty acts. They will speak of the glorious splendor of your majesty; and I will meditate on your wonderful works.” And most of the afternoon left plenty of time to admire His wonderful works. We ate a wonderful breakfast, brought a solid game of “ninja” to Guatemala, and went into the city to make an absolute spectacle of ourselves – somos los gringos.  

 

            Después de la mañana, todos vímos una película sobre el basurero. Before the movie, we had lecture from a very passionate professor about the history of the Guatemalan culture. I was astounded at the 36 year civil war and how a people are able to recover. After finishing the documentary about the landfill located in Guatemala City, providing “work” for thousands, we drove out to the dump itself. In all of our excursions on the bus, I was amazed by the amount of people able to fit into a street or a very tiny sidewalk. People, busses, motorcycles, cars, taxis, veanders – no one in Guatemala has a bubble. They all scurried about and honked and laughed and yelled and talked in loud voices. I felt like an overstimulated child who needed a second to take a breath, but all at the same time it was incredibly exciting.We parked in a public cemetery crowded with people selling flowers and food and milling about. It was  full of huge monuments dedicated to families and individuals, many of them were very old. The glass had been shattered for a time, the flowers dried, and the carvings of Mary and Jesus worn away from weather and time. 

            After walking through the cemetery a short ways away from all of the people, we followed a gravel path around the corner. Before we could see anything of the dump, we could smell it. Years and years of toxic fumes that had caused a huge fire only a few years prior to our being there filled the air with an overwhelming aroma. Vultures circled the sky and guarded the grave markers closest to the cliff overlooking the landfill. They were everywhere - huge birds clouding the trees and streets. The bald-headed birds with large, black, shining wings cast shadows the sky with an aminous presence reflected only in the sound of the wind filling the silence as we gazed down at the site. It whistled through the graves, pulling at our hair and clothes, filling our eyes with dust. 

               Increíble. There it was again – that feeling of being completely overwhelmed. But this time was different. Instead of feeling the awe of the mountains and the color and the sheer beauty of my surroundings, I was stunned by the site before me. I cannot describe in words the way my heart seemed to want to hide from what I was looking at. What I had just seen on a screen was playing out before me – and it was only my first day in Guatemala. I felt like the city was trying to hide from the same feelings – putting the dump in a large valley, behind a cemetery – out of sight and out of mind. Looking down, through the swirling vultures, trying to focus past the nagging bugs attracted to my arms, I could see doll sized people. Real people. They were moving about past the large trucks, over the piles of trash and waste, many carrying large bundles atop their bent backs. Garbage made circles in the wind, scurrying up the hills and into the trees. This garbage would become a livelihood for the people below, earning them about 10 Q. a day – the approximate of less then a dollar and a half.

            We made our way back to the bus, much quieter with this sense of reality branded upon us. I felt tears pushing at my eyes, but did my best to restrain them. I felt so guilty – and so blessed. I get to go to a university because I desire a career, and really a life, in which I can thrive and have a sense of purpose, doing what I’m “called” to do. But the people I just saw – too far away to read their faces – they were working the dump because there only option at this point is to survive. And knowing that there are so many complications and factors into how it got to be this way and to helping doesn’t help the heaviness I feel when I think about the situation. When one in three people move from the country into a single city, there is simply not enough resources to go around. And it makes me wonder – what am I missing at home? What am I not seeing? Who am I ignoring – if only out of sheer ignorance? And then I thanked God because I have a hope and He is good and He is greater than the brokenness of earth. But I want to remind myself that having hope is not an excuse nor a reason not to reach out and share and sacrifice every day. I have been given much so that I can bless those around me – not so that I may choose only to see what is beautiful and pleasant. I know I cannot help everyone, but I can help someone.

            From el basurero we drove to a huge mall, "Miraflores," and were instructed to buy what we could with 10 Q. We split into different groups, some attempting to buy clothes, others food. My group was instructed to buy a can of pop – una lata.  I was struck – 7 Q. Almost a whole days work for un guajero. But I was also pleased from the pleasant conversation with the man who sold us the soda – which was exciting for me because I was able to hold a conversation with someone guatemalteca. Then my group and I discussed the happenings of the day while sipping our sugary orange sodas.

            Overall, it was an incredible day. In a single day I was able to see the wonder and majesty of the world and those in it and, simultaneously, discover the horridness and darkness with which we share this earth. I am struggling to process everything – this lovely place that I am allowed to stay, the people, the happenings, the food, how I find God here, the traditions and habits, how to interact with the people around me and my group, and what I have seen. All of that to say, I am so glad I came!