Statement Retraction
So last time I went on a rant about my love of cooking. I believe some changes need to be made, primarily because I believe the previous article was extremely biased in its presentation of what appeared to be facts and did not adequately represent the Guatemalan viewpoint, so I will attempt to write this blog post with a more sensitive attitude toward Guatemalan beliefs and cultural attitudes, and following this perspective the answer to the previous blog title would more likely follow along the lines of:
Um, not so much. That is, unless we stick strictly to Betty Crocker’s oatmeal cookies in a bag.
So, this week we decided we were going to cook a lunch for the family that my site partner lives with. On Wednesday we ran into one of them in the market and told them “We want to cook a big lunch for you on Saturday!” She asked us “what are you going to make?” and we told her our brilliant idea to make a huge Indian feast! What a great idea! I love Indian food, my partner Amber loves Indian food, we’ve been dreaming about it and I’ve wanted to make Na’an ever since we found a recipe. It seemed like such a good idea to us that we brushed aside the girl’s open-mouthed, wide-eyed, terrified stare when we told her this and took no notice of the fact that Guatemalans are not a fan of spicy foods, weird combinations of spices and flavors, or any meal that does not include ketchup, mustard, or fried chicken (or all of the above on tortillas).
So, Saturday morning we spent four hours making na’an, rice, samosas, and Cauliflower curry, which consisted of a combination of toasted peanuts, sesame seeds, cayenne pepper, ginger, coriander, and a variety of other ingredients not commonly blended (or let alone found) in Latin American Cuisine.
Throughout the morning our lunch guests entered the kitchen to see what awaited them, offered several nervous helping hands, and the 11 year old came in about every 5 minutes to inspect our concoctions and announce loudly that she did not like any of the ingredients that we were putting in the pot (no onions, garlic, carrots, peas, cauliflower…the list goes on). We then realized that half of our guests would be children, most of which were under the age of 6. Good luck pushing Indian Curry on Latino children who don’t eat anything without, again, covering it with ketchup.
Around 2:30 we packed up and prepared to go to our predetermined lunch locale. We started to sweat as we tasted our delicious concoction and realized there was no way in hell that anyone (besides ourselves) was going to enjoy this meal.
I will say this. They did like the bread. And the white rice went uncontested, but for the next hour while Amber and I sat sweating and laughing uncontrollably, we listened to the only dinner conversation going on which consisted of following. “oo, pica!” “si, pica!” “Ay, me pica!” “Me gusta, pero me pica!” (pica = spicy). Rinse, repeat, sweat.
We just sat there waiting for it to be over, trying to throw in our sarcastic humor saying things like “Sorry it’s not spicy enough, next time we’ll use more chili.” Unfortunately sarcasm is entirely lost on Guatemalans, so they just continued to nervously look at each other while pushing the curry around their plates to make it look like they were eating it and dreading the fact that we made allusion to the fact that we might actually cook for them again. Their faces as they forced themselves to shove it down in politeness reminded me of that time when we were visiting the Parvulos school in town and they force fed us that black bean atoll nastiness. It was one of those moments when I truly realized how little we understand each other.
Also in culinary adventures, made jam with my host sisters. They really liked it the last time I did it so wanted to help me this time. The problem is jam is ridiculously easy to make and there’s not really enough for one person to do let alone four, so then they all got whiny and irritating because there wasn’t enough to do, and because I kept making them wash their hands every five minutes because they could not keep them out of their mouths (we’re working on hygienic practices in my family, I really don’t like having diarrhea).
Anyways, back to business, we’ve been ridiculously busy the last few days. We started taking Kaqkchiquel classes this week, which have been ridiculously fun and difficult. Everyone keeps telling us that gringos always learn faster, especially when they already speak Spanish, but I don’t see it. So far my favorite expression is what may soon become the new title of this blog, “Rin man xinatin’ta kubixir.” Special package in transit for anyone who can figure out what that one means, I will be thoroughly impressed.
We also are currently trying to get together two grants for water projects, as one of Healthy Schools main goals is assuring students have adequate facilities so that they can actually do things like wash their hands and brush their teeth. Most of our schools have no more than one faucet for 100-300 students, and as we recently found out about some funds we’re trying to get two schools moving to do projects. We had a meeting with the PTA of one of the schools and it was pretty intense. The director is really great, he had everything prepared even though we had only had one half hour meeting with him, and people seemed initially responsive but there was a lot of skepticism, mostly because the grant requires unskilled manual labor to be provided by the families of the students and a lot of parents don’t necessarily have the resources to give up several days of work.
In the other school we’re working with is slightly more difficult because it’s somewhat of a preschool with only one teacher/director/everything. She has two practicantes (teachers in training) that she receives from the university every year, but other than that she’s really on her own. Apparently the community may prove difficult to work with as well since many of the parents are single mothers (the common response from the kids is “my dad’s in the US,” but usually that’s just the cover story the mom gives when the dad’s a jerkwad and left). The one benefit is the director seems like a very strong and forceful woman who knows how to get what she wants done, and when we met with her about the project she decided it was best to go to the Mayor’s house on a Friday night to ask for his help, because how could you ever escape that? So we went at 8 pm last Friday night and he told us he’d have a mason to give us an estimate Monday morning at 9. We got there at 9, waited a half hour, went through about 15 minutes of calling the Mayor’s office and not being able to get through, finally got in touch and by 10:45 we had a mason. Meh, that’s Guatemala for you. The office told us “It’s Monday, he’s really busy, he probably just forgot.” I’m trying really hard to not start getting fidgety and freaking out in situations like this, because asi es la vida in Guatemala. My friend told me that if by the end of 2 years I’ve learned to have patience, this experience can count as a success for me. Well, I’m working on it.
The following story can be categorized under “things that make me want to vomit.” Sunday morning I was sitting in the kitchen with my mother and host sisters while she made breakfast, and my 5 year old sister goes up to the stick of margarine, cuts off a half inch chunk, and puts it in her mouth and proceeds to suck on it until it melts and slides down her throat only to harden in her arteries and give her diabetes. SHE JUST ATE IT! She then proceeds to do it again, until I go on a rant about how it will harden in her arteries and stop her heart and give her diabetes and she will DIE! (This may seem harsh, but Guatemalan’s are often fond of using phrases like “and then you’ll die” or “God will punish you” or “you’ll get kidnapped and murdered” to scare children out of doing things.) So then she stopped, but then for lunch she didn’t have any of the delicious lunch mom prepared and instead downed two bags of chicharron (fried pork skin) flavored lays potato chips. My stomach kind of flips every time I look at her now, but I’m probably being too harsh.
Anyways, another fun week of introducing ourselves to every teacher and child in the entire municipality. We may be going to hike a volcano this weekend, and our friends insisted on making lunch this time and maybe we could bring cookies. Point taken, we will not share our culinary genius with Guatemalans anymore unless it involves Paula Dean quantities of butter and sugar.
Also, again, no pictures, I´m lame, I´ll take some and put them up this weekend
Abigail
