Aug 06

After the heady excitement of the Feast of Santiago yesterday (even though it is still continuing today), Mark and I were invited to join the OKC group for a visit to the Minnesota mission in San Lucas Toliman.

After an egg breakfast, we met the Amigos staff at the office for the 30 minute trip. A hired picop (o fleta) arrived and we all climbed into the bed.

The winding road, the unpreditable pedestrian traffic, the harrowing other vehicular traffic, and the incredible view of Lake Atitlan and the volcanoes made it a memorable trip. I discovered that the Santiago way of disposing of their trash is to put it all in a bag and when making a trip to another village, stop on a deserted stretch of road, and dump it on someone else's property. Sad.

We arrived in San Lucas and proceeded to the Parish of San Lucas, a mission run by priests from the Diocese of New Ulm in Minnesota. Fr. Greg Schaeffer has been there more than 30 years and knew Fr. Rother personally. I can only imagine what it was like for him to be there before, during, and after the civil war, and to know and experience the death of Fr. Rother. I wish I could have spent some time talking to him.

the parish church in San Lucas Toliman

The mission has a wonderful operation there - many things that it would be nice to have in Santiago. We visited the construction site for a women's training school, a coffee production facility and a medical clinic. (This is the same clinic we took BP to in 2005 when he developed a "gall bladder infection").

Returning to the church, we had Mass with the Archbishop, followed by a very nice lunch of beef, broccoli, fruit, bread, and cookies. I tried a new imported beer called Brahma. Decent.

I bought a couple of lbs of coffee beans from their plant. I can't wait to try some of it when I get home.

We had quite an adventure returning to Santiago with the staff. We caught the local chicken bus for a careening ride past Cerro de Oro to Santiago. The driver had a lot of faith that there would not be any opposite traffic when taking both lanes to make some switch back turns. The drive even got an occasional "whee!" from Juana. Mark didn't look so good, a little green at one point.

The festival was still continuing when we arrived. More music and an odd contest. Men were trying to climb a 40' pole that had been greased with animal fat. The first one to the top would win the prize of Q500 (about $80). They were at it for at least 4 hours. I never did hear if anyone won it.

Tired, we returned to the office and made a chicken stew with rice, carrots, green beans, potatoes, onions (and some chicken gravy mix that I brought from home - I KNOW it's cheating, but the only other spice in the office was cinnamon). It could really have used some black pepper.

Our humble rooftop kitchen at the Amigos de Oklahoma office.

I spent part of the day working on Juana's office computer. I had brought a CD with an English/Spanish translation program on it, but as with all things Microsoft - it would not work on Windows XP, only versions earlier. Go figure.

After dinner, it was late, so we just called it a day and watched the town from our lookout. The festival was still continuing, but thankfully, there were no fireworks.

Sleep just wasn't going to happen. That was our conclusion at 4:30 am when the sky opened up with a tremendous and thrilling fireworks display over the Church plaza.

The Feast of Santiago (St. James the Apostle) began!

After the barrage, the church bells began to peal, summoning the faithful to the plaza. Mark and I went to our rooftop view and were amazed to see whole families hurrying to the Church in the predawn hours. Soon, a band struck up and by following the sound and the moving fireworks, we knew that a procession through the town had begun.

We hurried down to the corner to see the procession approaching. Women, all wearing the Tzutujil traditional "traje" led the parade, carrying a banner for the Accion Catolica group. They were soon followed by candle carrying members of the parish. As the musicians passed we could see several men carrying the scarve and ribbon bedecked statue of Santiago, on horseback and carrying a sword. (I believe this is the image of St. James as Matamoros from Spain).

One of the statues of Santiago on display in the plaza.

As the procession made its way through town, it eventually made its way back to the Church for the first of four Masses. This one began about 6:30am, to a packed church, all the people dressed in their best, mostly traditional, dress. It was thrilling and the whole town buzzed. Mark and I wondered what the evangelicals do on such a Catholic feast day.

A packed church for Mass.

After briefly following the procession, Mark and I returned to the office for an egg breakfast, and a wait for the Archbishop's group from Oklahoma City to arrive.

The group from OKC arrived about 10am, after taking the ferry from Panajachel where they were staying. The group consisted of mostly elderly people, relatives of Fr. Rother, priests from the OKC diocese, and Archbishop Eusibius Beltran. The only Tulsan in the group was Robert LaFortune, former mayor of Tulsa. A fine man! We were greeted very cordially by the group and stayed with them while we waited for Mass to begin.

We arrived at the church to find it packed, but space had been reserved for the group, for which I was very thankful.

The Mass was presided by Archbishop Beltran, assisted by a local deacon and Fr. Anthony Taylor from OKC. The other American priests present and the local pastor, Padre Pedro Gabriel Mus, concelebrated with the Archbishop.

Archbishop Beltran celebrating Mass

The archbishop gave his homily in Spanish (later translated into Tzutujil) and spoke about the ties between Oklahoma and SA and the legacy of Fr. Rother. It was simple, but I thought very appropriate.

At the end of the Mass, strangely after the procession had left the church, one of the local seminarians spoke in English to the visitors. He very passionately welcomed us and greeted us as brothers of the Tzutujil. I was quite impressed, especially since he was so nervous.

After Mass, all the Oklahomans present, including Tracy, met at the Amigos office for a catered lunch from La Posada. Tracy's friend, Dr. Leah, from the Hospitalito was invited as well. It was a nice lunch, very cordial. I was lucky enough to sit near the Archbishop and to talk with him a bit. He seemed more interested in Tracy and her family, but I am from the "other diocese."

A thunderstorm set in later that afternoon, so we ultimately sat around the office and chatted with Tracy and Leah for quite awhile.

Meanwhile ... the festival continued. More scream and yells from the ferris wheels, trampolining, video games, soccer games, live music on stage in the town plaza, fried chicken vendors, street tacos, and many many merchants selling all sorts of goods. It was glorious, in a strange Tzutujil way.

I should mention more about the soccer games. They use a strange set of rules since it is played on a basketball court. The most obvious rule change is that the goalie cannot throw the ball directly to any player, but must bounce pass it. I guess this is to avoid the temptation for him to throw it into the opposing goal, which seems quite possible.

Even watching soccer, the spectators are very quiet and watchful. Only once did I see anyone cheer for a good play.

Approaching the church, we noticed that the Cofradia had moved all the various, and variously decorated, statues of Santiago out of the church and down to the bottom of the steps. As they stood guard, they smoked heavily and took shots of whiskey. I can only imagine that it is part of the "Maximon" cult of the Cofradia.

As a band played, the Cofradia proceeded to get very drunk. Some of the men danced together. Some of them fell down and passed out. Most of the others were rather oblivious in their rather reserved way. It was a marvel to see, even if I don't quite understand the Tzutujil way.

Drunken Cofradia dancing in the church plaza.

We eventually returned to our rooftop vantage point and called it a night. A long but fascinating day.

The day began early - fireworks at 5am. When I write "fireworks," you shouldn't think about the nice sparkly kind that you see on the 4th of July. These are actually small artillery shells that explode with a bang loud enough to, literally, wake the entire town. Since Santiago Atitlan (SA) is in a valley surrounded by volcanoes - the explosions echo for 5-6 seconds each. Seriously!

We waited at the office until about 9am, thinking that we would meet up with Juana's brother - Francisco - so I could do some work on their computers. Somehow we missed him and hunger eventually drove us out into the street. Otherwise - all we had was coffee.

We ran into my friend - Tracy Pepper - in the town plaza. Tracy has been in SA for 2 1/2 months working on an AIDS research project. We made plans to meet up for dinner that night.

Off to the El Pescador restaurant - one of two restaurants that I know about. The Desayuno Chapin was on tap - a traditional breakfast of scrambled eggs, yellow rice, refried bean paste, fried plantains, fruit, toast, and coffee. I think it was about Q22 - or about $3. It really hit the spot! Especially since we hadn't really eaten anything for about 18 hours.

Checking back at the office and finding that no one had arrived, we took off for a walk out to the neighborhoods of Panabaj and Tzanchaj. We discovered that the once dirt road had now been PAVED. I was amazed ... and a little saddened. The old dirt road, and the perilous cliff along the lake was gone and lacked some of its old charm. But the progress was needed in order to serve the needs of the 3,000 people living in temporary housing out there.

We stopped briefly at the Parque de la Paz, the Peace Park, scene of a brutal massacre of 13 townspeople in 1991. Another of the tragedies of the civil war.

Walking on, we came to the village of Panabaj, or what's left of it. This poor neighborhood on the south side of SA, along the shore of Lake Atitlan, was terrorized by massive mudslides in October, 2005.

After Hurricane Stan inundated Central America, the sides of the Atitlan volcano gave way and descended on this town. Only 80 bodies of an estimated 750 were recovered. There's an eerie-ness to the view. The color of the mudslide exactly matches the surrounding soil, making it look like it's always been there. Only the half buried buildings, the destroyed huts, missing trees and unnatural level-ness of the ground betray the scene.

We walked through the parrochial enclave where the homes built by the Newman Center and Oklahoma parishes were built. I found the house that has the plaque with my name on it.

Most of the houses were abandoned, the people forced to move out and either living in SA or in the temporary housing camp in Tzanchaj. This area is always so bittersweet. We have spent so much time an effort in building these houses, have so many good memories with students, area families and the wonderful children. Now to see it a ghost town, and abandoned, but also tempered with the knowledge that these stone homes definitely saved lives when the flooding and mudslides came through. So while the homes were short-lived, they were worth the time and effort. Thanks be to God!

After the walk back into town, we bought a few things in the market. I experimented with some apple turnovers. I've never seen apples in the market before, so I occupied myself while we waited for our dinner rendezvous with Tracy.

We met Tracy right on time in the town plaza and headed back to El Pescador. Tonight's dish was Pollo Encebollado - baked chicken with a grilled onion sauce. It was pretty good, but I have to admit that my stomach was a bit uneasy all night after that. We met several of Tracy's friends - other American volunteers at the Hospitalito. A very nice time, but a gringo experience - nothing to Guatemalteco about it.

After dinner, we walked around the festival. We watched people who were watching the ferris wheels, or were watching soccer games, or were watching other people watching these things. The Tzutujil are a quiet reserved people and very patient. If they were not actually playing the games or riding the rides, they very quietly watched all the activity. Not much talking, no cheering or waving. If there hadn't been music or ride noise, it would have been rather quiet.

I learned a new Spanish phrase: Ferris wheel = la rueda de Chicago. A Chicago Wheel. Interesting!

We also visited the parish church - la parroquia de Santiago Apostol. The outsides and insides of the church are freshly painted and I'm sure that a new tile (azulejo) floor has been installed. The Padre Apla's Rother (Stanley Francis Rother) memorial has been cleaned, painted and adorned with an enormous banner. Friday will be the 25th anniversary of the his death, killed by a military death squad. You can tell that the people honor his memory by the reverence shown for his memorial.

Back to the office for more foam supported sleep, interrupted by firework bombs, dogs barking, and deliveries to the Gallo Beer distributor next door.

Our trip began with an early morning (4am) wake up in order to catch a 6:30am flight from Tulsa to Houston.

My friend Jon Mills volunteered to take us to the airport. He picked Mark up at his house before reaching mine, but all went as planned.

The flights went fine, including the connection in Houston to Guatemala City. Things were a little confusing at the airport in Guat City as they are doing a lot of remodeling. The exit area that I'm used to has now become the entry terminal with all the airline desks. After getting our bags and clearing customs, we were routed around to the other side of the terminal. I was a little concerned, but we quickly found our ride.

We were met by Pedro Sosof from the Amigos de Oklahoma. It was good to see a familiar face in a crowd of unfamiliar ones. He was accompanied by a local Santiago Atitlan man and his van.

We quickly loaded the van and headed out into Guat City. We just as quickly learned that OUR VAN HAS NO BRAKES!!! This was evident by the metal on metal screaming that eminated the first time he tried to stop. Mark and I looked at each other and I'm sure we were both praying.

Our first stop was a local bank where we could exchange dollars for quetzales. We were greeted by a very polite security guard carrying a sawed-off shotgun. As he opened the door, I said "Gracias," and he responded, "Para servirle."

Our 2nd stop was a local, very modern, shopping mall. We were there to eat some lunch since Pedro and the driver had to leave Santiago Atitlan (hereafter "SA") and were hungry. As we made our way up to the food mart on the 3rd level we passed many very expensive looking shops, but full of people. At the food court, we found that all the tables were taken. So many people at the mall on a Sunday, to eat mall food. Go figure.

Once we finally found a table, Mark and our driver did the honors and ventured over to Pollo Campero. I like Campero for the pechugitas - little chicken fingers. Much better in my opinion than the nasty fried chicken the others went for.

Finally leaving the mall, we began our 3 1/2 hour ride from Guat City to SA. The drive began as usual - weaving through choking traffic, full of diesel fumes, and surrounded by very patient people waiting. Always the waiting.

We were reminded of our tenuous braking situation when we came up on a toll booth. Our driver down-shifted and engine braked through all 4 gears in order to stop at the gate. Can't be good for the engine - or - our nerves.

A couple of hours later we came upon a crowd of people standing in and around a highway intersection. A van, very similar to our own, had flipped and rolled into a ditch. There were ambulances, but we couldn't tell if anyone was killed. More prayers, both for them and for our own safety.

The last hour or so of our trip became even more interesting as thunderstorms were encountered. This didn't slow our driver down, neither did the curving highways, or - even better yet - the lightning strike that hit the ground literally about 75 yards from our van. It was quite exciting!

Nonetheless, we arrived in SA uninjured and were met at the Amigos office by Juana, Pascual, Antonio and a couple of others. There was no food in the office, so we pretty much went to bed hungry, after playing some Tzutujil word games with Pascual.

Amarx jara juun t'ze t'zill!
Axtewan jara juun keej! (Mahon!)
Amarx jara juun amuul.

The town was just starting its festival time. The feast of St. James the Apostle (Santiago) is officiallyo on Tuesday. In addition to the thunder and lightning about the city, we could see/hear the 4 ferris wheels that were set up in the church plaza.

Our home for the week is the 3 story office of the Amigos de Oklahoma. The ground floor consists of two offices and a bathroom. The second floor is configured with two bedrooms and a room with tables - presumably for the group lunch to come on Tuesday. The third floor is a modest, no - primitive - kitchen, another bathroom, and an outdoor patio with a pila for washing. The patio overlooks the street outside, the Toliman volcano, and the church.

Our bedroom consisted of the standard foam mattresses, complete with comfortable sheets and blankets. They were amazingly comfortable after a very long day of travelling.

So with ear plugs in, it was an early night in a town full of rain, thunder and festival sounds.

Well, folks, the trip is over and I'm back in Tulsa! All safe and sound. I found it rather difficult to get internet access while I was in Guatemala. Not that it's not available, but the time spent there was either action packed, or when I had free time, the internet place in Santiago was closed.

BUT - don't despair! I kept a written journal and I'll be describing my adventure as if I was entering it here all along.

It'll be just as good - AND - I can add pictures too!

Stay tuned.
Steve