Faces In The Line

It's getting chilly out there, and we are still serving outside. I thought I was more prepared this week, wearing a down filled jacket and mini gloves, but I swear the place where we serve is some kind of wicked wind tunnel, I freeze every time regardless.

I tend to complain a lot when I'm cold, which I know isn't very becoming for a prairie girl, but I admit it, I'm a wimp. But in this setting, amongst people who live and sleep in the cold for a good part of the year, I'm embarrassed to complain. Because I'm fortunate to have a home to go back to, to be able to take a hot shower to warm up, to have cozy clothes to change into, and a hot dinner to warm my insides. And that's exactly what I did after serving.

It is for this reason that I can say with certainty that I don't have even half the strength of these people. Because there is no way I would be able to manage living on the street as these people do.

Some came with pretty good gear, while others didn't. One poor man even came in barefeet which led to one volunteer actually washing his feet for him, and getting something for him to wear afterward. What an example of karuna (compassion)! Even those lucky enough to get a shelter bed still spend a lot of time outside. Well I just couldn't do it. They are simply stronger and more resilient than I am. And I'm humble enough to admit it.

This post is titled "Faces In The Line" as I'd like to introduce you to some regulars who I very much enjoy seeing every week. I of course have to start with "Charlotte," the solvent abuser who you may have read about in "The Meaning of a Picture." She came today in a nice, warm looking jacket, all bundled up and ready for fall. I was happy to see that she has some warm clothes and hope she hangs on to them, as I know that possessions don't last long when one lives the kind of life she does. The pictures I gave her only lasted a couple weeks.


I always call out to "Charlotte" by name when I see her, and today she seemed to be in good spirits which isn't so typical when one sniffs. Surprisingly she recognized who I was, and stood there clearly thinking to herself, after which she mentioned that her son was now 14. I said something like "man, I'm getting old!" She smiled at that and clearly enjoyed being able to converse about her son. I suspect that her son and daughter may be the only good things to come from her hard life, and the only things that she can express some pride in. So it's always great to see her and to share a positive thought or memory..

Another favourite of mine is a tall, burly man with long grey hair and a matching beard. My first week volunteering I was chatting with him in line during which he told me that people called him Moses because of his beard. So I said to him, "well people could call you worse things eh?" He liked that, and so since then I've called him Mr. Moses. Between his appearance, jolly nature and hearty chuckle, boy he would make a great Santa! We chat each time he comes, and usually about the mint candies that I handed out to him one day. He always makes sure to tell me how much he enjoyed those mints, and how he sure would like to have some again (while chuckling of course)! So next week it might just be time to bring him his own special bag because those mints clearly make him a happy guy :)

Then there is Robert; a tall, gangly, intellectual looking guy who is literally a genius I'm sure. He always shows up near the end of serving time, not to eat, but just to chat with us volunteers. He delivers newspapers for The Sun and each week brings extras to give out to us. He typically has 2-3 different paper options for us..The Sun, Metro..you name it, he usually has it! You always get a tap on the shoulder and turn to find him asking if you need a paper. You sure? he always asks. I never have time to read the paper it seems so I always decline. After the newspaper regime he then goes into his weekly trivia question, starting with "Shorty (which I think he calls all of us) let me ask you a question.." He takes these trivia questions very seriously let me tell you! Well back to my humility, I honestly feel dumb every time because I never know the answers. But I enjoy the time we chat each week regardless.

Robert tells me that instead of delivering papers, he would prefer a warehouse job, but doesn't know how to drive a forklift which he says is a requirement. And to take the training would cost $500 which he doesn't have. I sure wish there was a company that did some on the job training (and maybe there is, who knows), as there is no doubt Robert would be a hard, reliable worker. It's clear to me though that he has the capacity to do so much more, but must have some issues that interfere with those abilities.

My other favourite is my buddy from Nunuvat; a young guy with a big friendly grin, albeit with a few missing teeth :) Weeks ago we were serving a salmon casserole, and while others were commenting on its fishy smell, this guy was thrilled with the option, telling me that he loved any kind of fish as he was from Nunuvat. He told me that he missed the North where he used to live off the land and eat the best of what nature has to offer. It was summer at that time and he was finding it too hot. Not what he was used to that's for sure. Well today, as I was shivering in the wind, I called out to "my Nunuvat friend," and asked him "is it cold enough for you yet?" Well people always like to be recognized, and I'm sure even more when they're invisible to most of society. Well he lit up, smiled that big toothless grin, and said nope, that he preferred -50 or -60! I sensed a feeling of pride when he said those words; for being able to handle conditions that most of us couldn't, or wouldn't like to. And as a wimpy prairie girl, I have to say, he should be proud!


If you are interested in reading future posts about my work with the homeless in Guatemala (I have another trip planned in late November!) or in Winnipeg, please like my Facebook page "Karuna in Guatemala" and stay tuned!! 
 

The Meaning of a Picture

This is my first post about something local and I've been dying to write it for awhile now.

Shortly after coming back to Winnipeg I saw a news story about the Gifts of Grace Mission, a group that serves meals to the homeless twice a week in the hood...right up my alley! I thought why wouldn't I continue working with the homeless when I enjoy it so much? My help was quickly accepted and the following Thursday I showed up to see what it was all about.

I pulled up on North Main, parking in front of a rough hotel, and at the same time recall wondering whether that was such a good idea. But I left my car there anyway and went to find the location where the meals were served. I walked around the corner to find a cul de sac with Thunderbird House on the one side, Salvation Army on the other, and a grassy area in between.

Sitting along the wall of Salvation Army were groups of people easily identifiable as solvent abusers, as their smell is pretty unmistakeable. In the grassy area there were a couple of makeshift tents and stuff strewn all over, reminiscent of the Swan River rodeo grounds at the end of the weekend! People were milling around and it honestly felt like a world within another. Most Winnipeggers know nothing about this world. The people within it are basically invisible to "mainstream society." Most live on the streets of Winnipeg, in the shelters, or a little of both, and their day to day life is one that most of us couldn't even imagine. The word "tortured" comes to mind.

That first day was a few months ago now and I can no longer remember the intricacies of it, but I do remember loving the experience. Greeting the long line of Winnipeg's neediest and being apart of them getting a good meal felt so good. I pretty much skipped out of there I was so happy! I walked out of that world within a world, past the addicts, the mentally ill and those struggling in other ways I'm sure, past the awful smells and the rough hotel with the evening's patrons spilling out on to the street, to my safe and sound car. I already couldn't wait for next week!

Every Thursday at 5:00, a group shows up to serve dinner, each from a different church across the city. Gifts of Grace founders take turns picking up the food which I have to say is a pretty awesome spread which includes a hot casserole, sandwiches, baked goods, juice and coffee. People can line up again and again until it's all gone, and typically there's a lot so sometimes we see some people coming through 3-4 times.

One of the differences between Gifts of Grace and other soup kitchen type places, is that people can come for food even if they are under the influence. So we see all kinds of people in all kinds of states. The other difference is that most of the year we serve outside with only a table between us and the people. So it's not for the scaredy cats :)

Most nights we have 150-200 people and some nights much more. There are different groups of people who come; I would say that those with mental health issues are a good majority. I've seen women who look so "normal" that I wondered if they worked at Salvation Army or somewhere else and were just coming for a free meal. That was until one of them went off on us one night, angry at the quality of the food and saying that just because she was homeless didn't mean that she deserved shit to eat. It was very clear after that exchange that she was ill. Another young woman laughed to herself as she went through the food line one day, clearly having a conversation with someone in her head. What a horrible way to have to live.

Another group would be the hard core addicts, who often come through high or intoxicated. This week an older man fell into the table, almost colliding with me, and when he fell a bottle of mouthwash fell out of his pocket. Some of the others in line looked at him disapprovingly and mumbled about how hard core he was. I suppose that drinking mouthwash would be the bottom of the barrel for an addict, and I'm sure it's a place that nobody strives to be.

The sniffers are another visible group. You see some pushing their walkers around, or sitting on them while they huff from bags. Often they are just lying along the street, typically in a group. You can smell the solvent on them as they come through the line. It's so strong it permeates your nose.

Well shortly after starting I learned that I actually know one person from this group. As I was serving one day a woman came by that I couldn't take my eyes off of as she looked so familiar. I finally said, is your name Charlotte? (not her real name). Well when she said yes, I was shocked..

 

Early on in my child welfare career, when I was a baby social worker, maybe 24, I had a young mom on my caseload, a sniffer, whose baby I apprehended at birth for obvious reasons. I didn't work with her long as she didn't put up a fight and the baby was removed from her permanently. Thankfully we came up with a good plan for the baby to go live with his paternal grandmother which Charlotte was on board with. So even though we weren't working together under the best circumstances, we had a pretty decent working relationship.

Charlotte was in jail at the time that her son was leaving Winnipeg to go live with his grandmother and so I brought him there to see her for a goodbye visit. I'm pretty sure that this was the only visit she was able to have with him given what was going on for her at the time. Well that day I happened to take a picture of Charlotte holding her newborn son. She was in her jail uniform and was smiling down at him at she held him. Despite being a sniffer and leading a rough street life, she looked like a young and healthy woman in this picture. Well fourteen years later, this woman, now probably in her mid 30s, looked to be in her late 50s (and not a healthy looking 50 something either). She looked shrivelled, ragged and soulless. I honestly couldn't believe that she was even still alive after so many years of sniffing. I can't begin to even imagine what she has been through in that period of time.

I doubt that it registered with her who I was, but when I explained that I was involved with her son, she brightened up, telling me that he was 14 now (yikes!). I knew that I still had that picture of her and her son, as well as a picture of him at age 2 that his grandmother must have sent me. When I told her about the pictures she immediately asked if I could bring them for her, which I of course said yes to.

For 2 weeks after I carried those pictures waiting to see Charlotte again and excited to show them to her. But she never showed up. The third week I finally saw her in line, and greeted her by name which seemed to catch her off guard. I'm not sure even she remembered our previous conversation until I told her that I had pictures for her. But I told her that she was going to have to wait until I was done serving as the pictures were in my car. She seemed rather irritable that day (not unusual for solvent abusers), but still for over an hour stood and waited patiently in front of our table for her pictures.

Once we had finished I went to get the pictures from my car, and met her back in the cul de sac, sitting down with her on the curb. Looking at her closer up I saw an infection all over her skin, scars, tiny bones with only shriveled skin left, and just blankness. I honestly thought that she was so damaged from years of sniffing, that she wouldn't even have the capacity to show emotion when I showed her the pictures.

But I was wrong. I handed the pictures over and as she looked at them she smiled. And then I saw tears coming from her eyes. She said that she didn't have any pictures of her son anymore because a fire in her place had taken them. So who knows how long it had been since she had even seen his face.

I can't help but wonder if Charlotte was not only looking at her son in that picture, but looking at herself as well. Did it make her think about who she once was and how she had got to the place that she was now? I wonder if the reality of her life path saddened her in that moment; if she regretted the way she had ended up, which is a shell of a person. 

It was a touching moment, and one that made me so thankful that I used to take pictures of the children and families that I worked with. There are horror stories about foster children having no pictures of themselves growing up; no pictures of their parents, their family, or their history. No images to understand where they came from or to trigger memories. I can't imagine that and know firsthand what a picture can mean. And so in that moment I knew that seeing those pictures must have meant a lot to her.

I left Charlotte with her pictures, feeling thankful for choosing a career and a way of being that has allowed me to touch people's lives. In child welfare especially, you don't have many rewarding moments, but I can say that this experience certainly was one for me.

Sadly, a couple weeks later Charlotte told me that someone had stolen her bag and the pictures were now gone. Not a surprise given the life she has. But you know, for her to have seen, felt, and remembered, even for only a couple weeks..well it was well worth holding on to those pictures for so many years....

　

　

　

　

　

A Good News Story

I got the urge to write tonight, and for those who might be thinking uh oh, I'm not up for a hard luck story right now, don't you worry, today I am happy to say that I have some good news to share!

 

You may remember some tidbits that I wrote about Luis while I was in Guatemala...

  

Luis is another guy that I like a lot. He's in his early 20s, good looking, and you’d never think he’s homeless as he takes good care of himself. Well his story is that he is separated, not by choice, from his wife and two young daughters (2 and 3 months) who live in a town about 2.5 hours away. Apparently his mother in law kicked him out of the house in December and ever since he has been sleeping on the streets of Antigua.
 

 Luis admitted to me that he used to drink a lot and wasn’t the most stable husband and father. So the mother-in-law took matters into her own hands by the sounds of it.

 

Since being kicked out he has been in Antigua, and like Walter, earning money washing and guarding cars. When the shelter isn’t open he sleeps in the park. He talks a lot about his wife and girls and very much wants to be reunited with them. He has been drinking a lot less and trying to earn money for a home for him and his family.

 

Last month he saved 400 quetzales (about $35) and rented a house for his family in the town where he is from. But when it came time for the move, the mother-in law threatened that if the daughter left with Luis that she would take the children from her. So she stayed put, the house was rented for nothing and Luis returned to Antigua to sleep in the park.

 

After that he went back again to try and speak with his mother-in-law, to convince her that he had changed, but unfortunately she refused to talk to him. So not surprisingly he hasn’t been in the best spirits ever since. Poor guy..

 

 

Sometime later I wrote...

Luis, the young guy whose in-laws hate him, showed up last week which was great as I was thinking I wouldn't see him again. Turns out Luis, his wife and daughters were together for a month after he scrounged enough money together to rent a place. Their time together was shortlived though unfortunately as he didn't have a stable job to support them ongoing. So Luis returned to Antigua to find work while his wife and daughters returned to the in-laws' home.

 

He and I have talked a fair bit since he returned and he's clearly depressed about the situation, drinking at times to cope. He is back to sleeping on the street and to earn money, washing cars, probably the worst job to have in rainy season. And he knows it too, which must make him feel worse as things probably aren't going to get better anytime soon.

 

I ran into him the other night in the spot where he often waits to wash cars. It's killing him that he doesn't know how his family is. He can't even call his in-laws home anymore, which he says is worse than before. He just wants to know that they are all okay. He talked a lot about just wanting to move forward with his life, for things to be better. Unfortunately he has a criminal record though and because of that he can't get a decent job. So washing cars is it for now. He gets about 20 quetzales per car ($3) but again, when it's rainy all the time, most people don't want their car washed. He's thankful the shelter is open again so he can at least have a good sleep in a warm place. Besides the cold nights, he said that the "bolos" (drunks) cause problems in the park (Maria knows this all too well) which makes it hard to rest. Having to deal with bolos also makes him nervous as hr doesn't want to get into trouble with the law again.

 

Honestly, I still don't understand how homeless people manage. Talking to Luis shed some light for me though.

 

 

He has nothing with him, no possessions, no extra clothes etc. because he has nowhere to keep them. So every night that he is going to sleep on the street, he buys a fruit/vegetable sack that they sell in the market for 1Q which he covers himself with. He then throws it away the next morning. Same goes with his clothes. He buys an outfit in the used clothing shops for next to nothing, wears it until it is no longer usable and then throws it away. I never really thought about this before but I imagine a lot of the homeless do this. That's why it's even harder when it's raining, as when their one outfit gets wet, they have nothing else. I saw him again last night and he was going to be sleeping in only a t-shirt as his hoodie had got wet. And it was a cold, wet night. I felt so bad for him. To me he's really unique out of the whole group as he's a clean cut, good looking guy that you would never think lives on the street. He is clean, and the clothes that he does pick are pretty cool. You could picture him waiting tables at a nice restaurant or doing any "mainstream job" really. But unfortunately that kind of job is out of reach due to his past mistakes.

 

 

So the last 2 nights I have seen him, he was going to be sleeping in the street, on a cool, rainy night, the last time without a sweater, and probably an empty stomach. I felt so guilty walking away, off to buy food for myself, in my warm clothes, and then back to my cozy apartment, even if there is no toaster, coffeemaker, blender or corkscrew. Off to change into the clothes that I am sick of. To write and call those that I care about.

 

When I left Guatemala I left with Luis as a Facebook friend. He's the only one actually, as most of the shelter's clients probably don't even know what Facebook is. I knew that he used the internet at times, often just to kill time or stay out of the rain. Thankfully it isn't too expensive to do. I could tell after a couple months that there had been some changes in him. It looked like he had got a phone as he was posting pictures of himself, and he seemed to be in good spirits.

 

A couple days ago we were able to chat for a bit and he shared the best news! Not only did he get a job working in a church serving meals to the homeless (ironic I know), but this income plus his car washing has allowed him to rent a room for himself! For the 3 months he has been off the street :) No more sleeping in the park, dealing with the cold, rain, the police harassment, the drunks. No more having to throw out his clothes every few days and most importantly, it's a start to a new and better life. He still goes to the shelter to eat, just to make things a little easier, and has turned to the church as well. He hasn't been drinking and is focused on moving forward. I was scared to ask about his family but I did. Sadly he has had no contact with his wife and daughters for months and knows nothing about them. But once he has a few more months of stability under his belt and is even more settled and prepared, he plans to go look for them, and I'm sure, to bring them back to Antigua to live with him.
 

I'm so happy for him, and to hear of his progress. He is one person who I felt could shake being homeless and carve out a life for himself, and I think he's finally on that road :)

 

 

 

Final Thoughts on Guatemala

Well, I am writing my last blog post while still in Guatemala. It's hard to believe that 6 months have passed (7 since I left Winnipeg). I have no idea where the time went. As the saying goes, time flies when you're having fun.

I've realized over time (perhaps it's one of the many pieces of wisdom that hit you in your 40s), that the best thing to do when you travel is to have low expectations. Being honest I wasn't very excited about coming to Guatemala as there just wasn't anything that jumped out at me. It seemed dull compared to India, where I yearned to return to for the 4th time. But my best friend, who always seems to know what's best for me, gently suggested that I should go somewhere different this time, reminding me that I could always go back to India next time. Thankfully I listened.

On top of my India craving, the travel reports sure didn't help me make the decision to go. I like danger and all...as an example I have great memories of running down a dirt road in Kenya, Forrest Gump-ish in flip flops after shots were fired. And my favourite place to visit when in a foreign country is a prison. But reports of rapes, murders and kidnappings did rattle me a bit. I can admit that. But, thankfully I did further research and glowing traveller forums convinced me to go. I figured that worst case scenario, if I didn't feel safe, I could always leave and go somewhere else..like India maybe  :)

Well I have to say that Guatemala exceeded my expectations..by far actually. After getting a taste of several other Central American countries at the start of the trip, I can say that Guatemala is really unique.


First of all, it is naturally beautiful. If you've had a chance to see my pictures on Facebook you will see rivers, lakes, oceans, volcanoes, colonial architecture, colourful textiles and much more.



Fuego Volcano outside of Antigua




Colonial architecture in Quetzaltenango

 





 While here I visited the most beautiful lake I've ever seen, Lake Atitlan, which is surrounded by volcanoes and simply breathtaking. 

 

 
 









Another standout was Tikal, an ancient Mayan city full of temples and ruins scattered throughout the jungle. It actually surprised me how much I liked it, as I'm "ruined out" after Peru and Cambodia (meaning tired of seeing temples and ruins). They just don't excite me anymore..if they ever did. But Tikal really impressed me with its grand structures and jungle setting.

It was a long journey to Semuc Champey...a series of emerald green pools staggered over a natural limesone bridge in the middle of the forest..but as they say in Spanish "vale la pena" (it's worth it).

I can't leave out the two coasts..the Caribbean side with its Garifuna people and African vibe, and the Pacific coast with its crashing waves, dark volcanic sand and gorgeous sunsets. It was the Pacific (Monterrico) where I released some baby turtles into the ocean..one of my favourite memories. It was also where I fell for a certain Guatemalan..so it will always be a special place to me :)

Livingston (Caribbean coast)

Tapado, a traditional dish from the Caribbean coast..que rico!



Beautiful Monterrico sunset

Freeing baby turtles in Monterrico

Antigua's famous Arc

And Antigua (sigh)..my home for 6 months. Probably the safest place to be in Guatemala with its many tourists and heavy police presence there to protect them. Its a lovely little city with cobblestone streets and colonial buildings alive with different colours. On top of that two huge volcanoes surround the city and they're enthralling with their changing vistas. When draped in cloudcover they're mythical looking, and simply grand when it's clear and their huge cones dominate the sky.

Washing pilas in Antigua

 

Parque Central

I can't leave out two of my favourite Antigua spots; a lovely, tree covered park in the center with its big fountain and benches for lounging. Always alive with people it was a great place to people watch, practice Spanish with the locals or read the paper (Guatemala's version of the Winnipeg Sun filled with news of killings and everything bad in the country, plus of course a "Sunshine Girl" to make the world right again I suppose). The other favourite, the local market, bustling with people and vendors selling everything under the sun. You can't beat the cheap, fresh fruits and vegetables there. I will sure miss my delicious 20 cent avocados :(

Over time you get to know people, like the guys handing you the exact same flyers everyday (and which you throw away 2 minutes later), the servers in the coffee shops, the family running the laundry place. I love the feeling of getting to know a new place, a different world, and becoming apart of that world over time.

Besides its natural beauty one of the things that impresses me most about Guatemala is its rich culture. Despite civil war, increasing  
tourism and outside influences, Guatemalans have been able to successfully retain their customs and traditions.



Pine laid outside buildings on New Years

New Years "gigantes" in the street

 

Indigenous people are the majority here and visible everywhere in their traditional dress. The women are striking in their blouses and long skirts in a plethora of different colours and patterns. The little girls with their miniature traditional outfits are the cutest, as are the men with their cowboy hats.

 

Religion is a huge part of life for people in Guatemala, whether it be Catholic, Mayan etc. Cuaresma/Semana Santa (Lent/Easter) was incredible with its hoards of Catholic worshippers, religious processions and alfombras (carpets) in the streets. For 40 days!! 40 days!! I have never seen anything like it...

 

Alfombras (carpets) in the street

Another highlight on the religious front was my visit to see Maximon, the Mayan God of everything badass. Booze, cigarettes, women..you name it, he's all for it. I was giddy with excitement as I walked into some random person's house, where Maximon lives for a year until he moves again. It was full of candles and flowers with a life size mannequin, Maximon, sitting in a chair, adorned in a cowboy-like hat, sunglasses and bandana (just like I like 'em!). I lit my special multicoloured candle which will surely bring me all kinds of future luck, and poured an offering of aguardiente liquor down his throat as is the custom. Then I just sat and took it all in. He may be annoyed with me but I was too shy to share a cigarette with him as I had also been told was custom, so smoked it outside while processing the experience. Loved it (not the cigarette, the experience..) 

Maximon

 

I have to comment on the sounds of Guatemala as well, especially that of women's hands slapping together which you hear EVERYWHERE. Any guesses as to what from? Tortillas my friends, tortillas, a staple food for Guatemalans, and the only food that the poorest of the poor live on. Tortilla makers (women only) stand in front of a giant grill with an open fire all day making these things. It's so hot and a lot of work, for next to nothing. They sell for 1 quetzal for 4 tortillas (7 quetzales equals a dollar). I certainly couldn't do it..I actually tried it once and it was hard, kinda like riding a scooter. But it's a big business because everyone eats them. You see women sitting day and night at their posts in front of chicken restaurants with their baskets filled with tortillas, wrapped tightly with brightly coloured textiles to keep them hot. All because Guatemalans can't eat their chicken dinners without tortillas, part of a culture that I find so fascinating.

Marimba band

Back to sounds..you can never talk about a Latin American country without mentioning music. In Guatemala you hear marimba bands playing in the streets and parks, as well as any other kind of latin music blaring from peoples' houses starting early morning. In my case the blaring music came from the cantina across the street from my apartment. The same locals drank there from morning till night and in return I got to enjoy a free jukebox selection.

Now back to food, one of my favourite topics!! I had the best tasting chicken I have ever had in Guatemala, never to be forgotten. My favourite was from the local grocery store, akin to the whole BBQ chicken you get from Safeway or wherever. OMG so delicious! Another newfound favourite was tapado (picture above), a coconut based soup with a whole fish, seafood and plantain. You only find it on the Caribbean coast and it's worth the trip! I'm also going to have fond memories of my favourite meal while there of refried beans, french bread, fried plantain and fresh cheese. I'll definitely be re-creating that meal back in Canada! And finally the coffee...it's no secret that Guatemala has great coffee and I enjoyed trying out many coffee shops over the months in Antigua. I sure hope that the beans I brought home last awhile..until my next trip perhaps :)

I'm going to close off by talking about safety given that it almost prevented me from coming to Guatemala in the first place. Well, in a country with a baaad reputation, I'm happy to report that not one bad thing happened to me in 6 months. I didn't always play it safe as DQ Blizzards were calling my name at times and I just had to take the bus to Guatemala City to satisfy my craving. BUT, to my credit although it killed me, I did decide not to visit a prison there given that it's in a crazy dangerous area. So I'm not completely reckless. Despite what one may think from reading official travel reports, there are lots and lots of tourists here and it's easy, cheap and safe to get around. It really impressed me how well set up it is for tourists. I'm really glad that I didn't let the negative travel reports stop me from experiencing this amazing place.

So that's Guatemala, a naturally beautiful and culturally rich country that I will always have fond memories of, and high regard for. I see myself as an ambassador for this country now and hope that my stories and pictures will entice some of you to come and see for yourself one day :)

 

Countryside near Lanquin

Quetzeltenango at night

Mangroves

 

One last sight of Lake Atitlan

 

 

 

June in Antigua

It's rainy season now in Guatemala. In Antigua that means cloudy days with little sun, rain off and on and cooler temperatures. Not my favourite season here that's for sure. After 7 months away from home, things like the weather start to get to you. This is where I'm at right now.

My clothes are one such sore spot these days. Imagine wearing the same lot of clothes, enough to fit in a backpack, over and over and over for months. Sure I've bought a few things here but it doesn't make a huge difference. You don't even want to get dressed in the morning, for real.

Making it worse is that I gave up some of the few clothes that I did have before going to Nicaragua. I guess I wasn't thinking that I had another 6 weeks to clothe myself in Guatemala before returning home. I must have also thought that it was going to be as hot in Guatemala as it was in Nicaragua. Not even close. So I stocked up on tank tops there; even raiding my best friend Corrine's supply, for nothing.

My Spanish teacher was the lucky recipient of my clothes and is happier than I am when at Dairy Queen. Everytime I have a class with her I see something of mine and it just about kills me not to ask for it back..even for just a few weeks until I leave!! But that would just be tacky. And so I suffer with my many useless tank tops and other stuff that I can't even stand to look at anymore. I plan to leave a lot of it at the shelter or with my teacher before I leave as I know I won't want to ever see it again once back in Canada.

Hot water is another thing that's killing me these days. When I came back from Nicaragua I moved into a different apartment, and this one has solar heated water. Great for the environment surely, but not the best option during rainy season in Antigua. Especially for a girl who likes her showers so hot that the bathroom looks like a sauna when she comes out. The first week the water was just luke warm which I found awful, although certainly not the worst I've dealt with in my travels. In true Crystal fashion I complained only in my head and waited for someone else to talk to the landlord. Thankfully someone did and they eventually turned on the gas which was glorious for the most part as I was able to have my steamy times in the shower. However, I do have to say that showering with gas has its challenges as well. You basically have to withstand scalding hot water (thankfully I have a high tolerance) and if you can't, and turn on the cold water, the hot water goes completely. You can try and play with the cold, just a little at a time, and if you're lucky you might get to keep the hot, but it's a crapshoot really. Kinda detracts from the enjoyable shower experience that I look forward to, as you end up spending more time and effort tinkering with the water than actually doing what you're there to do.

But these days it's even worse as we're down to no hot water. Apparently someone used the hot water so long that it's toast. Pretty sure it wasn't me, although my previous description of my showers probably does cast some doubt on my innocence. Who knows..but what I do know is that on these cool, rainy days, showering in glacier water is a real bitch (sorry for the language). There are few things that make me more miserable than this. And so I'm miserable while I wait for it to get fixed. Ya see folks, it aint all glamorous over here!!

After 7 months you start to crave the ability to cook, in your own kitchen, with all the gadgets that you're used to. Here I open wine bottles with a steak knife (the only knife in the apartment), forcing the cork to fall into the bottle so you can pour the wine out. Toast is made in a frying pan. Coffee is instant and made by boiling water in a pot. No blender, no oven, no microwave.

And you die for foods and spices that you can't get here. Raisin Bran, greek yogurt, spices to make Indian dal, Campbells soup, Shake and Bake, Cheez Whiz, Stove Top stuffing..Honestly I don't even eat some of these things, but when you can't have them, you want them!

So let's just say that I very much look forward to breaking out my tickle trunk of Indian spices and making some lovely curries when I get home, making smoothies, baking Grandma Moshenko's banana muffins, and roasting a chicken to name a few.

I'm starting to daydream about things like having a Blackberry again, having my gel nails put back on, wearing boots, different jewelry and getting a haircut, OMG a haircut will be sweet after 7 months! Drinks and dinner with friends, summer patios in Winnipeg, camping, driving a car....

I guess you could say I'm ready to be home.

The shelter is open once again, and thank goodness, because it brings the sun back into my life on these rainy days. More importantly, because it's not a great time of year to be homeless. Unfortunately it's still only open 3 nights a week but it's sure better than nothing.

I've been thinking a lot about my homeless friends these days, especially on the nights that it is cold and rainy. I can't imagine having to sleep outside in this kind of weather. After all I can't even handle a cold water shower.

The reunions with my homeless peeps were sweet when I came back. But it's actually been a bit slow going at the shelter these days. Some of the regulars haven't returned at all, or have trickled back slowly over time. I suppose that the shelter being closed for 5 weeks led to some people making decisions to leave Antigua, visit family, and for some, likely binge drinking, because they had nothing motivating them to stay clean. At least when the weather is bad, they know that if they stay clean they can have a warm, dry place to sleep and a nice meal a few days a week.

As usual here are some updates...

Maria Esperanza was missing for the first while but eventually showed up after being assaulted. She told us that she had been sleeping in the park when two drunk men, homeless as well, attacked her with a beer bottle. For no reason. Poor Maria..life just isn't easy for her. She arrived with a bandage over her eye and stitches in her face. But if you can believe it, she was still smiling, and was nonchalant about the whole thing. It seemed like she enjoyed telling us her hardluck story actually, no doubt because at least it's something new to talk about in her mundane life.

Victor, an older man who is my favourite of them all, (although my Spanish teacher points out that I have many favourites, which is true) was also missing for some time. I thought maybe he had gone to visit his daughter as he told me was his plan, but unfortunately Alex has seen him more than once drunker than a skunk. But when he did show up one night, and sober at that, I got the biggest hug, and it was the happiest reunion of them all. He is the most lovely man. It's too bad booze has such a hold on his life.

Luis, the young guy whose in-laws hate him, showed up last week which was great as I was thinking I wouldn't see him again. Turns out Luis, his wife and daughters were together for a month after he scrounged enough money together to rent a place. Their time together was shortlived though unfortunately as he didn't have a stable job to support them ongoing. So Luis returned to Antigua to find work while his wife and daughters returned to the in-laws' home.

He and I have talked a fair bit since he returned and he's clearly depressed about the situation, drinking at times to cope. He is back to sleeping on the street and to earn money, washing cars, probably the worst job to have in rainy season. And he knows it too, which must make him feel worse as things probably aren't going to get better anytime soon.

I ran into him the other night in the spot where he often waits to wash cars. It's killing him that he doesn't know how his family is. He can't even call his in-laws' home anymore, which he says makes it worse than before. He just wants to know that they are okay. He talked a lot about just wanting to move forward with his life, for things to be better. He has a criminal record though unfortunately, and because of that he can't get a decent job. So washing cars is it for now. He gets about 20 quetzales per car ($3) but again, when it's rainy all the time, most people don't want their car washed. He's thankful the shelter is open again so he can at least have a good sleep in a warm place. Besides the cold nights, he said that the "bolos" (drunks) cause problems in the park (Maria knows this all too well) which makes it hard to rest. Having to deal with bolos also makes him nervous as he doesn't want to get into trouble with the law again.

Honestly, I still don't understand how homeless people manage. Talking to Luis shed some light for me though.

He has nothing with him, no possessions, no extra clothes etc. because he has nowhere to keep them. So everynight that he is going to sleep on the street, he buys a fruit/vegetable sack that they sell in the market for 1Q which he covers himself with. He throws it away the next morning. Same goes with his clothes. He buys an outfit in the used clothing shops for next to nothing, wears it until it is no longer usable and then throws it away. I never really thought about this before but I imagine a lot of the homeless do this. That's why it's even harder when it's raining, because when their one outfit gets wet, they have nothing else. I saw him again last night and he was going to be sleeping in only a t-shirt as his hoodie had got wet. And it was a cold, wet night. I felt so bad for him. To me he's really unique out of the whole group as he's a clean cut, good looking guy that you would never think lives on the street. He is clean, and the clothes that he does pick are pretty cool. You could picture him waiting tables at a nice restaurant or doing any "mainstream job" really. But unfortunately that kind of job is out of reach due to his past mistakes.

So the last 2 nights I have seen him, he was going to be sleeping on the street, on a cool, rainy night, the last time without a sweater, and probably an empty stomach. I felt so guilty walking away, off to buy food for myself, in my warm clothes, and then back to my cozy apartment, even if there is no toaster, coffeemaker, blender or corkscrew. Off to change into the clothes that I am sick of. To write and call those that I care about.

So really I have no right to complain after all.

　

More Stories and Updates

I haven't written for so long and I'm not sure why. Perhaps life can become mundane, even in a new country, and people's stories, whether sad, crazy, or whatever, all start to run into eachother and seem normal after awhile.

But my beloved shelter, my main purpose for being here, has closed for 5 weeks for maintenance and staff vacation. I'm going to miss the people so much, and they are what has inspired me to write again.

I have to of course start with Kenia, as the drama surrounding her and her children has gripped me for months now. If you read my Facebook posts you will already know that her children are still in the care of the PGN (CFS). Since I last wrote though, they have been moved to a new hogar (children's home) in Guatemala City. I'm not sure why, although I hear that it's pretty common for foster children to be moved here. It sounds just like Canada unfortunately.

Tomorrow Kenia will travel to the city to have her first visit with her kids since they were taken from her in late January. The only news she has had about them came recently from another mother whose kids are in the same hogar (small world). This woman had been to visit her own children after which she told Kenia that her oldest child Carla cries a lot. This doesn't surprise me as Carla presented as the little mother of the family, and I'm sure she is carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders not knowing what is going to happen to her and her siblings, and as well what happened to their mother. But thankfully both Kenia and her children will have some answers after tomorrow.

I saw Kenia for the last time this week. She doesn't come often so it’s always a treat when I do see her. This time she wasn't feeling well, but thankfully she braved a photo with me so I will have a memento of her. That day ironically she was wearing a t-shirt that said "Chica Bomba" which I doubt requires any translation. Well that is sure how I am going to remember her being..a bomb of a girl. And actually, I wouldn't mind one of those shirts myself!

You will likely recall when Kenia and I went to meet with the lawyer and he asked her if she prostituted. She hesitated but then said no, making myself, and I am sure the lawyer, think that she was probably lying. Well unfortunately I think that the answer to that is yes, she was. Writing this, I feel as naive as I did as a 22 year old baby social worker starting out in the hood of Winnipeg, believing everyone and their stories.  With Kenia I think I did know, but just didn’t want to accept it.

There were other clues apart from her answer to that question, such as her less than shy personality and somewhat provocative clothing, both of which are not so common here. 

Well the icing on the cake, or, perhaps the nail in the coffin is more appropriate, was Thelma telling me that she had seen Kenia leaving the shelter with men in the morning. From what I hear prostitution is quite common with Nicaraguan and El Salvadorian women who come to Guatemala, and not at all surprising given that most likely lack the education and/or skills to obtain decent employment. Plus, many are likely single mothers, which is the case with Kenia. So I really can't blame her if she is prostituting, and feel no differently about her getting her children back, as long as she is able to provide for them and keep them safe.

This very well may be where Kenia's story ends as I'm not sure I will see her again...I just hope for the best for her and her children..

Next my Maria Esperanza, who I have had a soft spot for since the first night at the shelter when she showed up in that "I Love New York" t-shirt smiling up at me with that wide grin.

Well life continues to be up and down for poor Maria.  Everyday is the same for her, scavenging for recyclables all over Antigua. Walking, walking and walking some more, while lugging bags of her few belongings, as well as the bottles and cans that sustain her.

I see her around Antigua a lot..and she is always in different clothes it seems. Lately she has been wearing a very formal white blazer and skirt that someone gave her. It's so odd as she looks like she could be off to church rather than rummaging through garbage cans. But it's so cute at the same time. Some days she looks pretty good physically and is in good spirits. Other days she looks like a different person, with a red, puffy face and an expression that shows how miserable life can be.

She had that not so good look today when I saw her walking purposefully through the park. When she looks like this I honestly have to look at her 2-3 times before being sure it is her. That is how different she looks. I know by now what it means, which is that she is having her attacks and is not well.

A couple weeks ago Maria had an epileptic attack at the shelter and unfortunately I was there to see it. She was on her mat eating when it happened, and her food went everywhere as her body went into convulsions. The other women called us over and thankfully Thelma is a nurse so placed her on her side and stayed with her until it passed. I had never seen an epileptic episode before and hope to never again.

I've thought many times about what can be done for Maria..such as buying her a huge lot of pills so she will always have her medication, or trying to get her into an old folks home. But I think I have come to accept that unfortunately her life will always be this way no matter what.

I say this because I know now that there is no way she would stay in an old folks home. She's infamous for escaping from hospitals after being taken there by paramedics. And when it comes to her pills, she often forgets them, loses them or has them stolen. Sadly, this is her reality.

Now, in order to not send you readers into a deep depression over Maria's sad story, I need to point out that there are some positives and strengths with her and her situation. 

First of all, she is incredibly hardworking and can manage to eat, bathe, and for the most part get the basics that she needs. Secondly, people can see that Maria is a kind soul as so they often give her money, clothes etc. Third (I'm on a roll), her cousin who works in the park as a shoe shiner, looks out for her. He seems to have some delays but like Maria has a very strong work ethic as I see him working day and night. His black stained skin and clothes are proof of that. And finally, 3 times a week sweet Maria has a safe, warm place to sleep amongst awesome people who care about her. So although life will never be great for Maria, she's got some strengths and supports that will make life a little more bearable.

Now let's move on to some of the guys...It has been really interesting to be at the shelter over the months as I have been able to observe people and learn more about them and their lives.  There are a few who I had always suspected have mental health issues, and over time my suspicions have become more reality.
 

One example is Edgar Rafael, who is a petite, quiet, artsy type who draws and makes money selling his work. Alex believes that he has mental health issues as he supposedly talks to himself at times but I myself have never seen it.

However, I have definitely seen a different side of Edgar in the last couple weeks which I would describe as a manic episode. He has had tons of energy, talking and laughing lots, bouncing around the shelter like a kid, playing with a stuffed animal etc. Then one day last week he showed up wearing these blue funky glasses. At first I thought they looked kinda cool until I realized that they had no lenses. Then after awhile they had tape holding them together, which is never a good look. So perhaps Alex is on to something...

Then there is Henry, the guy who lived in Canada until he was deported. Well Henry often looks really bad appearance wise; dirty, dishevelled and looking kinda out of it. I think I have already mentioned that he rarely talks to anyone, yet most days talks my ear off in English. Unfortunately it's all very Donny Downer, as he's pretty down on life. His relationship with his family is estranged, although every month his parents send him $100 (which he technically could live on here). I doubt they know how he is living or what he does with the money. He has a hard time admitting it to me but I'm sure the majority goes to drugs. I've also suspected mental health issues with him, but couldn't figure out what exactly.

Well I think I got my answer last Saturday, the last night the shelter was open. That night Henry shared that before coming to Canada when he was 16, he had been in lots of fights in Guatemala. According to him the people that he fought with in Guatemala had connections in Canada, and "made life impossible" for him there. He said that they have continued to bother him here as well, despite the fact that he left that lifestyle behind. So yah, I'm no psychiatrist, but I'm pretty sure his story isn't reality, and that he may have some issues with paranoia. If so it sure makes his drug use a lot more understandable.   

I saw Henry in the park yesterday for the first time, standing and waiting to go to sleep he said. Small pieces of cardboard were placed against the wall behind him for when it was time. But sadly he had about 5 hours to go as it was only 5:00pm and typically the homeless can't go to sleep until the police leave the park at about 10. I stood and talked to him for quite awhile and got the same hard luck stories. His parents didn't send him money this month apparently so he's broke. I kinda forced him to tell me why he was deported to which I got a long drawn out story about a shoplifting charge and violating his probation by drinking. There was an element of paranoia in this story as well. Apparently he was tricked.

The interesting thing about this conversation was that as I walked away I noticed that there were 2 police officers standing close by, I'm assuming to protect me from Henry given that to them, he's an unsavoury character. I'm sure they couldn't figure out why a foreign chick would be talking to someone like him, and in English nonetheless! They left their post after I walked away, I suppose feeling that I was safe once again.

Thinking about what people, especially the locals, think when they see me talking to the homeless amuses me. I would love to know. To me, they're just people, and people that I enjoy talking to more than the so called "normal people."

Now on to other peeps..

Two younger guys started coming the last few weeks, but only to eat. They are both "ayudantes," the guys who collect the money on the chicken buses (the old US school buses that I have talked about, and the main mode of transport here). Well it just so happens that these two guys have one of the most dangerous jobs in Guatemala.

The main reason for this is extortion, a huge problem in Guatemala. Gangs extort the owners of the buses, making them pay a fee per day/week to travel a particular route. Certain areas of the country are worse, such as Guatemala City. Everyday you read about bus drivers and ayudantes (as these are the people who they target) who have been wounded or killed, due a refusal or inability to pay the extortion. I have been told more than once that it isn’t wise to sit right behind the bus driver, and that rather half way into the bus is the best spot. The reason for this is that the driver would be the target so if you’re close to him, you could get shot as well. So let’s just say I don’t sit close to the driver. Yikes!

The other major risk to those working on buses (as well as those riding on them) is robbery. Again, certain areas are more risky, but there definitely is a risk of robbers coming onto the bus with weapons, demanding money and property (such as cellphones). They assault and/or kill those who don’t pay or resist. It isn’t uncommon for Guatemalans to keep a bit of money on hand just in case they need to hand something over. Or they avoid taking buses in risky areas. 

Guatemala City is particularly bad for this which is why people (at least those who live outside of the city) try not to take buses within the capital. It's purely luck, or fate (whatever you believe in), whether it is going to happen on a particular day. I think it's best that I don’t advertise how many times I've gone to Guatemala City on these buses..but let’s just say when the DQ craving hits, nothing can stop me..haha!
 

I hate to even write about the dangers here as my goal is to promote tourism in this amazing country rather than to hinder it. But, as we all know, there are issues in every country, and you can’t let fear stop you from living. By the way, is Winnipeg still the murder capital of Canada? :)

I digressed, sorry…so these two guys, who are probably only in their late teens, work on the buses, and I am sure out of necessity, as why else would you risk your life on a daily basis? Well this week, the one guy who works the Antigua-Guatemala City route showed up with a huge contusion on his head, telling me that he was attacked with a machete last week while working. Someone apparently came on the bus demanding money and assaulted him and the passengers. So he isn't working right now as a result. Scary stuff for sure (although my Spanish teacher doesn’t believe his story and thinks he probably got in a fight while drinking, hahaha)

Me and Papa Nacho

Now on to happier topics…I have to talk about Papa Nacho as he is the cutest 84 year old man, who if you can believe, it, at that age lives on the streets. It seems to be by choice though as apparently he has family, but chooses not to live with them for some reason. It must be for good reason as I don't even know how he manages. He hobbles around and can barely see! Sometimes he comes with another old, old guy, who apparently can't hear, so with Papa Nacho’s poor vision, they sure are quite the pair!!

 

Partners in crime :)

 

Well the good news is that Papa Nacho has a new girlfriend, yes at 84 years old! See people, it’s never too late :) Well he is soooo happy these days and it is so cute. I hope she takes good care of him as he is the sweetest thing...

I also wanted to share the story of a father and son (age 12 or so) who have been coming faithfully over the last couple of months. Alex tells me that they live on a finca (farm) and that their job is to guard it. But the pay is apparently so little that they often don't have enough money to eat. So they come to the shelter to get some free food which helps out. I haven't talked to them as they’re quiet and stick to themselves but their story breaks my heart. Life is such a struggle for some people. We always make sure the son gets extra pizza on the nights that we get pizza donations, as like any teenager he seems to love it :)

Walter, who I have talked about before, is still going to school. He still impresses me with his drive. Last week he had a math test and got all dressed up for it. So cute...

His buddy, Luis (on the right), is another guy that I like a lot. He's in his early 20s, is good looking, and you’d never think he’s homeless as he takes good care of himself. Well his story is that he is separated, not by choice, from his wife and two young daughters (age 2 and 3 months) who live in a town about 2.5 hours away. His mother in-law kicked him out of the house in December and he has been sleeping on the streets of Antigua ever since. Luis admitted to me that he used to drink a lot and wasn’t the most stable husband and father. So the mother-in-law took matters into her own hands by the sounds of it.

Since being kicked out he has been in Antigua, and like Walter, has been earning money washing and guarding cars. When the shelter isn’t open he sleeps in the park. He talks a lot about his wife and girls and very much wants to be reunited with them. He has been drinking a lot less and is trying to earn money for a home for him and his family.

Last month he saved 400 quetzales (about $35) and rented a house for his family in the town where he is from. But when it came time for the move, the mother-in law threatened that if her daughter left with Luis, that she would take the children from her. So she stayed put, the house was rented for nothing and Luis returned to Antigua to sleep in the park.

After that he went back again to try and speak with his mother-in-law, to convince her that he had changed, but unfortunately she refused to talk to him. So not surprisingly he hasn’t been in the best spirits ever since. Poor guy..

I hope after reading these stories it is evident how important the shelter is to those that use it. Having a place to go even 3 times a week, out of the cold and rain, where they can wash their clothes and shower (even in icy cold water), sleep on a mat and blanket (instead of concrete and cardboard), have a little something to eat, and be amongst for some, the closest thing to family or friends...that is comfort.

A friend sent me a social work article this week about "compassionate social work" which she said I would understand. Now I don't typically read these types of articles (I'm more of a TMZ kinda girl) but gave it a go based on the topic. There was a definition of compassion in this article which is...'a feeling of wanting to help someone who is sick, hungry, in trouble etc.: a sympathetic consciousness of others’ distress, together with a desire to alleviate it."

In case you didn’t notice, my blog is called “It’s All About Karuna” because “karuna,” meaning compassion in Nepali, has been, I hope, the message shining through during my travels and volunteer experiences throughout the world. We should “practice” compassion when anyone is suffering, for whatever reason; family problems, mental health, alcohol/drugs etc. Because many people, especially here in Guatemala, can’t understand why I would want to work with, talk to, or feel for “indigentes” (homeless people), I will close by suggesting that the amount of compassion we feel for someone shouldn’t be based on where they sleep at night. On that note, sleep well my friends :)