Ramp

For the ramp next to the ministry building, they extended the retaining wall and then concreted the path.

First the foundation,

then the rock and concrete retaining wall,

then the concrete sidewalk,

and last, some steps at the top end.

Someone could use it

I have a different thought process now about throwing things away.  Whenever I put something in my trash can, I know that someone in the local dump is going to go through my trash and see what they could possibly use or eat.  So sometimes if I have, for example, socks that are about to get holes in them, I put them in a separate plastic bag in the trash.  Or if Veronica has toys that she doesn't use any more, I also put them in a separate plastic bag in the trash.   Or if I have some veggies that are still good, but I won't be able to use them before they go bad, I go ahead and put them in a separate bag in the trash.  Hmmm... something to think about.

Big truck

For the construction of part of the retaining wall around the ministry building, we had to order some big rocks.  The truck that came was big, but finally managed to back up our driveway without falling off the 5-foot drop-off on the other side of the narrow road!

Shopping in a Crowd

Shopping in a Crowd - essay by Elena

      Wednesday morning, Mom and I left home on our usual busy shopping trip in Chichicastenango, a town teeming with people. Mom carefully drove our white 1997 Land Cruiser into town, avoiding people, dogs, and bicycles, along with anything else moving down the street. She pulled cautiously into the busy grocery store parking lot and backed into a narrow parking space. I breathed in deeply and hopped out of the car, careful not to slam the door into the rusty pickup truck squeezed in beside us. After Mom had retrieved five colorful shopping bags from the car trunk, we walked to the edge of the road to wait our turn to cross. Several tuk-tuks full of squashed passengers and a large truck full of produce rumbled past before we scurried across the street and entered the meat store on the corner.

      “Four pounds of ground beef, please,” Mom requested, and the agreeable clerk set to work selecting our meat. Huge cow parts hanging from hooks around the counter stared us down as he weighed out six pounds of meat and fed it into a metal grinding machine. Gooey, raw meat oozed out the spout into a plastic bag. Soon the machine finished its job, and purchase in hand, we quickly crossed the street to the plastic store called Decoplas.

      Cheerfully the store clerks welcomed us into the colorful shop. At the counter, Mom asked to buy a large quantity of black trash bags, which are sold individually. “Certainly,” they agreed and set to work folding the trash bags for us. Meanwhile, I glanced around the decorative store. Ceramic plates and bowls with fancy designs sat proudly on the shelf to our right, while plastic containers of various sizes, shapes, and colors stood opposite them. Around the corner I spotted toy riding horses and plastic motorcycles, eager to take a little boy or girl on their first ride. Sparkling hula hoops hung from the ceiling near the entrance, and brooms stood propped up underneath them. My observation ended when we received the folded trash bags and headed briskly out the exit to the G&T bank.

      A stern security guard carrying a machine gun politely opened the front door for us to enter the warm bank. We took our place in the long line of about fifteen other customers, some waiting patiently, and others fidgeting anxiously. More people sat in chairs along each side of the bank, waiting for customer service. After waiting about twenty minutes, we finally received our turn at a teller's window up front. Within a few minutes we stepped outside once more and turned left toward the indoor mall.

      As we walked, we waved to several friends from church; steered around stray dogs, ladies dressed in the traditional Mayan outfit, speedy bicycles, and carts full of produce; and breathed in the unpleasant fumes from huge trucks rumbling down the road. Finally, we reached the office supply store, School Supply Plus, in the mall. Cardboard boxes cluttered the tile floor and sat on shelves reaching to the ceiling. Notebooks, tape rolls, and various other items eagerly waiting to be bought were stacked along two walls, and boxes filled with other school supplies adorned the counters. The friendly store clerk attending us rapidly gathered our request: four glue sticks and three rolls of masking tape, which we promptly paid for and then exited the crowded store.

      Next we shouldered our way into the produce market, stepping around or splashing through muddy puddles; ducking under plastic tarps; and occasionally losing our balance and falling into the closest person, market stand, or post that happened to be there. At last, we arrived at our usual fruit stand. Numerous papayas, bananas, cantaloupes, and mangoes smiled up at us as the fruit lady chose the bananas, plantains, pineapple, and watermelon Mom had requested. The vendor patted both the spiny pineapple and the smooth watermelon to assure herself they were the very best. Then we placed our purchases in bags and heaved them onto our shoulders.

      After saying goodbye to the fruit vendor, we pushed through the throngs of people to our normal vegetable stand. The spacious stand sagged under the weight of piles of cucumbers, green beans, celery, potatoes, and many other fresh vegetables. Mom asked the kind vendor for eight pounds of potatoes, one pound of tomatoes, two red bell peppers, and two bags of carrots. Each kind of vegetable had a turn on the scale to weigh out the correct amount as the vendor hurried to give us our purchase. We added the vegetable bags to the ones on our tired shoulders, now bearing the burden of what seemed like a million pounds. Finally finished shopping, we slowly trudged back up the cobblestone street. After walking what felt like a trip across the country, at last we reached our car. We both sighed in exhaustion when we plopped into our seats, but in great satisfaction as well. We had successfully accomplished another busy shopping trip in the crowded town of Chichicastenango.

How to sneeze

Since we moved to Chichicastenango six years ago, we have noticed several differences between the Mayan people here and ourselves.  Of course there are obvious differences like their darker skin or our taller height.

But one interesting difference is in the way we sneeze!  When we sneeze, it sounds a lot like "a-choo!"; and we might even get our voice into it.  When Michael sneezes, for example, we can hear him from the other part of the house (which makes us all laugh).  But the people here make a small, quiet sound, more like "tch."  Yes, that's all... very little build-up to it and very little noise.

Imagine my surprise the other day when Veronica sneezed and made a little sound like "tch."  Ha ha ha!  What I figured must have been a difference in physical construction of their nasal passages was actually a learned behavior!  Veronica is around Mayan children in our dance practices, in Sunday School, and when we invite girls over to play at our house.  Veronica explained, "You simply close your mouth, don't use your voice, and hold it in as much as you can."  What a humorous cultural experience for us!

Michael's response:  "My sneeze is much more satisfying!"

Trucks and traffic

More and more 18-wheelers, flatbed trucks, delivery trucks, pick-up trucks, buses, tuk-tuks, SUVs, and regular cars are coming through Chichicastenango day by day.  The narrow road through our town forms part of one of the major highways through Guatemala.

We all have to pull over to let the big trucks by.

This decorated bus was waiting in line
behind me.  The guy seemed to find it funny
that I was taking photos of traffic!

Chichi's one small grocery store is to the
right.  Getting in and out of the parking
lot is difficult with so much traffic.

Visit from Puerto Rican pastor

We received a visit from our Puerto Rican pastor, Denis Rivera, and another brother from the church, Miguel!  They traveled to Guatemala City to attend a conference, and then they made a 3 1/2-hour trip (both there and back... 7 hours total) out to Chichicastenango to see us!  What a blessing for us!  We love you, Pastor Denis!

Pastor Denis is on the right, along with Miguel
in the center, and the Guatemalan couple on the
left drove them to and from Chichi. (Thank you!)