Perhaps Ignorance Really is Bliss

I returned to New Mexico on Saturday, overwhelmed, frazzled, sad and happy all at the same time. I was overwhelmed by everything I had experienced and seen in Santa Maria. I was frazzled by the airports and the sharp reality that I was, less than 8 hours later, no longer in Guatemala. I was sad to think that I may never again see the 29 children that I hugged everyday; yet I was happy because I knew they were smiling. Because the kids of Santa Maria are just happy. Perhaps ignorance is bliss...

Some of the children have never been to Antigua, and the few that

have, believe it to be a tremendous opportunity to spend the day in the "city". Many of them will never move out of Santa Maria, and while I would love for the kids to never have to go hungry again or to know what it is like to sleep on a mattress, I wonder if they are happier because they don't know what they're missing. They have never known what it's like to sleep without all of their siblings, and so they don't lament it. While it breaks your heart to see some of the kids put their daily piece of bread in their pocket or their tiny purse to take home to share with their families, at the same time, this is their life. And they are not complaining.

Three days before I arrived in Albuquerque, my boyfriend returned from a 10 day trip to Haiti. He was telling me of the corruption, the stealing, the lying, and the violence that has come to define the country. Apparently in the last 200 years, only 4 presidents or dictators have completed their terms of service. The others were exiled, executed, or have fled the country. Both men and women gain status based on the number of children they have. Stealing is rewarded. It has come be said that Haiti's biggest export is poverty. Yes, Haiti is a mess.

Yet, coming from Santa Maria, I can't even imagine this. The people in Santa Maria are so courteous, kind, and unselfish. If a student loses his pista (pocket-change), the entire class stops paying attention and begins crawling on hands and knees looking for the missing 50 centavos. We sent some of the older children to the photocopy shop with Q5 and instructions to make 25 copies. They dutifully returned with correct change and exactly 25 copies. The kids each ate their one piece of bread and fruit and then were satisfied. Although both my boyfriend and I were working in very impoverished communities, it seems that none of the corruption and negative energy of Port-au-Prince is visible in Santa Maria.

Why is this?

Although I am far from understanding the sociological explanations, I did speak with one of the directors of the project on my last night in Antigua and he was able to shed some light on the

issues. He said that the people of Guatemala (especially the Mayan people) have not often received aid or help from other countries. And that because of this, Mayan people do not see a white person and immediately expect money or clothes or food. They work hard and modestly to feed their families. Parents have children in order to have more help in the fields. The director said that many third-world countries, especially in Africa, have received so much aid from others that they are able to survive merely on the support of other governments. They don't have a need to learn to stand alone. If governmental aid gets you a good life, why change things? Perhaps this is the case with Haiti as well. If corruption gets you a good life (or any life), why stop? How can countries like Haiti get back on their own feet? Even with our project in Santa Maria, the biggest sign of success will come when the chicitins we taught return to the school to be local teachers. Until then, we can just be thankful we shared a moment in their lives and hope for the best.

On our last day, Steph and I gave each of our students a class photo to take home. They spent the first 5 minutes just staring at the photo and pointing out all the silly expressions of their classmates. They were excited to see their faces on paper, to take this one photograph home and tuck it away in a safe place. Who knows how many other photos of themselves they will have in their lifetimes. And the 150 I have of them isn't nearly enough.

8 weeks and 532 photos later, I am now back in the U.S., jobless and perhaps only a little wiser, but most certainly touched.

Vamos a Bailar!

Took a while for the kids to understand that my camera could make a video. But once that was clear, the chicos were not shy to perform . . .

Las Photos de Mis Ninos

Clase 3 Manana

Clase 2 Tarde

I had 9 kiddos in the morning and 20 in the afternoon, all first graders. While 20 seven-year-olds is a handful, it was actually easier to teach the 20 than it was the 9. The students in the morning were older (most were 8 or 9 years old) and each one had an incredibly strong personality. Many of the students who are older than they would normally be in the first grade either were unable to start school on time because they were working, or didn't pass first grade the first time around usually due to poor attendance at the national school.

Discipline proved to be much harder in the morning than the afternoon as well, since many of the children in the morning came from very tough family situations. One of the students lives with his grandmother ever since his dad abandoned the family and left Santa Maria which caused the mother to flee to a convent. One of the other students refuses to act like an adult because "adults hits". The smallest girl in the class is just as quick to throw insults as the boys since she is the lone girl in a family of brothers.

Yet while each class at the school in Santa Maria has enough sad stories to make your head spin, it still stands that kids will always be kids and the chicitins (little kids) of Santa Maria really are no different than children anywhere else in the world. They throw their crayons on the floor when they don't want to do something, they pout when they don't get their way, and they shriek with delight when they find out we're using paint that day.