June 14, 2006

As I pack for this journey, this adventure, what is difficult is that I have only a very faint idea of what lies ahead. However, returning to a place where I have once been does help. Once known as one who always “over-packed,” I have to conquer my fear of leaving an item, however so slight. Instead I force myself to understand, that wanting something and not being able to indulge myself in it, is half the journey. The more I ponder the idea the deeper it grows.

If I am so used to having everything, right at my fingertips, then how is it that I am to relate to the people and the lifestyle of the Third World, to a people that often do not have access to what we have labeled “basic necessities.” What if I was to try to undo who I was socialized to be? What would happen? Who would I then become? If ever my previous visit to Guatemala helped me it was in this respect. The Indigenous, more often than not, hand wash every article of clothing in the river, and hang it to dry. When I say wash, I mean they scrub with bare hands against a wooden plank until there knuckles are beaten and slashed, believe me…I have tried.

Yet, this is normal, this is life, when the women wash clothes; they do not have an envious attitude, longing for the modern convenience of a wash machine. More or less, they have made it into a time of fellowship of being. Like-minded, when cooking, every item is not merely pulled out of the refrigerator and thrown into the toaster, microwave, or even the convectional oven. They cook it over an open flame heated by wood. They do not even buy the dead packaged and sealed chicken, in your choice of boneless, skinless, wings, thighs, legs, breasts, or any combination of your choice. The chicken is killed, with just enough time for it to be ready by dinner. First, you must use a knife and slit a single vein in its throat, rapidly submerge its lifeless body in boiling water, quickly pluck every feather out, then run its skin through an open flame. Then you must burn and peel the skin of its feet off, the texture you will not forget. Next come the insides, yes you take them out by hand, off comes the head, the legs and the feet, and then you cook the lifeless body that you killed. So much for modern conveniences that have entrapped and stripped our lives into emotionless machines, counting every second, searching for a faster and more strategic way of doing things, leaving us to resort to talking with family and loved ones by phone or email. What have we become? What have we done?

All of that to say this, my hope is that I forget things, and leave them behind. I want to come back to the essence of life, something that precious time has stolen from me, relationship. I want to challenge myself, and this will be one of those purposeful journeys for me.

With me, I have packed a large backpack filled to the brim with enough clothes to last one week, hot weather, cold weather, for water and even the rain. I also have a suitcase filled with my books, and a small backpack for my few personal items. I have packed one pair of flip-flops, sandals and some running shoes. As far as toiletries, I seemed to have packed a lot. I guess my one comfort item would be a travel size flat iron. How pathetic. What does this say about me, that I care about how I look or that I am self-conscious? I am sure there is a much deeper explanation, but over this, I will have to ponder. Not that I will even use the flat iron that much but at least I know it is there for the days that I have to look descent in the city. I also have my laptop, cell phone that I brought for my parents sake, ipod, my Bible, books and materials for school, and some watercolors to paint.

There is not much that I wished I packed or did not pack. Sometimes I wished I did not have my cell phone, it is a comfort knowing that I have it in case of emergency, but should I have told my parents no when I am sure it calms there nerves extremely. It is debatable, but I do not think it is going to work when I am in the village, which makes it a good compromise! I think the one item I wish I had bought and taken here with me, is some pepper spray. I have already had a few bad incidents in the streets at night, that it would have calmed my own nerves greatly to at least have something at all to protect me. Its is such an interesting feeling, having such a horrid history with men, lacking trust in them because of what has been done. Adding my history to the present, being alone in a country with machismo culture, in a place where not even the police can be trusted. Excuse me for exposing my fears, but that sense of fear and mistrust is real. Knowing I have nothing on me to stop anyone, but only my legs to run is terrifying. Whether or not I ever used it, at least I knew it was there if I had to.

It is hard to depict what I brought says about my expectations, assumptions and needs because I have been here before. However, my cell phone is not only a security for my parents, it is my security against loneliness. Knowing that it is there if I need it is such a comfort, I often wish it fell in the river. My ipod, I only use on occasion, is the quiet to much to handle for me? I brought it for a few reasons, I have Spanish music and it helps me learn and understand Spanish, as well as vocal praise and worship is a big part of how I worship God. Should I have taken this time to learn to praise Him in other ways? My prayer is that none of these items would become a hindrance to building relationships, talking and learning from others.

The two items that have caused my embarrassment is this laptop and my ipod. I find it beyond embarrassing to have such things in this culture. When most cannot afford to go to college, let alone their parents providing them with not only an education after High School but also a laptop. I will not bring this laptop or even my ipod in front of anyone. There have been many times that I have wished to show someone pictures of my family that are only on my laptop, but felt so ashamed of owning an item that costs what is equivalent to years and years of their total combined family income. Whether or not is a norm in our culture, does that declare it right to own such an item? Is it even necessary to have one at school or is it just such an accessible convenience that we claim it as such? I have a laptop, when most of the children, whose every year after sixth grade is known as a luxury, do not even have their own books in school. Most of the time teachers or students have to copy the books by hand from one or two shared books for the entire class. Most of the learning in the elementary schools is done by memorization. Do we have any idea as to the extent of our privilege?

Have our modern conveniences that we have claimed necessity strangled everything pure, true and right? Or are these material comforts merely sucking the life out of our culture?