To start with the less than stellar parts, I had my first serious encounter with a Guatemalan stomach bug and spent all day Thursday and Friday in bed. I was pitiful, really. I’m so thankful to be living with such a wonderful host family, though – I was pampered and given lots of chamomile tea and white bread. My host mom even went to the pharmacy for me and I got to consume suero oral (Oral Rehydration Therapy, basically Pedia-lite but a major public health break through that I had previously only read about). The pharmacist also said that several other extranjeros had come in complaining of the same symptoms, leading my Guatemalan host brother to quip that it’s probably a virus targeted against gringos. My host mom and the pharmacist are in agreement that whatever I had was caused by the change in weather, so I’m not really sure which theory is more plausible.
After all that, I am still here and kicking, and I should feel much more empathy with the niños in the clinic when I talk about microbes and parasites and upset tummies.
There’s not much to update in terms of clinic news – I was absent Thursday and Friday, and we’re closed all next week for Holy Week. Monday through Wednesday went well, though, and I'm ALMOST confident enough to lead a class unassisted.
The most exciting thing that happened this week, and probably in my Xela experience thus far, was hands down Doña Elena’s birthday party Saturday night. My host mom turned 65 this weekend, and her daughter in Spain sponsored a huge shindig to celebrate. They rented out a salon around the corner from the house and invited all kinds of relatives, friends, and neighbors for dinner and dancing and toasting. The party ran from 5 or so to after 10, and it was good that I had been doing nothing but resting the two days prior because I don’t know if I would have been able to keep up otherwise!
There was literally an hour of line dancing to marimba music, which I’ve been told is extremely ‘folklorical’ but really popular only among older people. The men and women line up facing each other, and take turns advancing as a group toward the other line, then retreating, and at some pre-determined time, a waiter shows up and offers everyone their choice of shots, mixed-drinks, or beer. I didn’t participate in the marimba line dance, but I did get to employ my knowledge of basic salsa steps later on in the evening.
I was not only the sole gringa in the room, BUT I was also wearing a borrowed traje and dangly earrings, so several of Doña Elena’s friends brought their sons over to dance with me. It was noted that if only I had darker hair, skin, and eyes, and if I shrunk several inches, I could easily be mistaken for a Guatemalan.
The traje is simply beautiful, and I’m glad I didn’t know until the next day how much it cost (> $300 USD) or I would’ve been much more self-conscious. It’s an ordeal to put on, and I definitely couldn’t have done it myself. Doña Elena, her mother, and her daughter all helped me slip on the embroidered tunic (huipil), alter the sleeves since my arms are apparently bigger than the average Mayan woman’s, slip the skirt (corte) over my head and tie it into place, tightly, around my waist. Even after I was physically wearing the traje, it took several minutes of tugging and adjusting to that I appeared just-so. Here I am passing muster with Doña Elena and Raul, my host brother:
I’ve heard that if young girls don’t start wearing the traje early, they’re very unlikely to ever wear one since it takes time to get accustomed to tying on a heavy skirt every day. And among Doña Elena’s friends and family, only a small number wear the traje daily; most women wear them only on special occasions, like the birthday party. The close relatives came over Sunday morning to watch Doña Elena open all her gifts (and there were trash bags full), and only two of the dozen or so women who wore trajes the night before had on a traje in the morning.
Below is one more picture from the party, this one of the family about to receive all the guests and well-wishers:
I don’t think I’ll be wearing a traje again any time soon, but aside from that, I’m not quite sure what the coming week holds. The general plan is to hang around Xela and take it easy. Towards the end of the week, there should be some pretty sweet processions in honor of Maundy Thursday/Good Friday/Easter, and I’d definitely like to catch those. Guatemalans are consistently surprised to learn of the US’s lack of parades during Holy Week, and I think they might have a point. Everything is more exciting with intricately designed carpets of colored sawdust and men in somber suits carrying wooden floats depicting religious scenes…even the Resurrection.
On the whole, I think birthday parties trump stomach bugs, and I give week six a thumbs up.
Con cariño,
Katy
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