2-12-07
This morning we packed up for a four day trip to Livingston. The Pastor from Livingston, Marcus, his wife Edith, and his daughters Rosalia and Alama met with us to take the slow boat to Livingston. The girls were in the traditional dress with woven skirts. Their primary language Q’eqchies, but the pastor and children speak Spanish as their second language. We drove with the family over to the port of the slow boats. When we went to get out of the car, the pastor’s family did not know how to open the car door; they were trying to open the door with the window winder. The slow boat was an hour and a half ride that cost about $1.50 per person. Along the ride we saw flying fish and were treated to sights of houses on the water.
Through broken Spanish we got to know a little bit about his family and learned that he has 7 kids. He married his wife when she was 13 and she had her first child at 15. The people of Livingston tend to marry in their teens and have children shortly after they marry. The families are large in size; the pastor came from a family with 12 kids. Halfway through the ride the pastor’s wife pointed to the big package I was sitting next to, said something, and laughed. I lifted up the package and saw a nicely carved wooden box, so I said, “Bonito!” The family laughed and so did I until I looked closer and realized I was sitting next to a coffin. My facial expression changed to one of shock, which brought even more laughter from the family. From this point on the family was filled with smiles and laughter as we talked and mimed to communicate.
We arrived in Livingston, dawned our big packs, and walked through the town of Livingston. We passed touristy restaurants and hotels which slowly dissipated as we saw more houses and small tiendas. We passed drying fish, climbed up a steep hill then down a rocky path to the Pastor’s church and house. The church was made of brightly painted wood and was decked out with a keyboard, electric guitar, and drum set. The pastor communicated that we would be sleeping in the church. He then took us to a house where we were treated to fried chicken, beans, and tortillas.
We returned back to the Pastor’s house and were greeted by the rest of his family. The girls were so excited we were there that they were jumping up and down. I remember jumping up and down with excitement when my cousins would come to visit and was surprised that they would be excited about people they had never met. The family is so cheerful and really seems to love spending time together. They smile and laugh a lot and are very involved in music.
Fourteen year old, Rosalia, asked if I wanted to go to the tanque to do laundry. Rosalia, Bilma (9 years old), Alama (6 years old), the mother and I each carried a bucket of clothes up through the mountains for about 15 minutes. The tanque was a big cement water tank that came to my mid-thigh and to the waist of the rest of the women. A pipe poured out crystal clean water in three spots along the tanque. Rosalia grabbed a shirt demonstrated the proper washing technique. First she took a bucket of water and wet the shirt then she rubbed it vigorously with soap then squished and pushed the shirt on the cement tanque top. In the next step she rinsed the shirt and used a different type of soap and scrubbed the shirt again. She rinsed off the shirt and threw it in a bucket when it was still sopping wet. The whole process took about 2 minutes for one shirt.
I offered to help to wash the clothes which brought laughter from the mother as she handed me some kids clothing. I tried to replicate Rosalia’s work by scrubbing and squishing, but I could not do the job as quickly or as adeptly. The women did not seem to mind my clumsy work, but laughed and chattered as they worked. About 2 hours later we had finished the laundry and were ready to carry it back to the house. Rosalia and her mother took the two very heavy buckets with clothes and put them on their heads to carry them back. I asked the mother if I could help to carry the clothes, she laughed but agreed. The bucket had to weigh over 40 pounds, but I lifted it up to carry it on my head. After about 2 minutes I was breathing heavily and sweating profusely as Rosalia chugged along beside me. The people we passed called out to the mother asking if they had a Gringa for a servant. The mother loved it. My pride kept me from handing over the laundry to the mother, but if the walk had been any farther I would not have made it. My whole body ached by the time we reached the house. The whole laundry process took about 2 ½ hours of hard work for about 2 loads of laundry. Remind me to never complain about doing laundry again.
This evening in the darkness I went to use the outhouse, which is a cement seat over a hole in the ground with newspaper for toilet paper. I opened up the wooden door and shined my flashlight in to see about a dozen cockroaches crawling on the seat, floor, and down into the hole. I screamed and jumped out of the door. I really had to go to the bathroom, but the crawling bugs terrified me. I considered holding it all night long, but decided I needed to face my fear. So, I went back into the outhouse and shined my light on the bugs until most of them had crawled into the hole. I shook the entire time and got out as fast as I could. I felt much more secure when I climbed into my tent that I had put up in the church.
