Seeing A Little Past The Striking Beauty

Sunrise at Lake Atitlan

After a few nights on Lake Atitlan, which is surrounded by volcanos and villages only accessible by boat, I was ready to explore my next destination: Semuc Champey. I thoroughly enjoyed trying a new yoga class in a different, amazing spot every day, morning swims and falling asleep to the sounds of the jungle, but the scene was a little too metaphysical and clicky. Who would have known that today’s hippies are so trendy and use copious amounts of jargon?

View from Utopia.

I’m now deep, deep in the jungle. In heaven. Actually, the lodge us called Utopia. But before I move on to where I am now, I have to share a few observations about the poverty in Lake Atitlan.

Upon arrival in San Marcos, I met a foreigner who was involved with a soup kitchen of sorts. I was instantly intrigued and started investigating. I sought out the opportunity to work at the Konojel Nutrition Program, which isn’t usually open to tourists. The program provides lunch for about 60 children and elderly people each day.

A wonderful morning at the konojel Nutrition Program.

So one morning, after a 7am yoga class which didn’t happen due to a missing teacher, I walked into the town, or barrio, where the locals live. This was slightly intimidating because there is a subtle distinction between where the locals live and where the tourists live. I kindly asked the local women in the centre if I could possibly help them out. They graciously invited me in and got to work. I was disappointed that I couldn’t catch all the neat things they were talking about because they were speaking in their Mayan tongue, which involves a series of tongue clicks and sharp stops, but we were able to communicate using both of our second language: Spanish.

Picture taken by a little girl. She took an awesome pic!

As a tourist, I tend to be slightly standoffish with the local children because they follow me around with their sad little voices, saying, “hay chocolate, hay chocolate.” They have their schtick down pat and are ever so persistent. But when I went to help out in town, the dynamics changed. A few kids where helping the women huck the cocoa beans. I went to see what they were doing. They asked if they could take pictures with my camera and look at them. “Of course you can,” I said. They were soooo excited. It was a beautiful moment. The point of the story is that no 14-year-old child in Canada would be that excited about running around taking pictures of trees, light switches, etc.

Veggies for rice and the centre piece: beans.

That day, I assisted the women to prepare a vegetarian meal by chopping and chopping mounds of veggies, preparing rice, blending salsas and making habicus tea. At lunchtime, children sat at the table outside and waited to be served. Elderly women lined up in the kitchen with their tupperwares to be filled and brought back home to their families.

The only moment that almost broke me was when a tiny little girl grabbed the plate of food I was handing her. I knew it wasn’t because she was rude, but rather she was hungry.

Kid helping out, hacking cocoa seeds.

I was so shocked to learn the children’s ages. I was talking to a little boy who I thought was for sure eight-years-old. He told me he was 14. I looked deeper into his face and saw that yes, indeed, he had an older looking face…but was just very small.

Quick fact: 85 per cent of Guatemalans earn 50Q per day (less than $7 per day).

By being at the lake and closer to the locals, I noticed men and women, usually elderly, walking back to town from the mountains with unfathomable amounts of scrap wood on their backs. This is for cooking.

The women at the Konojel Nutrition Program have their act together and are doing amazing work. I just wonder what life is like for those who don’t have a program like that in their communities. The longer I am in Guatemala, the more I see need everywhere. Sometimes I feel like it’s hard to make a difference in Canada because we have so many well-established programs. I will start by helping where I can while I’m here.