To the West I went, FBT Part I

All the sustainable agriculture volunteers went on the field-based training starting Tuesday morning. First we went to San Carlos Alzatate, which was kind of like a Western town. The people wore cowboy boots and hats, big belt buckles, and jeans. Plus the men were a bit more machista than normal for here. While there, we learned all about all kinds of fruits and vegetables here and many different agricultural techniques such as making terraces in steep terrain (very hard work) with a homemade level, rocks, and tree branches cut with machetes. We took tours through café plants, planted some vegetables, and even learned how to make grafts for rosas (roses), aguacate júas (avocado variety), and café. I hope I´ll be able to remember all the stuff, but if I don’t, I´ll know in the least where to find the information.

While in San Carlos, we stayed with host families. In just a few days, I was able to form connection with them. There were just a very friendly family. I know that when I told them about money they would receive for having me, they did not want to take it. Only after much pleading and explaining did they accept it. To compensate though, they made very delicious suppers, probably some of the best I have had while here, and they did this all while not having a lot. (It would have been very easy just to keep the money for a truly special occasion). Even when I surprised them by not liking café and preferring pan (bread) to tortillas, they quickly offered for the next meal pan and atole (a warm, starchy, drink that can be made from grains like corn or oats). It was hard to believe that after 5 days, they were sad to see me go. We had only spent the evenings together, but I spent it talking and teaching them a card game which we played almost every night. I was a little sad, but I think right now I can feel sad. First of all, my thoughts and prayers are with my family and friends. I know there is only so much of myself I can give to others. I think too that right now I am staying a bit closed. I don’t want to become attached to anything I can have for a long time. I know I need to open up to others, and probably God for that matter too, but with everything being different here, it is hard to open up the last thing left that vulnerability has not touched and that I seemingly control.

On Sunday, before leaving for Cobán, the next city, I went to Sunday mass with Abi and a volunteer that was living there. To my surprise, the priest welcomed us saying “Bienvenidos a los Norteamericanos y Puerto Píquenos que están aquí para participar en la misa con nosotros. Que ellos tengan éxito en todo su trabajo.” He wished us all success in our work. The volunteer had apparently talked with the priest a week before about all of us coming. (And the priest warned all the churchgoers the week earlier that there would be a lot more gringos in the town in the coming week and that they should be extra warm and inviting for us.) The priest probably said a bit more, but that was all I could here during the beginning of mass. Then, as the priest was processing out, he picked me out to say welcome to the parish again (I guess it was not that difficult to find one of the only guys on the “women´s” side of the church (for some reason, men and women were basically divided to a side of their own) and not to mention I was the only grandote and canche (giant and blond) in the entire church.



Here I am looking up the steep hill side to where some of the other volunteers are working on their terraces. We were making level sections of ground so that the land could be used for planting and so that little erosion would occur. This was probably the hardest day out in the field.
Here I am working at the base of the hill creating a terrace with another volunteer. I´ll just say we moved a lot of dirt that day. We planted in the beds after we made the terraces, but unfortunately for me, my soil was really, really full of clay and consequently sticky and muddy.