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Before we ate lunch, we drove to the cemetery. Why the cemetery? Because from the cemetery we could walk to an overlook and see the garbage dump from above– it was inside a crater-esque area. For our bus to enter the cemetery, Juan Carlos had to pay as we drove through a gate. We navigated to a spot far back, and he parked the bus. All of us hustled out and followed Andres and Juan Carlos, police officer in front …
Here are some excerpts of impressions from my journal (mostly about things you’ve already read about here) “There’s Jorge–My friend from St. Francis Coll, who sat next to me at the assembly and loved looking at the pics as I them them on my camera. He’s very talented: he played recorder, offered a greeting/welcome to us, and he played drums for another act.” “The generosity: these people live hospitality, abundance, welcoming. The light in eyes–and yet also, in some, the …
Somersaults , music, and hula hoops later, our group of 14 set out into the neighborhood, to visit several homes. Our route led down a narrow lane; accompanied by several children from the Coll, numerous mangy dogs, and our police escort, we followed our Pied Piper, Andres. Most noticeable was the smell– which I had last noticed in Nicaragua– of burning trash. It permeates everything and eventually is unremarkable, but that first walk, I thought, “Oh! I remember this.” Once past the smell, I …
… That’s what our arrival at St. Francis Coll was all about on our first day. As we entered the facility we were given small handmade placards that said “Guatemala” and had a small doll on them. We sat alongside the walls of the inner courtyard and waited, warily, to see what came next. Andres informed us that an assembly would occur shortly and that we should sit tight. The bell rang. Chaos began as children poured from classrooms and …
I am going to break my “500 words, one post a day” self-imposed rule. Several of my friends (you who are reading, perhaps) have told me that they hate the short length and the tidbits of stories. They want to know everything about my trip, and now. It will take me a lifetime to unpack the last 3 weeks of my life: the connections, the stories, the transformations. Finally, something stirred my heart enough that I committed to writing in …
