I am writing this from a lovely little café, complete with three-tier indoor rippling water foundation, in the second-biggest city in the country, Quetzaltenango (also called Xela, pronounced "SHAY-luh.") I needed to get away, and came before because a) I'd never been before, and why not; and 2) because they have a Walmart, and I needed to get supplies I couldn't get on the lake. So today I took a little urban expedition, and took a taxi (which are also non-existent in Pana) to the giant mall, where I bought, among other things, cat litter, cat food, a fleece, and a cheese grater (to use later this week.)
First, some good news: after some petitioning from disgruntled (read: tired and homesick) teachers, the administration buckled and we now have Thanksgiving off. So I will be celebrating Thanksgiving and the first night of Chanukah in a country in which no one has heard of either. My friend is coming in from Guatemala City, and will be joining the cadre of AMA teachers at a Thanksgiving dinner, hosted by a woman who's involved with our school. My friend and I will be making latkes (with potatoes, onions, and eggs bought, of course, from Mayan women at the local market) and using a menorah which the very confused janitor made for me out of a stick he found in the yard (using a drawing I made for him as a model) and candles— 60 for 78¢— I bought at the candle store (which are typically used for saints' vigils, but no harm no foul, right?) (Have I mentioned how the stores in Pana are hilariously specific? I bought the candles at the candle store, and, a few weeks earlier, a comforter at the comforter store...) I am very excited for the day off, as, at this point in the year, I desperately need it.
School is going well, for the most part— I feel that I've found a groove; I no longer have daily panics that my students won't make any progress by the end of the year (though I continue to worry that they won't learn as much as they could.) I remain very frustrated by the lack of resources, but I feel that I've struck a good balance between doing what I can with what I have at my disposal and not worrying too much over things that aren't entirely in my control. My students are making progress-- they now speak primarily in Spanglish ("Puedo ir al bathroom?") or funny English ("Me go bathroom?")-- and occasionally make very funny mistakes, which I do my best to respond to accordingly (that is, not by busting out laughing): A few weeks ago, one student, apropos of nothing, exclaimed, "GO BITCH!!" After some questioning (in Spanish), I determined that he was trying to tell me that he had a strong yen to go to the beach... It is sometimes hard to determine when, when students seem to hit snags, how much of that is related to the fact that they are predominantly learning in a language they have yet to master, which is difficult. (I have one student, for instance, who has extreme trouble with simple addition and subtraction, which is due to the fact that he can't consistently count to 20-- though he counts better in Spanish than in English. I try to strike a balance between teaching him strategies in Spanish while also bolstering English skills... this is very difficult.)
Here's an interesting story from school:
During the Halloween party (which many families did not attend, on account of them being "true Christians" who do not worship the devil), one of my students' fathers (who is very wealthy and intimidating, and who travels around town in an armored SUV with several bodyguard— he supposedly owns a series of farms, but many are curious as to what is actually grown on these farms) approached another one of my students, who comes from an extremely poor family (when his mother gave a presentation— on infant care and sandwich making— to my class during our "people in our community" unit, she prefaced it with a 20-minute lecture— to 5-year-olds, remember!— on how she was there to ensure that none of the students wound up like her, with only a 4th-grade education and no job prospects who doesn't like herself or her life.) The father was upset that the boy had been telling his daughter that she was his girlfriend, and so acted as any father of a kindergartener would: he threatened to strangle him if it happened again. The parents of the boy were terrified (especially as the wealthy family, with their coterie of bodyguards, passes their home every day on the way to school, and thus know where they live), as they believe that this man would follow up on his promise (and, given the political climate here, would not only have the police on his side, but would have the authorities' support in causing harm to whomever they wanted.)
The situation was "resolved," according to the school administration.
Another thing that has been happening is that Tabitha has been very, very sick. When I first brought her into the vet, because she'd been lethargic and just not her usual crazy self, they did a number of tests, they called me during school to say that she had kidney and liver failure, and had a 35% chance of survival. I sobbed all afternoon before going back to the vet, and having them clarify that this was only the case if she had leukemia— which it turns out it did not. (Cultural differences are everywhere-- would this ever happen at a vet in the U.S.? Not in my experience...) I have been stuck in Pana for the past 6 weeks, because I have had to give her medication (which involves holding her by the scruff of the neck and literally shaking her until her eyes pop out) every 8 hours. She seems to be getting better— she is no longer anemic or jaundiced, and her kidney is once again functioning properly— but her liver is still not in great shape (though it is better than it was a few weeks ago), and she now weighs 6.2 pounds (she weighed 11 when we lived in Boston.) Those who know how attached I am to my Bunny can imagine how difficult this has been for me, but both of us are managing, and I am hoping that continuing to smother her with love (combined with the prayers offered by my very supportive, very Catholic local colleagues) will help her to get better. As the school's assistant director, with whom I have become friends, said, "She has to get better— she has no choice. Que Dios le bendiga.")
And so, for the past six weeks, I have stayed in Pana, which has both been extraordinarily claustrophobic (I am realizing more and more that though I enjoy the charms of small-town living, I really am a city person) and a very good opportunity to better get to know the (few people) I know in Pana. I am extremely grateful for a handful of wonderful people here; moving to a small town in a foreign country, things could have really turned out quite differently. I am also finding that I am becoming more introverted than I have been in the past— perhaps it is the context, perhaps growing older, perhaps some combination of the two; regardless, though, I am becoming more and more independent, it seems, and finding increasing satisfaction in my own company.
On that note, off to a solo meal at the dim sum restaurant in Xela. Hasta pronto.
