Day 2: More Highs Than Lows

Franco: The first purpose of this humanitarian trip to Guatemala is to assess the families, homes, and items your donations purchased for more than 25 families in December of 2016. Our second purpose is to personally meet and talk to the new families we will be helping this coming December 2017. As some of our donors and readers may recall, Project Genesis II was a great success, thanks to more than $11,000 raised with your donations. 

Our commitment to the families we help in Guatemala does not end after we are done building a stove, latrine, concrete floor, or a new home. With the assistance of our Guatemalan sister team Generacion Magnificat, we follow up with each individual family every few months and with some families the months have turned into years. It is important to both teams that we keep educating the families and assisting them along their journey from poverty to prosperity.

Below is an example of Don Basilio and his family who did not have a stove back in 2016, thanks to your donations and the hard work of both teams of volunteers from Guatemala and the United Sates, Don Basilio and his wife now have a stove with proper ventilation as you can see in the picture below. Today, I asked Don Basilio what it was like to have a stove for him and his family these past six months and he replied, "I like knowing my wife can cook without inhaling all of the smoke and that my children and I can eat in the kitchen without choking on the smoke as well."

One of the major obstacles our team has quickly had to adapt and overcome is the weather. Here in the Guatemalan mountains, it is winter. Both teams have hiked up mountains in the rain, mud, and cold. This is where our physical abilities are pushed to the limit because we are unaccustomed to the terrain and altitude. It is inspiring to watch our team put heart, muscle and soul to reach a family living high in the Guatemalan mountains.

Emily: Today was a productive day! We visited about 7 families (6 past, 1 new). I won't go through each of them but it was busy and a great time to catch up with the families. In one of our group meetings we discussed our "highs and lows". So today that is what I thought about mostly.

 The highs consist of being back with the group and meeting new friends. Finding out more about Eduardo, talking about music and life with Jezbin(?), joking around with Flori and Fely, playing charades with Alfredo-We are a like a family and I will be forever grateful for meeting them.

The lows was definitely a roller coaster. We were riding in the back of the truck and stopped for gas in front of a church. Most of the goers were women (assuming that the men worked) and they kept on saying hi and waving. When you're an outsider in Sibinal, that does not happen. People just stare at you. But this time was different. There was this one woman specifically that I remembered, she was probably in her 70s or 80s and was surrounded by 6 kids ages 1-15; and she kept on waving, smiling, initiating greetings (buenos días). She was smiling but yet, I can see her life-- on her skin, on her clothes, in her hair, on her dress--the struggles. Why did I get to live a privileged life and they do not? What did I do in life to deserve something so great when you have, for example, the people of Sibinal who are very hard workers, kind-hearted, brave, intelligent. Every time I come down here I feel guilt and anger. I'm guilty because I don't deserve the life that I have and I'm angry because I can't change 

it.

We visited Doña Magdalena and this was our first time meeting her. She is a widow with 7 children(3-15) and have recently been found to have a tumour in her stomach. She will be heading to the city to have further tests. She became emotional when she was discussing the situation. She's afraid to ask for help because it's embarrassing. I definitely felt her emotions and it was hard. Her 14 and 15 year old work while the 8 year old watches over the rest of the children. Hopefully we can figure out how to watch over them when she's away.

It's getting pretty late and super chilly. Until then, nos vemos!

Olivia: In our daily team debriefing/discussion time, I shared with the group that today had more highs than it did lows. From soaking in the sun (which seems to be a rather rare sight during this season in Sibinal) while having good conversations with a fellow teammate, to playing peek-a-boo with a little boy during a home visit, to staying a little bit dryer thanks to my new, rose-covered umbrella, to holding one of the cutest, big-cheeked babies around - today definitely had many many highs.

However, I'd like to take this time to talk about a kinda low point of the day, because I'm finding it's still sitting on my heart. Today, we visited the home of Doña Magdalena, a widow with seven children ranging in age from 15 to 3 years old. The purpose of the visit was to deliver food to her family and to touch base with her about the condition of her family, her home, and her health. Doña Magdalena shared with us that after an appointment with a local physician, the pain she has been feeling is likely a tumor in her liver. Doña Magdalena said that the doctor told her the tumor was malignant, but that she didn't know what the word "malignant" meant.

When Franco translated Doña Magdalena's words, chills ran accross my body. The atmosphere in the room seemed to grow a little heavier as the meaning of that one little word sank in for both teams.

It was clear that Doña Magdalena was concerned about her health, about the future, about the care of her children as she makes the long journey to Guatemala City for further medical testing. She made little eye contact with the team, and her arms were wrapped around her body as she admitted that she was embarrassed to ask others for help during this time of need.

There was something very devastating about hearing such a caring, concerned, and hardworking woman and mother say "but, I don't know what that means" and "I don't want to have to ask for help, but I know I need it." I'm still struggling to grasp what that could possibly feel like: not knowing what's happening to my body, not knowing how long I'd be away from my family to get the medical testing I need, worrying about my children as my 15 and 14 year old children work to support the family and my 8-year-old cares for the rest of my small children. I can't fathom what that must feel like, but in that moment I felt so deeply for her.

In the next room, Doña Magdalena's church community was singing and praying adamantly on behalf of Doña Magdalena. The sounds of their efforts somehow made the entire encounter more haunting... I hope their prayers work. I hope our good vibes and intentions work. I hope there comes a time where Doña Magdalena's ​forehead isn't creased with the kind of worry she has now.

I end with a reminder to myself that today there were far more highs than lows. Thanks for reading.