Guatemala 1992

Eighteen years ago this week, I landed with a small group of Americans at the international airport in Guatemala City. We were Peace Corps trainees, learning public health and animal husbandry. We were taken to a pension in Antigua for the night and were brought to CHP, our school for the next 3 months, the following day. We were each placed with a Guatemalan family in one of three villages, Santa Lucia, Santo Tomas, or Magdalena.

Lili Pineda was my Guatemalan mom, and I lived there with her and her sister, as well as their two children. Their sister Martha lived next door with her son, and more of the family was scattered around town. I was adopted by the whole family, and was invited to their church and all their family events, which immersed me in the Guatemalan culture.

Claudia was more a sister than a cousin, as she and her mom shared the house. She taught me about her culture far more than any book could and her mom embroidered a pillowcase and crocheted a sham as gifts for my birthday.

Luis was one of my cousins and he took me to Antigua, Panajachel and out with him and his friends. He helped me with my Spanish homework and was incredibly kind to me.

My training group was a very mixed group of amazing individuals. We grew as close as family and became lifelong friends during that 3 month training period.

And we learned Spanish- I reached an intermediate alto level by the time we were assigned to the aldeas we would work in. It was Mother’s day weekend in Guatemala when I traveled to Saltan the first time. Set in the beautiful moutains, it was a four hour bus ride on a largely unpaved road. Again I was met with kindness. I was welcomed into the fold in a place that had no phones, limited mail service and electricity when it didn’t rain so hard.

As a health extensionist volunteer, I worked on preventative medicine, which included vaccine campaigns, teaching women’s groups, and digging the odd latrine. I experienced medicine in a world of limited supplies and prohibitive costs. I learned and I learned and I learned…

I learned how lucky I was to have so much opportunity

I learned it is important to work within the culture of those you serve

I learned Spanish first-hand, not from a book

I learned what real poverty looked like

I learned that even if you have very little, it can be shared

I learned to love a country I wasn’t born to, with no relatives connecting me

I loved Guate, I still miss my adopted country, and I hope to visit again. Eighteen years have passed in the blink of an eye.