Everything you can imagine in Guatemala is real: The Isa-nator: Part I

When receiving our site assignments, to make sure we have a(n) (supposedly) easier transition integrating into our community, work and general life in our new home for the next two years, Peace Corps designates someone from the organization we are to work for to help us with just that. Peace Corps calls this person, or liaison, our counterpart.

Because life (not Peace Corps, or even Guatemala) always seems to throw surprises out of left field, many PCVs have found themselves counterpart-less just a few months, or even weeks, after getting to site. One of my friends even had the experience of her counterpart defecting to the states one year into our service... yeah, it happens.

And even then, some PCVs have multiple counterparts at once, or somehow find a way to work with groups by themselves after earning the confianza of the group members. It’s a tough adjustment- not only culturally-speaking, but work ethic-wise and of course, personality-wise that can be make or break for the next two-years. Being paired up with someone you will work well with and have the same vision as is not always realistic as much as it may be ideal.

I consider myself one of the lucky few who not only continue to work with my counterpart, but have a great working and personal relationship with her.

Isabel, or Isa, is a 43-year-old indigenous Mam woman, a wife and mother of eight children (all that have survived birth, something she is very proud of). The first thing I noticed about her on counterpart day at the Peace Corps office was her determination and ambition for the artisan project to continue and to grow to, eventually, an international level.

The only teeny tiny problem with this was that Isa didn’t know how to use a computer; after all, she only has a grade six education, but a sharp mind and meticulous disposition at that. Although my first goal was to teach her how to use a computer, she constantly told me how afraid she was about breaking it or doing something wrong. I tried to figure out a way for her to get over this fear.

And then the opportunity arose to go zip-lining at our end of the year office trip, which was my second month in site in December.

I asked Isa if she was also going to go zip-lining.

She told me no, she was afraid.

“Then I’m paying and you’re going,” was my response to her.

She nervously smiled and nodded.

As she changed out of her corte into sweat pants, the other six ladies followed her lead.

Before I knew it, there were seven middle-aged indigenous ladies standing around in sweatpants, giggling like school girls as I took photos of the incredible scene.

And they all went so gracefully down to the other side, barely flinching.

Fast forward to May 2009. Isa still does not know how to use a computer because of a variety of organizational and financial difficulties surrounding our association; namely her not working for the first few months of the year, which turned into me doing much of the administrative and secretarial work for the artisan component of the association’s project, something PCVs generally are not supposed to do because of a little thing called “sustainability.” Usually kind of important when doing development work so it can actually be sustainable. Just a mere detail, really.

However, once she did get back working, the director, Ruben, made it seemingly impossible for her to learn. He came up with excuses such as there not being financial resources for her to learn (uh, HELLO! Peace Corps Volunteer (read: not secretary) at your service), she could not learn during working hours (even though this would help her advance in her work and she lives an hour away…), among other things.

But all the while he unarguably agreed that it was very important for her to learn.

…riiiight.

In mid-May I got to the point where I said “screw it” (though I must say my choice of words were a bit more vulgar), sat Isa down at the computer during work hours in front of Ruben (who didn’t dare say a word), and what was probably the most BORING two weeks of my life thus far in my 25-years of existence on earth were coincidentally the most productive I have ever had.

One of the proudest moments of my Peace Corps service came just a few days after my two-week session with Isa. I was out of town and called her to ask a question.

After asking how she was doing, she responded, Solo aquí practicando en la compu. Just here practicing on the computer.

I felt like what a parent must feel like when their child first learns how to ride a bike without training wheels.

This was the first time she had turned on the computer and worked on it by herself without me at her side.

I was beaming, inside and out.

I had done something sustainable. I had actually accomplished one of my goals, and I wasn’t even a year into my service (at that point, May 2009).

Many more things have happened since then, namely recent events, but since I don’t want to write a novel of an entry (and believe me, I could; I’ve never been known for my short and sweet written responses), the continuation will have to wait a couple more weeks… but stay tuned- this is only the beginning of why Isa kicks some serious indigenous ass.

One of my first proud moments of my Peace Corps service- getting Isa out of her traje and into her ẍnula outfit, complete with güipile and faja. And of course protective gear for zip-lining.