Don Pedro

The week before last my dear friend Shekinah came to visit and brought along her new beau, Peter, a wonderfuly funny, sensitive, and very hip guy. We found ourselves inspired by their newfound love and we wish them the best as they begin to dream up the adventures they will share. We were also inspired by their active lifestyles and climbed our second volcano in Gautemala, Volcán San Pedro, on Lago Atitlán.

Rain! Hail?

Last week the rain started. The noise on the metal roof of our small home was already drowning out the music we had blasting on the speakers and then nothing—a power outage. All we could hear was the incessant dominant static of the rain, and a commanding silence in the dark shadows. After months of talking with my students about Hurricane Stan, I still had been unable to empathize with their experiences. But this night filled me with the fear they have related to me; it filled the volume of my body with the knowledge that I am small and powerless. And it makes me afraid, afraid of what the rainy season holds. Some of the youth say they have dreams where the rain never ends, where the consequences are much worse than that of Stan, and that it’s just another reason to go to the U.S. One of the rooms in our house leaked water through the roof. Our friend, Doug, was taking a nap when he felt the water dripping in on his head, all over the bed, the paintings and furniture. My heart pounded with excitement at the mini-emergency taking place in our house, and I could understand just a little bit more the life of these mountains. When we looked outside we discovered, though, that the rain had brought more than we expected. Hail. Our front yard was covered in ice. In the morning we discovered small piles of what seemed like snow. Just yesterday, on my bus ride back from Xela, we drove through yet another fierce hailstorm. The newly planted harvests, sitting patiently on the terraced mountains, were colored white. Saber what the rainy season has in store, but I hope it’s not always like the strength of that first night, when we dined by candlelight and sang songs to keep us busy.