volcan agua, near Antigua. Pacaya is close by..
My period of absence in blog-land has been anything but quiet..
As you know, at the end of April I arrived in the lakeside village of San Marcos, on Lake Atitlan in the highlands of Guatemala. I went there to attend the month-long Curso de la Luna (or Moon Course) to further my spiritual journey, yoga and meditation practise.
I knew this would be a month of self-discovery, challenge, friendship and big changes, but I really had no idea what I was in for.
Our days at Las Piramides followed a fairly structured routine which involved early morning yoga, at least 1.5 hours of meditation per day, metaphysics classes, and extensive processing and self-work. We would be in bed early in order to do the other part of our work, which I was working with lucid dreaming, recollecting and learning from dreams and (unsuccessfully on my part) astral travelling.
Each week focussed on different aspects of spirituality and understanding and working these lessons in to our path in life. The morning yoga and nightly meditation sessions also complemented our lessons.
I was forced to be brutally honest with myself about how I see myself, how I walk in this life, relationships with family and friends, my own mortality and fears about who and where I am in life. Heavy stuff, which led to many hours of writing, talking with friends here and also, inevitably tears, frustration and confusion.
While I feel that the month at Las Piramides has helped me to make some realisations about myself and given me the drive to pursue what I care about, I feel the experience was slightly overshadowed by a few things;
I found myself constantly struggling with my logistical, mental side which was questioning the basis of some of what we were learning, the history of the universe and how we all are connected and work in with each other from every rock to every human being. It was, at times a difficult social situation with 26 different personalities altogether, working on their different spiritual paths in one small area which has not been expanded to cope with the growing class sizes since the centre started 19 years ago!
The dock at San Marcos where I would call home for a month. One of the volcanos around the lake.
We were all living in small pyramids among plants, avocado and banana trees which provided a beautiful, and very muddy setting when it rained. I spent a lot of time swimming at the lake (which is ringed by volcanos and deceivingly crystal clear despite being very polluted), learning about medicinal plants in the garden, and trying to stand the very tiny and very unclean kitchen situation. Twenty-six people using one small outside kitchen designed for 4, can be quite a challenge. Due to this, the state of the bathrooms and the interesting social dynamics, I renamed the centre slightly tongue-in-cheek, “chakra camp” (you can add the word ¨boot¨in there too if you want).
We all kept positive as the weeks went by and we pursued our individual challenges and obstacles along the way but as the rainy season arrived and the state of our living areas and health depreciated, so did our positivity. The last week of the course was one of fasting (juices and blended soups only, in order to clear the mind) and silence (in order to work expressly inwards). Perhaps my health was slightly compromised already at this point and lack of food set me over the edge, but I succumbed to a violent E.Coli infection (at virtually the same time as Erin, my roommate came down with the same thing). It is a frightening and messy bacterial infection which saw us (and a few others in the course as well) in bed, unable to eat or drink for a couple of days and DEFINITELY not feeling the slightest bit of spiritual clarity whatsoever! Thankfully, we got on strong antibiotics quickly and had support from each other. We quickly realised that about 90% of the students at the centre were suffering from some form of dysentery, bacterial infections, worms and parasites. According to the shocked town doctor, we had the kitchen to thank largely for this although all was made worse because it was the first month of the rainy season.
Myself and three wonderful new friends; Erin, Mary and Amanda decided the second to last day that we couldn’t hack it even one more night in the conditions which were making us so sick and decided to move to an apartment up the road for a couple of days to recuperate.
The day we moved out and also graduated from chakra camp, we found out that the volcano Pacaya just a few hours away from us, was erupting and had killed people in the villages around it, and caused major problems in the capital, including the closure of the international airport. The crazy thing is that this volcano is always active and has at least 2 groups per day of tourists climbing up to the top to roast marshmallows in the intense heat coming from the visible lava in the crevices below!! I was due to climb it just before I left for the course but didn’t go because of a few silly reasons.. This has really hit home just how dangerous this and many supposed tourist activities are especially in poor countries where safety is sorely undervalued. We all love a bit of adventure, but shouldn’t be we taking a bit more notice when at least a couple tourists are killed every few months by small eruptions from this volcano?
No less than two hours later as we were at the shop getting food for our still sensitive stomachs, we were informed that Tropical Storm Agatha was headed for us in the next few hours and we had better get prepared. All of a sudden our priorities were MUCH different from before. We quickly stocked up on water, food, candles and supplies that we would need for potentially a few days inside. There was an air of fearful anticipation throughout the village which was almost tangible as we hurried about our business. I noticed villagers scurrying around with bags of belongings, wood, etc… as they had already heard the news that evacuation may be imminent too. This storm warning so early on in the hurricane season must have brought back difficult memories for the residents of San Marcos, who were hit by Hurricane Stan in 2005. At least 250 residents were buried in their sleep by mudslides during that disaster, which prompted the president of Guatemala to name the whole town a national burial site, as recovery of the bodies in the aftermath of the storm was almost impossible and very dangerous.
Suddenly our improving health was the least of our worries as we thought about what a tropical storm meant for the weak infrastructure of the village and all the people (including us) sitting in the storm’s path. We were very lucky to be in one of the only sturdy and high buildings in the town and as a result, were not evacuated to the hills, as was most of the town. We passed the night pretty normally, cooking dinner, burning candles as electricity was out, and collecting rainwater to boil for dishes and to flush the toilet as the running water had also stopped by that point. We went to bed with our bags packed and ready for evacuation, but hoping for the best.
The morning after the storm was strangely calm and sunny. As we ventured out to survey the damage, there were rumours flying around that the actual storm hadn’t hit yet and it was heading for us in the evening.. a lack of any communication whatsoever with the outside world lends to a lot of speculation…
But we soon found that more than enough damage had been done, and any more rain would just be cruel. The village of San Marcos sits on a lake and is also divided by normally small river. This is a bad spot in a cyclone.
The river rose so much that it broke free of the dams that had been put in place after Hurricane Stan (supposedly a BILLION dollar project, clearly making some corrupt government official very rich seeing as it burst after merely HOURS of rain). The river took out at least 7 houses in the village alone, the lake flooded many lakefront properties, and at least 60 people were killed in settlements and towns around Lake Atitlan.
And this is supposed to be the start of the worst hurricane season on record to hit Central America.
There was a feeling of inutility around the destructed areas, as there was apparently a meeting being held in the municipal building as to how to tackle to damage caused. But meanwhile, people had rivers of mud flowing through there houses so Mary, Amanda and I knew that helping was our only choice. It was almost laughable how many people (local men mostly) were standing around watching the river flow through what once was a main road in the town. For every 3 people working there were 15 watching and chatting. We decided to bring safe drinking water to the people slugging it out to save their houses and hopefully secure what they could in case the true storm did in fact hit later.
The other thing that really shocked me was that, for a town that is hugely populated by expat gringos who enjoy the lakefront setting and calm pace of life in San Marcos.. I saw maybe 1 other whitey besides us actually digging in and helping. The rest just came to take photos, make shocked noises and head back to the comfort of their hotels. It was very frustrating so I decided to inform every white person I saw that if they felt like helping the locals who’s town was partly destroyed, maybe they could head down to the river and see what they could do. I´m not sure if any went.
A while later we went to check the river area again to see what the plan of action was, and how we could be part of it. Almost everyone was gone and the river still flowed, but looked slightly more under control. We found out that this ¨meeting¨was still taking place in what I have to say is becoming an apparent pattern here, talking a lot about what can be done without anyone taking any action.
We decided to cook up a huge batch of rice and beans with the help of money I collected from students at the Pyramides, and take it to the municipal centre which was also supposed to be housing the families who had nowhere to sleep for the night, and even though we weren’t fixing the huge amount of damage done, we felt like it was better than sitting around being useless. As my aunt Robyn commented in an e-mail to me; sometimes there is really nothing else we can do but see that people are fed. Now I understand why people always bring food in a crisis. Unfortunately we found when we went to deliver the food to the municipal building that the meeting was STILL in session and was full of many villagers not just the ones needing shelter. We were told it would be at least 1.5 more hours and best if we left the food and plates and they (the men who seemed to be officiating the meeting) would see that the right people got fed.
We left feeling uncertain but hopeful that they were telling the truth, despite the glazed eyes and beer on their breath. The next day when we went to collect our pots we were met by the same 3 men, rolling drunk and seeming to not remember who we were. My heart sunk. After much discussion with the same men who now said they didn’t know where the pots were or how to get into the building, and who basically didn’t give a crap about us or our intentions at this point, we just walked past, frustrated and took back our pots which we eventually found locked in some random room.
As we walked home along the river (which was being bathed in and played in!!! by the local kids despite being severely contaminated) we handed out peanut butter sandwiches to the many kids who looked dirty and hungry. Sigh. It was a disheartening moment for me. I have realised first hand a couple big lessons about human nature:
One is that, no matter how good your intentions or efforts at doing the right thing are, there will always be people looking to take advantage of your kindness. We have no idea if the food we prepared was shared out or just enjoyed by a group of drunk men in power, but we chose to believe that at least a few people went to bed less hungry than they otherwise would have.
The other thing I learned is that aid work, no matter in what capacity we are talking, can be overwhelming because for every 100 people you can touch in some way, there are always going to be hundreds more who are equally needy, no matter what. It is never-ending, sometimes disheartening, sometimes sad work that follows the same slow progress in all impoverished or oppressed countries. And it will always be needed.
After a few days of reflection I realise that I have learned one of my biggest personal lessons AFTER the moon course where I was reading spiritual books, sitting in quiet garden meditating, enjoying a mayan sauna whilst trying to figure out my path in life. It happened a couple of kilometres away, in the real world.
; I can shine my light in places I travel in many small ways, by seeing a need in other humans, by feeding, caring and chipping away at human suffering in whatever capacity I can. By rallying people together and being unafraid to raise my voice. And THAT’s my mission in life.
I didn’t need a month of meditation, I just needed a hurricane.
NB: Thankfully that was the end of Tropical Storm Agatha and recovery work by the people of San Marcos will continue with hope that they will get through the next one, somehow.
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volcan agua, near Antigua. Pacaya is close by..
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welcome to chakra camp!
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My little pyramid home for the month
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mayan sauna at the centre
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Medicinal herb garden where I did my plant course
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Making medicinal teas, it’s like potions class but for hippies
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Graduation day!
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I survived chakra camp and all I got was this white t-shirt and E.Coli!
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The “billion” dollar river containment dam, which burst after a couple hours of rain.
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Family and extended family cleaning the mud from their house.
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“Dude! Where’s my road?”
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Amanda, Mary and I doing water and food delivery
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Happy to be saying goodbye to the lake. Panajachel, Lake Atitlan.
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3 hour pile up on our way to Antigua, landslides everywhere.
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