It was indeed our intention to work, and so we set out the first morning to
begin on the cinderblock house we would be building for a family of ten living on the mountain.
In the village, each of us was handed a large flour sack that we carried to the foot of the mountain.
Whether it be lack of communication or the secret knowledge of our organizers, the group was informed of
what they would be doing in a very amusing way: we weren't told until we were doing it. We soon found the
bags were meant to be filled with cement gravel. The task didn't seem too bad, after all it was just a little
dirt and the family couldn't live too high up, could they? After one minute of carrying too-heavy bags up
the steep path we soon discovered what it meant to work. The hot trail seemed like it would drag on forever,
and after roughly 45 minutes, we reached the foundation of the house already in progress.
We gladly put down our loads and marveled at the unflinching Guatemalan men who
had carried twenty-times our weight without stopping. The yard surrounding
the home was essentially carved from the mountain. There was absolutely no
room for the entire group, as well as the Guatemalan workers, to stay at the
house. And so we took our flour sacks and went back down for more. Over the
rest of the week we took to the house in shifts, and while 4 or 5 kids helped
construct, another 4 or 5 would lug the cement bags up. It was
uncompromisingly grueling work, but each evening we could lay in our beds and
enjoy the satisfaction of really making a difference.
While about half of us worked at the home site, the rest visited local schools. The
children were so eager and excited to have visitors it was almost overwhelming. The young ones hung off of
our necks and arms and the older ones grinned widely while eyeing us with curiosity. The children acted as
if there were no better reward in the world than a hug from one of us. In the classrooms we not only
taught English to the students, but also learned Spanish from them. Even the non-Spanish speakers connected
easily with the school kids, either through sign language or playing cards. Though we could not stay too
long, we made an impression on the kids and they certainly made and impression on us.
On Sunday we were asked not to work and our group was invited to visit a Mayan village
high in the mountains outside of Tamahú. We all loaded into the bed of a pick-up truck and drove to the
foot of a huge mountain. The hike up was an experience that seemed almost unearthly in itself.
On all sides we were surrounded by valleys and mountains; it was difficult to tell what was up or down.
Short Rest On Way Up Mountain Carrying Bags of Cement
Making Progress After A Days Work
Students Come to Greet Us Teaching Exchange
The rainforest was unimaginably beautiful, and though we struggled against the hot sun, even the driest
patches of the mountain were majestic.
Our Climb Up Mt. Sequib Begins Nerissa and Alissa
After a three hour trek, we reached the small village. This
particular group of people have lived in this same spot for centuries - as far back
as the 15th Century, at least. Their first contact with the outside world was no more
than 15 years ago, and the village is unfathomably poor. One of the most
touching experiences was after our distribution of shoes to the families. An
aged woman received a pair of simple white shoes, and as she stood amidst the
whole village and our group, her wrinkled face fought back tears of joy. As
we raised a camera to take her picture, she straightened her face to a somber
stare befitting of a woman her age. We watched as tears, streaming down
her face, belied her serious expression.
Overwhelmed With New Shoes New Shoes
Though we were informed before reaching this village that the mountain people were far
poorer than any we had met yet, nothing could have prepared us for visiting their homes. Virtually made of
sticks and with no modern amenities to speak of, the homes looked as if they were straight out of ancient
history books. Though we were shocked at their living conditions, they were happy to share with us what they
had. We learned a valuable lesson through our encounter: to give from very little is a far greater gift than
to give from much. We left the mountain reluctantly, but with a better sense of human dignity and resilience.
Visiting A Family - Pocum Tribe We Were Served Lunch
By the end of our stay, Tamahú felt so much like home that we did not want to leave. The community simply enveloped us and the love, gratitude, and generosity of the people transcended race and socio-economic status. We made a small difference in the lives of the people who live there, but they made such a huge difference in the course of our young lives that there is simply no way to repay their kindness. Each of us walked away with a better sense of the world surrounding us and a better sense of who we are. This opportunity and experience has meant so much, and we can only hope to one day emulate the sense of community and strong spirit that the people of Tamahú possess. Thank you to everyone who made this happen and together we can all continue to make a difference in the world.
