Encounters in Guatemala

Inés took the taxi-boat from nearby San Pedro to do the weekly cleaning of our rental house in San Marcos, on the shores of Lake Atitlán. She wears the traditional Tz’utujil costume like her Mayan ancestors who ruled this world before the Conquista. She labors the entire day to make the house pristine. No vacuum cleaner, no fancy equipment: just a dust cloth, a broom and a mop. She probably gets paid a few dollars a day but Inés is grateful for this job. Her smile is generous and authentic. At the end of the day she kisses both of us goodbye and wishes us well, then steps outside to the dock, waiting for the next taxi-boat. Rain is pouring so she covers her head and shoulders with a jacket we loaned her, but she doesn’t dare put it on. A boat passes by without stopping – probably full. Rainfall gets stronger by the minute. A second boat appears. We shout, ring a bell, waive colorful towels… but it doesn’t stop. The crew’s rain hoods probably block their vision on the sides. Inés decides to walk to the village because all the boats stop there. I offer a hat but she prefers to cover her head with a simple plastic bag. She starts climbing the 140 stairs to the street under the pouring rain.

***

Albert walks into the grocery store in San Marcos but his body odor got here long before him, a strong identity statement confirmed by his dirty hippie-style clothes. Everything about him screams: “I am spiritual. I live a simple life. And that makes me better than you.” He coughs loudly without covering his mouth. I don’t know if he spreads the Love but he surely spreads the germs. I run away to the opposite side of the store to escape the acrid scent of his armpits, wondering how the lack of basic body hygiene can be of any help to a spiritual pursuit. Didn’t he notice that even the poorest people in the village are clean? Oblivious to the world around him, Albert takes out his wallet to buy a pouch of Granola cereal.

***

Hahakna gets on the taxi-boat with her grandkids. She’s carrying a bunch of firewood. I help her step down and take a seat, and she greets me with a big smile that brightens her wrinkled face. She is beautiful. Not the kind of beauty you see on the cover of fashion magazines: the beauty that comes from the soul and shines through the eyes. I would like to burn this image in my memory forever; be able to close my eyes and see her smiling face when I feel down. Her entire being radiates Love and gentleness. Hahakna’s grandkids sit next to her, content. Although the boat is bouncing violently on the water, in her arms the world is still.

Cedric, 9/28/2011