I’ve been putting this post of for about a week. It’s been stressing me out for the entire time, not the writing of the post, but rather the subject of it. I’ve come to the conclusion that I have to stop being upset, but I’m not sure how to let it go. So maybe writing will help with that.

SPA drama is never ending these days. We told the leaders in both communities two months ago that the due date for grant paperwork is January 31. There are a few reasons for this, one is because we have to have time to make sure all the paper work is in order before we can turn it into Peace Corps. The second reason is because the Peace Corps SPA committee meets only once a month somewhere between the end of the first week and the end of the second week of the month. We have to have our boss approve all of the paperwork before that meeting. And the third reason is because we can’t wait any longer to get paper work turned in or we run the risk of not finishing the projects before our COS (close of service) date in July. Things go SLOWLY here, and people are used to doing things on their own time, which means having deadlines is a pretty difficult thing for these folks to work with.

We left off on posts about Temux and their project a while ago. The community leaders had decided that they should get the project beneficiaries together to discuss if they wanted to continue with the project or not. At the end of this meeting we held Nas back to talk to him for a moment and he told us that the community has no bank account. This is a huge problem, because a community bank account is a requirement to receive the USAID grant, and it takes weeks for all the processing for an account to go through here, and it was already the end of the first week in January. Manuel had told us months ago, back in October when we first went over the papers with the leaders, that there was a community bank account. We’d never seen a paper, physical proof, but we believed him. We’ve definitely learned the hard way since then that we should probably not ever believe what Manuel says.

This happened just before I left for the GLOW camp. The leaders scheduled a Sunday meeting with the women and then came directly to our house to discuss the decision with Fletch since I wasn’t here. They told Fletch the women wanted the project, but they didn’t know how could the community do this if there was no bank account. They insisted that the amount of money was so pitifully small that it really wasn’t worth their while to try and get a bank account. “If the project were one of 150,000 quetzales or 200,000 quetzales, then it would be worthwhile. But this project is only for 30,000 quetzales.” Fletch said they tried to figure out how much it would cost the town leaders to open a bank account. The leaders figured, with Fletch’s help, that including costs for trips to town, paper work processing, and a lawyer to put their paperwork together, plus money for lunch on the days they had to go to town, the cost came to about 450 quetzales. Fletch tried to explain to them that this was a very small amount of money to pay in order to get 30,000. They didn’t buy it. He didn’t know what to do, and didn’t want to make any big decisions while I wasn’t here, but he wanted to tell them they were right, the project obviously wasn’t worth it. He didn’t want to say this because he believes the project isn’t worthwhile, but because if the leaders of the community aren’t willing to work and stand behind this project, then it will have no worth in the community.

He called me at the camp the next evening to tell me what had happened and to voice his frustrations. “That’s it then,” I said, “we’ll just convince them that they’re right. This project isn’t worthwhile. If that’s the way they feel, that’s the way it is. They haven’t worked for anything up to this point, why should we be pushing them? If they can’t see enough benefits in this to work for it, then it doesn’t need to happen.”

“Ok, that’s kind of how I feel,” was Fletch’s response, “but I didn’t want to say anything too definite without you here. And you can tell the leaders all of this on Friday, because that’s when we’re having our next meeting. They want to tell you everything they just told me because they think I don’t understand them.”

Great. So Friday once I was home from GLOW we had yet another meeting with our community leaders. These meetings become ever more difficult because Manuel shows up, and we’re both to the point that just being in his presence makes us angry and annoyed. But we try to suck it up and do our jobs here. I was making coffee for everyone as folks filed in slowly. Manuel asked, “Jaime, is it true that Lake Atitlan is changing?” Jaime gave him some short answer. I was still hyped up about the Lake presentation we’d had at the camp, so I jumped right in. “Yes, it’s true the lake is changing, and it’s going to be a disaster if it doesn’t get fixed.” I told them about the bloom, how it feeds of chemical fertilizer and raw sewage that people thoughtlessly dump into the lake, and how it’s grown to as big as 30 meters under the surface of the lake and threatens the fish population. I talked about how the responsibility for the problem belonged to everyone: taxi boat operators, the indigenous communities, hotel owners and tourists as well as the government. The leaders asked a few more questions and we turned to talking about how if they don’t take care of the problem tourism in the area will die off, and all the people who depend on the tourist industry will be out of a job. Indigenous villages will lose part of their cultural heritage as well as the fish they’ve always lived used as a food source, and Guatemala as a country will lose a beautiful piece of cultural and national heritage. “Really it’s a problem of shortsightedness. So many people on the lake only look at today, not a lot of them think about how what they’re doing today will affect the lake tomorrow. This problem of being shortsighted isn’t just a problem at the lake, or just a problem here in Guatemala. There are shortsighted people all over the world who destroy things or come close to destroying things because they just don’t think about tomorrow.” By the time we finished talking about Atitlan all of the parties that were going to arrive were present, so we started the meeting. Though this lake discussion definitely set the tone.

Nas started off the meeting. He was upset our tecnico, Aurelio hadn’t shown up. I asked if anyone had called him. Everyone looked at Manuel, “I tried to call him, and he didn’t answer…I called the US to talk to my son and daughter today and I ran out of phone minutes, so then I couldn’t call him after that.” Just listening to the guy drives me crazy. This all really meant that Manuel had not called Aurelio, who promised he would come out for any meetings he was called to in Temux. I’d also talked to Aurelio like three times that day. Nas was upset because he felt like we weren’t communicating well and without Aurelio’s help the leaders wouldn’t be able to fully express themselves since they aren’t very confident Spanish speakers. Jaime told Nas we should invite Reyna and she could help us out, so that’s what we did. Then Nas proceeded to explain that we were having this meeting because the leaders had come to discuss their problems with Jaime on Sunday and it was difficult because Jaime doesn’t speak Spanish. I must say this is a persistant untruth here, that Jaime doesn’t speak Spanish. The poor guy has been so discouraged by this comment in the last year and a half. His Spanish is proficient. His improvements have been incredible. Still, everyone in Temux seems to believe that Jaime doesn’t speak Spanish, because he doesn’t speak it like I do.

So the leaders began to tell me exactly what Jaime told me they told him at the previous meeting. They said the size of the project was so small that they didn’t think it was worthwile. “If this was a project of 150,000quetzales or 200,000 quetzales, it would be worth it. But just 30,000 quetzales isn’t worth the trouble to get the bank account.” Exactly what Jaime had told me they told him on Sunday…but it’s just that Jaime doesn’t speak Spanish. And it was just as annoying, if not more, to hear first hand a second time, exactly what I’d heard second hand the first time. I took the stance I’d told Fletch I would. “You’re right. This project isn’t right for the community right now. This is too difficult, in too short a time. I don’t think we should do it. Don’t worry that you’ll lose the opportunity forever because once the next volunteer gets here, you’ll have another chance. I just don’t think this is right for the moment.”

Everyone was silent. Then there were some Q’anjob’al exchanges. Nas spoke again. “We don’t want the women who’ve attended these talks and done so much to participate to lose out on the project. We just think maybe if you guys could get some money for us for the bank account fees we could do this. But this is too much money to ask from the community.” We can not give them money for this. We told Yulais the same thing, many many times, and they still managed to get their bank account. I asked Manuel what happened to the money they always collected from the women, because after every single talk I’ve given they take attendance and collect money.

“Well there wasn’t that much money, just a few quetzales from each woman each meeting.” Sometimes there were a hundred women, as few as forty, at these talks though and I’ve given something like 30 of them. This money collection has been happening since we got here and started giving talks a year ago in August, so I pressed him again to tell me where all the money went, how is there none left? “Well we had to make a meal when your mother-in-law came and then we had to do it again during the Health Fair. These meals aren’t cheap” I could sense behind me that Fletch wanted to jump out of his chair at Manuel. So I said, “I just want to point out that when my mother-in-law came we asked you SPECIFICALLY not to make a meal for her. You did it anyway. Then while planning the Health Fair we decided that the community would just have a snack and there would be no lunch so that we didn’t spend so much money. I left for vacation and when I came back, you’d planned a big lunch and invited all sorts of people from out of town; most of them didn’t even come. These meals were made against my recomendation both times.” He started to tell everyone that it was the nurse who said we had to have a lunch and it was Aurelio who sent out invitations to the lunch, but I interrupted him. “This isn’t about blaming people. This conversation is about money. You all want money to open a bank account. I want you all to look at how community money has been spent, to recognize where we can improve and to learn from the past. In the future, maybe we can spend it more wisely. The meals weren’t cheap, and that’s exactly why I said we shouldn’t make them. Look at the costs you’ve all listed for this bank account.” They looked at the itemized list on the board they’d made during the Sunday meeting with Jaime, “You have 50 quetzales of 450 quetzales listed for food. Jaime said he mentioned to you all that maybe you should pack your lunch from home and then you’d save that money. He said you responded by laughing at him and saying, ‘Yeah right, that’s what our grandparents did.’ Did you ever think maybe your grandparents did that because they were smart about not using what little money they had on unnecessary expenses? We HAVE to think about how we spend money, as individuals, and as a community. If those lunches hadn’t been made there’d still be money to take to the bank.”

I generally use personal anecdotes when trying to illustrate a point, and this time was no different. I talk a lot about how my parents have a lot of kids, and how they dealt with it. This time I used a story about how school lunches were more expensive than if my parents packed our lunches for us, so that’s what they did, and I ended with, “Even now, every time we take a trip, I pack bread and fruit and nuts and take it with us in the bus so we don’t spend money on things we don’t need.” And that last bit is true. Fletch usually makes fun of me for how much I tend to carry when we go on trips, that is until he starts to get hungry and asks, “Hey, did you bring anything to eat?”

I told the leaders how in Yulais they collected money from the women to pay for the account expenses, thinking this was an easy solution. “The problem,” Nas explained, “is that there are some men who aren’t supportive of their wives receiving projects and if we ask them to give us money for a bank account their husbands won’t allow them to participate. And we just don’t want the women to lose out.” Sometimes I can’t help but wonder if the problems ever end here. It’s the money that’s a problem, but the money is a problem because their mentality is so skewed. I agreed that this is a problem, but suggested that maybe as leaders they should visit these men personally and discuss the reasons this project is a good idea. “We can’t do that. No one would listen.”

Off I went again, “Manuel once told us that if we went to carpenters to ask for furniture donations to the computer center that no one would give us anything. But we went anyway, and you know what? Now we have tables and chairs for the computer center. Listen, I don’t envy your job as leaders. This isn’t easy, but you have to be willing to take these risks if you want projects. Maybe this sounds ridiculous, but if you want change, you have to be willing to change. If you want things to improve from the way they are now, you have to be willing to try new things, to do things a little differently. The community, if it wants change, has to be willing to change.

You’re asking for more money, for bigger projects. You say that would make this worth the effort. But have you ever thought about how many people the project will help and for how many years rather than just focusing on how much money the project brings in? You need to refocus. If the community and you all as community leaders aren’t willing to change the way you think about and do things in order to make a change in your community, no amount of money will help you improve your situation.

Look at the composting latrines that the DECOPAZ organization built in the neighboring community. They bought the best latrines money could buy for the community. How many of those latrines are used today? They didn’t help the people they were supposed to help. People don’t know how to use them properly, or they just decide they don’t like them, probably because they’re unsure how to use them properly. The money DECOPAZ spent on that technology didn’t help most of those people. Why? Maybe DECOPAZ didn’t educate the people well enough. They gave out packets of information on how to use and maintain them, but the packets were in Spanish, and they were given to a Q’anjob’alese community that is mostly illiterate. The people next door didn’t have enough information about what they were getting, or why they were getting it, or how it would help them. If people don’t have the desire to change or if they don’t have the information they need to allow them to change, they can’t do it. All the money in the world won’t help this community if we don’t know how to use it.”

At this point Nas seemed to understand, there was some talk around the circle about large funds that the community had received from the same DECOPAZ organization, and how those funds disappeared, and no one knows where the money went or if it improved the community at all. There was nodding and agreement. When they were finished with this point, I continued.

“You know I didn’t come here thinking that I would get all the women in this community to change all the ways they take care of their families. That’s not my goal. If the women are learning things from the talks, that’s great. But you should know that what I really hope is that all the young girls and young women who hear the things I say can use that information to make their lives a little better. I didn’t come her to change things overnight. That’s not possible. Your work as leaders won’t happen quickly either. Just like the situation with the lake, you can’t look only at today. As leaders, what do you want for the future of your community? Does a community bank account seem like something that will be useful to the community, not just today, but for opportunities to come? Does this project and the people it will benefit fit into your plans for the future of your community? I can’t decide this for you. Jaime can’t decide this for you. You all have to decide this with your community.” They were quiet, as they usually are when anyone finishes talking. Then they explained that they’d have to talk to Aurelio, and they’d have to get another meeting together. We called Aurelio, and set the meeting up for Sunday.

Aurelio, our official counterpart, seems loath to let this opportunity pass the community by, even though we explained to him that we don’t believe the community is ready for the project. He seemed to think he has a way to save it, by using an account that will open on the first of February as a community account for all the tiny communities in our county to use as their Emergency Action Plan money, for the evacuation and hospitalization of anyone sick or ailing. It’s sort of like an intro to the world of insurance. While this idea of using the new county-wide community bank account sounds like it might be a great idea, it totally misses the point. It means the leaders once again evade work, time and money input, that shows they’re invested in the project. On Sunday I felt like Aurelio flew in here and promised to clean things up more or less, and I believe he’s very well intentioned in doing so. However, I don’t think this community “gets it”, and Aurelio’s plan to save the project doesn’t even address that.

An entire week went by after Aurelio’s appearance in town before anyone came to us to ask what the next step was. Don Tomax showed up last night. He’s a leader not at all liked by Manuel (which could be a good thing?), and held in suspicion by Nas (which could just be cautionary?). He came by to ask what the final word on the bank account was and what the leaders need to do next. We told him that they need to talk directly with Aurelio about the bank account, and if they want the project to happen they need to get their jobs done and their paper work filled out by next Sunday. That’s in less than a week.

During this entire conversation Nas and Manuel were in the new room that’s been attached to our house. They were partaking in some Sunday drinking and there was, prior to Tomax’s visit to our house, a lot of animated conversation that Jaime and I didn’t understand. Both of us were painfully aware that Tomax’s visit aroused the attention of the other room, as all talk ceased. It was so obvious that we were talking to three leaders, not just the one who’d come to visit. We told him honestly that the community’s prospect of getting a project, at this point, did not look good simply because the leaders have not done the work they needed to do in order to make it happen. He said he’d talk to Don Ximon, and maybe he’d talk to Manuel and Nas tomorrow because he’d “heard they were drinking.” We told him that was probably a good idea. Once Tomax was out the door, we heard the pop and pishhh of another beer can opening, and slowly the talk resumed.

You know what, I’ve turned into a preacher for development. Everything, EVERY thing that happened in these meetings felt like it turned into me giving a mini-lecture to our equivalent of the town counsel. Both to participate in them and to recall them makes me feel like I’m turning blue in the face. For the last week both of us have woken up and gone to bed with headaches. We feel like we’ve tried everything. We haven’t succeeded in simply getting them excited enough to participate. We haven’t succeeded in making them feel a sense of responsibility so that they’ll participate. We haven’t even made them feel any pressure at the possibility of losing the project that makes them jump to participate. What else can we do? I have begun to dread these entmoots, and I’ve also begun to wonder if the leaders dread me just as much? Are they even learning anything? Am I making any sense at all to them?

As far as things are going here, it feels like both Fletch and I are losing steam in this community. We’re pretty energetic and excitable people most of the time. But here it’s feels like that’s been sucked right out of is. And this feeling of “I’ve got nothing left” isn’t at all helped by my wondering if people still like us. Do they think we’re lazy? Do they think we’re liars who promised them these magical, wonderful projects and then didn’t come through with them? I feel like there’s a good chance at least a few of them do think that. I know I shouldn’t care. I know this means I’m taking things personally, but then again, if I didn’t care I wouldn’t be here. If this wasn’t at least a somewhat personal endeavor I wouldn’t work so hard at it. It’s all very draining and disheartening.

We’re still hopeful about Yulais. In our meeting with their leaders yesterday they asked if we’d be ready to start building after the local fair, which ends the third week in February, “We just want to make this happen already!” Don Diego said, snapping his hand up and down in a very Guatemalan gesture to show that he’s excited and ready to go. Their grant paper work is also near completion as well. For some reason, it’s still not enough to get me really excited. I guess it’s the feeling that here, in our home, we’re surrounded by, literally boxed in by anxious anticipation of this project that everyone wants, in fact that many people seem to think they’re entitled to, and that no one really wants to work for.

Fletch told me today that we should be ready for things to turn around dramatically, for everyone to get excited and start working and pump this project out. That’s what’s hard, feeling like it’s not going to happen, but being ever on the ready in case it just does.