Racism

Racism has many forms, and here's how I encounter it here.

This morning I'm walking to the gym. On the way, I pass through the main tourist area of town. Santiago doesn't get a lot of tourism, but it gets some. A local man comes up beside me. "Where do you want to go? Parque Central? The market? Maximon?"

I tell him I'm going to the gym. He's baffled, and I have to repeat myself several times. "I live here," I explain. He wanders off.

This happens all the time, except usually I recognize the person who approaches me, and my replies vary from "What, you don't recognize me? You said the same thing yesterday." to "Maximon? No, my name's John."

Here's another one. Two days ago, a guy carrying a stack of blankets enters the yard while I'm having lunch on the porch. His story is, he lives near the Mexican border in the jungle and raises all sorts of animals. He shears them and weaves blankets and rugs. He proceeds to takes them out of his bundle and show me.

"This one is llama, and this one is rabbit." The prices are from $125 to $600. I ask for a business card, since I don't have that kind of money on me. He hasn't got one, and refuses to write the address of his business in the jungle when I offer to go there to see his shop.

"I spend all my time out among the rocks with my animals." He must make a sale now, as he won't be around tomorrow. After I convince him that I have less than $10 on me, he offers to trade for American clothes or gadgets. He likes my 4 year-old bottom-of-the-line cellphone. He likes my torn-up yellow trail running shoes.

I need both items, and that wouldn't be fair to him, I explain. He persists. Finally, I've had enough and let him know I'm cooking and have to go inside. As a concession, I draw him a little map of where to find other foreigners. It's intentionally vague, downright wrong about some details, but I'll probably never see him again.

Yesterday in Panajachel, I see identical blankets hanging in the stalls. This morning I see him in the market in Santiago. He has a booth where he sells clothing.

If I weren't a light-skinned foreigner, he wouldn't have wasted time and lies on me. They're nice blankets, some kind of wool, but if I want one I won't buy it from a creepy guy like him.

One more example. The boat to Panajachel costs 15 quetzales for locals. It took us a while to figure this out, as foreigners told us different amounts and no boat ever offered to take us for that price. The worst thing is when you approach the docks people ask you if you're going to Panajachel. "Sure," I used to say. Wrong decision. That means they walk you up to the boat, then the boat wants even more money since they have to pay that guy a commission.

Now I've learned. If they ask where I'm going, I ignore them and walk up to the boat. I try to always have exact change. Even still, most of the time I have to argue. Their reply is, "We charge tourists 25. 15 is for locals."

My reply is, "I'm here for the long term, working as a volunteer. I know they price. I always pay 15. Charge the tourists whatever you want."

Usually, they'll concede after that, but not always. Once, coming back from Panajachel, the guy collecting money refused to go below 20. I sat in the sand. "Fine. I'll wait for the next boat."

That can be a while, maybe an hour or more. A long time to wait for 62 cents, but it's not the money. I dislike racism. Just because I have light skin and an American accent doesn't mean I should be treated differently.

After 10 minutes in the sand, the boat's pilot approached me. "I'm in charge here. We'll just charge you 15."