My life's been very interesting and very busy of late.
Yesterday I biked to Panabaj, a poor town 1 km from Santiago where the Hospitalito used to be, and finished installing software on the computer there, at ANADESA. Then I biked to Chacayá, about 8km away, where I have helped them acquire 4 more computers for their tiny computer room. They now have six. Since I only have one copy of Windows, the installations took some time. The principal, teachers, and kids kept coming in to see what was going on. I started photographing some of the kids; they really seemed to enjoy it. By two in the afternoon I was back in Santiago at Escuela Chuul. They have 12 computers and need my help installing Windows and Office.
The computers won't fit in the school, which is an ex-pronade, and very basic in construction -- it's a few boards with tin. The pronade (pro-NA-day) system no longer exists in Guatemala, but it's effects persist. It used to be that some schools were governments schools, and some, the pronades, were managed by a group of parents, a sort of board of directors. The government gave the board the money to run things, and the system was very open to abuse. Within the last two years someone figured out that the pronade system was less than optimal, and now all public schools are so-called government schools. But the ones that were pronades are way behind in terms of resources.
The computers are in a house 100 meters away from the school, in a room with a bed. 12 computers crammed onto little tables. The expectation is that the students will hold the mouse and keyboard on their laps, two to a computer (and probably 3 or 4 to a chair, because the room is about 12 ft by 10 ft).
Escuela Chuul is 200 meters east of the soccer field (stadium, they call it), but on a dirt road that most outsiders never go on.
My first month here I tried to head that way. There were some really messed up glue-sniffers and drunks, and the road got really bad and narrow and I asked myself if I was prepared to die. My answer was no, and I got out of there with my tail between my legs. Now, many people know me, and I feel welcome there. "That's the gringo that's helping with the computers. He's also the soccer trainer."
In the evening, while dining on pesto that Neus made, the phone rang. The principal from Chacayá was dropping off the computer he's had at his house for a while, that the coffee plantation gave him. It doesn't work. Since my residence, Las Milpas, is not on a road (it's on two footpaths, though), could I meet him at the Hospital? I leave my pesto and head off there, a 5 minute walk.
The computer is at least 15 years old and the formerly beige plastic of the monitor has attained a telltale yellowish hue. The dust is thick. There is no mouse. Not much hope here.
The nice thing is, he gives me a gift, and tells me how much he appreciates what I do. Diego Chávez is well-known and very much admired in community here. It means a lot to me. He wears regular clothing at the school because he doesn't want to show off where everyone is poor, but here, in Santiago, he dresses traditionally -- cowboy hat, western shirt, three-quarter length pants with purple stripes and lots of hand-embroidered flowers, sandals. He's a community leader.
His gift to me, he explains, is something he got in March when he went to a meeting in Quito. It's a bag made of alpaca that says "Ecuador" on one side.
Saturday I awake and check out the computer. The power supply doesn't work. I'm confident that if we replace it we'll find that a lot of things don't work. The question here is, what can we take from it that will help us and how do we dispose of the garbage?
At 11 the youth team has a game. Last week the senior team played, and I gave a silly interview and had no idea what was going on. This time I was better prepared. No screaming. But I managed to avoid the interview until half-time.
We played against San Lucas which is 15 km away, but more civilized than we are. They're in what's called the third division, which is somewhat competitive. With success, they could move up eventually to the professional level. We are nothing, not any level. Santiago had a third division team at one time, but allegedly got thrown out for cheating. That's supposed to be one of our objectives, to put together a team that can handle the third division. Well. I had never seen a third division team until today; now I know.
San Lucas was leading 2-0 after 30 minutes. We weren't playing badly, but they were clearly the dominant team. I was yelling as loud as I could because the speakers were right behind me.
For the first time in two months, I learned their names.
And here's something I learned. Last week's game was televised. Several people I asked throughout the week had said they hadn't seen the game live, but on television. And then I learned the worst -- my interview was shown several times throughout the week. "We're going to WIIINNN!!" Haha, stupid gringo. Win against Xelaju with your chubby little teachers.
Shortly before halftime, we started to play. All of a sudden it was 2-1 and we were in the game. At halftime, we went to the dressing room under the bleachers for our chat. The electricity hasn't been installed yet, and I don't know if there will be a fan when there is, but UUF! it was a bit pungent there. I made several player substitutions, gave a pep talk, and went outside.
The man with the microphone approached. I felt confident and explained that we were making several changes, and the important thing was that everyone played, that every game is a training exercise, that the second half is going to have a very different flavor.
The soccer was up and down in the second half, but we played well. We tied the game ten minutes in and went ahead with ten minutes remaining. Somehow we managed to hold the lead, and won, 3-2. I couldn't believe it! I congratulated the players, told them to get their butts to practice on Monday, that there was still a lot of work to do, and headed off to Escuela Chuul to continue installing Microsoft products on old computers.
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