Día del mercado

Es difícil  a no ser seducido hasta el punto de perder todo control, o al menos para mi, en los mercados rurales. O, específicamente, en el mercado en el próximo pueblo, Chiché. Aquí en mi pueblito el mercado es un poco pequeño; no hay grandes cantidades de vendedores y grandes variedades de cosas. Pero el mercado en Chiché es muy extensa y a veces aparecen cosas novedosas y sorprendientes. Hoy, por ejemplo, fresas preciosas y dulces. Tuve que resister la tentación de comprar un gran cantidad, tomando en cuenta que (1) soy una sola persona y (2) el refri que tengo es muy chiquito. Siempre los vendedores y las vendedoras preguntan a uno, "Solo una libra?" -- se supone por la necesidad de hacer mas ventas, pero creo que también porque aquí en general las familias o los hogares tienen muchas personas.

No puedo llevar mi camera al mercado si voy a comprar. Es imposible -- o al menos para mi -- cargar una canasta llena de cosas pesadas (frijoles, zanahorias, por ejemplo), o dos canastas, y manipular una camera con precisión. Para tomar fotos, o fotos buenas, tendría que ser un día que no iba a hacer compras -- y este día no ha ocurrido todavía. 


La tentación existe siempre de comprar mas de que soy capaz de consumir en una semana. Las fresas son preciosas, pero después de comprarlas aparece un muchacho con unas piñas  que emiten un olor que me mata. Compro una variedad de queso, y luego veo alguien con otra variedad que también me gusta. Hoy vi por primera vez (hace como un mes que no he ido a Chiché para el mercado) vi hongos -- no hongos cultivados pero hongos de verdad; parecían variantes de shitake y otro que no recuerdo el nombre pero un micólogo lo va a reconocer facilmente. Decidí a no comprar, porque ya tuve arvejas, rábanos, y unas hojas verdes que realmente no tienen nombre en español; cada vez que veo distintas variedades de hojas verdes, que en los Estados nosotras llamamos por diferentes nombres, y pregunto a alguien "Como se llama esta, y como se llama este otro?" siempre me dicen "hojas". Entonces, quedo con la esperanza que otra semana van a estar otra vez. 


Más que las verduras, las docenas de variedades de chiles, uno encentra otros tesoros: huevos frescos, los que nombramos "rango libre" que quiere decir, huevos que vienen de gallinas que no son secuestradas en jaulas. Los huevos son un poco irregulares en tamaño y forma, y en color -- de los seis que compré, hay variaciones subtiles en color. Cuestan más pero tienen un sabor distinto y son mas saludables también. 


Los tejidos también seduzcan con sus colores vibrantes. Hoy compré una servilleta de un tipo que he admirado mucho y he querido tener. Es una servilleta tejido con un diseño sencillo, pero arriba del tejido viene la parte bordada. Lo que yo compré creo tiene venados, patos o gallinas, quetzales, sapos y otros animales (alguien con más conocimiento de la simbología maya puede decirme exactamente cuales son). 


Trato de ser consciente con mis compras. En el sentido que entiendo que para muchas personas rurales el día del mercado representa la única oportunidad para algún ingreso. Entonces trato a comprar cosas de diferentes vendedores. Frijoles negros de una persona, colorados en otro lado. Busco las señoras que solamente tienen un producto, o que tienen muy pocas cosas a vender, para no solo beneficiar los que tienen ventas mas grandes. Yo sé muy bien que el quetzal que doy a una señora mayor, sentadita en una esquinita con unas poquitas verduras arraigadas arriba de una servilletita viejita, para una "mano" de rábanos no va a cambiar su situación radicalmente pero este quetzal significa más para ella, digo yo, que para la persona con una estación de venta muy grande, o que vende productos más caros, donde cada venta la trae más pisto. No pretendo ser condescendiente; no veo mis compras como caridad. Pero si voy a gastar X quetzales en el mercado prefiero que una parte de mis gastos beneficia los mas necesitados.

DJ Lisa in da house

It's like that, and that's the way it is... In case you've forgotten the song, here's Run-DMC (from Krush Groove) to remind you


The decision of the powers that be (in this case, the director of Ixmukané and the consultant working on the radio project) is that I should do the afternoon music show. Basically every day that I am willing.  I had started out a few weeks ago (interrupted by trips to the U.S. and then that pesky car theft) taking responsibility for  the morning show, called Saqarik, one day a week -- basically because at that time no one else seemed to want to do it. The idea behind that show was to start the day off with an explanation of the significance of the day on the Maya calendar and also something about the Maya cosmovision.  I was assured that there were good sources on the calendar and the cosmovision and I could use those as references -- and then the rest of the time was to be devoted to music. Although I did not relish getting up at 4:30, I was eager to try my hand at this. My other responsibility was to be one of the afternoon music shows, on Afro-Caribbean music. That is more clearly within my expertise. While I don't claim to be a complete expert ("Afro Caribbean" covers a broad scope) I know enough about a couple of countries and musical traditions, and I know how to do research. 


The schedule has gone through several iterations. So now, most recently, I have been assigned to do the afternoon show, which is supposed to combine music with a "tema" (theme, issue, problem), and not the morning show. I think they would have been happy for me to do the afternoon show, 3-6 p.m., four or five days a week but I thought (a) that was too much and (b) they shouldn't become that dependent upon me. It's too much because I don't just put on music at random. It's very easy, with the broadcasting software we have, to just "colocar" (paste up) a bunch of tracks, and since the station IDs and public service announcements are pre-programmed, you really could, if you wanted, do very little. But I feel as though the radio should be somewhat informative, so if I'm going to do a show on Afrocuban music, I want to think through the logic of what the show is about, to put the music in a social and historical context, and select music that will illustrate the themes. In other words, to research and script the show. 


So, to do this well, it takes me about 4-5 hour to plan and prepare a 3-hour show. I have to figure out what I want to do, see what music I have available, purchase or otherwise find what I don't have that would make the show work better, and then write up an outline so that I can plot out what I'm going to say, and do a rough estimate of how long it will all take so I make sure that I have three hours' worth of material. I want to have a little bit extra (in case I run out of things to say or there is some other situation that I have to deal with), but not so much so that I feel that I can't get through it all. 


So far I've only done three shows that were really prepared to my satisfaction. When the women from Peten came, I had wanted to make sure that we documented their visit (both video and photos) and a concurrent meeting of promotoras jurídicas that was also being held at the center. I also was not sure when we would be able to do an interview with the women so I hadn't fully prepared my show for Tuesday since I thought it might be pre-empted. It wasn't, and so I quickly assembled some early ska and reggae and interwove some commentary about Jamaican history, colonialism, Marcus Garvey and the roots of Rastafarianism.   Wednesday I ended up having to open up the station in the morning at 6, and then since the person in charge for the month had fallen ill and was hospitalized briefly, and no one else came to do shows on Wednesday, I had to run the station for the entire day, mostly playing music but doing a few impromptu interviews as well. However, by the time I'd finished interviewing the women from Petén, I was tired, and I also wanted to accompany them back to the offices of Ixmukané to hear the interchange between the visitors and the Ixmukané staff. So I got permission from the director to close down early. Whew! 


So now I'm trying to really plan out a week or two in advance, and integrating more conversations or interviews, either by Skype or with people locally, into the shows.

Transmitiendo en vivo, improvisaciones radiales/Transmitting live, radio improvisations

Bueno, eso es lo que pasa en las radio comunitarias: a veces hay improvisaciones, debido a ciertas circunstancias. Por ejemplo, hoy vinieron las promotoras jurídicas para el segundo día de su reunión, y nadie tenia las llaves para el edificio donde iban a reunirse. Yo tuve las llaves para la radio y el portón del sitio, pero no para los demás edificios. También, la persona quien debe haber llegado a las 8 para su programa no vino; llamó a otro compañero pero él no iba a llegar para al menos unos 40 minutos. Entonces, aproveché de esta confluencia de situaciones a invitar a algunas de las compañeras promotoras jurídicas a la cabina. Algunas llegaron  hasta la cabina pero tenían miedo, o algo. Dos jóvenes llegaban, miraban por la puerta y luego desaparecieron. Pero otras eran mas valientes y si entraron; yo les dije que los micrófonos no muerden. Ahora estamos hablando con Doña Juana, una mujer mayor de edad, de Joyabaj, sobre sus experiencias. Las promotoras jurídicas son mujeres que han recibido capacitaciones sobre los derechos legales, sobretodo para las mujeres víctimas de violencia doméstica.

Doña Fermina translating (Doña Juana is a monolingual K'iche speaker
Doña Fermina traduciendo (Doña Juana es monolingüe en K'iche')

Luego se embulló otra compañera, una doña Candelaria. Lo chistoso es que yo no tuve que agarrarla ni insistir. Ella llegó por su propia cuenta porque quería aprovechar de la oportunidad de expresarse un poco.  

Hablando sobre violencia
Talking about violence

Well, this is what happens in community radio stations: sometimes you have to improvise based on circumstances. Today, for example, the "juridical promoters" for the second day of their meeting and no one had the key for the building where they were meeting. I had the keys for the radio and the outer gate of the site, but not for the other buildings (there are several buildings on the site).  Also, the person who was supposed to arrive to do the program at 8 didn't arrive. She had called another companion but he wasn't going to be able to come for another 40 minutes at least. So, I took advantage of this confluence of circumstances and invited some of the juridical promoters" into the station. Some arrived at the station but got scared or something. Two young girls arrived and looked inside and then disappeared. But others were braver and entered. I told them the microphones didn't bite. So now we are talking with Doña Juana, an older woman from Joyabaj, about her experiences. The juridical promoters are women who have received training about legal rights, above all about women who are victims of domestic violence.


Later another woman got enthused, Doña Candelaria. The nice thing was that I didn't have to grab her or insist. She came on her own accord because she wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to express herself.

Observando dentro de la cabina/
observing from inside the "booth"

Encuentro con las mujeres del Peten/encounter with the women from Peten

Hoy y mañana, Ixmukané es anfitriona para un grupo de mujeres del departamento del Peten, en el nor-oriente del pais. Su organización también se llama Ixmukané, y vienen con motivo de tener un intercambio con las compañeras aquí. El plan, o al menos lo que yo sé del plan, es comenzar el día con una ceremonia, luego un espacio para intercambios de experiencias, y después del almuerzo, una presentación sobre la cosmovisión por Don Felipe, el sacerdote maya quien dirige las ceremonias para la asociación. Les digo más después.


Today and tomorrow, Ixmukané is hosting a group of women from the department of el Peten, in the northeast of the country. Their organization is also called Ixmukane, and they are coming to have an interchange with the compañeras here. The plan, or at least what I know of it, is to start the day with a ceremony, then a time for an exchange of experiences, and after lunch, a presentation on the cosmovision by Don Felipe, the Maya priest who directs ceremonies for the association. I'll tell you more later.

The ethics of representation/la ética de representación

Weinergate, the "scandal" over Congressman Anthony Weiner's "sexting" (sending sexually suggestive images of himself via Twitter), raises some interesting ethical issues. Not about the Congressman's behavior -- I, for one, think that it is entirely too easy for the U.S. media to ignore the really big issues (like unemployment, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the "secret" war in Yemen) in order to focus on something that, in the grand scheme of things, is not that important. While I don't think an elected representative's personal behavior (especially when it involves men in positions of power and their treatment of women) is entirely beside the point, it shouldn't entirely overshadow our evaluation of how he or she fulfills the role for which he or she was elected. That is, what stands does he/she take? How does he/she vote on matters like reproductive freedom, military spending, and so on?


I am coming around to Guatemala, in case you were thinking that this doesn't seem like an appropriate entry for this blog.  But this "scandal" got me to thinking about our promiscuity with images, facilitated by Web 2.0 technologies, including the software that I use for this blog. So many of us, myself included, hardly think twice before uploading images we have taken with our digital cameras or our phones (I don't take pictures with my phone, at least not hear in Guatemala since I have one of the dumbest phones on the market; when I enter names in the directory, it only gives me 16 characters, hardly enough in a country where most people have at least two given names and two surnames, and it is often necessary to include the surname since so many of the first names are repeated -- I have at least 4 Josés and 4 Marias in my directory), without considering the possible consequences of such exposure to the people thus represented. How many of us, when we take photographs at a party, or during a visit, actually ask permission of our friends and acquaintances about publishing the photos on Facebook, Photobucket, or other sites? Sometimes we operate on the assumption, within specific networks of friends and acquaintances, that the images will be shared. Perhaps much of the time no harm is done, and certainly it seems that there are a lot of people out there who are only too happy to have photos of themselves splashed around the internet.


But not everyone.  And here's where I think that as anthropologists or social documentarians, we have to be a bit more conscientious, especially here in Guatemala, where many of us are working with communities, and especially indigenous communities, whose members historically have not been consulted or asked for their consent about how they are represented.  


Anthony Weiner and his bulging (so they say; I haven't looked) undies were thus on my mind the other day, June 10, when I went to Zacualpa for the fiesta patronal, camera, voice recorder, and snappy new mini-videocam in hand. I went to the fiesta for a couple of reasons, one of which was to gather some material that we could use for the radio station. The other day we were meeting to talk about how include more programs about culture in the broad sense - handicrafts, music, food --- and starting to plan some interviews with artisans, Maya priests, healers and so on. So, it occurred to me that I could slip over for a bit of the fiesta in Zacualpa (it is the next town to the east from where I live, about 20 km. away along the same highway that runs through the southeastern part of the department). Zacualpa is a town that was, like Chinique, hard hit during the armed conflict; the church was turned into a torture and killing chamber (I will probably blog about this separately) and it also has a very high proportion of migration to the U.S. And, like most highland towns in this part of the country, the population of the municipality (which includes not only the town proper but the outlying caserios and aldeas) is mostly indigenous. This year an indigenous woman, Doña Caty, is one of the candidates for mayor -- possibly a first.


I have some contacts in Zacualpa: in the church, and also a young woman who has a store selling weavings, supplies and also snacks and beverages; she was also a research assistant to Father Ricardo Falla, the legendary Guatemalan priest/anthropologist who accompanied the communities of people in resistance when they fled to Mexico during the armed conflict and then wrote about their experiences. So I called Ana and asked if she thought it would be possible to arrange some interview during the fiesta. I mentioned that I wanted to talk to the indigenous queens or princesses; I wasn't sure of what title was used in Zacualpa. Most highland towns have two parallel pageants: one to select the "Señorita" of the town (who is invariably Ladina: if there is an exception to this I'd like to know about it, please!!!) and one to select the indigenous queen, princess, or whatever she might be called. Actually most towns have a plethora of "beauty queens", down to very young children. "Junior Miss whatever the municipality", and so on. 


So I was interested in talking with the indigenous woman who was selected to represent Zacualpa, and Ana thought that would be possible, along with the men who did the dance of the bulls (baile de los torito). I also asked if she thought I could talk with people in the cofradía - the local religious "brotherhood". The cofradías are basically indigenous organizations (I wrote about them in one of the earliest posts on this blog), that usually own some property in common, and during the fiesta patronal, the cofradía members decorate their altars, and contract marimba bands to play.


I was able to interview the uxab tinamit, the "daughter of the town", as the indigenous representative is titled in Zacualpa, and her attendants -- there were actually 4 young women, and I will write about them later.  I couldn't find the dancers, so I headed to the cofradia to see if there was anyone to interview.


And here is where the dilemma of representational ethics entered the picture, so to speak. The cofradia is up on a small rise at one edge of the town, and Ana had told me I couldn't miss it because there was a big sign at the entrance that said "cofradia". That much was true. However, in front of the gate, which was ajar, were several men, drunken to the point of unconsciousness, sprawled on the dirt and gravel in front of the entrance. Inside the courtyard, the scene was not much better:  the marimba was playing, but the only people dancing were two men who were extremely drunk but not so far gone that they could not stand (after a fashion) and stagger around (after a fashion) to the music, clutching each other's hands. A few other men (mostly) in varying stages of drunkenness were present; one laid out face down on the ground, another stretched out and propped up on his elbow, and a few glassy-eyed women. So, what, if anything, to photograph? I wanted an "establishing shot" but it was impossible to frame the entrance without including the men in drunken stupor. I decided to take the photograph, but not to publish it -- at least not yet.


Why not publish the photograph? After all, that was the "reality" that I saw when I entered the space. I did respect the request of someone who approached me (also drunk but able to walk and carry on a conversation) and asked me not to take a close up shot of the altar. The musicians were content to have their photographs taken, and the people who were drunken but still able to stand or sit actually wanted me to photograph them too. 


But I was uncomfortable about photographing or sharing photographs of the men stretched out cold in front of the cofradía. They were in no position to give informed consent about being photographed. And also, even had they consented, I would have hesitated because of the politics of how indigenous people -- and the cofradias -- are viewed in Guatemala. One of the reigning stereotypes of the fiestas patronales is that they are simply an opportunity for the Maya communities to come to town, get drunk, and cause mayhem. Alcohol abuse is a problem in Guatemala, and more than a few women I know have talked about spouses who drank to excess, or even drank themselves to death. So I don't want to say that the stereotype is completely baseless, and simply a reflection of racial prejudice. Some Maya men (and women) drink themselves silly during the fiestas patronales (I am sure that some Ladinos do so as well but the Maya are more numerous and more present during the fiestas). An allied stereotype is that the cofradías are the epicenter of the drunkenness and disorderliness; that the cofradias don't have much religious value but simply provide an excuse (and a place) where people can engage in this kind of excess.


So, if I don't photograph inebriated people, am I masking part of the reality of the fiesta? If I only show photographs of the marimba playing, am I excluding part of what I saw, and presenting a skewed view of the fiesta (only the more positive aspects)? 

Poma rosa

Manzana rosa or poma rosa... round yellow fruit with a sweet scent and taste of roses. Today we went to  Zacualpa. a nearby town, to work with women from three municipios (Zacualpa, Joyabaj and Chinique)  on developing a "message" -- the workshop was on strategies of communication. And the plan for today was to help the women turn some of their ideas into short radio spots (or "espods" as we say here in Guatemala).  When we have meetings in Zacualpa they are always at the home of Doña Cati, but today she had no power, so we had asked someone nearby to lend us space since the recording equipment needed to be plugged in.  I'll write about the recording session itself later, but I want to talk about the fruit. There were several trees in the courtyard we were using for the recording, and as we were preparing to leave someone asked about the fruit. The man who had lent us his courtyard got a stick and knocked down several ripe fruits for us to share, enough so that everyone who wanted one had one, and some of us got 2 or 3. Here's what it looks like:

The taste is nothing at all like an apple and hard to describe. It tastes like rosewater and the flesh is quite crisp. There isn't a lot of it; the fruit has a thin layer of flesh around a hollow core, in which there are two largish roundish seeds. 

Enough already/basta ya

It's over three long months until the elections on September 11, but I have already had it up to here (you can imagine a hand marking the spot) with electioneering. In the past week, the parties have stepped up their public campaigning, which seems to consist primarily of paying a bunch of people to stand out along a highway or, in the case of Antigua, along the Alameda Sta. Lucia, the divided boulevard that runs alongside the municipal market, wearing t-shirts in the party's color or colors, waving flags on wooden sticks, and generally jumping around and making a lot of noise. Sometimes the paid campaigners are accompanied by sound systems, blaring music to further animate (and annoy, although that is probably not the intention, it is one of the results). I think the word "supporters" is inappropriate in this context; while there may be individuals who do actually support the party for which they are making a public demonstration, most are doing it for the money. However, by making this distinction, I do not mean to suggest that people may not ultimately vote for the party that has purchased their enthusiasm. 
Yesterday as I was driving around the central part of Guatemala City, there was apparently some big political event at the Barceló Convention Center in Zona 9, and the sidewalk and streets in front were thronged with people bearing the orange shirts of the Partido Patriota (far right party headed by a war criminal who looks like he will, unfortunately, become the next president, and a bit further on, the green t-shirts of the UNE-GANA coalition, whose candidate is the "ex" wife of the current president -- ex in quotes because they divorced solely so that Sandra Torres, formerly Sandra Torres de Colom, would not automatically be disqualified as a candidate. However, her candidacy has been called into question this week because of some apparently irregularities in the nominations process. Never a dull moment in Guatemalan politics.
In the evening, as I was heading back to Antigua, finally in possession of a new car (i.e. pick up), traffic along the highway out of tow was halted for a long while, more so than usual. The cause of the slowdown were throngs of paid political enthusiasts alongside the highway. Damn, I thought to myself. This appears to be a really counterproductive campaigning strategy. Do parties really think that they will gain support by pissing commuters off and making their lives even more miserable? If I were a Guatemalan voter, the hordes along the highways would have the reverse effect: I would be turned off by whichever party or parties had done the most to make my life miserable, and would probably vote  for whichever candidate had made the least obstruction to my daily routine.