In this issue:

Why Guatemala?
By: Paul Kroeker, Director, Outtatown

They find it hard to share their heart felt emotions to me in English, but their tears and the huge hugs we receive are easy to understand.  “Muchas Gracias!  Thank you for coming.  Your students have made a difference here in Guatemala.”

As the director of the Outtatown Discipleship School, I have the opportunity of visiting our students as they live and serve in Guatemala, and when I am in a tearful embrace from a family in Guatemala, I know the answer to why we go there.  This emotional scene came from one of the families that had just received their first home as a result of the hard work of our students.  It is a cooperative project we do every year with Habitat Guatemala, creating simple four-room houses of approximately 350-400 square feet, together with the family that will live there.  In total there are more than 80 such homes in Guatemala, making deep connections between them and the CMU Outtatown students, who worked side by side with them to make this happen.

Another reason we go to Guatemala is found in the little village of San Juan del Obispo, situated above Antigua, Guatemala, a few kilometers up the side of Volcano Agua.  Our students have been coming here for nine years already; living with families, learning Spanish, and volunteering in various ministries in the area.

Over those years, this town has been transformed.  You can see it in the quality of the streets, changing from mud to cobblestone and pavement.  You can see it in the quality of the drinking water and other basics in life.  And you can see it in the faces of the people.

How did it change?  First of all, our program has resulted in the development of a “tourism industry”. It was our need for Spanish learning that led to the establishment of a small school in the village.  Our presence is part of a wider industry that is close to what we call a Bed and Breakfast, but looks more like a short-term adoption.  For a period of approximately six weeks throughout the semester, our students live in various homes throughout the village, calling them Madre or Padre, and speaking proudly about their adopted brothers and sisters.  Simple things like boiled or purified water, along with better food preparation, have resulted in improved food security systems as the families learn how to prepare food that will allow us to be healthy, and have improved their lives as well.

But the biggest change is likely to be found in the relationships that develop: people from different cultures, different languages and very different circumstances, finding that they are equal in every way.  Even while we are there, the relationships appear to be as meaningful to them as they are to us.  And over time, many of the students will keep in touch with their host families in the years to come.  Sometimes they have come back to visit, bringing along a spouse or other family members, to meet their “Spanish family”.  In fact, we even have Outtatown alumni now living in Guatemala and working there full time.

A third reason is related to the many Christian ministries we work with in Guatemala.  This country is listed as having one of the lowest literacy rates in the world, and many people here do not have access to things such as education, clean drinking water, or basic health services.  A number of Christian ministries are engaged in very significant mission work along with development projects.  Our students offer their hands, their feet and their hearts, bringing much needed energy and encouragement to these full time missionaries.

Confronted By An Uncomfortable Reality
By: Heidi Peters, Site Leader 06-07/07-08, Outtatown

We spent a weekend learning about the culture of Guatemala with CASAS.  Shannon, our host, and a Spanish instructor associated with CASAS, accompanied us to the national cemetery.  We were shown the tombs of the rich Guatemalans, large grand concrete structures.  The British, in the ground, similar to our North American customs.  The Germans and Chinese each in their own way.  And the poor Guatemalans, along side the rich, in small encasements.  Shannon explained the history of the country from this new angle, with her colleague's occasional input.  Turning our backs on the injustice of poverty, even in death, we had a close up view of the city dump.  Walking to the viewpoint the dust billows around our feet as we step cautiously.  Above us the vultures are taking flight, instilling in us the fear of being hit by a falling mess.  All around us the smells of the dump are increasing in strength.

Seeing the dump always leaves some form of impact on visitors.  The students and staff alike will forever be haunted by the sight and smell of a most dangerous livelihood.  Watching the men line up as the trucks arrive, following the truck as it backs up and dumps, forever a recycling process.  We told some stories, asked questions and shared limited answers.  As we turned, leaving the discomfort behind, I was confronted with something new walking beside Shannon.  She shared with me that her colleague had never seen the dump before.  I had always heard stories of how the locals often live without the knowledge of the dump.  Now I was watching the reality of it.  Shannon's colleague had been engaging with the group, in a way without language.  I looked up and saw her walking very pensively and shocked, alone. 

The next part of the afternoon was to visit a mall and contrast it with the dump.  As leaders we took the opportunity to spend the time together enjoying some delicious cinnamon buns from an American franchise.  Shannon joined us, explaining that her colleague would not.  The whole time I was plagued with thoughts of what it would be like to experience the dump for the first time again.  And then to realize that this was your city.  Your city where such hidden poverty exists, your garbage that contributes to the gully filling pile and your responsibility now no longer ignorant.

Where is my city's garbage dump?  Where is yours?  How many gullies have we filled up?

Kayamandi (Township Life in South Africa)
By: Kyle Wiebe, Student 07-08, Outtatown

It's difficult to describe the feeling of walking around in a township. There’s a lot of paved roads, but then there are also clay allies between the shacks. It’s like being in a maze, with passageways everywhere. The shacks are the most incredible sight: pieces of wood, tin and cardboard thrown together and nailed against the wall, with cracks or gaps as windows. Tiers and cement bricks sit upon the roofs to keep them from blowing off. The walls are often slanted and deformed, slowly toppling over. These shacks are no bigger then my room at home, yet an entire family will sleep in them.

The sight of hundreds of people living so closely together is incredible. Houses are built side by side. There are no front yards, only shared allies where drying clothes hang over fencing wire. And wherever there is any shade, you will be sure to find a dog sleeping. I don’t know if anyone owns these dogs, or if they just wander around looking for food. Their bodies are slender and limp. But dogs aren’t the only animals. Chickens run loose, across the streets and into shacks. I can only image all the roosters in the morning. There are so many baby chicks as well that kick up garbage to make areas to rest in.

There is garbage everywhere, and no one picks it up. There are a few BFI sized bins on the paved streets, but even they are filled to overflowing. People throw their garbage anywhere they please. You can’t look anywhere without seeing pop cans, condoms, and wrappers. You kick it as you walk down the street, and kids play in it with bare feet. Along side the paved roads is a ditch system where water flows into the sewer. But the garbage quickly piles up and blocks the water from running. You wind up with flooded streets running through rubbish.

So with wild animals, garbage and minimal hygienic resources, its not hard to imagine the smell. These shacks are built among these odour hot spots and people are living among these unpreventable smells. And despite this, Kayamandi is the most beautiful place I have ever seen. Why? It's all about the people.

Life in a township changes at every corner. In one corner, a girl is playing a drum as her friends are dancing. Down a back ally, two men are playing a game of checkers on their homemade board, and down the street little kids are running around, playing on their toy cars, as their neighbours are blasting rap music out of their stereos. Someone is running a hair salon out of their front porch, and another is selling lamb heads; muddy and piled in the streets. It’s a megalopolis of people – something is always going on. There are always people mingling, dancing, singing, and listening to music on every street, and every street corner.

It’s a unique vibe and feeling. I can’t even accurately describe what it’s like seeing hundreds of people everywhere you go or soccer games being played in the middle of the street with a flat ball. And you can’t fully describe the smile on a kid’s face as he rolls his tire with a stick. It’s the most beautiful feeling and the most beautiful place.