Corrina and Juan Daniel, taking some time out

My intention to return home to Antigua from the community where I have been for the last two weeks has been foiled: I just received news that two bridges between here and Antigua (normally a four hour drive) have been washed away in the recent heavy rains that we have had, making the journey possible only if you are willing to walk across planks that have been placed across the river, changing buses when you (hopefully) make it across each time. Driving in a car – not a chance. There is a way around, however it was also affected in the recent tropical storm that hit Guatemala – a number of large landslides still block the roads and have reduced the traffic to one-way. I have lived long enough in Guatemala to know what this means…instead of the normal 4 hours that it takes to make the journey, it will likely take at least 12, and could easily take more.

I am slightly chagrined at missing some important meetings that I had lined up for my return, but…”c’est la vie” as the saying goes: I see no point in spending my energy railing against something that I can’t control – especially not nature. And so, accepting my fate, it appears as though I will be here for at least a few more days. The idea doesn’t bother me. This morning -  as I washed my clothes by the stream in the speckled shade under the bamboo – I reflected on the tranquil simplicity of life here and how peaceful it is: I am quite happy to be here for a few more days. As I was washing my clothes on the convenient large rock by the spring – warn smooth by so many people over the endless years – I wondered if the other people that come here felt such satisfaction and peace in these tasks. Or was it just me? With my comparison to an industrialized, machine-driven society did I just have the naive, “fresh” eyes that someone who had done this all their lives didn’t have? Would I be eating my words in the years to come?

Maybe it was the same tonight. Tonight, I am alone. In a bustling place with 9 children, 2 guardians, visitors, workers and the resident “Don”, peace and solitude is rare. And yet tonight it is just me, with only Jango (my dog) and Mattata (the Casa Del Nino puppy) for company. Mattata wants to play: Jango is not having any of it. I think – as always – he has picked up on my mood. Tonight is a time for reflection and solitude. Taking time to breathe, think and wonder…

The children and family here at the Casa Del Nino have joined with the local community at the church for an all night vigil. When I asked them the reason for the vigil, they told me it was to pray to God for all the things that are happening in Guatemala at the moment: the floods, mudslides, storms, and crops that are getting lost from the excess rain. My instincts tell me that as far as rain goes, this year is only going to get worse – and it will be as wet as the last one was dry. I hope their prayers are heard, and answered.

As I sit here working, I cannot help but wonder that if I explained to all these people that the unusual weather that was happening was a result of climate change, whether they would put as much energy  into helping to fix it as they will into their all-night vigils. I wonder whether if God answered their prayers with some practical solutions: stop driving so much, put the catalytic converters back onto the dirty chicken buses, don’t throw all your rubbish into the river and burn the plastic, protect the land and forests and water, respect these precious resources…would they listen? Would we listen?

As I am thinking these thoughts, my mind turns introspective and I see myself here on a Saturday night, working away at the computer. Perhaps, in my own way, this is my all night vigil to ask for help. While they go down to the church and walk along the quiet streets of La Independencia praying for help I sit here tapping away at my computer and drawing on the whiteboard. Networking, designing, grant writing, strategising, fundraising. Is this my all night vigil? Is this just my way of asking for help?

And to tell the truth, I couldn’t honestly say which way will work better. But just like them, I feel it deep inside – that something isn’t right. That something has to change. And just like them, I rely on my faith. Only in this case, it is my faith that sustainable development and education will work. It is my faith that through the work of Seres, we can help to alleviate the fears of these people. It is my faith that I can help them see a future that is secure, sustainable, liveable…

And so we sit: those in the church, their faces lit by the flickering candles; me at my makeshift desk, my face illuminated by the glow of the computer. We draw on our faith, and send our requests into the unknown, praying for the best. And I, as I pray…well, there is a smile on my face and hope in my heart. Because I have a vision. I have a vision of a time when they are not in their church, and I am not at my desk. In my vision, we are gathered together in celebration – a vibrant, thriving community that is not afraid of the unknown, but confident in their strengths to deal with what comes. A community that is connected, empowered and aware, with hope and confidence for a secure, sustainable future.

And so with hope in my heart, a vision in my mind and an LCD screen to light my way I pass my Saturday night – eager to see what tomorrow may bring after all of our dedicated efforts.

I wish a happy weekend to all, whatever you may be doing.

In peace,

Corrina