Kent and Ann in Panyebar

The longer we are here, the more we learn. For instance, we now know that there IS another secondary school in town, run by the government. It’s been here for 1 ½ years and is a free option for those who can’t pay the inscription at the Colegio. Only problem is that it is what is called a “tele-secondaria,” with two teachers for all of the students, and classes given by video. Not the best option. What we hear about the differences between the schools is of course about the quality, the number of teachers, the homework, etc. Sometimes I wonder how much is true and how much is learned recital, as in “Of course the Colegio is better; it’s a private school…” (Reality is that the students that leave Colegio Bethel continue to do very well in the Guatemalan system if they choose to pursue schooling beyond 9th grade.) However, the most engaging classrooms we have yet seen here in Guatemala belonged to a government school on a remote dangerous road rarely traveled.


The longer we are here, the more we learn. For instance, we now know that there IS another secondary school in town, run by the government. It’s been here for 1 ½ years and is a free option for those who can’t pay the inscription at the Colegio. Only problem is that it is what is called a “tele-secondaria,” with two teachers for all of the students, and classes given by video. Not the best option. What we hear about the differences between the schools is of course about the quality, the number of teachers, the homework, etc. Sometimes I wonder how much is true and how much is learned recital, as in “Of course the Colegio is better; it’s a private school…” (Reality is that the students that leave Colegio Bethel continue to do very well in the Guatemalan system if they choose to pursue schooling beyond 9th grade.) However, the most engaging classrooms we have yet seen here in Guatemala belonged to a government school on a remote dangerous road rarely traveled.

Right: the road going down to La Costa.

We had decided to bike down the mountains to “La Costa,” the flat plain that extends to the Pacific Coast. The road splits into two at the top of the highest ridge and we took what we soon discovered to be the awful road down. Dust 6 to 8 inches deep on the steepest corners covering rocks forced at least me to do a bit more walking. Houses perched at intervals along the way bespoke a deep poverty. And there, on a widened little patch beside the road sat a two-room schoolhouse. We rode into the yard and peered into the rooms,

expecting nothing. But these were the tidiest of little rooms, decorated with cheerful colorful greetings in Spanish and Quiche, all of the little chairs neatly stacked on the desks, a corner with towels hung on little hooks beneath children’s names. Clean, cheerful, welcoming rooms that revealed a care apparently seldom seen in rural Guatemalan schools. One of my thoughts was that Colegio Bethel, Panyebar could learn from those isolated classrooms and take more pride in caring for its space.

The first town at the bottom of the mountains was destroyed by Hurricane Stan and is still incredibly poor. This woman is drying coffee.

From the road we took back up into the mountains, you can see the road we came down. The school was right wherethe road hit the ridge on top...

Right now, somewhere outside our little house there is a marching band exuberantly practicing away. Another learning curve that I might not ever master: acceptance of boomeranging noise! We all know how sound echoes and in a place where most of the houses are build of cinder block and concrete, sound bounces seemingly forever. This would be fine if there was only one set of sounds bouncing around. However, we seem to be located at the nexus of the sound waves that burst forth from at least four churches within 5 minutes walking distance that all seem to hold their services at the same time during the evenings. Every church service is marked by the most off-key lead singer ever backed by the loudest band ever consisting of a bass guitar oompa-oompaing along, a drum set banging away and a keyboard repeating the endless chords. Not that we mind people worshiping God, but, Lord, the noise of it all! Earphones can be a glad refuge but only if you turn up the volume enough to cover over the oompa-oompaing…

Another thing I have learned is that it doesn’t always pay to accept invitations to lunch. Kent and I have been eating healthily with Rebecca and Juan here and have had no digestive issues at all. (The town’s water comes directly from the spring we visited in the mountains several weeks ago and is clean.) However, the teachers were invited to lunch at the house of one of the students. the house of pain...

Two of us have gotten pretty ill. The ickiest ill you want. So after three days of not being able to eat, I have started on tetracycline to kill it off. You know you’re supposed to have a prescription for this kind of thing but Kent just bought a bunch of powders mixed with chocolate (yum) that I will take over the next week. (Hope it’s really an antibiotic!) If things aren’t better soon, though, I’ll have to make sure it’s not some other sort of parasite. At least my body has started absorbing fluids again after a couple of days of dehydration worries, but I am weak and ready to get better.

Right: the road going down to La Costa.

We had decided to bike down the mountains to “La Costa,” the flat plain that extends to the Pacific Coast. The road splits into two at the top of the highest ridge and we took what we soon discovered to be the awful road down. Dust 6 to 8 inches deep on the steepest corners covering rocks forced at least me to do a bit more walking. Houses perched at intervals along the way bespoke a deep poverty. And there, on a widened little patch beside the road sat a two-room schoolhouse. We rode into the yard and peered into the rooms,

expecting nothing. But these were the tidiest of little rooms, decorated with cheerful colorful greetings in Spanish and Quiche, all of the little chairs neatly stacked on the desks, a corner with towels hung on little hooks beneath children’s names. Clean, cheerful, welcoming rooms that revealed a care apparently seldom seen in rural Guatemalan schools. One of my thoughts was that Colegio Bethel, Panyebar could learn from those isolated classrooms and take more pride in caring for its space.

The first town at the bottom of the mountains was destroyed by Hurricane Stan and is still incredibly poor. This woman is drying coffee.

From the road we took back up into the mountains, you can see the road we came down. The school was right wherethe road hit the ridge on top...

Right now, somewhere outside our little house there is a marching band exuberantly practicing away. Another learning curve that I might not ever master: acceptance of boomeranging noise! We all know how sound echoes and in a place where most of the houses are build of cinder block and concrete, sound bounces seemingly forever. This would be fine if there was only one set of sounds bouncing around. However, we seem to be located at the nexus of the sound waves that burst forth from at least four churches within 5 minutes walking distance that all seem to hold their services at the same time during the evenings. Every church service is marked by the most off-key lead singer ever backed by the loudest band ever consisting of a bass guitar oompa-oompaing along, a drum set banging away and a keyboard repeating the endless chords. Not that we mind people worshiping God, but, Lord, the noise of it all! Earphones can be a glad refuge but only if you turn up the volume enough to cover over the oompa-oompaing…

Another thing I have learned is that it doesn’t always pay to accept invitations to lunch. Kent and I have been eating healthily with Rebecca and Juan here and have had no digestive issues at all. (The town’s water comes directly from the spring we visited in the mountains several weeks ago and is clean.) However, the teachers were invited to lunch at the house of one of the students. the house of pain...

Two of us have gotten pretty ill. The ickiest ill you want. So after three days of not being able to eat, I have started on tetracycline to kill it off. You know you’re supposed to have a prescription for this kind of thing but Kent just bought a bunch of powders mixed with chocolate (yum) that I will take over the next week. (Hope it’s really an antibiotic!) If things aren’t better soon, though, I’ll have to make sure it’s not some other sort of parasite. At least my body has started absorbing fluids again after a couple of days of dehydration worries, but I am weak and ready to get better.

Right: the road going down to La Costa.

We had decided to bike down the mountains to “La Costa,” the flat plain that extends to the Pacific Coast. The road splits into two at the top of the highest ridge and we took what we soon discovered to be the awful road down. Dust 6 to 8 inches deep on the steepest corners covering rocks forced at least me to do a bit more walking. Houses perched at intervals along the way bespoke a deep poverty. And there, on a widened little patch beside the road sat a two-room schoolhouse. We rode into the yard and peered into the rooms,

expecting nothing. But these were the tidiest of little rooms, decorated with cheerful colorful greetings in Spanish and Quiche, all of the little chairs neatly stacked on the desks, a corner with towels hung on little hooks beneath children’s names. Clean, cheerful, welcoming rooms that revealed a care apparently seldom seen in rural Guatemalan schools. One of my thoughts was that Colegio Bethel, Panyebar could learn from those isolated classrooms and take more pride in caring for its space.

The first town at the bottom of the mountains was destroyed by Hurricane Stan and is still incredibly poor. This woman is drying coffee.

From the road we took back up into the mountains, you can see the road we came down. The school was right wherethe road hit the ridge on top...

Right now, somewhere outside our little house there is a marching band exuberantly practicing away. Another learning curve that I might not ever master: acceptance of boomeranging noise! We all know how sound echoes and in a place where most of the houses are build of cinder block and concrete, sound bounces seemingly forever. This would be fine if there was only one set of sounds bouncing around. However, we seem to be located at the nexus of the sound waves that burst forth from at least four churches within 5 minutes walking distance that all seem to hold their services at the same time during the evenings. Every church service is marked by the most off-key lead singer ever backed by the loudest band ever consisting of a bass guitar oompa-oompaing along, a drum set banging away and a keyboard repeating the endless chords. Not that we mind people worshiping God, but, Lord, the noise of it all! Earphones can be a glad refuge but only if you turn up the volume enough to cover over the oompa-oompaing…

Another thing I have learned is that it doesn’t always pay to accept invitations to lunch. Kent and I have been eating healthily with Rebecca and Juan here and have had no digestive issues at all. (The town’s water comes directly from the spring we visited in the mountains several weeks ago and is clean.) However, the teachers were invited to lunch at the house of one of the students. the house of pain...

Two of us have gotten pretty ill. The ickiest ill you want. So after three days of not being able to eat, I have started on tetracycline to kill it off. You know you’re supposed to have a prescription for this kind of thing but Kent just bought a bunch of powders mixed with chocolate (yum) that I will take over the next week. (Hope it’s really an antibiotic!) If things aren’t better soon, though, I’ll have to make sure it’s not some other sort of parasite. At least my body has started absorbing fluids again after a couple of days of dehydration worries, but I am weak and ready to get better.