The Mayan Village

This morning Marc and I drove to the Mayan village where the artesan center is located. We were planning on buying merchandise for the Casa de Esperanza store. In October we walked up there. It was a long, hot walk. This morning it was a bumpy ride and we were in four wheel drive part of the way. As we drove, I could not help but notice how many children were not in school. We did see the school and I noticed uniforms must not be required in this village. Many of the kids did not have uniforms. No one had black shoes, just flip flops. Of the children that had uniforms, there were not many new ones nor ones that fit very well. Most of the uniforms I saw were way too big, in need of repair and stained and dirty. No one seemed to mind. I was really glad that the rules were a bit more relaxed in a village where if the rules were not relaxed, no one would get to go to school.

We walked in the house to buy our dolls. There was one lady working on the dolls and her children. The oldest little girl was cross-eyed. Bless her little heart. Maybe she was seven. I do not really know. There was also, probably, a three year old. One of those children that no matter what I do, I cannot get to smile. And then, there was a four month old baby girl. She liked attention. As long as Marc or I stood there talking to her, she was happy. These girls had very worn, very torn and tattered clothing. The baby had no diaper and the tattered clothing was way too big.

We could tell, by looking around, there was not the number of dolls we needed. We talked to the lady and told her how many we needed. She said ok and they would be ready tomorrow. She stepped outside and, while I did not hear her, and probably would not have understood exactly what she said, spoke something to the effect of ladies we have work to do. Women and their children began to come into the building. All were smiling. There was work.

After we paid a deposit for this work and agreed on how many dolls and when we would pick them up in the morning, we walked on down the hill to the place where the weavings are done. Again, there was only one woman in the store. She quoted us a price and we picked out a few weavings. I quickly added how much money this was and took it out of my backpack to pay her and she gave me a discount because of the number I bought. I almost cried. These ladies work so hard. I was there to buy some of her wares to help her and then she gave me a discount.

Then we saw my little friend that helped me down the hill in October. She remembered us and we remembered her. She had three little dolls she was trying to sell. What a hard life she lives.

It is hard for me to describe how this kind of poverty touches me. How gracious these women are. How grateful they are for just a little bit of work. I am so constantly reminded of the poverty and the needs of this country.

We will go back up in the morning. I wish I had clothes for some of these kids.

Terri