La Hacienda
Wake up to the drip drip of the remnants of a violent thunderstorm. Parakeets chirp in hushed tones underneath a blue beach towel, quietly discussing the hot topics of the day. A cat flies in through the window and lands with a thump on your stomach, dashing off without so much as a "Good Morning" to your interrupted sleep. Somewhere in the house a shower handle squeaks and water gushes. Footsteps pad their way over and a blurry face appears in your line of sight.
"You comin' to church?"
"Urrrrrr"
"Good, 10 minutes"
"Urrr"
Twenty minutes later I'm sitting in the front pew like the good catholic I am not, watching in wonder as the funny man dressed in green humms and haws, spits and spews the Holy word of God unto our ever attentive ears. Well, their attentive ears. I don't even remember what the sermon was about. What I did make a note of however, was how much this particular church has grown in the past few years. I am the expert of course, having attended this church on average about twice a year for the past four years, Easters and Christmases included, along with random Sundays of the year. The church of San José Villanueva now has a certain feeling of utility and warmth which wasn't there at the start. It's a big square "modern" building with tiled floors and wooden pews. The whole town flocks to its doors to fill its seats and listen with fervour to the good pastor. Testimonies of the church's good deeds are given, money to fund local farmers' harvests collected, scholarships for university degrees handed over, requests for a replacement tire for the community's mini bus were made, even the local drunk homeless man made an appearance in a bright blue polo shirt and khaki pants. A whole hum drum of activity which has slowly made itself a key aspect of these people's lives.
Or you could look at it from a different perspective. See those two rows of gringos four rows up? White faced, broad shouldered and stiff necked? They're a special congregation visiting from Misouri on their yearly rounds to monitor how their contributions are being spent by their sponsored missions. Puts everything into a different light.
Church over, the smell of huevos rancheros guides you home so you can stuff your face and fall into the lazy Sunday rythm, interrupted only by the journey to the bus stop. Guatemalan city life beckons.
Wake up to the drip drip of the remnants of a violent thunderstorm. Parakeets chirp in hushed tones underneath a blue beach towel, quietly discussing the hot topics of the day. A cat flies in through the window and lands with a thump on your stomach, dashing off without so much as a "Good Morning" to your interrupted sleep. Somewhere in the house a shower handle squeaks and water gushes. Footsteps pad their way over and a blurry face appears in your line of sight.
"You comin' to church?"
"Urrrrrr"
"Good, 10 minutes"
"Urrr"
Twenty minutes later I'm sitting in the front pew like the good catholic I am not, watching in wonder as the funny man dressed in green humms and haws, spits and spews the Holy word of God unto our ever attentive ears. Well, their attentive ears. I don't even remember what the sermon was about. What I did make a note of however, was how much this particular church has grown in the past few years. I am the expert of course, having attended this church on average about twice a year for the past four years, Easters and Christmases included, along with random Sundays of the year. The church of San José Villanueva now has a certain feeling of utility and warmth which wasn't there at the start. It's a big square "modern" building with tiled floors and wooden pews. The whole town flocks to its doors to fill its seats and listen with fervour to the good pastor. Testimonies of the church's good deeds are given, money to fund local farmers' harvests collected, scholarships for university degrees handed over, requests for a replacement tire for the community's mini bus were made, even the local drunk homeless man made an appearance in a bright blue polo shirt and khaki pants. A whole hum drum of activity which has slowly made itself a key aspect of these people's lives.
Or you could look at it from a different perspective. See those two rows of gringos four rows up? White faced, broad shouldered and stiff necked? They're a special congregation visiting from Misouri on their yearly rounds to monitor how their contributions are being spent by their sponsored missions. Puts everything into a different light.
Church over, the smell of huevos rancheros guides you home so you can stuff your face and fall into the lazy Sunday rythm, interrupted only by the journey to the bus stop. Guatemalan city life beckons.
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