Contemplating crabs in Rabinal
By: Ally Lord, BTS Intern
There’s a phrase unique to Spanish which I’ve found myself reflecting on often lately.
“Pensar en la inmortalidad del cangrejo” or, “thinking about the immortality of the crab”, which refers to the places your mind goes when you are free of distraction from external elements. When you are able to ponder, to wonder, to dream.
This phrase comes to me often at the New Hope Foundation (FNE), (where I’m currently completing an internship as part of the Atlantic Council for International Cooperation’s International Youth Internship Program), when I see students gazing longingly into the slopey hills, or wandering the land between classes. It feels like a big shift from my previous work in the education system in Canada, where the space for students to dream and ponder, free of distraction, feels smaller — more confined.
In Rabinal, time moves in a direction which feels unhurried, in a way I would like my life to be moving as well. Here, I don’t feel sedated by the disillusion of prosperity so prevalent in North America, where the “success” in our societies is undermined by the housing crisis, isolation, and exorbitant costs of living. This town is tiny, yet feels expansive. It seems like everyone has a place. In many ways, it feels like everyone has enough.
BTS Intern, Ally on laundry day at Rio Cachil.
I am enjoying the spaciousness which comes from a community in which movement without cars is the norm. It is not uncommon to see older adults on bicycles, and children on foot. Compared to Canada, where 42% of schools are located on high speed roads, the quiet at the FNE feels like a hearty exhale (1). I see students at the FNE resting in the grass between classes, simply observing the paper thin clouds disappearing behind the trees. I wonder how Canadian students are able to access the same amount of calm against the hiss of a highway. I wonder how we expect children and youth to grow into grounded adults when they have more of a relationship with the asphalt of a parking lot than to the land where they have been planted.
Throughout my time here in Rabinal, feelings of jealousy have reared their ugly head. I see students sharing their culture, their art, their traditions, their way of living. What makes them, them. It’s beautiful and it makes me long for feelings I have never experienced. I am faced with contemplating the lack of connection with my own ancestors. I have created a convenient distance between my background, knowing that so many people I am related to were complicit in such heinous acts of displacement towards Acadian and Mi’kmaq people. White guilt plagues me like a parasite I can’t seem to shake. However, witnessing the vibrancy and deep roots of Maya Achí culture has instilled a deeper desire in me to intentionally uncover and connect with some of the traditions and customs that have been forgotten in my own Scottish and British heritage over the years. For this I am grateful – for this I am committed.
Sabrina, grade 9, working on quilts, displaying some of the names of those who were killed in the Rio Negro massacres of 1982. These quilts are traveling to Nova Scotia where they will be displayed at the Antigonight Art Festival, In Antigonish, NS, on September 13th and 14th.
Students participating in Indigenous Peoples’ Day. Youth wore traditional clothes and participated in traditional dance, ceremony, and theater. Some students even prepared traditional food to share.
It’s hard to fathom that I’ve been in Guatemala as a BTS intern for three months. My tongue feels lighter lately, like words are able to travel from my mind to my mouth with less resistance. Everyday feels like a new opportunity to try to understand how I can show up as a guest on this land and support the Maya Achí folks here in Rabinal. However, sometimes it feels like I am the one being supported, which is sedimenting a lingering, yet deep seated conviction that those who may have less will always give more.
Students participate in a two-day workshop about addressing different types of violence and discrimination in their community.
A few times I have shown up to school preparing to lead an English class only to learn that today is a “trabajo de campo” (field work), a day where students do not have classes, yet are responsible for tending to the land. A class of its own, I suppose. This feels powerful, I think to myself, putting away pencils and planting my palms into dirt. Pulling weeds toughly, yet tenderly, we are planting seeds amongst the mess. We are removing the roots of invasive plants, making way for what matters – and perhaps pondering the immortality of the crab while doing it.
Students participate in an activity about sexual and reproductive health.
(1) See Active transportation environments surrounding Canadian schools.
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