Guatemala, Chontala
This article is one of a series of travel entries from CMC Steamboat student Bailey Peth’s blog, and recounts one day of her recent trip to Guatemala. Bailey traveled to the Central American country as part of CMC’s study abroad program Art and Resistance in Guatemala. The program filled up in 2012; find out information about next year’s Guatemala trip, and other study abroad opportunities, through our study abroad page.
The van trundles up the mountain, switch back after switch back after switch back. Painted all over the rocks that line the highway are the symbols and initials of the prominent political parties of Guatemala, a different one each couple of yards. All hastily spray painted. Out the other window the majestically lush hills of the highlands slide past. Farms, shanties, empty bottles, food wrappers, skinny live stock, the smell of burning garbage, dirty children and women with tanned and wrinkled faces; each with a smile on their face. Through all of this, a feeling of strange and wild beauty.
Our van turns down a dirt track and trundles along for several minutes before we arrive at our destination, Chontala. We proceed on foot through a corn field and down a steep hill until we arrive at a small, but cozy home. It is square, made of cement, and smells of something delicious. We walk through a short hallway and emerge onto a covered back porch. Hanging on parallel clothes lines around the perimeter of the porch are weavings of every size, and color, and pattern, each more beautiful than the last. Together they make up the most vibrant walls I’ve ever seen. Each piece was hand-made on a back-strap loom by one of the women in this town.
Once the stories are told, the ladies reveal to us the source of the delicious aroma; the best fried chicken I have ever eaten and soft warm hand-made tortillas. When we finish they whisk away our dishes with bright smiles.Despite not being able to exchange words with them directly we can feel in the air how happy they are for us to be there listening. We feel welcome.