Threads for Thought

Mayan traditional backstrap loom, Photo by Sergio Pitamitz/CORBIS

Music” Eoto, Atlantis 115

The Native women of Guatemala, if to be summed up in a single word, would be called hardy. They have survived genocide and brushed starvation in harsh mountains. And now that calm and relative peace has come to that part of the world, their lives are less scary, although from my perspective not all that much easier.

They still struggle to eke out a living from their subpar mountain farm lands, take care of their children, as well as their houses and animals, and in their spare time they take up the backstrap loom, which has been a part of the Maya culture for nearly 1,200 years. This is tedious work, the most intricate of Mayan weavings taking up to two months to complete with this method.

In the world today, it is nearly impossible to live off of the land the Mayan people have ended up with. Therefore weavings and embroidery have become an essential part of Maya life. Not only to make clothes for themselves but also ones to sell to tourists. In this way the Mayan people are able to survive even when their farms are not so healthy.

Each town has a pattern of weaving that is specific to it. The trained eye can tell where a woman is from simply by looking at the pattern of her blouse. This is amazing to me, because to create even one pattern on a backstrap loom takes more skill and precision than I have ever seen.

I cannot wait to go and see these women’s work with my own eyes.

However what I am most interested in is meeting these women face to face. After they suffered such a hard life, I am interested to see what remains of the women’s spirits. Their lives have been enough to break my spirit, and I want to know how, even if, they cope with it. I want to see the lights in their eyes and the smiles on their faces after such hardships.

Ever since I learned about the war in Guatemala and my countries role in it my heart has been heavy. I guess I just want to know the women there are happy despite their forced trials. If through everything these women kept their smiles and their hope, I will not feel as guilty. However if we robbed them of their hope and their spirit, it is no better than murdering them. If I can see signs of meaningful life, smiles, then perhaps I won’t feel so bad for what my country did to them.   

Guatemala Art and The Resistance

Mayan ruin Tikal, which we will be visiting on the trip,

Music: Railroad Earth Jungle Jam

Every year Colorado Mountain College, the fine institution I find myself a student at, offers international trips. This year’s is a trip to Guatemala to experience the local art and learn about the previously resolved bloody conflict that ravaged the people there. I never had any particular interest in that part of the world; however I do have an insatiable thirst for traveling. So naturally, when such a trip was offered I jumped on the opportunity.

After I registered for the trip it slipped to the back of my mind.

That is until this past week, when I received an e-mail from my instructors. In it were the time and place of our first meeting along with the first set of pre-trip reading materials. These included an over view of the conflict in Guatemala as well as a book with testimonials from women who lived through the war.  Both of these reading struck a chord deep within my heart.

For those of you who don’t know, this is what happened in Guatemala. In 1960, the American CIA funded a military coup in Guatemala to over throw the democratically elected government. Under the guise of protecting the world from communism, the Guatemala military backed by the US government proceeded to kill over 200,000 of the local population, most of them indigenous Mayan people. It is now obvious that the entire military takeover was an effort of American big business to protect their foreign lands, as much of it was being threatened under the policies of Guatemala’s democratic government. The War ended in 1996 when all the guerilla groups had formed one party known as the URNG, and signed a peace agreement with the newly restored democratic government.

It is events like this that make me ashamed of the American government, and I hope a deeper understanding of the conflict will help to ease my second hand guilt over the acts of my government.

Our trip will take place March first through the eleventh, with meetings every Friday until then, and I will be posting updates here until the conclusion of the trip.

Fun for All

Music: Mountain, Good Gravy                                                                                                                                                                                                          

Light leaked through the gaps in my shades, making it feel much earlier than it was. It had been two days since the valley was last blessed with a new blanket of snow. My better sense told me to stay home today.

None the less as ten o’clock rolled around I found myself on the gondola, headed up to snowboard with my buddy Jordan. My expectations we’re low at best. The middle of every run was ice. Not just slippery but hard, clear, day-ruining ice. Regardless, we took a few runs finding some ride-able snow along the edges of the tress where people don’t normally ride, however it was disappointing.  I was ready to give up on the mountain as lost; a victim of our bizarrely dry winter.

But then we met up with these people;

As seen from left to right: Peter Mcdowell, Drew McGlone, Liam Connely, Brad Poirier, Jordan Kupfer

They claimed to have knowledge of a route to the top of The Pony Express, a lift that had yet to open up. The trails were open but you had to hike to them, which means the snow there would be relatively unspoiled, and this is where we set out for. We dropped off the back of Morning Side through the Christmas tree shoot. And what unfolded before my eyes was unbelievable; good snow, unspoiled by the countless tracks that crisscross the rest of the resort. We happened upon magical glades with three, four, even six inches of untouched snow, just waiting for us to come and play.

Eventually the slope flattened out too much to continue riding, at this point we all took off our snowboards and followed the roughly defined trail to the road. Once we reached it we turned our sights west and uphill, to the top of Pony Express. And only a short hike later, this is what we beheld:

It just goes to show that even when the snow isn’t falling every night, there are still miracles to be had on the most unexpected of runs, and there is always peace on top of the mountain. There will always be at least one powder cash, sitting untouched and just waiting to reward the adventurer for their curiosity.

Winter On The Rocks

As far back as I can remember I’ve loved listening to music. My first music player was a portable CD player, and this was the most magnificent invention ever to grace my fingers. Suddenly the world was more exciting, and less noisy. I was able to drown out the more unpleasant sounds in my life with whatever I chose.

As I grew a bit bigger a whole new world opened up to me, the world of live music. I found my solace in the middle of crowded ballrooms and the endless seas of smiling faces. I found peace amidst the rhythmic jostling of the crowds and the sense of unity that music brings to a room full of strangers. I found myself in the melodies and the baselines.

There was one type of music however that never spoke to me, and that is rap/hip-hop music. I’d never seen anything special in what those artists are doing, and I had never been entertained, let alone impressed with any artist making that kind music.

So when I heard the first ever show at Red Rocks in the wintertime was to be Atmosphere, a Midwestern hip-hop group, I was disappointed. My conscience wouldn’t let me buy a ticket to music I didn’t enjoy just because the show is a historical event. It seems however that Atmosphere was in the cards for me. Three days before the show a friend of mine offered me a ticket. Here was the solution to my problem, I would get to help make history but I didn’t have to spend any money supporting music I don’t believe in.

To my pleasant surprise I had an amazing time. The was as good as any I’ve seen at your average show  I met people from all walks of life, all of them friendly as can be and ready to have a good time.

The music was better than I expected, much better in fact. I had a lovely time grooving the cold away. What shocked me the most however, was what the artists had to say. The messages the band had to spread were things that I agreed with whole heartedly, they represented the reasons I love music. It warmed my heart to see people excited about positive things instead of the ‘hoes and money’ that stereotypically color rap music.

As I made my way home the day after the show I reflected on my experience, and this is what I thought; is something to be said for experiencing all things. I went three hours down to Denver to see music I was not a fan of and ended up having a blast. Not to mention I was able to make a little history. I gained respect for a different type of music, and experienced what other people see in it. This little insight into the minds of those around me gave me hope. Weekends like this are the reason I love my life here, there is so much culture to see, and each time I experience another little niche of Colorado culture, the more I like it.