Filtered Water

My experience at Ak'Tenamit and Guatemala is coming to a close. The reality is that I still have a little more than three months, but after having grown accustom to my life here, I must face the facts that soon, some things must change. Part of this process includes the inevitable job search. One job asked me to write about cross-cultural experience that showed my ability to adapt to new circumstances. This story is much less about me than the power of communication, and for that, wanted to share it with you all.

Coming to work in the Guatemalan jungle, I realized that many pleasures, luxuries, and some things I previously had defined as necessities would be left behind. With a decent level of Spanish, however, communication was not a worry that I had heavily dwelled upon. Starting at Ak’Tenamit, one of my first weeks was spent in the aldeas, or villages, where our organization does much of its community and gender development work. Told that I could accompany my new co-workers on their several-day journey, I eagerly packed what I was told would be essential for the trip. We were delivering potable water filters to every family and each school in two communities. With no actual knowledge of how the filters functioned, I figured that my role would be purely observatory. That was until I was told by my co-workers that they too, were unfamiliar with the process. Together with the community members, we began to unpack the filters and begin their assembly. The most important aspect of this was the educational component, knowing that a member of each community must have a full understanding of how to properly use the filter in order to improve the health of their families.
For one reason or another, it had not dawned upon me that there was one major obstacle I had failed to see. My co-workers – all members of the same indigenous group as the communities we visited – gave their charlas, or lectures, in Q’eqchi (their Mayan dialect). The community members paid attention, but being new to the organization, I figured that these people, as my co-workers did, would speak both the Mayan language and Spanish. After explaining the process of how to properly use the filters in Spanish only to receive a handful of blank stares in my direction, I realized my earlier oversight and knew that our communication technique would have to change. Having been a long-time believer in the power of non-verbal communication, I put on a brave face and welcomed the challenge openly, although was truly concerned that none of us actually really knew what we were doing.
After several hours of working with the elderly, the young boys and girls, the mothers holding new-born children, we finished arming each last filter. Yes, there were ups and downs, points of frustration and points of joy. But after having spent this time, this experience, with the community, I was fortunate to share a moment with a woman, child in arms. On her contract she marked her thumb print in ink where a line was reserved for signatures. While we could not formally exchange words, she smiled, which I interpreted as a “thank you,” which I returned to her. But she held her gaze and I realized that this woman was for the first time envisioning the possibility of life without contaminated water; both her children’s and her own health being exponentially improved by this plastic that she and I had shared to create. No, I know not what words she would have chosen for this moment, nor what I would have said to her. But we shared something more powerful than words, and that moment lives on through their improved health and water of her community.