True People of the Book

It’s been a crazy week to belong to the People of the Book (a beautiful Islamic term referring to followers of the three major Abrahamic religions). Between the worst attack on Jews in the United States to riots after the release of a Christian woman in Pakistan, there has been ugliness on all sides. It’s nearly an unbroken circle. 

“Christian” man attacks Jewish community.

“Muslims” riot after a Christian is released after being charged with blasphemy (the courts evaluated the evidence and found it contradictory and insufficient). 

All we need is a “Jewish” person to attack some Muslims and the circle of evil will be complete. (Since the internet makes it easy for people to misunderstand... I do NOT want that to happen)

It would be easy to simply put one’s head in one’s hands and hide under a rock. But that would be to miss the other half of the story. 

After the attack on the Pittsburgh synagogue, two Muslim organizations in the USA raised over $200,000 to fund the funerals of the victims. In addition, they have shown support beyond money by offering to protect their neighbors if they felt unsafe. 

Beyond the fact that justice was given to Asia Bibi by the courts, both the government of Pakistan and average citizens have spoken out against the violence. Yes, her situation is not yet resolved, but this is a positive step.

It’s not only Muslims and Jews who have been true People of the Book this week. Christians both in Pittsburgh and across the world have spoken out in support of the Pittsburgh community. In a coincidence that could only be from a higher power, every Catholic Church through out the world will proclaim today, not once, but twice, the words of the Shema, or most important Jewish prayer, from the book of Deuteronomy. How beautiful that our cycle of readings would have this specific text for today. I had the privilege of proclaiming these sacred words during Mass this morning in Guatemala.

"Hear, O Israel! The LORD is our God, the LORD alone! 

Therefore, you shall love the LORD, your God,
with all your heart,
and with all your soul,
and with all your strength. 

Take to heart these words which I enjoin on you today."

This is what People of the Book believe. Whether we call Him Elohim, God, or Allah, we believe He is God, the only God. I am honored to stand with my brothers and sisters, People of the Book, today as we pray for peace and justice.

The long reaching fingers of rape culture

If you haven’t read this post, do that first. Second, I am fully aware of how lucky I’ve been. Yes, these “long reaching fingers” have touched me but so many women have had it so much worse.

The guy who proposed a few weeks ago is back. I took out many of the details from the original post but a few more are necessary now. I’ll call him Lee (not his real name). Lee approached me after Mass one Sunday in Lahore, this spring. I was polite but definitely not warm. Over the next few months, he would frequently try to talk to me after Mass. My body language should have been a clue about my lack of interest. It wasn’t. I didn’t share much about myself or my family. Each time, I tried to walk by hoping Lee wouldn’t notice me and I could get to my car without talking to him. I even started covering my head in church like most of the other women so my blonde hair wouldn’t stick out. None of it worked. I was glad when Ramadan came because it made moot his request to have dinner with me.

Then it was June and I was leaving Pakistan. I figured this would be the end of Lee in my life even though I did agree to his request about being friends on Facebook. Again, I was wrong. For awhile, the messages were short, albeit frequent. Mostly asking I was and how life was going. As in person, I tried to be polite but not encouraging. My short replies and long response time didn’t seem to send any messages to him about my lack of interest.

Around late August, things started getting more intense. First, Lee asked if he could talk to me. I ignored it. Then, he proposed. I was shocked. My response was that I didn’t even know him really and I definitely didn’t feel the same. He then tried to impress me with his research of the town where I grew up. His messages wouldn’t stop despite my constant replies that I wasn’t interested. Eventually, I told him there was no chance and I was going to unfriend him on Facebook since he wouldn’t leave me alone. What followed was five weeks where he was completely out of my mind. Until yesterday.

I’ve woken up the past two days to messages from Lee. Yesterday he asked me how I was and how life was in Guatemala. I didn’t respond. This morning he said, “I know you’re angry with me. I apologize forgive me please rose.” Ironically, I wasn’t angry until he contacted me again.

So what does this have to do with rape culture?! Lee, like so many guys, won’t believe me when I say, “NO.” He believes that because he has feelings for me, I owe him something. Maybe not consciously, but that’s what his actions reveal. If he asks enough times, he thinks I will fall madly in love with him and want to spend the rest of my life with him.

And, in a twisted way, he could even try to blame me. After all, I was nice to him (because I don’t like to be rude). I dressed attractively (because the lose, lightweight traditional clothes in Pakistan are so darn comfortable). I kept going to church where he would see me (because the time was most convenient for me). I let him find me on Facebook (because, again, I can be too nice for my own good). Despite the message sent by my body language, short replies, long response time, trying to avoid him in person, multiple messages saying I’m not attracted to him, blunt demand that he not contact me, and unfriending him on Facebook, Lee STILL doesn’t believe that I mean it when I say, “NO.”

Rape doesn’t happen out of nowhere. It doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It comes from an attitude that because a guy has feelings for a woman or girl, she owes him something. It comes from the attitude that “No doesn’t really mean no.” It comes from the attitude that “If I ask/bother/pressure her enough, no will become yes.” It comes from the idea that if a woman is seen living her life - be it wearing a shalwar kameez in a Pakistani Catholic Church or getting drunk in a miniskirt - she is “available and
willing” for whatever a guy wants. I don’t expect that Lee would go so far as to rape me even if he wasn’t thousands of miles away. The same cannot be said for every guy.

Lee’s not the first guy who has acted this way to me. Chances are highly likely , he won’t be the last. Yes, I’ve been blessed to have been barely brushed by these “long reaching fingers.” But why do they  have to touch any of us at all?

“But, but, but...” you might splutter, “I/my son/brother/etc would never rape someone.” Good. I hope not. However, do you accept no as an answer? Do you push (past a reasonable persistence... if you’re not sure, you’ve probably gone too far already) for a different response? Do you defend women when other guys are talking about us as if we owe them something? Do you believe women when say they’ve been assaulted or raped? Do you try to put the blame on the victim? Do you tell people it’s, “a scary time to be a guy,” because there is a chance that a few of the actually reported rapes (remember, the significant portion are never reported) are false despite the fact that, statistically
speaking, at least one of myself or my three sisters will be raped in our lives?

At the end of the day, I can talk or write until I’m blue in the face. So can every woman. It won’t make a difference. There is no appropriate way for us to act to avoid unwanted contact or pressure. The change must come from men. Until men accept that women don’t owe them anything, nothing will ever change. If you are a man who truly wants to support the women in your life, change starts with you. Stand up for us when others are discussing us as objects or we’re the topic of all too common “locker room talk,” no matter where it happens. I know there are good men out there. You can make a positive difference. For me. For my sisters. For my friends. For every woman who wishes it was possible for us to affect this desperately needed change.

High notes from this week

This week was jam packed with rehearsals and concerts. On Sunday we had a rehearsal then I was asked to learn a descant for one of the songs. Two cool things about the descant: it was for a song that I had first heard on one of Dolhai Atilla’s albums and it included the highest note I’ve ever performed   - G above high C! The concerts on Tuesday and Wednesday were great. I had a “nunc dimittis” moment on Wednesday when someone told me he could “die happy after hearing the descant.” As complimentary as that was, no dying is necessary 😂😂. Our final concert was Saturday night. I was worried because I woke up with a scratchy throat which has continued to get worse. Luckily, I was able to sing above it and the descant (and rest of the concert) was good. Or so people tell me... those notes always sound awful in my head. Now I’m ready to get extra sleep and rest my voice for the next week ... until rehearsals start for our Christmas concerts!

In the rest of my life, I’ve been struggling to catch up my class from when they were sick. I’m not used to being confined to a pacing calendar and it’s been stressful trying to double up lessons to rush through everything so I’m on the same page as the other teachers. It’s hard to feel like a good teacher when I have to rush through things even when I know the students are struggling to understand. I wish I had more time to help them really learn all of the topics.

Sawdust carpets, concerts, and the flu

Luckily, the flu wasn’t me. Unluckily, it was 13 of my 25 students. Ten of them were out at the same time two weeks ago. That’s left me playing catch up because of our strict pacing schedule. We are getting closer to being back on track but not there yet. Hopefully, by the end of this week we will be.

Guatemala celebrated Independence Day a week ago. One of the biggest parts of our school celebration was colorful carpets made out of sawdust. Each class made one with different decorations. Unfortunately, my iPad won’t let me post pictures right now. Hopefully, I can get that fixed tomorrow.

Finally, I’ve  been busy with choir. I’m in two different ones. Capella Cantorum had a concert the week before last, we sang for a wedding yesterday, and have three more concerts next week! The other choir is much more low key. We are getting ready for a Messiah concert in December but it’s easy for me since I’ve already sung it plenty of times.

A picture is worth a thousand words

Third Time’s Not a Charm

Sometimes the third time’s not a charm.

I’ve been proposed to three times.

The first, I was between three and five. A friend of my parents jokingly said he should marry me when I asked why he wasn’t married. The second was my freshman year in college. I was cast in a student-directed show and, at a party a few weeks before the performance, my on stage “husband” got totally smashed, staggered over to me, sat in my lap, and said we had to get married.

The third time was this past week. On Facebook messenger. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a joke like the first two. A mere acquaintance had decided he was in love with me and wanted to move half-way around the world to marry me. I didn’t accept.

Some suggestions for potential suitors (of me or anyone else).

1. Make sure your intended actually likes you. You should have spent quite a bit of time together talking and getting to know each other on a deep level. 
2. Do it in person. If you aren’t together in person enough for this to be possible, it’s probably not going to work.
3. Discuss life goals and dreams prior to proposing. Check that they are compatible or you have discussed possible compromises.
4. If your intended doesn’t respond favorably, it’s possible you misjudged the situation. Step back and check that suggestions 1-3 have been addressed. 

Of course, you can also feel free to ignore my suggestions and see what happens. After all, what do I know... I’m just someone who’s been proposed to thrice.

And I’ll Sing Once More...

Last Sunday, I wasn’t in any choirs here in Guate. This Sunday, I’m in one, a practice quartet for it, and should hear by tomorrow about a second choir I auditioned for today.

The group I’m in so far is a small ensemble (around 20 members) that sings mostly short a cappella pieces. We’re working on a Lauridsen piece, two Masses, and assorted Spanish language songs. The audition today was for a group that sings Messiah part 1 each year. The audition was fine except a mixup about what I had to bring. I wasn’t at fault (I had specifically asked about it ahead of time) but we’ll see if that keeps me out.

After a year and a half of no musically stimulating group to sing with, it’s great to be back in the swing of things!

Back to school and volunteering

The biggest events of the week were Back to School Night and a volunteer trip on Saturday.

It was great to see how much easier BtS was compared to previous years. It does get easier with time! One of my goals this year is to make more decisions and stick to them in the classroom rather than basing all my choices on what others do. Of course this only works for little things but I was very grateful for my resolution when a parent was complaining about our shared resources policy in the classroom. She went on and on about how unfair it was that her daughter has to leave her special pens at home. I stood my ground (I don’t care if she brings them but then they would be fair game for the whole class) even when she threatened to complain to administration about it. Seems a bit extreme to go to such lengths over a pen but what do I know? Vindication was sweet when another parent immediately piped in saying she thinks it’s a great policy. I left the two of them talking about it.

On Saturday, a group of other teachers and I went about an hour outside of the city to volunteer with an organization which is providing support for families displaced by the volcano. We spent the morning sorting and arranging clothes and other donated supplies. It was hot and tiring but good to be helping. I’m sure I’ll go again in the future.

Misadventures ... or Massadventures?

I had quite an experience going to Mass this morning. There were times and places mixed up, wishing I didn’t understand parts of the Spanish, and judgements made.

It all began when I walked into the church parking lot at 9:20. I was startled to see the outside overflow seating full until I read the sign with times and remembered that Mass in English was actually at 10:30 not 9:30. No problem. I walked home and had an avocado/pineapple/peach smoothie before returning. Have I mentioned how amazing the produce is here?

An hour later I was back. Below the listing of the Mass in English is a Mass for children twice a month.  I didn’t think anything of it because it’s every other week and two weeks ago Mass was in English and just happened to have more kids. It quickly became clear that this was something else entirely. There were tons of kids - awesome - it’s great to see lots of kids at Mass.

Then the opening song started and things went downhill fast. The lyrics of the opening song had a refrain which translated to “the Mass is a party for Jesus.” Say what? At this point, I also noticed that I had left my phone at home so I didn’t even have my Mass app for the Spanish translations. Unfortunately, it didn’t get better. While I appreciate the priest’s explanations to help the kids understand, a totally improvised opening prayer, skipping the second reading altogether, and having a lay woman start the gospel so Fr. could read only Jesus’s words were less than desirable. The homily involved kids holding signs with words about Jesus as the Bread of Life as well as a loaf of bread and a ciborium of (please God) unconcecrated altar bread. The priest kept asking leading questions to the altar boys on either side of him... which they couldn’t answer. At least it was clearly connected to the readings. When the homily was over and we moved immediately into the Prayer of the Faithful (skipping the Profession of Faith entirely), I finally leaned over to the woman next to me and asked what time Mass was in English. It turned out to be happening concurrently in another chapel. I hesitated then left to find it. I figured, at worst, I could come back for Mass in Spanish this afternoon and it was better than wondering what would happen next.

I found the English Mass easily and the priest was only in the middle of his homily so I felt pretty good about that. It turns out the parish has THREE Eucharistic chapels - the main church, this smaller chapel, and the perpetual adoration chapel. Pretty awesome. After the homily, there was a blessing for two men who were being commissioned as EMHCs. It was reverent and taken very seriously. Fr. really stressed the honor and duty of the role. Mass cntinued as normal except for two teen girls in front of me who were far more interested in hip checking each other than paying attention to anything that was happening. I managed to refrain from letting them know they might fit in better in the kiddie Mass downstairs.When it came time for communion, I was shocked and disappointed to see the priest sit down and leave distribution to the EMHCs. I understand the need for them (they use intinction with one person holding the ciborium, another the chalice, and a third the communion paten) but after the seriousness with which Fr. addressed the commissioning, it was clear he wasn’t a flake so I was confused about why he was sitting. It turned out my judgement was misplaced and I felt ashamed of myself when he explained/apologized to the congregation after Communion telling us how he had burned his right thumb in a firecracker accident the week before and it was hard to hold the hosts. I then wondered if I would have had a similar feeling had I stayed in the Mass for kids. Considering most everyone was leaving the church with a lollipop in their mouth when I passed them, I’m doubtful that judgement was as off.

So now I know where and when English Masses are and can avoid the Mass (more of a Mess unfortunately) for kids in the future. All’s well that ends well, right?

School and the market

School started last week. We eased into the year with two half days but starting tomorrow it’s full speed ahead. My class is pretty well behaved so far. They’re chatty but that’s supposedly a cultural thing. I’ve identified a couple of the leaders of the class and am already working to “get them on my side.”

Using responsive classroom teacher language is one of my big goals for the year and I’ve been working on it already. I’ve got sentence starters up in my room as reminders and that helps. It’s funny to remember how I reacted when I first heard about RC. I was a baby teacher and looking forward to having class stores and points and chart systems. Little did I know how much unnecessary work those  all are! Even though it seemed like everyone else at the RC training this summer was sponsored by their school and I was paying myself, I’m incredibly glad I went.

After a totally lazy day yesterday, I went to the central market with some friends today. Just like Europe, it’s the best place to get inexpensive, local produce. A full market bag with lettuce, spinach, peppers, eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, onions, lemons, cabbage, mushrooms, sweet potato, and avocados was $10. Unlike Europe, everything goes immediately into bowls with water and vegetable sanitizer when I get home but then it’s ready for the rest of the week. I’m looking forward to my cooking this week!

This week in Guatemala

We continued new teacher orientation for most of the week. Returning teachers came back little by little to be introduced before the whole staff returned on Friday. I had forgotten how much longer staff meetings are at a bilingual school because everything has to be done in both languages. 

Our orientation was incredibly, perhaps unnecessarily, thorough. As someone who likes having all the information, I didn’t mind most of the time but it was frustrating when the same information was presented multiple times. My grade four team is great; I think we will get along well. It’s cool, not being the “baby” teacher in the team. I’m firmly in the middle in terms of experience and on the stronger side if considering international experience. This should help with one of my goals this year which is to be more decisive in my classroom.

I’m excited with how much of the Spanish I understand. Granted I can’t produce much but receptive language is always stronger than productive. Settling in is still progressing slowly but surely.

Here are some pictures of the beauty that I’m surrounded by here! Visitors are very welcome!

Guatemala!

So, I moved to Guatemala City last week.

In the two years since I’ve blogged, I finished my contract in Beijing and then was in Lahore, Pakistan for one year. Lahore was great... the country is beautiful, the people are friendly, and the pollution made me nostalgic for Beijing. Unfortunately, that last item led to a contract amendment so that I could live in a place where I could breathe. Hence, Guatemala!

The strangest thing about moving here was how easy it was. I left Pittsburgh at 7am and arrived in Guatemala before noon! For someone who has moved to Europe or Asia six times, arriving to my new home in less than ten hours door-to-door with no jet lag was surreal.

We started orientation for new teachers on Friday and then went to Antigua on Saturday. This morning, the English Mass was canceled at the nearest church to me. However, it was canceled because they were having a special celebration for the 12th anniversary of beginning Perpetual Adoration. Can’t complain about that!!! Plus, the church is safe walking distance from my apartment and they have an evening Mass most days of the week. I was praying for something like this. In China, it was impossible to go to daily Mass or adoration, in Pakistan, daily Mass was accessible but there wasn’t adoration. Now, in Guatemala, I’ve got both!

I’m hoping to get back into a habit of blogging weekly, so expect to see updates on weekends.