Since the end of the semester nears, I’ve decided it’s time to include some of the story. This is the intro and the conclusion. I wrote the beginning on a hammock in Guatemala and the end on the plane home, while looking at the clouds.
Cranking and whining, the machine delves deeper, looking for water.
Sitting on the highest hill in El Modelo, the contraption has drilled 60 feet so far.
But there’s no water yet.
And even when there is—it won’t be enough and it won’t be free.
With 300 families in El Modelo and the number constantly growing, the well may not be enough to sustain the whole town. The poor village in Guatemala builds on free land from the government. Now, the government-funded well project towers on the hill, reminding everyone that they need the help.
Majali Ramos Arias lives much farther from the well. Wearing a gray shirt with an American flag and the words “Freedom will stand,” Arias talked about spending eight days in August without water (except small pitchers from neighbors). On those sunny days, it didn’t rain, and she couldn’t afford the water from the truck.
She worries the well could make her life worse because she will have to pay a monthly rate of 25 quetzales whether she uses that much water.
But Arias wasn’t worried about having water that cloudy day in El Modelo.
She looks up at the sky and says, “Somehow, God gives us rain.”
Most of the photographers have put up images that they took in Guatemala: Jeremiah, Carlos and Jason.
Our exhibition will be December 9 at 7 p.m. in the Reitz Union gallery.
I’m in the process of writing a query letter to editors right now in the hopes that one will publish my article. (If anyone knows of a magazine or newspaper that would publish this sort of article, please let me know!)
While trying to pitch my story, I found myself writing that the topic of water is not covered very often in Central America. Then I wondered if that was even true. I started to search archives for other stories similar to mine in the last two years.
Two out of three solid articles that I discovered were from other countries–one from Guatemala and one from Iran. The other had been published in a water trade journal (pdf) and posted on an NGO’s Web site. The article in The Guatemala Times summed up a great deal of what I’ve been trying to say in a features way in its opening sentence:
“Guatemala is a country with a great wealth in water; however, only 10% of it is used because it can not be transported to where it is needed.”
I’m hoping that my article will be able to reach a wider American audience, but I wonder how much a young journalist can do to get the word out about what’s happening in Guatemala.
In this time of global communication, it’s important for journalists to be able to work abroad.
I think that notion really struck me when I interviewed for a position at the journalism college’s job fair last week. One employer basically told me that the summer INTERNSHIP position would be open to me based on how my story for the FlyIns turns out.
The newspaper isn’t in a very large city, so I started to wonder why he would be so concerned with this work. Many papers now have an international section. With the Internet being a main provider of news, location isn’t an issue to what news is available. Also, our world is becoming so globalized that news from the other side of the planet could actually affect what’s happening at my doorstep.
I saw that the Suffolk University paper decided recently to add an international section, especially highlighting the work of students abroad. Do the students care more about this news than what happens on the quad? Maybe not, but the availability of the information should make a more informed student body.
Though I’m a little shaken up after my blog blunder, I still believe that my work on this story will be important for people to read. There are some great articles about the Latin American water crisis, but none that take that next step into a news feature that tells a more intimate story.
Employers want this news, journalists want to get it and, I would hope, people want to know what’s going on in this smaller, globalized world. Thus, my job is contingent on my ability to get it right.
I’m back in the states. It’s nice to be able to understand people again.
Right before we left, Boaz Dvir (our trip leader) was doing an interview with me for his film about our class. He asked how the adjustment back to American life would be. I thought for a long time before realizing that my time in Guatemala seems like a totally different life. I put up the photos of that life today.
In my American life: Toilet paper goes in the toilet and not the trash. I have a toilet. There are rules on the highway. My Honda Civic is not the nicest car on the road. When I turn on the faucet, I will always have water. My roof doesn’t leak, and the bugs stay outside.
This may seem sappy or cliche, but it’s so true. It’s hard to realized how blessed we are until we live another life.
It’s so exhausting to be here. We’re working 12 hour days out in the field and having long group meetings at night.
But apparently my eight-year-old brother looks forward to the sophistication that is my blog, so I decdied to wake up early and write a little to make up for the last two nights.
I have been in El Modelo every day to write a story about the struggle to get water — and especially clean water.
This is Merilena in her bathtub:
Everywhere I look, I see ironies. Four water towers surround the village, but the people have to beg the neighboring villages for water. A developer is trying to sell land in a neighborhood called “Vista Hermosa,” which means “beautiful view.” Many of the mothers wear shirts donning American flags and slogans of freedom.
Today, though, I am headed to a different village in Gualan. Erik heard that the people there are forced to drink out of puddles!
I’m a little worried about walking into a whole new village at this point in my story because it feels like more than one story.
And just a random sidenote before I go eat breakfast: The lizards here are friendly.