CORONADO QUARANTINE: EXPERIENCES AND INSIGHTS FROM 52 DAYS OF COVID IN GUATEMALA

CORONADO QUARANTINE: EXPERIENCES AND INSIGHTS FROM 52 DAYS OF COVID IN GUATEMALA

Haven’t blogged in a while! During this quarantine, I’ve decided to get back into the habit of journaling and blogging, using a first-person perspective to keep both of us entertained. You might feel like you’ve missed a lot, and you have—but I’ll try to catch up as we go. In the meantime, stay safe and remember to wash your hands.

It’s Day 51 of quarantine. First off, I want to thank everyone who has sent me money to buy groceries for families affected by COVID in Guatemala. THANK YOU SO MUCH! I’ve received over $500, and if you’d like to donate too, please check out this post for more details.

I left Guatemala to visit the U.S. and my future husband near the end of last year. What was supposed to be a short and sweet visit turned into us getting married and me applying for a green card. This meant I didn’t get a chance to prepare my houses properly for a long absence, nor was I mentally prepared for it. Then COVID happened, and there was no way for me to go back anyway.

In mid-March, Guatemala closed its borders and declared a state of emergency with a strict lockdown and curfew from 4pm to 4am.

Many people in Guatemala live day to day. They borrow a little money, buy fruits, vegetables, or household goods, and sell them on the streets until their stock is gone. On a good day, they can make $6-15. My hairdresser told me her best month was last December when everyone was prepping for family reunions and events; she made $800. She shared this like I’d mention my guest house making $8,000 a month during the high season. Usually, she doesn’t make more than $20 on a good day, which, as I showed last week, can buy food for a family of 4-6 for about a week.

Many people here can’t rely on a food bank or a stocked cellar. With the heat and humidity, stocking up doesn’t make sense. Aside from my fridge, where I even store rice and beans, anything left outside spoils quickly. If it’s not the humidity, ants and bugs will get to the food.

I’ve tried to encourage people to plant more trees, but it just doesn’t happen. My middle-class friends are also affected. Those depending on tourism, like me, have had zero income for the past two months. We missed out on Semana Santa (Holy Week before Easter), and the impact has been dramatic.

Many had expanded their businesses, renting and furnishing places through Airbnb, and now they’re stuck with leases they can’t pay. Middle-class Guatemalans live somewhat like U.S. middle class, closely managing their finances to pay credit card minimums, private school fees, and rent. While their situation might not be as dire as lower-class families who have to beg for food, it’s still very stressful.

With the money I’ve received from readers and friends, I’m preparing food baskets and matching donations with in-kind work for men in my village. Even though I don’t need my garden pruned and looking perfect since I probably won’t see guests before Christmas, it gives these men a purpose. I prefer to maintain their dignity by paying them wages rather than just handing out charity. The food baskets are primarily for single women who don’t have family support.

I recently read about the homeless in other places, and it’s interesting that while food is easy to find thanks to food banks and local organizations, what they really lack are places to charge their phones, bus fares, earplugs for sleeping, quality socks, and other things we often overlook. So if you want to help, it’s best to ask your local community directly or the charities supporting them. If someone says they’re hungry, you’re better off providing them with a list of places to find food, and for any cash donations, buy them items not readily available at food banks.

In Guatemala, my baskets include food and soap mainly. The government’s response has been lacking, and it’s the simplest way for me to ask community leaders to hit the markets and find basic supplies. There are always individual cases, like finding asthma medication or new shoes for a child with a deformity, but I handle these on a case-by-case basis.

A child who doesn’t eat properly, whether in terms of quantity or nutrients, can’t focus and learn. They’re years behind a Western child in terms of learning capabilities—not because they’re not smart, but because they can’t focus on an empty stomach or a diet consisting only of corn tortillas.

“Sal y tortilla” (tortilla and salt) is a poor person’s diet in my village. When it’s all you can afford, corn tortillas fill you up, and salt prevents dehydration when drinking water. Sometimes, it’s accompanied by “fruit from the tree,” meaning whatever is in season like bananas, papayas, or coconuts. That’s why I keep encouraging them to plant more for the future. But when today is an emergency, it’s hard for them to see the benefit in planting something that will feed them four years from now.

On a health level, Guatemala is doing okay; a few areas are overwhelmed by the virus, but it’s manageable considering how densely people live. My region in the North is doing okay, and we hope it stays that way.

When the economy reopens, things won’t get much easier for these people as they rely on the disposable income of wealthier individuals, who are likely to save their money. It’s like when someone passes away—it’s not enough to offer condolences; you have to follow up later on important dates that still hurt. When Guatemala goes back to work, people will still be struggling. They might get a job, but they’ll have to work their way out of debt, pay for groceries, and buy necessary medicines. So my efforts won’t end anytime soon.

If you’d like to contribute, my PayPal is tdmpauline at gmail dot com, and any amount is greatly appreciated!