From Philip's personal Journal... dated 5-31-2005

The women use nondescript orange plastic bowls of various sizes for everything, washing, carrying fruit, even as collection plates at church. They are essentially the modern version of the clay vessels I dig out of the ground. 

From Philip's personal Journal... dated 6-04-2005

In Chocola, the sky gets light long before the sun first peeks over the tall volcanoes that lie to the east. The light is accompanied by a cacophony of roosters, 'chicken busses, dogs, cows, firecrackers, and it is barely 4 am. Noise was invented here. In fact I�m pretty sure a new noise or two was invented just last night. It is hard to believe that the town had only just settled in a few hours earlier after a night lamenting the last minute defeat of the Guatemalan futbol team. Bruised national pride notwithstanding, when the sun comes up these people go to work.

I gave up on trying to sleep in over a week ago, so rather than stare at the large red spider on the ceiling I swing my feet off the cot, put on my sandals and decide to take a few early morning photos of town. By now everyone either recognizes me or ignores me. For the first couple of days I was worth a curious look or two but no more � I�m now as dirty and tan as the rest of them. I've even acquired my very own rusty machete. Still half asleep, I try to smile and join in the syncopated yet melodic chorus of �Buenos Dias�-es that the men trade as they file past one another on the one main road. I chuckle when I find the (now empty) bottle of scotch that had been passed around after the upset in front of Don Carlos's tienda. 

From Philip's personal Journal... dated 6-04-2005

A thin black and white dog saunters into the street and reclaims the spot he probably slept in the night before. The dogs here aren�t really pets, more like friendly scavengers. They seem to run a community of their own with only a part-time affiliation to the townspeople, who do seem to take care of them if they're hurt. I recognize the dog from a few nights before as 'belonging' to one of the musicians in the local marimba band. Five men altogether made up the group, four who played side-by-side on an oversized wooden marimba, and one who played drums. Their instruments were old and thrashed, contrasting sharply with the shiny new ones that appear every Friday at El Calvario. Still, the cracked, buzzing keys and split drumheads gave their music an unforgettable, raspy voice. They must have played for four hours that evening, taking turns singing, playing solos, and everyone drinking a ton of 'Gallo' brand beer.  

From Philip's personal Journal... dated 6-03-2005
El Calvario
"Jesus answered, Thou couldest have no power against me, except it were given thee from above: therefore he that delivered me unto thee hath the greater sin." John 19:11
A disinterested young girl, maybe 10 years old, plays with a broken umbrella in the aisle. She's wearing a prettly blue dress and dirty, white Mary Janes.
"For rulers are not a terror to good works, but to the evil. Wilt thou then not be afraid of the power? Do that which is good, and thou shalt have praise of the same." Romans 13:3
The woman who took offering at the front door when we entered before the service is preparing to pass the plate through the congregation.
"Render therefore to all their dues: tribute to whom tribute is due; custom to whom custom; fear to whom fear; honour to whom honour." Romans 13:7

Chocolenses are tremendously practical people. They have to be to survive here. They are like their machete; visibly worn from use but still impossibly sharp, and capable of performing a million and one tasks, whatever it takes. It is for just this reason that I don't understand how popular the evangelical chuch has become here. El Calvario has one of the best maintained buildings in the village. The value of their musical instruments and PA equipment is likely enough to repair the village's failing plumbing and sewage infrastructure. Perhaps the message of the curhch doesn't run as deep with these people as I initially suspect... maybe they are more like the girl in the blue dress, looking for something to be distracted with on a friday night. There's no soccer tonite, after all.

From Philip's personal Journal... dated 5-25-2005
"Chocola is infectious; Jonathan's passion for this place even more so. I think he may be more interested in saving this town than saving the ruins, and I understand why. Though the Chocolenses can not look to their cultural memory and find a connection to the ancient people that lived here before, there is nonetheless some connection that persists. I don't know what it is yet....

"Near the school's futbol field there are a couple of altar stones that must have been moved here by the Germans in the 1800s. Today the children sit on them as they eat their lunch, not knowing they were likely used by their ancestors thousands of years before, perhaps in relation to a ball game of their own...

"We had a late dinner at Dona Blanca's this evening. A very old man came to pay his respects to Jonathan. He talked quietly about a recent sighting of La llerona, the spirit of a wailing woman who in a fit of madness drowned her own children, and now haunts the countryside looking for their souls..."