Paty: My Guatemalan Super-Mom

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO… MAMá… NO VAYA… NO VAYA.” no Mommy. Don’t go! Don’t go! These words are my 6 A.M. alarm clock almost every day. Little four-year-old Diego Andres is never happy to see his mom, Paty, leave for work. Nevertheless, Paty is up by 5:30 six days a week getting herself ready. By 6:15, she is out the door and on her way to El Nahual. On these mornings lie in bed, swearing to myself that I’m never having kids as I try to fall back asleep. Sometimes I think about how easy it is to be chaste when you’re wrapped up in a 101 Dalmatians comforter, when you have a two foot tall Spongebob cutout watching your every action, and when you have Spanish Blue’s Clues songs providing your wakeup soundtrack. Honestly, it is very possible that I am asexual now. Sometimes I’ll think about the world and its problems. I’ll debate with myself inside my head and pretend that I have answers to the unanswerable questions. And sometimes, amidst the din of Diego’s morning screams, I’ll think about my host mom, Paty.

I don’t want to sound like I’m overstating anything, but Paty is an amazing human being. I’ve asked a couple of people – including Paty – what she does for El Nahual and they’ve all given me the same answer: everything. She gets there around 6:30 to make sure the building is clean from top to bottom. She makes the coffee and the tea for all of the students. She is our director Jaime’s secretary. She coordinates where all of the students/volunteers will live. She handles the inscription of new students, Guatemalans and foreigners alike. She cooks Jaime lunch every now and then. She teaches a cooking class every Wednesday. She deals with parents and people in the community with special requests/needs. Like I said, she does everything.

The work continues, however, when she comes home. Not only does she have to cook for me and my two Guatemalan high school-aged housemates, she has to take care of her little ones. Javier and Diego can be the sweetest of kids, but they can also be the biggest little shits. When they’re happy, they’ll run through the kitchen and living room, chasing each other and screaming over Paty’s commands to slow down. Javier doesn’t cry much anymore unless he gets hurt, but, damn, Diego can wail. And he likes to show off his powerful little lungs several times a day.

I can’t help but think of my sisters, especially when they were younger, whenever I hear Diego scream because he wants a snack or because he wants to watch TV. Sometimes it makes me laugh. Other times, it makes me feel for Paty. On the night of Halloween, we – my housemate and I – asked Paty to join us for a bit at the Halloween benefit party for El Nahual. Surprisingly, she said yes. We were both thrilled that Paty would finally get some time to get away from her job and the house and hopefully just be able to relax. I asked her if she was coming in front of Diego and Javier, and, literally, within seconds both of the boys broke into tears. The video does this scene much more justice than my words ever could, so check it out:

Now, you might be asking yourself, “Where’s the dad during all of this?” The answer is simple: in the States. Some time ago, he migrated north. Fearing I’d bring up too sensitive of a subject, I didn’t press too much and I still do not know if his decision to leave was a plan they devised together or if he left unexpectedly, not caring who and what he left behind. Regardless of how it started, it might as well have been the second option. Paty told me he does nothing to help them. Hence she works six days a week and hosts students to make ends meet.

Whenever I see Paty, she always looks like she just finished a race. S

he’s constantly moving. Into the kitchen, out of the house, back home from the school, tending to Diego when he gets hurt – always, always on the go. I always want to help, but I have no idea what to do. After all, the woman had an inflamed ulcer only weeks ago from all the stress. Should I take the kids out to the movies? Or would that just create a whole fiasco and, consequently, more stress for Paty? Should I just have a Styrofoam cup of water ready to give her as she runs by? After all, she needs to hydrate at some point, right?

Despite being possibly the busiest woman I’ve ever met, Paty is also among the warmest. You know how some people who are too busy will give you the half-laugh because their minds too busy worrying about twenty other things and you can tell they really only heard enough of what you said

to realize it was so supposed to be funny? Or how some overworked people have that crazed, desperate, I’m-five-minutes-from-going-postal kind of laugh? Well Paty is miles in the opposite direction of both of those. From the first night I met her at the bus station, I’ve noticed her laugh. It’s so genuine; so free. Somehow – amidst the endless tasks needed to be done at El Nahual, the stress that comes with have two five and under kids to take care of at home, the painful memories of her husband’s abandonment and her father’s tragic death in a factory accident twenty years ago – Paty has not forgotten the art of laughing for the sake of laughing. She will literally stop whatever she’s doing at times if I need to talk to her and, when I mock myself for butchering her language, she will grace me with her beautifully hearty giggle. Despite the toll they take on her, Paty can still stare in wonder and laugh at Javier failing miserably to get his kite to take air or at Diego excitedly playing with his memory card game on the floor, announcing, “Gané!” I won!

If it’s not clear enough yet, I admire Paty about as much as one can admire someone else. I admire her because of how hard she works, of course, but that is not what impresses me most. I respect her for persevering through hardships that could potentially derail many people, but there is something even deeper than that. Somehow through it all – the heartache, the stress, the abbreviated nights of sleep, the cries and the screams – Paty has not forgotten what is most important in life. This Guatemalan superwoman clearly gets herself out of bed each day with the love she has of her family. People like Paty, my teacher Francis, and my Aunt Evey, however, remind me that sometimes when life seems the darkest all we really need to do is open our eyes.