As Stina and I decided to change the look of our bedroom, i started to analyze myself (again...) in this situation.
Stina´s dad is a carpenter. A very dignifying profession, now that i look at it. Not any kind of carpenter, the mason kind of carpenter. He helps us out with all the changes we are doing to our room. Starting with taking off the previous wallpaper, which was hideous... Right then i thought of me and my beloved classmates in Xela....
Guatemala, being the prediluvian society that it is, has in its highschool program a subject called "artes industriales". A class about carpentery, electricity, technical drawing and blacksmithery. A mere class of what to do if a bulb goes out if you ask me... For the girls though, the class is called "educacion para el hogar", or, how to be a housewife 101. This classes are mandatory for every grade from 7th. till you graduate... Why? Because after you finish highschool, you should get married, and if you want to get married, you should know this things.
However, being a bunch of rich spoiled kiddos, influenced by other cultures but guatemalan, we were most definetively not looking forward to get married without having first gotten a university degree in a well paid career. Just like our parents did. Therefore, our artes industriales class became a one-hour-a-day pause from the rest of our classes, a manly time for boys to be boys.
My case was probably the worst. Being probably the richest, youngest and most spoiled of all the guys in my class, i just decided i wouldn´t do anything. My allowance was big enough to pay a couple of classmates to do all the homework for me. And sometimes, when everyone was busy, i would hire a real carpenter, electrician or blacksmith to do whatever thing i was supposed to create. Even had some spare money to have surgery on my belly button. Conclussion, i didn´t learn anything, but managed to pass with honours.
Now, in the land of "keep it to yourself", "everybody is busy", "wagers are too high", i found myself in the akward situation of having to work on a room with a pro who expects me to know what a spatula, or a paintbrush are properly used... i swear, by the time i was left to only tape the edges, and cover the windows with plastic, i felt embarassed as can be.
I guess, i should have paid more attention on that class... i never knew...
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Hi Juan Manuel!
ReplyDeleteSort of funny and philosophical this post you made.
Having to raise two kids, one girl and one boy, in Guatemala, and having them enrolled in sex-segregated schools here (the Colegio San Sebastian is for boys only and Junkabal is for girls only) I will, as we say here, put some bread in my Guatemalan hand-made carry bag ("voy echar pan en mi matate") with your experience!
I am sure you don´t remember but I lived in your house when you were just a baby. One day you were playing with your dad´s keys and put one of them into the electricity inlet in the wall, you received such a discharge that made you cry for a while. Now you can blame that for your aversion to craftsmanship!
mhm... entonces fuiste vos... por eso es...manito, si me vieras... te lo juro que me doy verguenza yo mismo...
ReplyDeleteEl del comentario fui yo... pero el que metió la llave en el tomacorriente fuiste vos!!!! jejejeje no me vayás a echar la culpa!!!!
ReplyDeletePero no te preocupés... no voy a contar de la ves que nos fuiste a ayudar para que no nos quedáramos atascados camino a la casa del abuelito y el que se quedó atascado fuiste vos! Ups... se me salió... :o)
y eso que era yo el que tenia el carro de doble...
ReplyDeletejajajjj i know ! more inteligent more dificult with the tools! i remember when Leonel was child (like me!) the just one tool he touched was the pencil! and many books!. Do you remember ? i lived in your house too! and onetime your Dad broke the door with the fabulous Volvo70!, what a big brake sound and later everything where like when our Grand Mother said Sherape boys!jajjajaj
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