Brit Cecconi

His bushy, graying beard masked the broad grin gracing his gentle face. Opening the rusting corrugated tin door, he welcomed us into his home.  The humble entryway widened into a lush garden complete with blooming flowers and fruit trees.  Telling us of his excitement to have visitors, he ushered us into his garden.  With visible pride he showed us the wide variety of flowers his wife was growing and then gestured toward the pile of rocks resting near the garden.  “And this is my garden,” he smirked, “These rocks are what I grow.”
           
The man was Francisco, an artisan and affiliated family member of Common Hope.  He was welcoming a Vision Team member into his home as part of an activity entitled “Day in the Life,” where individual team members are given the opportunity not only to observe a day in the life of an affiliated family member, but to actually take part in it.  I was fortunate enough to tag along as a translator.  Today, Francisco was inviting us to learn about his life as a jade craftsman. 

“Right now, they look like normal rocks,” he said, pointing to a pile of dull stones resting at our feet.  “But once you get them wet, you can see their true beauty.”  He poured water on the pile and the dusty lumps turned into dark, glistening jade. 

Splashing water on a nearby rock, he explained it was one of the rarest of jades because it was hunted for so long by the ancient Mayans, who believed it to be the most sacred of stones.  To mine this and all of his jade, Francisco must explore the volcanoes and mountains of Guatemala.  He has spent upwards of six months excavating and transporting pieces back to his home—at times leaving the jade behind to return for it later, as the mountains have proven themselves to be formidable adversaries. 

With furrowed brow and concern in his voice, he went on to tell of the corruption inherent in the jade industry.  “Too many jade stores sell counterfeit jade,” he said.  “Many rocks are similar to jade in outward appearance.”  Not being able to test each rock for him- or herself, the buyer is susceptible to deception.  “Just imagine your upset if you went home with your new jade only to find out it was a forgery!”  Not surprisingly, Francisco chemically tests each rock he sells.

He then showed us to his workshop, made almost entirely of donated and recycled materials.  An IV hose moderates the water that flows onto his jade shaper.  An old dentist drill serves as his final polisher.  His jade cutter was donated by the mother of a long term-volunteer who met Francisco once and was so impressed that she sent the machine, too expensive and rare for him to consider purchasing himself. 

After awhile, Francisco’s wife came out and asked us to join her for hot chocolate in the kitchen.  The table conversation soon turned to their daughter, Rosita, who  was just beginning a new year in school—the equivalent of our 7th grade—and would soon have to choose a specific course of study.  Her parents proudly told us that she’d first wanted to be a doctor, but after Francisco returned from collecting jade with an injured leg—having skinned nearly its entire surface—she’d quickly changed her mind.  Laughing, both Francisco and his wife told us that it didn’t matter what their daughter did, as long as she continued to study. 

Unprompted, the two went on to praise Common Hope for its support of their family.  Without Common Hope’s help, they said, they would be unable to work and unable to send their child to school.  Francisco has diabetes and nearly lost his sight before it was controlled in Common Hope’s clinic, and his wife has severe problems with her back which at times makes it difficult for her even to walk.  Despite their problems, the couple is generous, appreciative, and happy. 

Sadly, the day had to end.  In typical Guatemala fashion, the goodbyes were lengthy, with both parties offering gratitude for the time spent together.  As we walked away, I realized how lucky I was to have been part of the experience.  To encounter people so grateful for their simple lives is something rare. 

When I returned to work the Monday following this visit, I found that Francisco had spent the weekend making a gift for the team member who had visited him.  While at his house, Francisco had asked the woman to choose a piece of jade so she could try to craft her own jewelry.  Though a valiant effort, the endeavor was too nerve-racking for the woman, who eventually gave the jade back to Francisco, fearful that she would ruin it beyond repair.  Apparently Francisco had taken the partially-shaped jade and made a beautiful necklace for the woman’s son, whose birthday occurred while she was in Guatemala.  He had brought the gift to Common Hope and asked for it to be delivered to the woman. 

A few days later I saw Francisco at the Antigua site, participating in an artisan’s market arranged for Vision Teams, with his jade displayed on a table in front of him.  I walked over to thank him again for the day spent at his house.  Pride shone on his face.  He again expressed his gratitude for our visit and asked me to return to his house for another, this time to make my own jade jewelry.  I accepted the offer and told him I’d love to return.    

I turned to his table of jade works and a beautiful black jade ring caught my eye.  I tried it on.  Admiring the ring on my finger, I asked Francisco its price.  He responded, “Take it.”  I protested.  There was no way I was going to take something from this man, especially after I had seen the amount of work he puts into making each piece.  He looked at me with firm eyes and said, “After your visit, I had intended to make a pair of earrings for you.  But if this ring is what you like, then please take it.”  There came a point when I could protest no longer, when further refusing would become offensive.
  
In the end I took the ring.  He told me to wear it proudly.  And so I do.  And each time I glance at my hand I am reminded of the man who values friendship over material goods, generosity over money.  I am reminded that poverty itself is relative.  Whereas I see a man who is the unfortunate victim of an unfair world, he sees himself as lucky to be the beneficiary of Common Hope’s support.  Whereas I see him as a man of little wealth, he sees himself as rich in family with the good fortune of stable employment and a child who is looking at a future of vast possibilities. 

My last Vision Team perhaps said it best: “poverty is the loss of hope.”  The affiliated families with whom we work may not have money, but they do have hope. 

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