Hibiscus tea—known in Guatemala as rosa de jamaica—is a popular beverage here. It’s like cranberry juice, tart, red, and fruity, but in a tea format. Here they sell packets of the drink a la koolaid, as well as in bottles of syrupy concentrate. However, I prefer to buy the real deal, the dried flowers themselves.

I first got hooked on the tea when a friend served it for lunch one Sunday. She explained the process, which was super practical and doable, so the next week I told my husband to stop by the “bulk food store” on his way home and pick me up a couple ounces worth.

I made a concentrate by steeping a couple handfuls of leaves in simmering water and adding sugar and fresh lime juice. We all loved it. (The second time around I tried honey instead of sugar, but the honey flavor over-powdered the fruity tea-ness.)

Now. For the getting drunk part.

One afternoon I arrived home from school tired, hot, sweaty, and very dehydrated. It was four in the afternoon and I hadn’t drunk anything all day except my morning coffee, stupidmeIknow. So I drank a glass of water chased by about six glasses of tea. It wasn’t full-strength tea, though. I like to fill my glass about 1/4 full (maybe less) of tea (or juice) and then top it off with water. In total, I probably drank two full glasses of tea.

And then I got dizzy. And light-headed. And woozy.

At first I thought it was the shock of rehydration (is there even such a thing?), but when the feelings didn’t subside and I couldn’t even do my email/office work for lack of an ability to think straight, I started to wonder. And then I remembered what I had read about hibiscus tea.

Health benefits: the tea contains high levels of vitamin C and antioxidants, and it can help to reduce high blood pressure and inflammation.

Side effects/warnings: do not drink the tea if taking acetaminophen, hormone replacement therapy, or pregnant or breastfeeding, or if you have low blood pressure. And it said that “Some individuals have experienced an hallucinogenic effect from drinking hibiscus tea or a sensation of feeling intoxicated.” (source)

Now I don’t think I was actually tipsy—what kind of a fruitcake gets drunk on tea!—though I suppose it’s possible. However, I believe it’s more likely that I have low blood pressure (I think this is true), and the tea just knocked it down a notch.

I admit I am tempted to drink several glasses and see if anything happens—you know, in the name of scientific study—but I’m slightly spooked by the brew. For one, I don’t like feeling loopy. And two, low blood pressure, I’ve read, leads to heart and brain damage and I’m rather fond of both my heart and brain.

Which really is too bad because it’s such an intoxicatingly (ha!) delicious drink.

Rosa de Jamaica Tea with Lime

This tea would be fabulous with any number of additions, such as cinnamon, fresh ginger, cloves, nutmeg, mint, and even rum. The tea can be drunk cold or hot—I like it iced.

I have no idea where to get rosa de jamaica in the states. Perhaps all the health food stores carry it? If you can’t find it, there’s always amazon.

Proceed with caution.

1 quart water
½ – 1 cup sugar
juice of 2-3 limes
1 cup rosa de jamaica (hibiscus) leaves

Bring the water to a boil. Add the leaves, put a lid on the kettle, reduce heat to low and allow to simmer for about 10 minutes.

Pour the liquid through a strainer, and discard the leaves. Pour the tea into a pitcher and add the lime and sugar and stir well.

Makes enough concentrate for ½ gallon to one full gallon of iced tea, depending on how strong you like it.

Do not drink all at once.

Like I said before, trash is everywhere.

It lines gutters, clutters yards, and peppers the roads. It covers cornfields like mulch.

When we first arrived, pre-corn season, we noticed empty, trash-filled lots on our walks through town. Time passed and we noticed farmers planting corn in the lots. They didn’t clean the lots before planting—rather, they simply pushed the trash to one side, poked holes in the ground, and dropped in the seeds.
 
And the corn grew, tall, strong, and brilliant green, right up through its blanket of plastic mulch.

in a non-littering moment

At a gorgeous local park, the kids found a Styrofoam plate at the water’s edge. So they set it afloat and off it whooshed. I had a minor hissy fit and made the main culprit pick up and appropriately dispose of five pieces of trash as penance. It felt like an inane activity, but I refuse to participate in the littering customs.

While hitching a ride in a friend’s private car, we zipped by the dump.

the workers’ houses

do you see the workers? the vultures?

 
I still want to go back some early morning and get more than just a handful of blurry drive bys.

On Wednesday and Thursday afternoons, I hold tutoring classes at Bezaleel. I have two groups, each with five students. In our allotted hour we do the basics: reading, writing, and arithmetic.

These are all first year students—the equivalent of 7th grade in the US. Most of them come from rural areas where their indigenous language is their primary tongue. Their schooling has been spotty, and they aren’t up to par with basic (low) educational standards. When they come to Bezaleel, they struggle.

At first I wasn’t sure how I’d approach the classes. I’d be giving the kids more attention, but it wouldn’t be one-on-one—what small group activities could I use to meet each child where she was at?

My mother has spent the last year working with “behind” students at a couple elementary schools in her area. Her techniques have been highly effective (the school directors are totally impressed), so I asked her what I should focus on. Reading, reading, reading, came the reply.

So we read together. The school library has three stacks of children’s books, about two-thirds of which are in Spanish. When there are duplicate books, I pass them out and we read around the circle. If there’s just one book, I read it to them. I was delighted to discover that they have some of my favorite children’s books: Alexander and the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, Frog and Toad, Corduroy, and Curious George, among others.

The students listen to the stories, spellbound. They laugh at the funny parts. Watching them make a connection between words and pleasure is about the most gratifying thing ever.

I asked one group of students if their parents could read. Half of
them said no. Only one girl said her house had any books in it.

No books in your house. Can you imagine?

Nope, me neither. If only I had piles of books and we could spend hours reading together!

But alas, the supply is low, so I space the reading out—several books at the beginning of the hour, maybe, and an extra fun book to end with. In between I have them do freewriting drills and journaling. We practice addition flash cards and count red beans in three piles of five and three piles of six and so on, to illustrate multiplication. We play games like Dutch Blitz and Spot It. Anything to give their minds a workout—that’s my goal.

We meet in the school’s auditorium, and while it works, I find myself longing for my own office/classroom. I can see it perfectly. It’d be a small room, but there would be a window. In the middle of the room would be a wooden table surrounded by a handful of chairs. There would be maps on the wall, a whiteboard, and shelves filled with books, puzzles, markers, and games. A cozy lamp would sit on my desk. Students would come in for tutoring sessions, or to ask questions about their homework, or to play games, or to draw, or to talk. It’s not going to happen, I know—no space, no resources, but mostly because we’re only here for a few more months—but still, it’s fun to dream…