We walked up to the cemetary on Saturday for the
Guatemalan version of The Day of the Dead and wow.
wow. wow. food, kites, and flowers EVERYWHERE. There
is no way to explain how beautiful the tombs were,
just covered in candles and flowers and kids busy with
beautifully made, super-colorful paper kites and
adults busy with paintbrushes and hoes to dig, clean,
remember, honor. We walked under a huge stone archway
to get within the walls of the cemetary, past a church
literally glowing with hundreds of candles. Inside, an
old man was playing a flute and an old woman had a
drum over half the size of her leaned into her lap
that she was drumming with all her might...we also
walked past the beautiful but expensive tombs and to
the other side of the cemetary where the poor people
buried their dead, right into the earth with the green
grass growing over it with just a small stone marker
and no smaller amount of flowers and care. I felt the
spirit of my Grandma close to me yesterday, pointing
out the things she liked, too, a niche carved into the
wall of the cemetary with a candle burning brightly
within the recesses, the bouquets of elegant and soft
calla lilies mixed with can't-get-any-oranger
marigolds,and the violet purple of what looked like
lamb's ear. So special.
We help our Danish friend move into her hostel today,
and have already bought our tickets to head out for
THE tourist town of Angtigua tomorrow morning. We plan
to be there for a day or so, then head over the border
to Copan, Honduras, to wait out the election results.
A former dictator is running again. He has a penchant
for large-scale violence against the indigenous of
Guate,and has been well-trained by our very own school
of the americas. Even if he doesn't win, he has the
backing of at least 500,000 ex-military members from
the last time he was in power, so it's a question of
how much force does he really have behind him and just
exactly who is supplying him the money to run again?
Anyway, September 11th is still too fresh in our minds
to play the wait-and-see game in something this big,
and our attitude of getting ourselves to safety from
even the prospect of violence is an interesting
contrast to the students younger than us who have
eagerly signed up to be "international observers"
during the counting of the votes (and 75% of them
speak little more than a lick of spanish-how will they
know if something is off?) during the election
proceedings next weekend. Many of them could not read
the Spanish form they had to fill out to sign up, and
had to have translation for the part where they
check-marked the "level of risk they were willing to
place themselves in; low, medium or high." Yes, I
want to fight for human rights, but I want to do it
alive.
The irony of this scene was repeated a month or so ago
when we went to visit a coffee finca run by about ten
families who had taken over the land from a huge
international coffee company that was letting the land
lie fallow. Their houses were made of corrugated iron
and thatched-roof and dirt floors, and they were
always wondering if even that was going to be taken
away from them because legally they did not own the
land. One Saturday we met them and heard their story,
shared a meal with them and played with the kids, and
as we crowded into the back of the pick-up truck for
the the half-hour windy ride through the mountains
back to the relative comfort of our host families and
ultimately back to the true comfort of our developed
countries, one young and energetic woman leaned out
with raised fist and yelled, La Lucha! The Fight!
Guatemala is a complex country of beauty and struggle,
and I didn't expect it to win my heart the way it has.
We're both a bit sad to leave, not sure if we'll be
returning, not sure if any other country could treat
us as nicely as this one has. Our hope is to wait it
out a week or two in the Bay Islands of Honduras and
if all is well head back up north to the Peten region
for more studying of Spanish and getting our hands
into the rich black jungle dirt to help grow medicinal
plants. For me, for now, I choose my participation in
la lucha for human rights to be down at the micro
level, one-to-one. It involves where I choose to spend
my energy, time, and money. How I decide to interact
with the people I come into contact with. I don't
think I can save "the world" anymore, but I do know
that my choices will affect "my world" and that is
where I can start.
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