A friend from college, Melinda Van S., sent me the link to her fair trade website, Heart of the Sky. Melinda was a human rights observer in Guatemala several years ago, and she sent me an email that I have never forgotten. I hope she'll forgive me if I post an edited version:
"Late March, 2001
Dear Friends and Family,
Heidy-ho, friends and family. Tis I, Melinda.
Big news here on the South Coast of Guatemala. Using the parclance of our times, esta cayendo mucha pero mucha lluvia. That is to say, it has been raining. A lot. This is a good thing, of course, as now the people can get their crops planted.
On the day that the rains came I saved a baby pigs life. The saving the baby pigs life is directly related to the rains so if you will indulge me I will just continue. (I was also attacked by a duck that day, but that is neither here nor there.)
The day that the rains came started out ordinary (ly?) enough.... Around five the rain let up a little bit, so I rushed home, grabbed my Emergency Poncho, (that´s what it says on the bag it came in) and headed for supper. The Emergency Poncho quickly proves to be ill named as it is stylishly designed with holes cut in the side for your arms but what is the point of having a rain poncho with holes in it? Really. By the time I get to Maria´s house I am soaked to the skin, but remarkably I am not crabby because 1. Everyone else is as wet as I am. and 2. The mood in the house is EXUBERANT! It´s raining! Now we can get a head start on the corn planting!
When I finished eating I was stuck with a dilemma because it was still pouring. I waited around until 6:00, then I decided to go home while it was still relatively light. My Emergency Poncho proved yet again to be useless and I had to walk calf-deep in water and mud. As I came to the little stream, my heart sank. Three hours ago I had walked across it and didn’t even get my ankles wet. Now it looked like it would be waist deep. As I was standing there working up my nerve, I heard “SQUEAL! SQUEAL! SQUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAL!!!!!” or whatever it is that pigs say in Spanish. (Or Kekchi, as the Mayan language may be.) I looked up and saw my fifteen year old neighbor with her three year old brother under one arm and a piglet under the other. She started to cross the river, but it was almost chest deep on her, and as she got in the middle she started to lose her balance. “Melinda!” She half shouted/half laughed to me. “Help!” Bravely, without any concern for my own personal safety, (note the hearty sarcasm) I plunged into the river, positioned myself downstream, and yelled back to her, “Drop the pig! Drop the pig!” She dropped the pig in the river and repositioned her brother under her arm as I grabbed the pig as he was swept downstream. I stuck the little piggy under my arm and we walked to the safety of my neighbor´s house. We all had a good laugh and then I went home.
In non-swine related news, I had an extremely humbling experience the other week. I had had a horribly difficult morning. (In retrospect, it was my reaction that made it difficult, not so much the situation.) I had spent two hours at the women´s cooperative store trying to make a phone call, and the only reason the call wouldn´t go through was because the store lady didn´t know how to use the phone. (After dialing my number, she would press ´cancel´ instead of ´send.´) So I found my patience and my cultural sensitivity to be at an all time record low, and I found myself thinking the dreaded “I” word. Ignorant. “She is so IGNORANT!!!” I fumed to myself. Finally I just could not take it one second more and I grabbed the phone and did it myself using my infinite wisdom, no problem at all.
That afternoon a delegation from Witness For Peace came. For those not familiar with Witness For Peace, they are a top notch non governmental organization that works to change U.S. policy regarding Latin America. The have some stellar publications out. My favorite would be A Crude Awakening, which is an investigative report on the oil industry in Guatemala, the World Bank, U.S. policy, and how it all relates to each other. Top notch, I tell you. Anyway, they came with about fourteen college students, and two of them happened to stay at my neighbor´s house. They came over for a visit, and it was nice to get the news from home, ranging from the Navy sinking the Japanese fishing boat to Eminem winning the Grammy. As is par for the course, an entourage of neighbor kids came over to watch us and listen to us talk in our “dialecto.” One of the delegation people had a super sonic space age watch that told you what time it was in any number of countries. And I mean literally told the time. All you had to do was press a button and it would say, "It is 1:30 pm in Guatemala. It is 2:30 pm in New York." Etc. The neighbor kids were fascinated by this. One of the delegation guys said something to the effect that it was too bad that these kids did not know about something as simple as a watch.
After awhile the two delegation people got ready to leave and asked if they could wash their hands. I pointed to my water bucket, my little scooping bowl, and my soap. Now, my fatal flaw was that I assumed that they knew that you scoop out some water with the bowl, then wash your hands in the bowl. But no. They plunged their filthy hands into my water bucket, dirtying my water supply for the entire day. The neighbor kids gasped—they had never seen people who didn´t even know about something as simple as washing their own hands. “What? What are we doing wrong?” the delegation people asked. I explained, and they turned fifteen shades of red. “We just didn´t know. I guess we´re just ignorant.”
Ouch.
When they left I just sat there and thought about a phrase one of my professors was fond of using, “prestige knowledge,” which just means that we tend to judge other people by how closely their knowledge resembles ours, and how I need to be more conscious of that.
So this story is probably longer than it needs to be, (brevity is not one of my strong points) but it was a very important reminder for me. Reminding me that just because someone is computer literate in the first world does not mean that they know how to wash their hands in the third world. Reminding me not to confuse technology for progress. Reminding me that some of the most sophisticated, intellectual, analytical people I know cook over an open fire, eat with their hands, have never heard of Jennifer Lopez, don´t know how to use a phone, and tell time by the sun. Reminding me to always remind myself of that....
Sadly, there will be no full time accompanier is Nuevo Mexico after I leave, simply due to a lack of funds. I get nervous when people say, "But Guatemala is a country at peace. The Accords were signed five years ago. I´m putting my money towards where it's really needed." The statement about Guatemala being a country at peace is dangerously inaccurate. Threats and attacks on human rights workers and their families are escalating. Just ask any number of my friends. True, there hasn´t been a state sponsored massacre in six years, but it that really a comforting thought? And the soldiers implicated with that massacre weren´t punished. So much for justice. So much for peace.
Moreover, the fact of the matter is that the people of Nuevo Mexico want accompaniment. Having internationals in their community was a condition for their return. They fought for that right. They stood up and said, "We are not leaving the safety of Mexico unless we are ensured that we can have an international presence in our community." It pains and angers me to see Guatemala losing focus. After all they´ve seen, how dare we be so presumptous as to say to them, “Well, the Peace Accords have been signed, so see you around.”
“But now it´s a different struggle.” That´s what Nicolas, the president of Nuevo Mexico says. When I ask him to explain further, he talks about the obvious, such as despite the promises, there is running water for only two hours a day, the dirt road that links Nuevo Mexico to the nearest city is in deplorable condition and will only get worse as the rains continue, (It takes over an hour to go only eight miles. That may not seem to be overly important unless you are my friend Maria Gloria and you wake up one morning to find your baby grey and barely breathing, which leads me to my next point...) the nearest doctor is over an hour away, and that´s only if you´re lucky and there´s a truck right there handy. Otherwise you have to run up the road and hope to God that you find someone with a truck. Etc. etc. etc. Point being, the Peace Accords, while signed, are not being implemented, and the only way they will be implemented is through international pressure. And the only way for there to be international pressure is if the international community is aware of what is happening. And the best way for the international community to become aware of what is happening is for there to be international people on the ground. That´s why it is imperative that we are here. That´s why it is essential that this work be supported.
I'd like to share a quote with you that has been very powerful for me.
"The only dream worth having is to dream that you will live while you are alive and die only when you are dead. To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of the life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try to understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.” Arundhati Roy
That quote, in particular To never look away. And never, never to forget. reminds me of an experience I had not too long ago. I was over at Carlota´s house, just hanging out, shelling corn, and as I was heading out the door for home Carlota stopped me. “Melinda. If you are ever hungry, come here.” I thanked her and kept walking. She called me back. “Melinda. I don´t think you understand what I am saying. If ever, ever you are hungry, come here. If there is a war in your country and there is no food, come back here, to community Nuevo Mexico. And tell your family and tell your friends. If there is ever a war in your country and the soldiers come to your house and take your land you can come back here, and we will help you, because we remember. Tell your family. Tell your friends.”
Consider yourselves told. If there is ever a war, and if we have no place to go, and if we are hungry, there is a community of returned refugees on the south coast of Guatemala who will help us because they remember. They will never, never forget. And we must never look away.
Melinda"
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