Finding the Way Back to Reality/Am I Understanding Solidarity?

Two full months in Guatemala, 3 more to go. These last few weeks have been a big period of adjustment. I knew that it would take me a little while to settle in and figure out just what I was doing, but I'm really only beginning to get to that point and only really beginning to grasp how much more I need to learn about this beautiful but scarred country. I will openly admit that I had turned my focus away from this part of the world, choosing to immerse myself in the history and culture on the opposite side of the Pacific. The only teachings we received in school were that this was where bananas came from and that the US once invaded here. Growing up in the 80s, the latter was considered a good thing. Even though I had decided it was time to redirect my attention to Latin America (and to finally put that Spanish degree to use), it was by shear chance that I wound up here, in Rabinal, as a part of the Breaking the Silence Solidarity Network.

So what is solidarity and why "breaking the slience?" Solidarity is not simply about supporting or volunteering your time. It's the acts of: working together, drawing from and understanding one another, and being united in achieving mutual goals. It's also about giving more than aid; it's about us assisting others to work for themselves in a sustainable manner, rather than simply having time, money, and materials handed to them. It's a chance for us, in a position to provide, not to just handover what we can and move on, but to share experiences and pass on what we have learned. Sure it sounds ideal, but is it something that we actually do? I don't know about other people, but I guess I never considered a difference between volunteer work and solidarity. I have to wonder if the activities I've undertaken equally benefited both sides of the exchange.

Now, I'm here trying to share the knowledge I've gained over the years and trying to adapt that to what needs my organization needs. La Fundación Nueva Esperanza/The New Hope Foundation is an organization seeking to educate the younger generation of Maya people, the descendants of the victims of years of violence that were inflicted on this area -- and all over the country -- about their history and culture, while training them for active lives within their communities. But, what can I bring to the table?

As I said in my last post, I spent my most recent years in Asia, specifically Japan, teaching English and culture, throwing in some global issues and peace education from time to time. I spent 7 months of my more recent life (2005 - 2006) traveling around the world on Peace Boat, visiting over 30 countries on a mission to spread peace, tolerance, understanding, and truth. Guatemala is a country in need of all of those things. Two hundred thousand people died here when the military dictatorship attempted to wipe out the indigenous population in search of the Guerrilla Army. Rabinal and its surrounding villages were massively affected and devestated, with around 4900 people killed during the period of the genocide. People still don't feel comfortable talking about the past, or for that matter the present, always aware that someone could be listening. This would be the reasoning for our network being called Breaking the Silence.

Working here, knowing this, is a complex situation. I have a position/role here. I have goals that I've set for my time here. I'm just trying to figure out if they are in sync with what is needed here. I think I was a bit lost in that process for a while. Quite frankly speaking, my objectives pale in comparison to the situation here (past and present) and in getting caught up in the daily grind (everything in Guatemala takes longer) and adjusting to common obstacles (one day we may have water, the next we might not) the bubble I broke out of quickly re-formed. I forgot to find the balance between doing my job and understanding what it means to be in Rabinal; the two must go hand in hand.

This past week, however, I helped organize a visit by a group of university students from Canada. The ventured here through a service learning -- a sort of exposure tour -- program at St. Francis Xavier University in Antigonish, Nova Scoatia. Their introduction to the life and loss in Rabinal quickly became my re-introduction. I spent a few weeks in training before coming here, trying to comprehend: the massacres, the volatile political situation, both the deteriorating and improving aspects of life here. When this group of students - eyes wide open with their first sights of how things look on the other side of paradise - arrived here I too had the chance to take a step back and realize that I still need to be looking beyond my computer screen each day. Research and readings are a distant second to seeing the graves and hearing the stories from someone who saw the violence and heard the screams of their loved ones.

Along with the group, I visited the monuments on the outskirts of town, commemorating the victims of the various massacres. In the years following the violence clandestine graves were, one after another, discovered and excavated. While it was by no means 'peace' for the lost, it was a chance for their families to bury them with the dignity they were robbed of. The cemetery is a field of brightly covered crosses and headstones, but not all graves are marked. At times you struggle to find your way around, trying not to tread upon dried mounds of dirt no higher than your ankles, only to realize that the bumpy, cracked path you are on is also a line of internments. The biggest of the shrines commemorate those slaughtered, en masse, in communties like Xococ, Plan de Sanchez and Rio Negro. Some are inscribed with 60-70 names. The memorial to Rio Negro contains over 170 names, mostly children. Amongst them are those belonging to the siblings of Jesús Tecu Osorio, the founder of our organization and who accompanied us on the visit.

Jesús was one of the sole survivors, only because, at the age of 11, he was old enough to be a slave to one of the perpetrators. In later years, Jesús brought his captor and muderer of his brother to justice. Many other, including former dictator Rios Montt, have not and still live in the communties. Montt is running for congress in this years election. A win would protect him from extradition and prosecution by the Spanish courts for another four years.

I stood there silent and pensive. A light wind was breaking the scorching heat and the sinking sun painting an orange backdrop behind the parched mountains. I listened to Jesús, his words passionate yet detached. I looked around: the broken earth, strewn with garbage blown over from the neighbouring soccer field; the kids biking around the burial mounds, traversing the paths without disturbing the resting places; the pickups whizzing by transporting the campesinos (farm workers) back from the fields. This is reality in Rabinal, like the rest of Guatemala, it is beautiful but scarred, serene but still tormented, carrying on with everyday life while the past is never far out of view.

Regardless of whatever duties or objectives I have set, my time in Rabinal is always two fold. I am here to teach, but also to learn; here to experience, but also to share; here to listen; but also to tell. I have to respect that and keep it in the back of my mind, otherwise my being here will not be an act of solidarity, just an act that is solitary.