Courage and Faithfulness
Yesterday evening, immediately after posting my brief update, I walked back to my hotel and looking up at the name and address on the wall out front, I called Mario, my Sipacapa contact, to let him know where I´d be in the morning when he´d arrive to pick me up. I told him the name of the hotel and asked if he knew where it was. He said, ¨Hotel K-Fear? I am in front of K-Fear!¨ So I turned around and there, across the street in a pickup truck, I saw him waving. As it happens, he had meetings in town which had brought him here earlier than expected. We spent about 20 minutes catching up on the past 15 years and then he left to go find a hotel of his own. Later, he came to meet us at dinner along with one of my interviewees from the Diocese, at which point I showed him some old photos of us that were probably taken twenty years ago.
In an hour and a half or so we´ll be heading on to Sipacapa where I'll be staying at his house and will be conducting the remaining interviews and participatory learning activities. I'd appreciate prayer for that. I hope to take care of my remaining work today and tomorrow, because Thursday Mario's brother is heading to the capital and I've been offered a ride with him.
I should also say that prior to coming out here several people somewhat familiar with the situation offered words of caution, which I´m thankful for and believe are based at least in part on fact. And maybe it´s just that I have been with people who can vouch for me, but I have not experienced a trace of animosity or suspicion, even when moving around on my own. Already I´ve had several conversations with perfect strangers and all have been very friendly and welcoming. One elderly man I asked for directions asked where I was from and after a brief chat concluded by saying he is honored that I´m visiting the area.
Of course the situation with the mine is serious and of course there are incidents of crime. But at the same time, as I walk these streets and meet these people and consider what they are facing, I also believe that the Enemy is quite happy to see well-intentioned followers of Christ diverted from pursuing righteousness and justice because of fear and misinformation, whether deliberate or not. There's a difference between courage and stupidity; I get that. But I think there's also a big difference between being faithful and being timid. The people I´m meeting out here are demonstrating a faithful courage from which I know I can learn a lot.
But enough of my soapbox. Mario just called and we´re leaving sooner than expected. I may or may not have internet access while in Sipacapa, but thanks for your continued prayer and support.
Diocese
Another quick update just to say I spent the afternoon at the Diocese, and was able to conduct not one but two (!) interviews, the second of which was a very unexpected surprise and quite rushed, but will be a great addition to the body of research. I got to meet the rest of the staff working on issues related to peace and ecology as they happened to be gathered for a rare day in the office. Also, in addition to the interviews I obtained some key literature along with a few anti-mining bumper stickers which I might be willing to auction off to benefit my chicken bus fund. Tonight I have dinner with my Eastern contact, one of his local coworkers I got to chat with a bit earlier, and some folks visiting for the week from Virginia. Tomorrow at 8.30am it's off to Sipacapa.
San Marcos
It's only mid-day on Monday so I don't have a whole lot to report, but I have arrived in San Marcos, where I'll be spending the rest of the day and night before leaving for Sipacapa in the morning. My contact here is an Eastern alum from my program a few years back who is working for an NGO in the area. This afternoon I have an interview with someone from the Diocese (the Catholic Church's social arm) and I think he'll be an excellent source of information.
So about the ride out here... There were just three of us in the minivan this morning - myself and two Dutch women who are volunteering at a school in Xela. I sat in the front and had a nice long chat with the driver, which allowed me to ask him anything I could think of about Guatemala: do the police still pull people over and fine them for no reason? do the university students still block off city streets leading up to Holy Week in order to collect money for their parties? is Lake Amatitlan (not Atitlan) clean enough to swim in? do you think the future is bright for Guatemala? do you know how the heck I can get to San Marcos without taking a chicken bus? He had answers to these questions: yes, yes, heavens no, no way, I don't know, respectively.
I got dropped off at the bus terminal in Xela with my eyes open for the two bus companies that were apparently less shady than the rest, but hadn't taken more than a step or two before I heard a guy yelling ''San Marcos'', so I talked to him and arranged a ride in another minivan for about $1.25 (double that to include my stuff on the seat beside me). The ride was harrowing at times as we passed buses and trucks on hairpin turns up and down steep hills, but I just kept reminding myself that the driver probably wanted to stay alive as much as I did. Probably.
But at one point during this ride it occurred to me that I felt right at home, and in some ways more so than I ever had when we lived in Guatemala. Back then I did all I could to stay inside an English-speaking, Americanized bubble. I was clearly not Guatemalan and every day reminded me of that. But now that I have lived in the US for more than a decade and have become accustomed to the North American way of life, I have been able to embrace my roots in Guatemala, because among my friends this background is a distinguishing feature of my story. Add that to the fact that my Spanish is better now (by leaps and bounds, I think) than it ever was when we lived here and voila! - my sense of belonging here, now, makes some sense. But still, ain't no place like Lancaster.