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Day 1 An Invitation and a Challenge
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Day 2 The Parish Center

Into Guatemala 1989 [Part 1 of 11 Parts]

Jo
2004-03-05 22:28:45

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by. Attired in huipiles and startling pom-pom-like headbands, Maya women exchanged gossip while running their daily errands.

We stopped at a small store for no particular reason. Inside, it was dim and quiet. We were the only customers at this time. A single gas lamp hung from the low ceiling. (Even where there is electricity, power outages occur frequently in the highlands.) A meager quantity of foodstuffs and basic household goods lay on trays behind the wooden counter. There were two decrepit tables and a few chairs for the customers. The spare interior of the store looked very old and a little depressing.

We bought some refreshments from the owner, a swarthy, bearded middle-aged man who soon started a conversation with us. He was one of the few ladinos living in Sacapulas. Born in this town, he had left as a young man, and now had returned to earn an easy living as a storekeeper. I found it hard to follow his Spanish, which he spoke fast and sprinkled liberally with slang and localisms. But I managed to ask him what his previous occupation was.

"I used to be a sergeant in the army," he replied indifferently.

At first, I was shocked that I could well be talking to someone who had murdered innocent civilians. Be that as it may, our new acquaintance was friendly and almost pleasant. He even seemed concerned about our safety.

"Don't be fooled, the town might look safe, but the fighting's there alright." He pointed to the surrounding countryside. "Last week, I was awakened before sunrise by loud gunfire. It doesn't happen everyday, but it's there. Be careful, amigos."

[Photos 6 and 7]

We strolled along the banks of the Chixoy river, a mere trickle compared to the mighty Usumacinta into which it flows. Sacapulas is located in a dry region of the country: the hills in the background are the barest we saw in Guatemala.