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Day 21 A Military Checkpoint
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Day 21 Adios

Into Guatemala 1989 [Part 11 of 11 Parts]

Jo
2004-03-09 23:35:36

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Day 21 June 12

A Military Checkpoint

[Photo 1]

On our return from Antigua, we had hardly begun to walk back to the hotel when we had a rude reminder of the political situation in this troubled land.

A group of soldiers had set up a checkpoint and were rounding up passers-by. Several men had their hands up against the wall of a nearby abandoned building. With their captors' eyes and gun barrels fixed intently at them, no one dared to move.

We tried to sneak through, but the soldiers spotted us and barked the command to stop. Madjid, who spoke very little Spanish, was waiting for me to reply. "No hablar Spanish!" I blurted out, feigning ignorance of the simplest grammar. I knew I was taking a big risk when the command came again. This time, the rifle was pointed squarely at us. "No hablar Spanish!" I insisted. This was better than being struck from behind with a rifle butt, then robbed and who knows what else, I thought.

Fortunately, the soldiers, puzzled at my stubbornness, took a second look at my non-Guatemalan features and decided that I was harmless. Later on, I learned that foreigners were not generally exempt from detention due to rumors of Cuban, Russian, or even Chinese advisors sneaking through the border to aid the guerilla cause. I can only conclude that it was probably my surprisingly moronic behavior that "threw the guards off guard".

Somewhat shaken, we went to relax at the first cantina (bar) we saw. After that scary incident, even the humble local brews tasted mighty good. We were about to finish our first beer when a group of armed soldiers made a noisy entrance. Whew!

Anyway, we decided, against our better judgment, to spend our last day in Guatemala outdoors. We took a camioneta (passenger bus) to Minerva Park in Zona 2, and explored a bas-relief model of this mountainous country.

Day 21 June 12

Adiós

[Photo 2]

Above, Madjid stoically confronts the sprawl of Zona 2.

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A few hours before leaving for the airport, we bought refreshments from a sidewalk vendor. She was an old woman who liked to chat. She asked us where we were from and what we had visited. Very soon, the conversation drifted to the subject of her country.

"Yes, these are bad times for Guatemala," she said, "but we'll pull through, just like in the past. Our country has much culture and natural wealth. It was great once, you know. Things will be alright again, but I wish you could've visited us at a better time." She gave us a tranquil smile. "So when will you return to Guatemala?"

As much as we enjoyed our visit, we knew that the answer was probably "never again". Life would go on; we would have jobs and families, and then be anchored to a home.

"You'll come back some time, won't you?" she insisted.

"Yes," I replied. "I'll be back."

In 1999, on this personal journey of reminiscence, I was back.