With a Different Lens

“Silence lost its way when a hand opened the doors to the voice.” Francisco Morales Santos

For the past month, I've left behind my high-rise office at the UN and moved from my base in the capital to live in a rural town in a the eastern department of Baja Verapaz, Guatemala. Rabinal is a small, primarily Maya-Achi town that thrives on its agricultural output, which includes, most famously, citrus fruits. My time in Guatemala has been largely focused on understanding what is being done for truth and justice at the higher levels of power with a focus on the international community. I moved to Rabinal in order to gain perspective on these issues at a level much closer to those who actually experienced the very genocide for which legal cases and legislation being discussed in the capital hope to address.

Rabinal and its surrounding villages suffered significantly during the armed conflict, and have responded in the post-war context in a most impressive and unique manner. After facing various massacres, militarization, and battery by the famed scorched-earth policy of Rios Montt's regime, Guatemala's UN-sponsored truth commission named Rabinal one of four specific geographic locations where acts of genocide were committed. In response, Rabinal's residents have developed a base of community organization and empowerment, especially surrounding issues of truth, reconciliation, and justice for crimes of the past. Headquartered in Rabinal are two of the strongest human rights organizations in the country, ADIVIMA and ECAP—the former does mostly legal work for the victims of the war, while the latter provides psycho-social accompaniment and support services to address the widespread mental and emotional damage caused by the crimes of the conflict. Rabinal is also home to several of the key witnesses that will testify for the genocide case currently pending in the Spanish National Court. Finally, Rabinal is where the first major payment of reparations to victims of the war was disbursed. The beneficiaries were the victims of the Plan de Sanchez massacre (current Plan de Sanchez basketball court pictured above), whose case went through the Interamerican Court in San Jose, Costa Rica. In addition to monetary recompense, victims received a public apology delivered by Vice President Eduardo Stein, a hallmark measure of reparation that has given rise to an international debate regarding the power (and limitations) of verbal compensation.

My post in Rabinal is with ADIVIMA, the same organization I accompanied on the exhumation in Coban. Led by Pedrina Osario and Carlos Chen, two remarkably inspiring individuals who founded the organization to bring justice and dignity to Maya-Achi victims of the conflict. They are both survivors of a massacre that occurred in a village called Rio Negro, a community of 800 people where the World Bank and other international donors proposed the construction of a mega-dam in the late 1970s. After a few years of negotiation and planning, community resistance to displacement led to violent state repression, and by mid-1982, 447 of the members of Rio Negro were dead after 4 separate massacres. ADIVIMA was started to generate a response to these atrocities. Today, it handles cases, monitors exhumations, provides immediate support to victims of this violence and their families, and is acting as an interested party in the genocide case.

I’m working in the legal department working on cases--gathering testimony, assessing potential application of international law, and researching international precedent that may lend strength to local cases. It has certainly been a different and much-needed perspective on the war and its aftermath, not to mention a significant routine change…I live with Carlos' family in a village called Pacux, which is a resettlement community for victims of the Rio Negro massacre. We have national police that guard the house and a stone wall lined with barbed wire because of the history of threats against Carlos and his family. The community in general is living in an extremely impoverished situation--an injustice hard to fathom when added to the fact that they were violently kicked off their original land for the building of the dam and watched their family members killed by the army. Still, the village pulses with camaraderie and activism; I am continually astounded by the resilience and strength of these people.

I'm closer to the ground in many ways, which doesn't come without its frustrations (such is life in the under-funded threatened nonprofit sector of Guatemala). Overall, it has been incredibly satisfying (and hopefully mutually beneficial) because of the understanding I now have not only for how victims weigh in on the initiatives for which they are ostensibly the principal beneficiaries (i.e. reparations and justice), but also for how they live their daily lives now, in the wake of war.

Downtown Rabinal

Walter and Paulina stop to take in the view of Rabinal on our way back from Plan de Sanchez

Soccer in Plan de Sanchez

Site of Plan de Sanchez massacre--now turned into a memorial for victims. Directly behind me when taking this photo are the clandestine graves where forensic anthropologists discovered 184 bodies buried within a 10 ft square space

Shots from inside Rabinal's cemetary...

Kickin' it with the Girls

"Sometimes we forget what we got; who we are, who we're not. I think we got a chance, to make it right...Keep it loose, child, gotta keep it tight." --Amos Lee

Okay, truth be told I'm a little behind on my posts. But that is not going to stop me from mentioning one of the best parts about being here: visitors. Guatemala, although not Tuscany, is a pretty cool place to tour around, and a few weeks ago, my friends Liz (bff from college) and Sarah (Fulbrighter in Costa Rica) came to visit for a little taste of Guatemala. Anne, a good friend and Fulbrighter here with me in Guatemala met up with us and we spent a week traveling around to the best parts of the country (Tikal excluded, much to the visitors' chagrin, but that's a sore subject).

Sarah, Liz, Anne...catchin' a break on a rooftop cafe

We started in Antigua, which is, to Sarah's disappointment, landlocked (first thing Sarah shouts as we roll into the little colonial town, "Which way to the beach?!"), but fun nonetheless for shopping, wandering, and generally doing nothing but enjoying company, all of which we did like pros. We also made it a habit to stop in at every pharmacy we crossed paths with (and if you know Antigua, you know that means we were stopping every two blocks) since Liz, who had been leading youth delegations in El Salvador the week before, had contracted a mysterious skin condition.

Sarah photo-documents Liz's mystery disease to email to the states for expert medical opinions.

More Antigua shots...

Mingling with the locals



Kids on scaffolding looking photogenic (photo credit: Sarah Lowe)



Anne for la patria...can you tell this girl's been in Guatemala on and off for five years now?






generally enjoying ourselves (photo credit: Anne Kraemer)




I love this photo...very rare to see men in traditional indigenous dress (photo credit: Sarah Lowe)





Liz and Anne chat it up with the candle vendor




Dolled-up entrance-way of an Antigua hotel (photo credit: Liz Hubley)





Equally dolled-up Antigua bus

Anne and I smile for the camera (photo credit: Liz Hubley)




Sarah kicks back

From Antigua we moved on to my favorite, Lake Atitlan, where we met up with some friends for lunch and explored the market in the first town on the lake, Panajachel. We then boarded a lancha (glorified motorized canoes also called chicken boats by certain tactless foreigners) for the best place on the lake, San Marcos.

Market day in Panajachel...

Beautiful Lake Atitlan

Anne in our incredibly cool bathroom at Aaculaax Hotel in San Marcos

Things missing from the photos that should not go unmentioned: obsessive jade shopping, pila hunting, and priceless nights at the hookah bar. Overall it was seriously one of the most fun weeks I've had here, so I have to thank my girls for the visit. It takes a reminder once in a while to realize how important the down time is amidst all our hard work...after all, as we joked (excessively and only half-kidding): it's the Fulbright Dream...gotta live it up.

Exhuming Evidence of Genocide

“The eyes of the buried will close together on the day of justice, or they will never close.” Miguel Angel Asturias, Guatemalan Nobel Laureate for Literature


One of the most important components of transitional justice in post-conflict societies across the globe and especially in Guatemala is the excavation of victims’ remains. Exhumations are conducted all over the country in order to dig up the bones and clothing of victims of the war. They are held at massacre sites, clandestine graves, and locations where individuals fell victim to war-violence. Exhumations are important for many reasons, namely: 1) to obtain evidence for criminal trials; and 2) to provide family members with both information about their loved ones’ deaths and the remains of the bodies for proper burial. Exhuming remains provides an immense amount of information for lawyers and family members regarding the “who,” “when,” “where,” “how,” and even sometimes “by whom” of the massacre or murder in question. In cases that will potentially be brought to court, exhumation sites are treated as crime scenes (for that reason, I couldn't include the actual site in this set of photos).




Guatemala has one of the most progressive exhumation records worldwide due to international support and a coalition of expert forensic anthropologists who have been working since before the Peace Accords to exhume victims' remains. Not only are they an extremely skilled group of individuals, but incredibly courageous—forensic anthropologists, especially lately, are one of the most threatened groups in Guatemala due to their commitment to exposing crimes of the past that have and will continue to implicate powerful individuals. For more on recent threats against these individuals and orgs, see this recent report by NEAR International.




Last week I accompanied two separate exhumations--one in the village of Coyojá outside of Rabinal, a town with a heartbreaking war history and a progressive human rights community; and the other in Sesimaj, a village near Coban, in the cloud-forested region of Alta Verapaz.
I was able to talk to family members at both exhumations—powerful interviews full of hope for the future, discontent with authority, and relief for the potential outcome of uncovering their loved ones’ remains.

The following photos are from the exhumation in Sesimaj, Alta Verapaz...

After hiking through farm and jungle for half an hour, we turned the corner to see this--it was 8am and there were already over 80 people from surrounding communities gathered around the exhumation site waiting for us to arrive.

The crowd grew over the course of the day to over 200 onlookers--members of the community who most likely witnessed the violence, as well as members of nearby villages who came to find out how they could have an exhumation conducted in their own community

The family of the victim whose remains were being exhumed welcomed us into their home and immediately fed us breakfast before we set out for the site. After the dig, we gathered back at the house again for lunch and debriefing as well as prayer sessions and a moment of silence.

The communities were warm and welcoming--their gratitude for the days' work was overwhelming. And the forensic anthropologists are a fun crowd to roll with—young, underpaid, and meticulous with their work, they’re daring, progressive and idealistic. For me, the exhumations were above all refreshing to be involved with—in a field where discussion and legislation surrounding justice, truth, and reparation seem abstract, and patience is a requirement since outcomes are almost always long-term, exhumations are a rewarding, immediate way to give family members tangible closure and some measure of instant peace after decades of waiting and wondering on the fate of their family members.

Quiché in Pictures

"Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time's relentless melt." Susan Sontag


Recently I made what will probably be my last trip up to the war-torn Ixil region in the department of Quiché (for more on the region, see past post, “36-hours in the Ixil Triangle”). Below are photos that speak to the beauty of the place—bright aesthetics and consistent vibrancy that contrast considerably with the darkness of Quiché’s recent history.

Offerings

“Kneeling in the blazing heat of a narrow waxy corridor between four hundred homemade candles which burned on either side, I was busy spreading a fog of bilious smoldering copal, the “food of the Gods,” whose intoxicating smoke carried my very best esoteric oratory language in a flowery praise to feed the sleeping deity.” Martín Prechtel, Maya shaman

In the face of suffering, members of various Mayan faiths turn to ceremonial ritual. Traditional ceremonial practice dates back not hundreds but thousands of years, and it remains the core of faith and culture for much of the contemporary Maya communities in Guatemala. Today, Mayan culture is a hugely significant to Guatemalan society—individuals that identify as Mayan represent a majority of the population. Within Mayan culture there is much diversity—with over 22 distinct language groups, each with different cultural traits, dress, practices, histories, and traditions, the blanket term Mayan becomes almost irrelevant and makes way for the more widespread use of more specific terms identifying indigenous groups.

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to attend a traditional Kaq’chikel Maya ceremony in the small village of Santiago outside of Antigua. My friend Anne, another Fulbrighter studying community development and cultural sensitivity (check out her blog:http://kaqkotzij.blogspot.com), speaks Kaq’chikel and invited me to the ceremony which was being held for an elderly woman who has been ill for some time. Anne’s friend Peter is the woman’s doctor, also a rare Kaq’chikel-speaking North American and an MD who has been working in the community for several months (check out his blog: http://coprinus.blogspot.com). Kaq’chikel ceremonies are often held in response to specific illnesses or deaths that come to pass within the community in order to make offerings to the gods in exchange for healing and peace.

Peter’s patient, member of Santiago’s Kaqchikel-Maya community

A few key ingredients

We spent the day of the ceremony moving through the crowded stalls of Antigua’s open-air market gathering ceremony essentials: copal, an incense made from the sap of a tree by the same name; hundreds of candles of various colors, each of which has specific ritual meaning; big bouquets of flowers—later we’d prep by pulling all the petals off of the stems to toss handfuls into the fire; oversized cigars; alcohol (kind?); plastic bags full of sesame seeds; eggs; a nearly 2-foot-long papaya; and big round loaf of sweet raisin bread. Everything, save some of the cigars and half a bottle of the alcohol (which would be consumed by ceremony participants), would be burned away in the flames of the ceremonial bonfire as offerings to the gods. Many of the various sundries would be used to construct the fire circle, and the remainder would be tossed in at strategic moments throughout the ceremony’s three-hour duration. We arrived to the three-walled room at the end of an alleyway where the ceremony would be led by a Kaq’chikel-Mayan Shaman named Roberta. Standing at no more than 5 feet tall and adorned in traditional Kaq’chikel dress accented by the long magenta tethers of a ceremonial headdress, Roberta guided us in fashioning a fire circle just as the light rain became a pounding chatter atop the tin roof and a lightening storm took over the darkening sky. She lit the first candle, ignited the fire, and launched into a long monologue of blessings and predictions addressing each of the group’s specific cases of suffering and reading the flames and smoke of the fire for what may come to pass in the face of such loss and pain.

Roberta begins the ceremony

Later she adds pale blue candles to the fire, an offering that addresses water, fertility and the heavens

One of the most important parts of the work of the Shaman is to read the flames and smoke for signs from the gods relevant to the past, current, and future fates of individuals and the community as a whole.

After the fire had died down and the air was totally consumed by fragrant copal-rich smoke, we had a debriefing period, customary at the end of ceremonies for wrapping things up on a reflective note. Those of us who were visitors had a chance to thank the small group of community members who had let us observe and participate in a highly-sacred tradition, and even talk some politics. After Peter had explained that Anne and I were in Guatemala to work on social justice and peace building issues, Roberta talked about the Peace Accords. In a combination of Kaq’chikel and Spanish conveniently translated by Peter, she stressed how the Maya communities continue to suffer even now that the war has officially ended. She called on us to be vigilant of those in power, to help see to it that the government keeps its promises of peace, and that the Accords don’t just remain words on paper. Finally, in a list of reflective thank yous, she said, referring to us, “Thank you to the white people, who come here and don’t just talk, but instead work for the progress of our communities.”

Maya culture is a rich mix of religion, spirituality, politics, activism, and daily lifestyle. It is not just the ancient society we learn of from museums, films, and history texts, but a diverse group of living communities that continue to suffer significant injustices for claiming their cultural identity. They are a strong part of Guatemala with an incredible amount of beauty and resilience that I’ve been privileged to learn from during my time here.

"You have no god."

"I was sleeping when the attack on Disa started. I was taken away by attackers, they were all in uniforms. They took dozens of girls...during the day we were beaten and they were telling us: "You, the black women, we will exterminate you, you have no god." At night we were raped several times. The Arabs guarded us with arms and we were not given food for 3 days." --female refugee from Disa, West Darfur, as quoted in 2004 by Amnesty International

Since the primary theme of my work here in Guatemala is the genocide that took place in the early 80s, I thought it only appropriate to keep some notes here on the genocide that's unfolding on our generation's watch...and most importantly, what we can do to avoid complicity.

We say never again. The phrase has become a brand rallying cry, characterizing the movement against genocide and repeatedly resulting in not much more than an empty promise. And today, a genocide is raging in Darfur, a marginalized Western region of Sudan. According to a recent Amnesty International report, some statistics on the growing crisis are as follows:

2.2 million… number of refugees and people displaced by the conflict.

285,000… estimated number of deaths from starvation, disease and killings in Darfur since 2003.

7,000… number of African Union monitors deployed in Darfur.

13… number of UN Security Council resolutions adopted on Darfur.

Zero… number of United Nations peacekeepers deployed in Darfur.

While news coverage, rhetoric and even some policy moves from the global north have far exceeded levels of these indicators during genocides of the past, there is still little being done to effectively stop the current and ongoing devastation.

At it's most genuine, "Never Again" it is a show of solidarity; a sorrowful conviction that what has passed in Rwanda, Cambodia, and many other countries were acts of utter inhumanity. Although we have come a long way in the recognition and denouncement of genocide, outcries of Never Again have proved futile. Darfur is an ongoing reminder of that, and we would do well to heed it. It's important to fight to keep from ignoring the atrocities being committed there; because somehow, apparently, genocide is a very easy thing to ignore.

“Race murder,” as genocide has been called (see Samantha Power's A Problem from Hell), may be one of the most difficult concepts for us to fathom as reality. But the incomprehensible nature of a truth like genocide does not absolve us from recognizing that not only is it going on, but it may well also continue. Daily events that take place in Darfur and that occurred years ago in Treblinka, Poland; Quiché, Guatemala; Kigali, Rwanda; and Srebrenica, Bosnia among others will take place again somewhere not yet known. That is unless we face the reality of genocide, struggle with it, and finally, come up with the conviction to create the intellectual and practical machinery to prevent it.

There's plenty of reading to be done to sort out the particulars of the violence in Darfur--scholar Gérard Prunier calls it "the ambigious genocide" in part because of just how complex the antecedents, ethnic lines, and characterization of victims and perpetrators are. We ought not to call it simply one side systematically devastating another; however, nor should we stall any longer chalking up the violence to overcomplicated ethnic warfare founded in too-deeply-rooted historic background. (On this note, for a really interesting and well-written take on humanitarian intervention [relating to Iraq and the Balkans but nevertheless revelant] check out this article from The New York Times by Roger Cohen.) Below are some links that help clarify the history and debate, along with some powerful visuals to make the events real in our minds.

Perhaps more surprisingly, another thing that there is plenty of are ways to act--on individual and collective levels--to start sending a signal that the violence calculated and committed by Sudanese government forces must stop. The links below are also where you can find a range of options for action from divestment to letter-writing to awareness campaigns.

Suggested methods of action may sound like just making noise, but making noise is one thing that needs to happen--stopping genocide is a task that's neither easy nor cheap, so if politicians have no reason to believe we care, they certainly won't make efforts to end the crisis.

Genocide Intervention Network-great tips on ways to act.
USHMM's and Google Earth's Crisis in Darfur
"Darfur Bleeds" photo essay from HRW
ICC Cases
Nick Kristof
Pep Bonet's photos
Amnesty's latest on the genocide
International Citizen's Tribunal
Mia Farrow's photos

Cali to Guate

"Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again;
we had longer ways to go.
But no matter, the road is life."
- Jack Kerouac

I have to apologize for taking a holiday from the blogging. There’s much to say about the past few weeks, so I’ll try to catch us all up as best I can.

First and foremost, my wonderful parents made the trip down to Guatemala for a visit and we had a blast for two weeks of gallivanting around the country. We started with a short flight from the capital up to the department of Peten, host to Tikal National Park, and the largest Mayan ruins discovered to date.

Tikal was incredible, as much for its lack of people and amusement park-like accoutrement as for its historical and cultural impressiveness. We had the park virtually to ourselves, 23 square miles of ruins, hiking trails, and jungle wildlife.

View from atop a Temple IV

A near-perfect rendition of my parents on vacation--in this particular moment we had spotted a toucan nest with babies and a proud mama in a hole in the trunk of a tree near the temples



The Grand Plaza...

After flying back south from the Peten jungle, we spent three days in Antigua, the old capital. I've had mixed feelings about the little town ever since I got down here--Semana Santa (see previous post) was incredible, but generally when I'm there, between enjoying the relief of safety and its colorful cuteness, I spend a lot of time resenting the too-touristy bustle of vendors and myriad bars that make you wonder if you just tripped onto a college campus in the states. However, much to my delight, fully embracing the tourist persona makes Antigua a total joy. If you have plans to visit (and aren't on a backpacker's hostel-ready budget) treat yourself and stay at the Cloister. I'm not one to care where I crash while traveling, but I swear, this place is a total dream. It's a small B&B ideally located under the landmark yellow archway a block from the central plaza, complete with a gorgeous garden courtyard, wonderful staff, flawlessly outfitted rooms, and delicious food. I hate to get Lonely Planet on you here (or worse but perhaps more fitting, Travel and Leisure) but really, this hotel was heavenly. Besides thoroughly enjoying our accomodations, activities included textile shopping, climbing active volcano Pacaya (my parents are so cool), and strolling the cobblestone streets to pop in and out of art galleries, very old churches, and european style sidewalk cafes.

Dad braves the volcano

Finally, we made our way to Lake Atitlan, which has quickly become one of my favorite locations on Earth (of those few that I've seen so far), no kidding. Tzutijil Maya, an indigenous group that live largely in the Atitlan area call it the Mother Lake, the world's umbilicus, the center and life source of the earth.

The lake’s periphery is decorated by volcanoes and villages, each of the latter with its own characteristics, many with varying indigenous influences. We stayed at my favorite spot in the village of San Marcos de la Laguna. San Marcos is a beautiful underdeveloped haven right on the shore, littered with organic vegetable gardens, yoga/massage studios and even an authentic Buddhist temple for meditation. When it comes to pace of life it has a lethal (or heavenly, depending on what you’re looking for in a vacation) combination of hippie chillax with classic ‘Guatemalan time’ (ie. everything gets going at least an hour later than planned). Anecdote: we were headed for dinner one night to find that the restaurant we had picked out was closed. As we turned around to walk back in search of alternatives, an elderly Keqchikel Maya woman comes running toward us, “No, no se van! Ya estamos abierta, pase adelante!” (Don’t leave! We’re open, please, come in, welcome!) She wouldn’t take no for an answer even though the place was clearly shut down, proceeded to unlock the doors, turn on the lights, fire up the stove, and cook us a delicious meal while we sat waiting.

Markets in Guatemala are not few nor far between and beautiful handmade textiles-for-sale abound wherever you go. Yet, everyone (gringos and Guatemalans, market enthusiasts and critics alike) says Chichicastenango, Guatemala's most famous market, is truly unique and a must-see, so we fit it in during out time at the lake. It didn't disappoint--a bustling, chaotic, colorful vibrant maze of stalls, Chichi overflows with tapestries, fruits, vegetables, livestock, and flowers; hustlers hollering, infants crying, musical instruments playing; and the strong, distinct scent of market—anyone who’s spent time in Latin America knows what I’m talking about—it’s a mix of raw meat, herbs, tallow candles and corn tortillas on the griddle.

Super-colorful Chichi...

We then moved on to a new hotel in a village down the shore from San Marcos, a place called Casa del Mundo--also raved about, also whose praise is very well-founded. It's a hotel built right into the cliffs with clear views of various volcanoes and other villages on opposite sides of the lake. Swimming and hiking here turn from common activities to ethereal experiences, and the views from the rooms are spectacular. So ended a great trip--a much needed dose of home for me, and a welcome encounter with some little-known gems of central america for my parents.

Lake Atitlan from Casa del Mundo...

One last note: thanks mom and dad, what a wonderful two weeks--you guys are the best.