Guatemala is home to a countless number of widows. The year 1996 saw an end to a 36 year civil war which left thousands dead and missing. The survivors were left scarred, terrified, and alone. Guatemala’s wealth is very poorly distributed, a serious problem worldwide. There are ridiculously rich people living entirely separate from everyone else. There are ridiculously large numbers of indigenous peoples living in dire poverty. During the coup of 1954 the existing Guatemalan government was overthrown and the new government quickly began to rip to shreds the first signs of hope and the first taste of freedom and human rights that the impoverished people of Guatemala had ever known. The labor unions were outlawed. The land acts were disregarded. People who had thought they may soon own their own land no longer having to be in servitude to the wealthy plantation owners, people who thought they may soon be earning fare wages for the grueling unending work they endured in the coffee and banana fields were outraged. A guerrilla army formed; infuriated by the government’s total disrespect for human life the longest civil war in Latin America’s history began. Horrendous torture, brutality, terrorism, and murderous acts were committed against, mostly the indigenous peoples in the mountains. The government could not catch or stop the guerrillas despite the vast amounts of military aid and training from other countries such as the USA. Their only hope, in their eyes was to stop those aiding the ceaseless guerrilla army. And so raids into the mountains were conducted. Houses were demolished. Food was destroyed. Worst of all innocent people having no involvement whatsoever were taken, tortured and killed. After all, who’s going to aid a guerrilla even if he or she is on their side if the bigger badder guys can just come in and kill their husbands, brothers, fathers, and sons whenever they like because they’re helping the enemy. (The Office for Human (ODHAG) rights attributes almost 90% of the human rights atrocities during the war to the Guatemalan army and less than 5% to the guerrillas)
Ron’s ministry takes groups like ours from the states and builds a home for a widow in one day. It’s a relatively easy way to let them know that someone cares, that God loves them, and despite any horror they may have experienced there is good in the world. For our part our group was split in two; we built two houses in one day. Ron said one of the homes would take quite a hike so he asked for people who wouldn’t mind the climb. I was thrilled at the idea of walking through the wild Guatemalan mountains. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the photographs I might capture.
The truck seemed to drive up endlessly, turn after turn, the dust was even more relentless than the day before but it was exhilarating riding in the open air in the truck bed. No restraints. No cushions. The metal of the truck bed bruised my tail bone. I tried every position imaginable to find comfort. No matter how I sat the bumping, jerking, and tilting gave no relief. The ferocity of it was so un-American, it was freeing. I had to shield my eyes from the clouds of dust but I peered out from behind my arm to the world, the vast, foreign world around us. I tried to take in every sight, every tiny home we passed, every tired person walking slowly alongside the road, every scrawny dog that ran wild in the distance.
The truck eventually pulled off the road onto a two track that ran into a field. It slowed to a stop at the edge of a forest. There were children running through the field but there weren’t any homes in sight. We unloaded, each claimed the items they’d carry, and we followed our guides. I grabbed two drill cases, one in each hand. Others from the team carried buckets of tools or ladders. Our guides, the helpers from Ron’s team were super human. One of them carried an entire sterelite tub upon his back, filled with hammers, nails, measuring tapes and other various odds and ends. Crouched over he held the tub with one hand and carried other items at his side with the other. (it wasn’t until later when I tried to lift the tub and couldn’t even get it to budge, that my respect and awe for that guy (Cristhian) escalated). He walked up the tiny trail on the mountain side with ease. The wild Guatemalan mountain wilderness I’d eagerly volunteered to tackle presented a rather disappointing realization. As we ventured into the woods up a steep mountainside I felt I was back home in a forest on one of our Michigan sand dunes. Same trees, same climb, same excruciating exhaustion, except that I was having to carry house building supplies in very thin mountain air. My lungs were quite certain they’d met their end right there. I was feeling stupid for having volunteered for that. The trees broke in the nick of time, gasping for breath, almost crawling up the hillside; we’d reached the top of the mountain. The bright blue sky speckled with fluffy white clouds opened up above. The breeze was magnificent. I dropped the drill cases and collapsed. (Of course our guides/ helpers/ translators looked rather like they’d just taken a stroll through a park as they set down their immensely heavy loads).
I lay in the dirt next to the cement slab we’d be constructing a home upon. It was very small. Four sturdy posts stood erect at each corner of the concrete. I had imagined it would be bigger. Ron had said that the people considered these homes to be like the Tajmahal.
Up the hill a short distance from where I lay there were two small buildings and a mud igloo like structure. A few people scurried in and out of one of the buildings. Ron had said that showing love and being friendly to the family was just as important as the actual building of the home. There was so much fear of mission work amongst the people. They were skeptical and didn’t understand why these rich white folks were offering them things… water, candy, food, shelter. Ron was there bringing in teams of people all year long from different churches all over the states in order to establish a ministry of love, of serving, of Christ. He wanted to bring them clean water and stop the water borne illnesses. He was trying to provide them with healthy warm food to combat the daily hunger and malnutrition, especially in the children. He wanted to show love to the widows and let them know that there is a God who cares deeply for them. He said that we were there to build the houses, to show them love, and that we would present each home as a free gift from Jesus Christ, absolutely no strings attached. With a mission of love set in their minds of few ladies from our team headed straight up the hill towards those two buildings to face the unknown. I figured with them leading the way I could surely join in the venture and headed up right behind them.
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