ACCOMPANIMENT

At the height of the 36-year armed conflict in Guatemala, the period of 1981 to 1983 saw the worst of the violence under the two military dictatorships of General Lucas Garcia and afterwards General Rios Montt. These two administrations devised and brought to fruition the scorched earth campaign, a military offensive targeting not individual guerillas but what these governments viewed as breeding grounds for the movement: rural indigenous communities living in extreme poverty. As a result some 600 villages experienced a massacre, half a million people lost their lives or went missing and many more fled their communities only to suffer further in the isolated mountains while seeking refuge. Now, as Guatemala transitions to civilian rule, members of civil society led by CALDH are pursuing charges of genocide and crimes against humanity against the high command of the two administrations named above. The 22 indigenous Maya communities who have come forward to bring up these charges run great risks and have thus asked the international community for human rights accompaniers; monitors who live among them as a means of safety and security against whatever violence may be brought against them to prevent these cases from bringing justice to this war-torn land.

Let's read some reflections from  UUCAN's genocide case accompanier...Renee Wolters:

After two months in the mostly Mayan communities in the Ixcán in northern Guatemala, I’d like to provide you with some context and a bit about my life and experiences here. The ongoing consequences of history that we as Americans were and are instrumental in carving are ever present.  I live in two quite peaceful jungle villages that have rebuilt after the violence of a 36-year civil war (funded by the U.S.—us).  For a courageous people who walked from their homes in the highlands for a week or more through the mountains and jungle to start a new life (in the early 70´s), to a piece of land to call their own, they succeeded here in the middle of the jungle. The settlers chose to organize and work cooperatively, growing their own subsistence crops and marketing cash crops such as coffee and cardamom.  For the first time in their lives, the residents in these communities were able to support themselves without working in a type of slave bondage to a plantation owner.  

In the late 70´s activists (catechists, health workers, anyone suspected of aiding the guerrillas or being one) were targeted by the military, ie: disappeared, tortured, killed.  This was followed in the 80´s by systematic massacres and the destruction of hundreds of villages.  The war and the massacres changed these successes and peoples´ lives, as people mourned their dead, fled into the jungle to live in CPRs (Communities of Population in Resistance) or escape the violence to live in Mexico.  In the last two months I’ve met Juan and his family who bravely evaded the military, continually moving from one location to another, living for years in the jungle “in resistance”, barely surviving on roots and jungle plants.  Others, such as Maria and José spent years as refugees in Mexico, struggled to retain their culture, while learning to speak Spanish.  They were politicized by United Nations and international NGO (non-governmental organizations) to know and defend their human rights.  Eugenia and others were caught by the military, tortured, and forced to live in a village under strict military control and “reeducation” (indoctrination). They willingly tell us their stories. (All names are fictionalized.)

Coming back together after twelve years of very divergent experiences, these courageous and determined individuals and families rebuilt their communities, reclaimed their land and literally started over.  The military was still patrolling, land mines were still injuring and killing people and the land needed to be cleared again to plant maize and other crops.  Today fourteen years after returning to the villages, there is an acceptance of the way of life, some resignation, but also a great appreciation for what they have.  By U.S. standards, this way of life—daily hauling of drinking water, hauling and chopping of wood, working the land with hand tools, living in simple houses (some with dirt floors), using solar electricity or candles for lighting—would be considered quite “primitive”.  I’ve been very fortunate to be present for the commemoration of the massacre in one village (my first day in the community!), where students reenacted the massacre, including the burning of houses and portrayal of soldiers raping women.  This community, not only commemorates the unimaginable suffering of the massacre and the years in exile, but also celebrates the return to the community after twelve years in hiding or as refugees.  The other community, composed of returned refugees and those who stayed behind in the “model village”, recently celebrated 38 years of existence since the trek from their mountain villages in the 70´s.  I was fortunate to be present for both of these celebrations.  

The people are quite happy that their life today is peaceful and calm; however there are signs that not all is paradise here.  There is a notable absence of young men in the communities due to a high rate of migration to “El Norte”.  Leaving out of economic necessity, they subsidize the subsistence economy by sending remittances back to their families.  I often see women on mountain tops (where there is a signal), talking on cell phones to their spouses or children who are away working—they live in long distance relationships, often for years.  Not seeing John for weeks at a time pales in comparison. Women are left behind to raise children and assume the responsibility of the household. They express concern for their loved ones who live in fear of immigration officials, work in low-paying jobs (gardening, harvesting crops, manual labor, meat packing, etc.), and daily experience discrimination. Migrants who return to the community express an appreciation for the life they live here.  I can understand their appreciation—here there is virtually no traffic and very little crime, abundance of locally grown food, and a community full of supportive family and friends. They say they wouldn’t ever leave their homes if it weren’t for economic necessity, and ask of us as U.S. citizens to work to pass just immigration laws, something I feel we can and must do to favorably impact the injustices immigrants live with every day.

There are other problems here too.  The government, with funding from international financial institutions such as the World Bank, is planning the Xalalá hydroelectric dam in the area that would adversely affect residents in a large area, submerging some villages. Whether the local population living without electricity would benefit from the dam is questionable.  I am told that corporate (Lockheed Martin) and U.S. government entities (Sandia National Laboratories) are making inroads into the Ixcán in an effort to control sources of alternative energy.  Exploitation of gas and oil threaten the water supply and the very existence of these campesinos.  In other areas of the country, transnational mining companies, such as Goldcorp, extract metals and reap the profits while the locals live with the ensuing environmental degradation.

As far as being a human rights accompanier in the communities here, I have never met people more friendly or kind.  We eat in their homes every day, usually simply prepared and delicious food served with the best tortillas I’ve ever eaten.  They provide us with living quarters and express their gratitude to us for our presence, for the “protection” we offer them. A Guatemalan judge has recently started to hear testimony from a number of witnesses in the genocide case that originated in Spain, and this week the Constitutional Court has determined that military records from the 80’s (that include massacre plans) are no longer considered a security threat and can be opened for use in the cases.  Progress made after years of struggle is being made. Providing accompaniment so that those who struggle for justice and defend human rights have a space in which to advance their struggle is necessary.  We wouldn’t be able to do this if it weren’t for the ongoing support of our sponsoring communities, and friends and family, who have and continue to offer moral and financial support. Thank you all for being part of this network of caring individuals!

Saludos,

Renee