Daniel As I begin to face the fact that I will be leaving Guatemala in May, I ask myself the question what has been changed by my time here? Students at the pre-school and Salud y Paz staff members have surely been impacted by my being here, right? The tasks that I have carried out for the school have made some impact on the program I am sure. Relationships built with people around me will leave behind something, right? But what about I will be different? What changes will I make in my lifestyle and the way that I look at the world? How will I continue to strive to love others more than myself? Answering these questions will be a continuous challenge for me, but right now I have one idea of something that needs to be done. I need to tell the stories of people I have been lucky enough to meet along the way. Brave, courageous people who are struggling to survive in a world where the cards are stacked against them. Their stories deserve to be heard, even though their voices are far away and removed from the reality that we in “developed” countries know and believe in; maybe even more so because of that. Their stories need to be told, and then it is up to each listener to decide if they will allow themselves to be affected and changed by it. I can only tell a small part of their stories because I have known them and their country for such a small fraction of time, and cannot presume to understand anything, but will only attempt to tell a small bit of their story objectively.
One day after school a young mother came to pick up her son, and asked to speak with “la directora”. She wore traje, no shoes, and was lacking several teeth. Janet and I both went together to talk with her, and quickly discovered that she could speak very little Spanish. So she waited patiently as I ran to get Paulina, a teacher, to translate from K’iche to Spanish so that we would be able to communicate. Paulina discovered that this young mother did not actually speak K’iche, but another Mayan language called Kaqchikel. The two languages are similar enough though, that she and Paulina were able to understand each other. Shyly the mother greeted us formally and made some small talk, eventually she arrived at her question and asked us if we had any job openings within Project Salud y Paz. She had no work, and hadn’t for a very long time. Unfortunately, there were none, especially for someone who did not have a trade, so we regretfully told her “no” we couldn’t offer any jobs at this time. She said “utz” which means ok, and quietly left with her 6 year old son, Daniel. As we watched her walk away with Daniel, I remembered when an older man had come in to sign up 4 children for school last October. He is Daniel and the other 3 children’s grandfather. He had learned about our school, and wanted his grandchildren to have the chance to attend. He said plainly, about Daniel and his mother, they have nothing. His father has never been involved, and his mother has no job and a mental handicap. Her older child has never been to school, and now the schools don’t want to accept her since she will be older than other first graders. The grandfather asked, is there anything you can do for the older child? We said probably not, but we’ll ask around and see what we can find out. We enrolled the 4 younger children, waiving inscription fees for 2 of them. I remembered all of these things that he had told us, and wished there was a way for her to have a job at Salud y Paz. Later in that same week, after school one day, I was entering information from each child’s application into a spread sheet. I opened Daniel’s file and automatically entered his information into the computer without really thinking. Then I came across a number that jerked me into consciousness, his mother’s birth date: 23rd of July 1987. She is almost exactly 1 year older than I am. She already has 3 children. There is no man helping her to support them, and she is bringing in no outside money. Their home has no running water, no electricity, and no latrine. Certainly, she is not the only single mother living in such utter poverty, but our parallel ages made me feel for her situation more emotionally than I normally might have. Since we almost share a birthdate, it is easy to imagine living her life and her living mine…
