During my walks around the city of San Miguel Ixtahuacan, I am continually acosted by young boys who want to shine my shoes. The shoes are so covered with dust, and who knows what else, from trekking around San Miguel and Sipacapa that the boys cannot tell that they are not the type of shoes you polish. They are a metaphor for what the people of those municipalities have to put up with.
A couple of days before I left San Miguel, I finally had the chance to visit the Marlin mine. It takes up about 100,000 hectares, which have been completely deforested, and is scarred by a huge hole in the middle, which gets bigger by the day. While I was there, workers from the mine were cutting down more trees around the outside, preparing for further expansion into land abutting the current property. In the middle of the mine property is a huge lake filled with contaminated water (because they use water and cianide to process the ore).
Locals say that lake was never there before, and that they keep making it bigger. The mine says it can contain the water, but can that really be true? Can they really keep the lake from getting into the groundwater or rivers? One independent study has already been done that shows one of the local rivers is contaminated with runoff from the mine.
Worse, the mine uses some preposterous amount of water daily. I have read 250,000 gallons. A day. During the dry season, which is 6 months, that water is not being replenished. So in conversations with the locals, they told me that their underground springs are drying up. I saw only one of the dried up ones, but they say that 6 have dried up in one town alone. These springs are their water source for crops and animals. They also told me that trees are dying, and I had already noticed that. It is weird...just driving around the area you can see dried up trees.
The mine paid 4,000 quetzales (about $530) per cuerda (I have no idea what a cuerda is, but it is a small plot) of land. Even though the government and the mine already knew that there was gold and silver on the land, the people were never informed, so they sold their land for market price, but for far, far less than what it was really worth. They also say that the mine pressured them into selling..told them that they had already signed agreements with the government, and if the people did not sell, they would be forced off.
The bottom line is that if the water depletion continues, the people around the mine will be forced to dislocate, and where do you think they will go? I had a meeting on Friday with representatives from the diocesan peace and ecology commission and with the organization representing indigenous rights in the area, because they wanted to talk about whether permanent accompaniment would be feasible, because they have all been threatened with violence by members of the mine security force, and the Guatemalan military is in San Miguel, and the US military is in San Marcos.
Anyway, during the course of the meeting the guy from the diocese told me that in the San Marcos region they are also facing US-funded aerial crop spraying that is killing all the plants in its path, according to local campesinos who have lost their crops. The military says they are combatting the Mediterrean fruit fly. So they just fly overpeoples´ land and spray everything, without the knowledge and consent of the people living there. Just like Colombia. I am sure they suspect coca or marijuana, and are using the fly as an excuse.
It feels like the same story everywhere I go. And the US government is never the good guy, much as we wish and think we are. We are not the only evil party...the Guatemalan government comes off pretty bad, too, not to mention the World Bank and Canadian mining companies. But the US government is my government, and we are a democracy, and therefore I am responsible.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
"Development" and Mining in Guatemala
Hereis the story of the Marlin Mine.
Goldcorp, the Canadian company that owns it, spends about $207 per ounce of gold in production costs, meaning all the costs associated with this particular mine in Guatemala. The price of gold on the world market right now is $665 per ounce. They are producing over a million ounces a year. You do the math.
They call it a development project for the local community. However, they employ about 800 local people, and about 500 more from the outside. Local people receive as a salary on average 2,500 Quetzales per month,or about $300. This will not bring them out of poverty. Compare that wage to the profit the company is making. And the company is leaving a giant hole in the ground and an environmental disaster in its wake, once the mine ceases to be productive, in about 10 years.
The World Bank funded this project to the tune of $45 million, because it would bring "development" to Guatemala. Yet I have read several reports showing that the World Bank violated it own policies in funding this project, because it does not actually benefit the local community. Also, the World Bank´s own documents show that Goldcorp did not need the loan. They only wanted it to give the project more prestige, as a so-called development project. The United States is a major funderand major controller of the World Bank.
Here is some more interesting information. The area where I am, and where the mine is located, is economically poor, campesino, and indigenous. Most people have small plots of land which they farm in order to feed themselves, but they do not plant enough to sell on the open market. The reason for this is that it is more expensive to grow the crops than the money they receive for them. The reason market prices are so low is because United States agricultural policies subsidize US farmers so that they grow too much and flood the market. So the campesinos are living on their land, but not living on the crops.
How are they living? Almost everyone from Guatemala has a relative in the United States, and these relatives send back "remesas", or monthly payments to their families. This is what people here are living on. And their relatives in the US had to make the dangerous trip through the desert, only to arrive in the US as "illegals", taking whatever low-paying jobs that are available. But the Guatemalans are leaving in the first place because US policies essentially force them out. In other words, our agricultural policies favor our own farmers but cause poverty elsewhere, and so-called development projects enrich big companies that do not need the money while paying low salaries to local people. Then we penalize those who flee searching for a better life by making them illegal and forcing them into low-paying jobs.
Outraged yet?
The Guatemalan miltary and the private security forces from the mine maintain a strong presence in San Miguel in order to prevent civil unrest over this injustice. The US military also maintains a presence here, and most people think this is why. The dispute that people fear could turn violent is over who has control over the land: big companies with the backing of big government, or poor campesinos who have lived here for countless generations.
I have noticed that it is the same in every underdeveloped country: the land remains in the hands of a few rich people, and US policies favor that. An interesting side note is that the US helped to overthrow the democratically elected government of Guatemala in 1954 because the new government had promised--and was carrying out--land reform and redistribution. Calling it communism, the US helped arrange a military coup that lead to more than 30 years of civil war, fought over the issue of land.
My friends in Colombia will recognize this story as very similar to what has been going on there. The wars are over who has control over the land and its resources, with the backing of big money from the United States, because it seems to me that in the end, we are determined to control the resources of these countries in order to maintain our own very high standard of living. The people making the money from the Goldcorp mine are employees and investors in the United States and Canada. Colombia is one of the largest recipients of United States foreign military assistance.
Goldcorp, the Canadian company that owns it, spends about $207 per ounce of gold in production costs, meaning all the costs associated with this particular mine in Guatemala. The price of gold on the world market right now is $665 per ounce. They are producing over a million ounces a year. You do the math.
They call it a development project for the local community. However, they employ about 800 local people, and about 500 more from the outside. Local people receive as a salary on average 2,500 Quetzales per month,or about $300. This will not bring them out of poverty. Compare that wage to the profit the company is making. And the company is leaving a giant hole in the ground and an environmental disaster in its wake, once the mine ceases to be productive, in about 10 years.
The World Bank funded this project to the tune of $45 million, because it would bring "development" to Guatemala. Yet I have read several reports showing that the World Bank violated it own policies in funding this project, because it does not actually benefit the local community. Also, the World Bank´s own documents show that Goldcorp did not need the loan. They only wanted it to give the project more prestige, as a so-called development project. The United States is a major funderand major controller of the World Bank.
Here is some more interesting information. The area where I am, and where the mine is located, is economically poor, campesino, and indigenous. Most people have small plots of land which they farm in order to feed themselves, but they do not plant enough to sell on the open market. The reason for this is that it is more expensive to grow the crops than the money they receive for them. The reason market prices are so low is because United States agricultural policies subsidize US farmers so that they grow too much and flood the market. So the campesinos are living on their land, but not living on the crops.
How are they living? Almost everyone from Guatemala has a relative in the United States, and these relatives send back "remesas", or monthly payments to their families. This is what people here are living on. And their relatives in the US had to make the dangerous trip through the desert, only to arrive in the US as "illegals", taking whatever low-paying jobs that are available. But the Guatemalans are leaving in the first place because US policies essentially force them out. In other words, our agricultural policies favor our own farmers but cause poverty elsewhere, and so-called development projects enrich big companies that do not need the money while paying low salaries to local people. Then we penalize those who flee searching for a better life by making them illegal and forcing them into low-paying jobs.
Outraged yet?
The Guatemalan miltary and the private security forces from the mine maintain a strong presence in San Miguel in order to prevent civil unrest over this injustice. The US military also maintains a presence here, and most people think this is why. The dispute that people fear could turn violent is over who has control over the land: big companies with the backing of big government, or poor campesinos who have lived here for countless generations.
I have noticed that it is the same in every underdeveloped country: the land remains in the hands of a few rich people, and US policies favor that. An interesting side note is that the US helped to overthrow the democratically elected government of Guatemala in 1954 because the new government had promised--and was carrying out--land reform and redistribution. Calling it communism, the US helped arrange a military coup that lead to more than 30 years of civil war, fought over the issue of land.
My friends in Colombia will recognize this story as very similar to what has been going on there. The wars are over who has control over the land and its resources, with the backing of big money from the United States, because it seems to me that in the end, we are determined to control the resources of these countries in order to maintain our own very high standard of living. The people making the money from the Goldcorp mine are employees and investors in the United States and Canada. Colombia is one of the largest recipients of United States foreign military assistance.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Ministry and Power
I have come to think of all ministry as accompaniment; whether one accompanies someone who is dying, or accompanies someone in spiritual direction, or accompanies a community in their struggle for human rights and justice, it is all ministry. And those of us who are in the role of accompaniers have a lot of power, and we need to spend a good bit of time thinking about how we use it, or do not use it.
When I was in San Miguel Ixtahuacan, in Guatemala, I stayed with a Mam woman named Maudilia. Maudilia is a lay pastoral worker for the Catholic church there, working mostly around empowerment of women. It is hard to find an empowered woman here, in this machista society. Most women seem like not much more than slaves to their husbands and children. Anyway, I consider Maudilia to be a peer, and was really happy to be staying with her, for reasons I probably do not have to spell out. Just nice to have a woman to connect with.
On my first day in her house, which is a parish house, Maudilia asked me to pay for the gas to operate her stove, which I did. On the third day she asked me fora loan of 200 quetzales (truthfully, I am not sure how much that is in dollars--a little more than $25). I gave it to her, even though I was sure it was not really a loan, because I felt that I was in her house and did not have much choice, and because I did not know what else to do. Then I thought about it, and realized that I was going to have to talk to her, because the requests for money were likely not going to end. An important fact is that I was already paying her a nightly rate to stay in her house (which is only fair, although somewhat foreign to our North American culture).
So I talked with her, and although I think it went okay, she was upset afterward. I told her that I was there as a volunteer and that I also have limited funds. Truthfully, the whole thing made me feel like nothing more than a money tree, which is not the same thing as friendship. So neither of us was feeling very good. Plus, I was having a hard time in the town, lots of really ugly sexual harrassment, and at one point a group of three extremely drunk or drugged out teenagers harrassed me and asked for money. I thought they were going to rob me. And because the situation was tense with Maudilia, I was mostly going around by myself.
On Sunday I went to Mass, where Maudilia does practically everything except preside. (Perhaps some of you can relate to this?) It was awesome, bilingual in Mam and Spanish, great music. The pastor denounced the presence of the US military in San Marcos from the altar. He said what everyone here says: what are foreign troops doing on our soil? It would be like if Mexico dropped 1000 troops in Seward, Nebraska (the rural area where my grandparents live). There would be a massive public outcry, but here Guatemalans feel they have no power in the face of the massive economic power of the United States.
Anyway I did pray and reflect in Mass about what to do about my relationship with Maudilia. And a funny thing happened later in the day. I was fixing my bed, with the door in my room open to the back yard. I was fixing my bedding because there was a massive bug problem and I am literally covered with bites from God knows what (but that is another story). The back door was open, and I noticed that there were some sheep back there grazing, and I got worried that they were going to come into the house--and I really did not need any more critters in my room. So I went to close the door, and instead of just closing it, I stepped outside and pulled the door closed, thereby locking myself out.
Good move! Luckily, I knew that Maudilia was still at church, preparing for the last Mass of the day. So I went over there, sat through another Mass, and then told her what happened. She was enormously entertained, as was every member of her extended family, all of whom were present to hear the story. They made fun of me all the way to her sisters house (where the extra key was). At one point I said something about appreciating that they were saving me from my stupidity, and her brother-in-law looked at me and said: It is not stupid, it is normal. And ever since them my relationship with Maudilia, and her entire extended family, has been great.
So it made me think about what the barriers are to friendship in this multi-cultural situation, and I realized that the biggest barrier is power, in this case represented by their perception, true of course, that I have vastly more money than they. But what broke down the barrier was me doing something really human and "normal."
When I was in San Miguel Ixtahuacan, in Guatemala, I stayed with a Mam woman named Maudilia. Maudilia is a lay pastoral worker for the Catholic church there, working mostly around empowerment of women. It is hard to find an empowered woman here, in this machista society. Most women seem like not much more than slaves to their husbands and children. Anyway, I consider Maudilia to be a peer, and was really happy to be staying with her, for reasons I probably do not have to spell out. Just nice to have a woman to connect with.
On my first day in her house, which is a parish house, Maudilia asked me to pay for the gas to operate her stove, which I did. On the third day she asked me fora loan of 200 quetzales (truthfully, I am not sure how much that is in dollars--a little more than $25). I gave it to her, even though I was sure it was not really a loan, because I felt that I was in her house and did not have much choice, and because I did not know what else to do. Then I thought about it, and realized that I was going to have to talk to her, because the requests for money were likely not going to end. An important fact is that I was already paying her a nightly rate to stay in her house (which is only fair, although somewhat foreign to our North American culture).
So I talked with her, and although I think it went okay, she was upset afterward. I told her that I was there as a volunteer and that I also have limited funds. Truthfully, the whole thing made me feel like nothing more than a money tree, which is not the same thing as friendship. So neither of us was feeling very good. Plus, I was having a hard time in the town, lots of really ugly sexual harrassment, and at one point a group of three extremely drunk or drugged out teenagers harrassed me and asked for money. I thought they were going to rob me. And because the situation was tense with Maudilia, I was mostly going around by myself.
On Sunday I went to Mass, where Maudilia does practically everything except preside. (Perhaps some of you can relate to this?) It was awesome, bilingual in Mam and Spanish, great music. The pastor denounced the presence of the US military in San Marcos from the altar. He said what everyone here says: what are foreign troops doing on our soil? It would be like if Mexico dropped 1000 troops in Seward, Nebraska (the rural area where my grandparents live). There would be a massive public outcry, but here Guatemalans feel they have no power in the face of the massive economic power of the United States.
Anyway I did pray and reflect in Mass about what to do about my relationship with Maudilia. And a funny thing happened later in the day. I was fixing my bed, with the door in my room open to the back yard. I was fixing my bedding because there was a massive bug problem and I am literally covered with bites from God knows what (but that is another story). The back door was open, and I noticed that there were some sheep back there grazing, and I got worried that they were going to come into the house--and I really did not need any more critters in my room. So I went to close the door, and instead of just closing it, I stepped outside and pulled the door closed, thereby locking myself out.
Good move! Luckily, I knew that Maudilia was still at church, preparing for the last Mass of the day. So I went over there, sat through another Mass, and then told her what happened. She was enormously entertained, as was every member of her extended family, all of whom were present to hear the story. They made fun of me all the way to her sisters house (where the extra key was). At one point I said something about appreciating that they were saving me from my stupidity, and her brother-in-law looked at me and said: It is not stupid, it is normal. And ever since them my relationship with Maudilia, and her entire extended family, has been great.
So it made me think about what the barriers are to friendship in this multi-cultural situation, and I realized that the biggest barrier is power, in this case represented by their perception, true of course, that I have vastly more money than they. But what broke down the barrier was me doing something really human and "normal."
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Introduction to the Marlin Mine
I have now moved from Antigua to the village of San Miguel, located in the western highlands, with a population of a few hundred.
San Marcos is the regional center in the highlands. The region is sparsely populated, poor, and mostly indigenous. It is also full of mineral resources. When I got to San Marcos, one of the first things I noticed was 2 humvees of US soldiers driving around. I wondered to myself what US soldiers were doing here, when we are fighting 2 wars and supposedly have troop shortages, and as far as anyone knows, we are not at war with Guatemala.
I found out that there are around 1000 of them, and that they are here for "humanitarian reasons". No-one in San Marcos believes this, and it has served to dramatically increase the fear among the people who live here. People have all kinds of guesses about why they are here, none of them good. The Catholic Diocese of San Marcos sent an open letter to President Bush complaining about it, but I doubt anyone ever paid much attention.
From San Marcos I went to Sipicapa, where I spent 2 days. To get to San Marcos, I took a fairly decent bus from Guatemala City, the capital. But to get to Sipicapa, I had to take what folks in Antigua call "chicken buses", but up until this ride I had never seen any chickens on them! The chicken buses are old, beat up, and repainted yellow school buses that get driven down from the US when we are done with them. This ride was packed with people, chickens, and even a small herd of sheep roped to the top. Being the only gringa for hundreds of miles, the conductor let me ride in the front, where I shared a seat made for two, situated over a tire, with a pregnant woman, her toddler, and an old man on crutches. It was a good adventure.
I was dropped off at a crossroads, where the road turned off for Sipicapa, but the bus went another way. There I waited to get picked up. I was not too worried about being found, being the tall gringa in pink (stop laughing).
In Sipicapa I stayed in the parish house with 2 Italians. There are always Italians in every accompaniment...I think I mentioned that before. Anyway, the Italian in charge of parish pastoral work is a lay person, what we would call a lay pastoral coordinaor, or something like that. He has been in Guatemala 11 years,and at this parish for 7, appointed by the bishop. Through his Italian connections he has managed to build a school and formation center, and the school trains teachers to do bilingual education, in Spanish and Sipacapense. The Sipacapenses are a small indigenous community that only live in this one place. Roberto, the Italian in charge of the place, is also heavily involved in diocesan support of the resistance of the indigenous communities to the gold mine next door. The other Italian, Manuel, is teaching at the school.
There are 3 municipalities, what would be a county for us, within the region of San Marcos, that are affected by the mine and are involved in resisting it. They are Sipicapa, Concepcion, and San Miguel. As I mentioned earlier, I am in San Miguel. Sipicapa already has accompaniment, and I think there is no-one doing accompaniment in Concepcion. The diocese is doing awesome work supporting the communities here, putting out a lot of information, educating folks about the mine, etc. Like in Colombia, the Catholic Church is active and on the right side, at least in this diocese. For this they have been called "communists" in the press.
One of the main thing the diocese has been doing is organizing the community consultations that allow the indigenous communities to vote on whether they want the mine or not. So far they have done 14 in all the communities surrounding themine. Only one has voted for it. They still have not done one in San Miguel, whereI am, because San Miguel is the municipality most affected by the mine, and people have received threats and harassment, and so the people are afraid that if they did a consultation, there would be violence.
The mine established itself in San Miguel about 2 years ago, without doing any community consultation, which is contrary to Guatemalan law. So the consultations have taken place after it is already a fact. The reason that people do not want it is because it has caused enormous environmental destruction. It is an open pit gold mine, meaning a huge hole in the ground, that uses cianide as part of its processing. It has caused a huge dust problem, but aside from that, so far 57 houses have been cracked or damaged in some severe way, and people are reporting illness, animal deaths, and contaminated water.
Representatives from the mine came in and bought up property without the people knowing what was going on---ie that there was gold underneath. So they sold their property for a song compared to what it was really worth, and they feel deceived. And the final problem is that the company, based in Canada but with heavy US investment as well, only has to pay 1% taxes to the Guatemalan government, while making hundreds of millions in profits so far. So the people feel that their resources are being exploited in a way that benefits a foreign company, but not in a way that benefits them.
It has created some jobs, but not as many as promised, and not enough to outweigh the disadvantages, according to most people. Many of the best jobs go to foreigners, or to people from outside of the area. And according to the diocese, the mine bribes local officials and organizations to keep them from opposing it. So the indigenous feel they are alone in this, except for the diocese, but are planning on mounting as much of a resistance as they can. And they are very clear about it being non-violent.
There was a big protest in January over some big part being transferred to the mine, and the people blocked roads. The police opened fire, and 20 people were injured, one person killed, and 14 arrested. Soyou can see what they are dealing with.
This is what I have put myself in the middle of. I am helping them by putting together a complete report of what is going on in San Miguel. One exists for Sipicapa, which is more organized, thanks to the Italians, but not for San Miguel. And I am accompanying the indigenous organization that is providing leadership to the resistance in San Miguel. I have told them I can be here a month, and then I need to return to the US. But the reality is that there is enormous potential here for a much larger project, and I am going to have a hard time leaving. I am thinking about the possibilities.
San Marcos is the regional center in the highlands. The region is sparsely populated, poor, and mostly indigenous. It is also full of mineral resources. When I got to San Marcos, one of the first things I noticed was 2 humvees of US soldiers driving around. I wondered to myself what US soldiers were doing here, when we are fighting 2 wars and supposedly have troop shortages, and as far as anyone knows, we are not at war with Guatemala.
I found out that there are around 1000 of them, and that they are here for "humanitarian reasons". No-one in San Marcos believes this, and it has served to dramatically increase the fear among the people who live here. People have all kinds of guesses about why they are here, none of them good. The Catholic Diocese of San Marcos sent an open letter to President Bush complaining about it, but I doubt anyone ever paid much attention.
From San Marcos I went to Sipicapa, where I spent 2 days. To get to San Marcos, I took a fairly decent bus from Guatemala City, the capital. But to get to Sipicapa, I had to take what folks in Antigua call "chicken buses", but up until this ride I had never seen any chickens on them! The chicken buses are old, beat up, and repainted yellow school buses that get driven down from the US when we are done with them. This ride was packed with people, chickens, and even a small herd of sheep roped to the top. Being the only gringa for hundreds of miles, the conductor let me ride in the front, where I shared a seat made for two, situated over a tire, with a pregnant woman, her toddler, and an old man on crutches. It was a good adventure.
I was dropped off at a crossroads, where the road turned off for Sipicapa, but the bus went another way. There I waited to get picked up. I was not too worried about being found, being the tall gringa in pink (stop laughing).
In Sipicapa I stayed in the parish house with 2 Italians. There are always Italians in every accompaniment...I think I mentioned that before. Anyway, the Italian in charge of parish pastoral work is a lay person, what we would call a lay pastoral coordinaor, or something like that. He has been in Guatemala 11 years,and at this parish for 7, appointed by the bishop. Through his Italian connections he has managed to build a school and formation center, and the school trains teachers to do bilingual education, in Spanish and Sipacapense. The Sipacapenses are a small indigenous community that only live in this one place. Roberto, the Italian in charge of the place, is also heavily involved in diocesan support of the resistance of the indigenous communities to the gold mine next door. The other Italian, Manuel, is teaching at the school.
There are 3 municipalities, what would be a county for us, within the region of San Marcos, that are affected by the mine and are involved in resisting it. They are Sipicapa, Concepcion, and San Miguel. As I mentioned earlier, I am in San Miguel. Sipicapa already has accompaniment, and I think there is no-one doing accompaniment in Concepcion. The diocese is doing awesome work supporting the communities here, putting out a lot of information, educating folks about the mine, etc. Like in Colombia, the Catholic Church is active and on the right side, at least in this diocese. For this they have been called "communists" in the press.
One of the main thing the diocese has been doing is organizing the community consultations that allow the indigenous communities to vote on whether they want the mine or not. So far they have done 14 in all the communities surrounding themine. Only one has voted for it. They still have not done one in San Miguel, whereI am, because San Miguel is the municipality most affected by the mine, and people have received threats and harassment, and so the people are afraid that if they did a consultation, there would be violence.
The mine established itself in San Miguel about 2 years ago, without doing any community consultation, which is contrary to Guatemalan law. So the consultations have taken place after it is already a fact. The reason that people do not want it is because it has caused enormous environmental destruction. It is an open pit gold mine, meaning a huge hole in the ground, that uses cianide as part of its processing. It has caused a huge dust problem, but aside from that, so far 57 houses have been cracked or damaged in some severe way, and people are reporting illness, animal deaths, and contaminated water.
Representatives from the mine came in and bought up property without the people knowing what was going on---ie that there was gold underneath. So they sold their property for a song compared to what it was really worth, and they feel deceived. And the final problem is that the company, based in Canada but with heavy US investment as well, only has to pay 1% taxes to the Guatemalan government, while making hundreds of millions in profits so far. So the people feel that their resources are being exploited in a way that benefits a foreign company, but not in a way that benefits them.
It has created some jobs, but not as many as promised, and not enough to outweigh the disadvantages, according to most people. Many of the best jobs go to foreigners, or to people from outside of the area. And according to the diocese, the mine bribes local officials and organizations to keep them from opposing it. So the indigenous feel they are alone in this, except for the diocese, but are planning on mounting as much of a resistance as they can. And they are very clear about it being non-violent.
There was a big protest in January over some big part being transferred to the mine, and the people blocked roads. The police opened fire, and 20 people were injured, one person killed, and 14 arrested. Soyou can see what they are dealing with.
This is what I have put myself in the middle of. I am helping them by putting together a complete report of what is going on in San Miguel. One exists for Sipicapa, which is more organized, thanks to the Italians, but not for San Miguel. And I am accompanying the indigenous organization that is providing leadership to the resistance in San Miguel. I have told them I can be here a month, and then I need to return to the US. But the reality is that there is enormous potential here for a much larger project, and I am going to have a hard time leaving. I am thinking about the possibilities.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Grass Roots Democracy in Guatemala
A municipality (like a county in the US) located in the region of Ixcan put out a call for accompaniment and observers for what they called a community consulation. Ixcan lies on the border with Mexico and it's population is mostly indigenous. There are 75,000 total inhabitants, and 12 distinct languages are spoken, other than Spanish.
This region took a big hit during the Guatemalan civil war. Because it was a region where guerrilla were located, there were a total of 37 massacres in this municipalty alone, with more than 1300 extra-judicial executions and 500 documented cases of torture. According to eyewitness accounts, the massacres and tortures were of unarmed civilians, primarily.
As a result of the massacres, many of the people fled to safer areas, only to come back and find that the government had given their land away to other landless campesinos, claiming that the territories had been abandoned. The area is currently settled by a mix of the people who were there before the war, and those who came during or after.
Simiilar to Colombia, the issue for this regional consulatation is so-called megaprojects. One important difference is that Guatemala is in a post-war situation, with peace accords signed, whereas Colombia is still in the midst of its civil war. But some of the issues are similar. The people in Ixcan have gotten wind of planned petroleum exploration and exploitation, and of plans to build a huge hydrolectric dam in their municipality. According to their information, the government plans to sell the exploration and exploitation rights to foreign companies, asking only a small percentage of the returns, which will not go to the local community but instead will go to the central government. As in Colombia, land ownership appears to mean that you own what is on top of the land, but not what is below it.
With respect to the dam, it would mean the flooding of 18 villages, with the government giving all kinds of promises of recompense. However, past experience with another dam, called the Chixoy, showed them that the government does not follow through with its promises. In addition, they are convinced that the electric power will not help them, but will be sold to outside cities or even Mexico. In short, they want to control development of their own resources.
So this week the region decided to hold a community consultation, which amounted to a county-wide voting on the topic of the dam and petroleum rights. They asked for accompaniment because there had been some threats, and one person had already been killed. Also, they wanted to have objective information, from outsiders, about what happened during the voting. Most of the observers were Guatemalan. There were a handful of internationals, and I was one of them.
After the voting, each local mayor turned in his results to the county seat, and the county seat will turn in a report to the national government about what the people want. It is not clear yet whether this will help them get what they want, but at least there is some ground to stand on in their fight.
I left Antigua on Wednesday and arrived in Playa Grande, the seat of the munipality, or county, Thursday late afternoon. It was an arduous trip over really rough and dusty roads. This place is very isolated, making the people all the more vulnerable. Because they are right on the Mexican border, many folks crossed during the war, becoming refugees in Mexico. Migrants also cross here now on their way to the northern Mexico border with the United States. This border is not particularly tightly controlled, to say the least.
We went to a meeting on Thursday afternoon giving us instructions about our role, and then set out Friday morning to villages even more isolated than Playa Grande. The first community I was supposed to observe had decided to abstain from participating. Apparently local politics got in the way, and a former mayor was telling them that if they voted against the projects, they would not get electrification and other promised benefits to their village.
I ended up in another village where the people only spoke Kekchi, and the one person in the village who had decent Spanish had to translate into Spanish for me. But I observed the process. There were a total of 43 adults present. 35 voted against the megaprojects and 8 voted for them. The voting was done by a show of hands. It took place in the community hall, and was conducted by the local mayor. After the show of hands, voters had to sign their names and provide ID numbers on forms provided by the organizers of the consulation. The organizers are an umbrella group of indigenous human rights activists. But the right to hold this type of consultation is guaranteed to them by national law. After the voting was over, observers had to fill out a form and hand it in to the organizers.
Although the voting only took a couple of hours, getting to and from the communities took the better part of three days. I arrived back to a larger city last night (Coban) and will travel back to Antigua tomorrow. My plan is to do one more week of Spanish, and then I am working out a arrangement to go to the mining region of Guatemala, where the communities are organizing a resistance to multinational mining corporations exploiting their resources---in this case gold.
Similar to Colombia, the government is ready to sell the mining rights to multinational companies, reaping some benefits for the central government, but displacing and leaving the local population landless and unemployed. I will write more about this as it develops.
This region took a big hit during the Guatemalan civil war. Because it was a region where guerrilla were located, there were a total of 37 massacres in this municipalty alone, with more than 1300 extra-judicial executions and 500 documented cases of torture. According to eyewitness accounts, the massacres and tortures were of unarmed civilians, primarily.
As a result of the massacres, many of the people fled to safer areas, only to come back and find that the government had given their land away to other landless campesinos, claiming that the territories had been abandoned. The area is currently settled by a mix of the people who were there before the war, and those who came during or after.
Simiilar to Colombia, the issue for this regional consulatation is so-called megaprojects. One important difference is that Guatemala is in a post-war situation, with peace accords signed, whereas Colombia is still in the midst of its civil war. But some of the issues are similar. The people in Ixcan have gotten wind of planned petroleum exploration and exploitation, and of plans to build a huge hydrolectric dam in their municipality. According to their information, the government plans to sell the exploration and exploitation rights to foreign companies, asking only a small percentage of the returns, which will not go to the local community but instead will go to the central government. As in Colombia, land ownership appears to mean that you own what is on top of the land, but not what is below it.
With respect to the dam, it would mean the flooding of 18 villages, with the government giving all kinds of promises of recompense. However, past experience with another dam, called the Chixoy, showed them that the government does not follow through with its promises. In addition, they are convinced that the electric power will not help them, but will be sold to outside cities or even Mexico. In short, they want to control development of their own resources.
So this week the region decided to hold a community consultation, which amounted to a county-wide voting on the topic of the dam and petroleum rights. They asked for accompaniment because there had been some threats, and one person had already been killed. Also, they wanted to have objective information, from outsiders, about what happened during the voting. Most of the observers were Guatemalan. There were a handful of internationals, and I was one of them.
After the voting, each local mayor turned in his results to the county seat, and the county seat will turn in a report to the national government about what the people want. It is not clear yet whether this will help them get what they want, but at least there is some ground to stand on in their fight.
I left Antigua on Wednesday and arrived in Playa Grande, the seat of the munipality, or county, Thursday late afternoon. It was an arduous trip over really rough and dusty roads. This place is very isolated, making the people all the more vulnerable. Because they are right on the Mexican border, many folks crossed during the war, becoming refugees in Mexico. Migrants also cross here now on their way to the northern Mexico border with the United States. This border is not particularly tightly controlled, to say the least.
We went to a meeting on Thursday afternoon giving us instructions about our role, and then set out Friday morning to villages even more isolated than Playa Grande. The first community I was supposed to observe had decided to abstain from participating. Apparently local politics got in the way, and a former mayor was telling them that if they voted against the projects, they would not get electrification and other promised benefits to their village.
I ended up in another village where the people only spoke Kekchi, and the one person in the village who had decent Spanish had to translate into Spanish for me. But I observed the process. There were a total of 43 adults present. 35 voted against the megaprojects and 8 voted for them. The voting was done by a show of hands. It took place in the community hall, and was conducted by the local mayor. After the show of hands, voters had to sign their names and provide ID numbers on forms provided by the organizers of the consulation. The organizers are an umbrella group of indigenous human rights activists. But the right to hold this type of consultation is guaranteed to them by national law. After the voting was over, observers had to fill out a form and hand it in to the organizers.
Although the voting only took a couple of hours, getting to and from the communities took the better part of three days. I arrived back to a larger city last night (Coban) and will travel back to Antigua tomorrow. My plan is to do one more week of Spanish, and then I am working out a arrangement to go to the mining region of Guatemala, where the communities are organizing a resistance to multinational mining corporations exploiting their resources---in this case gold.
Similar to Colombia, the government is ready to sell the mining rights to multinational companies, reaping some benefits for the central government, but displacing and leaving the local population landless and unemployed. I will write more about this as it develops.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Abaondonment, Love and Forgiveness in the Desert
On September 29, 2004, masked Israeli settlers attacked and brutally beat me and a colleague while we were walking Palestinian children to school in the West Bank village of at-Tuwani. Using sticks, chains, and their boots, these Israeli extremists critically injured my knee, fractured my elbow, punctured my colleague´s lung, and inflicted cuts and bruises on our faces and hands. We were accompanying the children as members of a Christian Peacemaker Team violence reduction project in the Palestinian community.
I still feel a good deal of anger toward Israeli political culture that allows a gang of Israeli settler men to target Palestinian school children and their escorts with impunity, and toward my own government, which continues to look the other way in the face of massive human rights violations against Palestinians from Jewish settlements in the West Bank. But I also emerged from the experience with a much more profound trust in God, and a greater understanding of what it means to forgive. Getting beat up so badly in Palestine may have been the most profound spiritual event of my life.
In those moments right after the attack I was the most vulnerable I have ever been. I was bleeding, scared, and could not walk. My colleague made his way over to where I was lying on the ground, and we prayed for the attackers. It was his idea, and I am amazed that either of us was up for it emotionally. He could barely breathe and I could not stand up. But when I look back on it now, I think that our initial offering of prayer was crucial to the process of letting go and forgiving later. In a moment when we felt alone and abandoned, prayer focused us on the presence of God, who never abandons us.
I am certain now that God never abandons us; it is we who abandon God. In the Latin, “abandonment” is the root for "desert;" e.g., to desert someone. We act as though God does not exist, and instead believe that we can remain in control. We do not trust God. In Christian spirituality, the desert is a symbol for abandonment of self, of ego, of control, and of our inordinate attachments to things, or money, or success. In the desert, through prayer and penance, we turn ourselves over to the will of God, which by definition means service of others. I think of being in the desert as bringing the interior self, who is one with the will of God, to the surface, to become that person on the outside that we all are in our deepest interior selves. But instead of abandoning ourselves, trusting in the desert, we abandon God.
The attack left me with a much more profound trust in God. Perhaps it was because I went through what most would describe as their worst nightmare. I could have been killed. I think we often order our lives around the fear of something like that happening. We fear death, pain, suffering, loss of control, or something happening to our children. So instead of seeking what God calls us to do with our short time on this earth, we make decisions based on our fear of loss, clinging to our lives rather than abandoning them to God.
I have been liberated from much of my fear. I imagine that it does not take getting beat up to get to this place. I think that is what it took for me.
In the aftermath of the attack, I had to let go of the illusion of control over my life. I certainly was not in control at that moment. I know now that I cannot control whether I live or whether I die, that life is short, and that all I have that matters is my time. At the end of my life, whenever that is, I know all that will seem important is that I loved, I gave myself away, without counting the cost. And that is exactly what we were doing with the children that morning.
Someone told me shortly after the attack that I “had” to forgive the attackers. I think that this nudge, in combination with my Catholic faith and its emphasis on forgiveness, got me thinking about forgiveness really quickly. I think if I were not Catholic, meaning that if forgiveness was not deeply ingrained into who I am and what I accept as true, then I probably would have been angry instead of accepting the early advice to forgive. And I think that if we do not forgive, then the offense, whatever it is, takes us over and prevents us from moving forward with our lives. The offense, or the offender, is in control of us, instead of God. So I wanted to forgive.
I had no idea what forgiveness would look like in a situation like this. I felt I understood what it meant to forgive, or not to, in personal relationships, with people I know well, or in a work situation. But I had never experienced the need to forgive people whom I had never met and could not identify, and who had committed a crime against me. As a first step I decided to reflect on my feelings toward and about the attackers.
When I probed my deepest feelings, I realized that I did not feel anger toward the individuals directly. I wanted them caught and prosecuted, not out of a desire for revenge, but because I hoped that it would deter other Israeli settlers from equally violent actions. I tried hard, for as long as it seemed to make sense, to get the US Embassy to pressure Israeli authorities to continue to investigate the crime. In the end, I was told they had no leads, because we could not identify the attackers.
I think that the reason I have not felt anger or desire for revenge is that I have been able to understand the attackers as victims. Jews have been systematically murdered for centuries, and I see the violent actions of settlers on the West Bank happening as a result of their collective trauma. So I could, in a sense, empathize and identify with them.
When I experience forgiveness in personal relationships, I experience it as love. I do not feel love for the attackers. I feel compassion, though, and empathy, and I wonder if compassion and empathy are the same thing as love when it comes to a person one does not know. I want them and their government to accept the responsibility and consequences for what they did, and for what they continue to do in the West Bank, but I do not want them harmed or destroyed emotionally or physically.
I returned to at-Tuwani nearly 6 months after the attack, to continue the work of accompaniment. For me, it was important to return to at-Tuwani that first time, because I needed to know that the attack, and the attackers, had not taken control of my life. I was still me, still able to do the same work, still good at it. The night before I returned to at-Tuwani I had a dream in which I felt embraced by God. I knew then that everything was okay, that no matter what happened, God would never abandon me.
I still feel a good deal of anger toward Israeli political culture that allows a gang of Israeli settler men to target Palestinian school children and their escorts with impunity, and toward my own government, which continues to look the other way in the face of massive human rights violations against Palestinians from Jewish settlements in the West Bank. But I also emerged from the experience with a much more profound trust in God, and a greater understanding of what it means to forgive. Getting beat up so badly in Palestine may have been the most profound spiritual event of my life.
In those moments right after the attack I was the most vulnerable I have ever been. I was bleeding, scared, and could not walk. My colleague made his way over to where I was lying on the ground, and we prayed for the attackers. It was his idea, and I am amazed that either of us was up for it emotionally. He could barely breathe and I could not stand up. But when I look back on it now, I think that our initial offering of prayer was crucial to the process of letting go and forgiving later. In a moment when we felt alone and abandoned, prayer focused us on the presence of God, who never abandons us.
I am certain now that God never abandons us; it is we who abandon God. In the Latin, “abandonment” is the root for "desert;" e.g., to desert someone. We act as though God does not exist, and instead believe that we can remain in control. We do not trust God. In Christian spirituality, the desert is a symbol for abandonment of self, of ego, of control, and of our inordinate attachments to things, or money, or success. In the desert, through prayer and penance, we turn ourselves over to the will of God, which by definition means service of others. I think of being in the desert as bringing the interior self, who is one with the will of God, to the surface, to become that person on the outside that we all are in our deepest interior selves. But instead of abandoning ourselves, trusting in the desert, we abandon God.
The attack left me with a much more profound trust in God. Perhaps it was because I went through what most would describe as their worst nightmare. I could have been killed. I think we often order our lives around the fear of something like that happening. We fear death, pain, suffering, loss of control, or something happening to our children. So instead of seeking what God calls us to do with our short time on this earth, we make decisions based on our fear of loss, clinging to our lives rather than abandoning them to God.
I have been liberated from much of my fear. I imagine that it does not take getting beat up to get to this place. I think that is what it took for me.
In the aftermath of the attack, I had to let go of the illusion of control over my life. I certainly was not in control at that moment. I know now that I cannot control whether I live or whether I die, that life is short, and that all I have that matters is my time. At the end of my life, whenever that is, I know all that will seem important is that I loved, I gave myself away, without counting the cost. And that is exactly what we were doing with the children that morning.
Someone told me shortly after the attack that I “had” to forgive the attackers. I think that this nudge, in combination with my Catholic faith and its emphasis on forgiveness, got me thinking about forgiveness really quickly. I think if I were not Catholic, meaning that if forgiveness was not deeply ingrained into who I am and what I accept as true, then I probably would have been angry instead of accepting the early advice to forgive. And I think that if we do not forgive, then the offense, whatever it is, takes us over and prevents us from moving forward with our lives. The offense, or the offender, is in control of us, instead of God. So I wanted to forgive.
I had no idea what forgiveness would look like in a situation like this. I felt I understood what it meant to forgive, or not to, in personal relationships, with people I know well, or in a work situation. But I had never experienced the need to forgive people whom I had never met and could not identify, and who had committed a crime against me. As a first step I decided to reflect on my feelings toward and about the attackers.
When I probed my deepest feelings, I realized that I did not feel anger toward the individuals directly. I wanted them caught and prosecuted, not out of a desire for revenge, but because I hoped that it would deter other Israeli settlers from equally violent actions. I tried hard, for as long as it seemed to make sense, to get the US Embassy to pressure Israeli authorities to continue to investigate the crime. In the end, I was told they had no leads, because we could not identify the attackers.
I think that the reason I have not felt anger or desire for revenge is that I have been able to understand the attackers as victims. Jews have been systematically murdered for centuries, and I see the violent actions of settlers on the West Bank happening as a result of their collective trauma. So I could, in a sense, empathize and identify with them.
When I experience forgiveness in personal relationships, I experience it as love. I do not feel love for the attackers. I feel compassion, though, and empathy, and I wonder if compassion and empathy are the same thing as love when it comes to a person one does not know. I want them and their government to accept the responsibility and consequences for what they did, and for what they continue to do in the West Bank, but I do not want them harmed or destroyed emotionally or physically.
I returned to at-Tuwani nearly 6 months after the attack, to continue the work of accompaniment. For me, it was important to return to at-Tuwani that first time, because I needed to know that the attack, and the attackers, had not taken control of my life. I was still me, still able to do the same work, still good at it. The night before I returned to at-Tuwani I had a dream in which I felt embraced by God. I knew then that everything was okay, that no matter what happened, God would never abandon me.
Monday, January 1, 2007
On Dying
I am back in Omaha now, to be with my family for the holidays and with my grandmother during what are probably her last days on earth. I experience this time with her as graced time, and it is a blessing to be able to be here. It is the same way I felt two years ago, when I was able to be with my grandfather as he was dying. My grandmother and I have had some great conversations about the meaning of life and death which are a comfort to both of us.
The dying give us a great gift which we may not be aware of, and that they also are not aware of. They invite us to be better than we are, to face our fears ofour own mortality, to set aside whatever "issues" we may have with them, and be present to them during the most vulnerable part of their lives.
In this context, I have been reflecting anew on the Mary-Martha story in Luke 10:38-42. I remember past scripture reflection groups, where people got upset about this passage, because Martha seems to be the one performing the most useful tasks, while Jesus claims that Mary has taken the better path. This scripture has been problematic for me for a different reason: because I identify most with Mary, who sits in the living room while her sister does all the dishes. Even though Jesus claims that Mary has chosen the better way, what is a Mary supposed to do with her life that is useful? And you cannot spend too much time sitting in the living room while someone else does all the work without getting people mad at you. Anyway, it seems that Mary's is a ministry of presence, which is how I experience being with my grandmother, and is also how I experience accompaniment work. In the end, ministry is fundamentally about presence. Yes, we have to get the dishes done, but Jesus understood that Mary had chosen the true path of ministry.
The dying give us a great gift which we may not be aware of, and that they also are not aware of. They invite us to be better than we are, to face our fears ofour own mortality, to set aside whatever "issues" we may have with them, and be present to them during the most vulnerable part of their lives.
In this context, I have been reflecting anew on the Mary-Martha story in Luke 10:38-42. I remember past scripture reflection groups, where people got upset about this passage, because Martha seems to be the one performing the most useful tasks, while Jesus claims that Mary has taken the better path. This scripture has been problematic for me for a different reason: because I identify most with Mary, who sits in the living room while her sister does all the dishes. Even though Jesus claims that Mary has chosen the better way, what is a Mary supposed to do with her life that is useful? And you cannot spend too much time sitting in the living room while someone else does all the work without getting people mad at you. Anyway, it seems that Mary's is a ministry of presence, which is how I experience being with my grandmother, and is also how I experience accompaniment work. In the end, ministry is fundamentally about presence. Yes, we have to get the dishes done, but Jesus understood that Mary had chosen the true path of ministry.
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