News 18 -- Nov. 25, 1997

“On getting close to where the vehicles were parked, a man with a stocking cap pulled down over his face and a pistol pointing at us through the car window ordered us from the car.”

[In some of his letters Larry used the word womyn as his way of expressing the equality of women and men.
campo = farm field or farm region. Campesino(a) = peasant farmer]

Guatemala,
Nov. 25, 1997

BELATED CHRISTMAS GREETINGS AND A BLESSED NEW YEAR

Dear Friends,

It is November 25th and I know that if I don't begin this letter now, I will not send out any form of "sharing" with you this year.

I sit on our second floor veranda overlooking the huge banana tree leaves swaying in the wind and brilliant pine needle branches stretch toward the open sky. Everything is a florescent green as we endure the heavy rains that begin in June and will be with us till the end of December. It all sounds so heavenly.

Almost a year now since the signing of the Peace Accords and the ending of the 36 years of civil war here in Guatemala.

When in El Salvador at the end of the war, I remember the stream of violence that flowed across the country. Weapons of the highest caliber remained in the possession of those who engaged in the war. Since there was no ready-made formula for instant peace and jobs and land and security were still a matter of promises written in bold print within the Peace Accords, ex-combatants put to use their skills of war and violence in the form of highway and bank robberies, kidnapping and other atrocities, setting in motion a fear that permeated all that existed.

Peace, as it is said, is much harder to come by than violence and war, since the latter has seemed to be the rule-of-thumb. Thus, the same pattern of violence is being experienced here in Guatemala with the ending of the war, as was seen in El Salvador.

The first week of November, Gerry Kaputzka, OMI and I were returning from a diocesan meeting in Chichicastenango--about 40 minutes outside the city limits of Coban, Alta Verapaz, when we saw in the distance cars, pick-ups and two or three large trucks stopped in the middle of the dirt road. On getting close to where the vehicles were parked, a man with a stocking cap pulled down over his face and a pistol pointing at us through the car window ordered us from the car.

We obliged him and were led to a group of about forty men, womyn and children lying on the ground with their hands behind their heads. We handed over the money we had in our pockets and took our place on the ground with the others. Two or three of the armed men proceeded to ransack the many boxes of supplies we were carrying in the back of our Toyota.

One of the assailants, on reading our documents and discovering we were priests of the parish in Playa Grande, began his spontaneous homily to us: "You, as pastors of your flock, have as your first responsibility to petition the President and Congress of this country to supply jobs to the poor, and land enough to grow our crops and all the rights denied to the campesino and Indigenous over these many war-torn years."

I'm sure Gerry and I were both thinking: "and here you are in the middle of nowhere robbing blind your poor sisters and brothers."

Soon a truck filled with soldiers in civilian clothing heading to Coban on a short 3-day furlough pulled up. One of the soldiers carried a pistol and fired a shot at one of the assailants, putting all present in extreme danger. The hooded men had warned us that no one would be harmed or womyn violated if all followed orders. They displayed two grenades as they gave out their orders.

But with the soldiers firing the first shot, all hell broke out. A grenade was tossed in the direction of the soldiers. The explosion shook the vehicles around us and wounded at least nine persons. One death was reported in the news the following day. The assailants took cover in the high growth and wooded area nearby and disappeared. We recuperated our wits and belongings strewn along the roadside and continued our long journey home.

We were informed this week that a similar assault took place in another part of Guatemala where 20 womyn were raped. (The beautiful culture of war and violence)...

Organized groups of crime are rising up in every part of the country. Our parish church has been robbed of its donation boxes, statues and other items.

Last week, from our small bamboo chapel behind our house, someone walked away with the tabernacle containing a wooden chalice and consecrated hosts, not to mention the Latin American Bible sitting close by.

Two Sundays ago, while I was celebrating Mass in the church up the road from our house, someone snipped the wire screening on the door, reached their hand through the opening and entered. If it weren't for Sister Moira, an Irish Franciscan, who came on the scene, our "friends" would have walked away with everything. As it was, more than a thousand dollars from our parish funds, our check books, Gerry's passport and driver's license were stolen.

To add to our dismay, the very next day about 6:30 p.m., when we were visiting nearby communities, our sacristan, on making his rounds saw a man inside our house trying to lift our photo-copy machine from the desk. Fortunately, we had secured it with screws.

Adrian ran for help and four men fled from the second floor leaving a string of things behind them; an electric coffee pot, iron and transformer. Two days later, we discovered most of our towels, sheets and pillow cases had also been taken.

Since I write this infrequent newsletter usually on the run, I am now at our annual diocesan retreat for some 80 sisters, priests and laity. Jon Sobrino, S.J. of the Jesuit University in El Salvador, is reflecting with us each day on the theme: "Jesus, Yesterday, Today, and Always.” Our task is to discover and identify with the person Jesus within the context and reality of Guatemala today. "Is there hope within our people despite the impending darkness?" And we conclude that "it is the very Hope existing in our people that gives us the strong desire to accompany them in their daily struggle."

Our diocese of El Quiche is often referred to as a diocese of martyrs, and for good reason. Massacres of entire villages including men, womyn and children have taken place, while laity, Sisters and priests have been brutally murdered in every corner of our diocese.

Yet, our Bishop Julio Cabrera Valle reminds us that we living and working in the diocese today are reaping the harvest sown with the blood of our sisters and brothers, and we must continue the work where they left off.

I give thanks for the camaraderie I've known among our people as well as with fellow priests and sisters with whom I am on retreat this week. Guatemalans, Mexicans, Spaniards, Hollanders, Americans, etc...

What we from other countries give thanks for most are the times when we have sat at table with our people in the villages high in the mountains as rain pours down on the thatched roof overhead. It is here that we have heard their histories--the pain and the hope that lies deep within our sisters and brothers.

Miquel and Galina have seven children ages one to eighteen. The family lives in a small champita (house) with dirt floor, chickens, cats, and dogs running about the house freely. They are fortunate to have a few orange, lemon, and banana trees on their small plot of land. A few months ago, Galina had to be operated on for complications setting in after giving birth to her last child.

While visiting his wife in the hospital, Miquel fell sick with severe pains in his lower back. He too had to be interned in the hospital. Galina came home soon after her operation but Miquel remained only to discover he had a large tumor in his lower back, but was not informed if it was malignant or not.

Miquel returned home exhausted. Pills only aggravated the situation.

When I visited Miquel and Galina in their home, they along with their tiny baby boy all looked like death warmed over! Lenora, a grandmother, a catechist, a medicine womyn of the Geq'chi community accompanied me. She took one look around the room at the chickens on the table etc., and ordered the oldest daughter to get things cleaned up. Then she turned to Miquel and asked: "Miquel, do you want to live?" and Miquel replied, "Yes, I want to live." "Because if you want to live,” said Lenora, "You will be cured and live." Miquel had lost 60 pounds over the last 3 months and could not, on his own, sit up in bed.

Then with Maria, the oldest daughter, Lenora went to the small kitchen set apart from the house, put water on the wood fire and began to prepare a treatment of olive oil which she would use to massage Miquel from head to toe. While doing so she explained the importance of wanting to live and with his faith in God and faith in the plants and herbs and clay as natural medicines, he would be cured. The very manner in which Lenora proceeded restored a certain energy and hope in Miquel and his family. Before we left, we gathered to pray and to ask God's blessing and healing on the family. It was a sad sight to see the condition of Miquel, Galina, the baby and other children in poverty and despair with so little going for them.

Miquel and Galina were in fact, penniless. They had spent all they had on the trip to Coban and their hospitalization there.

In the Sunday Mass, we told our people of Miquel and Galina and their family's need. Rice, beans and corn came in along with enough money to buy a few basic necessities.

A week or so passed and Lenora and I and two other catechists paid another visit to Miquel and Galina.

Galina had grown a little stronger. Miquel admitted to feeling better and in fact had gone to a Naturalist who prescribed some teas and natural vitamins. However, the baby appeared to be close to death and hardly able to breathe. It was then decided that Miquel and the baby would go to our parish clinic to be interned under the care of the Sisters of Charity.

In a few days, the baby showed great improvement, was eating more each day and would be released before the week was up. Miquel stayed on for over two weeks. Many friends came daily to visit and pray with him and his spirits were good. However, the tumor persisted, even though a young medic had made an incision in hopes that puss would flow from the wound, but to no avail.

The doctor advised that Miquel return to the hospital to undergo surgery, but Miquel, like most Indigenous felt strongly the absence of family and chose to return home. There, he again consulted with the naturalist and Lenora and entered seriously into the treatment with a plasma of clay. Each night he applied the plasma. On the third night liquid began to drain from the inflamed area and the severe pain subsided somewhat. Lenora explained that this was exactly what was hoped would happen.

With this encouragement, Miquel continued with the treatment, and each night more of the ugly matter poured out. Miquel was also drinking a steady diet of herbal tea and he began to eat some solids for the first time in four or five months. After almost seven months of this stressful situation Miquel began to walk short distances each day, eating small portions of rice and beans and tortillas. On the following visits, a certain sparkle returned to both the eyes of Miquel and Galina. It seemed evident that the family felt that the crisis was over and recuperation was in sight. Gracias a Dios, when I visited Miquel's community in Efrata, his entire family was seated in the front pew to assist the Eucharist. Though his voice was not as strong and vibrant as before, his eyes were alight in thanks as he proudly proclaimed the good news of the gospel to his community.

Gerardo and I will both complete 63 years of age in 1998. Generally speaking it's not the age in which most have one foot in the grave.

Yet, Gerry has spent the last 25 years before coming to Guatemala under the hot desert sun on the coast of Mexico. Upon coming to Guatemala 8 years ago, he began to climb the high mountainsides until one day after a fall or two, his back gave out. Two operations later and 2 years recuperating, he is back at it again here in Playa Grande at a pace most younger folks find hard to maintain.

As for myself, I don't heal as quickly or as wholly as I did 10 or 15 years ago. Bronchitis sets in with the changes in temperature and have landed me in the hospital a few times with the need to slow down the pace also. So be it!!

However, I end this newsletter in a spirit of hope. Life has its way of mending and teaching. So let's step a little slower and breathe a bit deeper as we trek along together in the New Year of 1998.

My Prayers and thoughts always,

Lorenzo



(Received and prepared for mailing the 2nd week of March 1998
--mlp)