And never, never to forget

Between January 16 and 22, I returned to Guatemala, land of chicken buses, Quetzales, Crush soda and Gallo beer. More important than these trivial details, though, I consider my current next-door neighbor the birthplace of my love for Latin America. When I was ten, my parents and I took our annual summer vacation to Quetzaltenango (Xela), Guatemala.  For two weeks, we lived with a host family and studied Spanish. While my Spanish skills may not have developed significantly during these two weeks (I failed to grasp the significance of the verb conjugation cards my teachers made me, though I fell in love with the black tea served at breaks and the many games I played during hours of classes), something about the culture and people of Guatemala and Latin America spoke to me and has been growing inside me for the last 13 years. For me, living in Mexico is living the dream, as was having the opportunity to return to Guatemala, to a place that in one way or another was the catalyst for this part of my life journey.

What took me to Guatemala for a week, you ask? The MCC Mesoamerica retreat in Santiago Atitlàn.  For several days, around 60 MCCers serving in Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua and Honduras gathered for a time of fellowship, spiritual renewal and discussions on the theme "development work in violent contexts." Though at times overwhelming to be with so many new people, I was inspired by those of all ages serving with MCC in Mesoamerica. I thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to visit the home and workplace of my fellow SALTer Aaron and the chance to be reminded that my work here and that of the other seven MCCers in Mexico is part of something bigger.  It was also wonderful to soak up the sun on the beautiful Lake Atitlan by boat, foot and kayak, all the while in the shadow of three impressive volcanoes.

The theme for our week, development work in violent contexts, spoke to me in a very unique way. As I listened to the stories of my fellow MCCers and the presentations of our guest speaker, Erlinda de Robledo from San Pedro Sula, Honduras, I realized what a unique situation I am in. In comparison to where many other MCCers are serving, I am in an incredibly safe city. I've begun to take for granted the fact that I can walk alone until 9:30 at night, a good three hours after sunset, the fact that I can take a taxi by myself at any time of the day or night, and the fact that I rarely feel scared or threatened here.This, in contrast with those who rarely go out after sundown or who need to keep some money in an easily accessible pocket at all times in case of an assault or robbery.

My reflections on this theme went beyond personal safety and I found myself contemplating the violent contexts of the countries in which those of us in Latin America live. In my October 20 post, I struggled with the extreme violence and injustice I was learning about here in Mexico. For my first several months, the pace of my heart increased every time I passed a soldier or private security guard with an immense and imposing gun. And I saw this a lot, owing to the fact that Chiapas is one of the most militarized state in Mexico. I cried over the massacres, drug-related killings and the abundance of innocent incarcerations. My stomach turned over every time I saw a gruesome photo of a dead body painted across the cover of a "newspaper" that, to me, seemed more like a tabloid. But over time, I realized at this retreat, I`ve found ways of steeling myself to these tragedies. I`ve found ways of garding my heart to more easily live into the rush of work, family time and a full social life. With this realization, aided by the reflection time provided throughout the retreat, came a wave of horrifying realizations: the realization that some of these situations no longer hit me as hard as they did during my first months; the realization that yesterday I stopped at a gas station with a friend and didn`t blink an eye at the huge guns the military men toted; the realization that I am, in fact, becoming immune and hardened. This hit me like a sharp blow to the gut and it further affirmed my belief that exposure to violence and injustice has the potential to numb the pain. And I don`t want to succumb. Even though pain hurts, I don`t want it to stop hurting. Because when it stops hurting, you can start to forget. Or you can become indifferent. And then you can stop caring and stop acting against violence and for peace. And I don`t want to stop acting.

So this retreat reminded me to fight the urge to get too comfortable. And it reminded me not to forget. That`s one of the reasons I studied history at Goshen College...because I think we can use the past to shape the future. But it doesn`t work if we forget.

In contemplating this blog post, I remember a powerful text that a dear friend, Julia, shared with me in the latter part of last year. It now adorns my bedroom wall along with other quotes, pictures and cards that many of you have sent with me this year. And now I share it with you:

To love. To be loved. To never forget your own significance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To persue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To repeat strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try to understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget. -Arundati Roy-

So here`s to never forgetting.