the other day i took our fall semester students to fafg-the forensic anthropology foundation of guatemala. (this npr link also has a mini slide show)
these are people who visit indigenous communities throughout guatemala, speaking with survivors, to aid in locating and digging up bodies piled in mass graves.
guatemala has a terrible recent history - 36 years of "the violence," begun by a CIA-led coup, when a u.s. trained and supported, guatemala army "disappeared," tortured and killed tens of thousands of guatemalans and massacred entire indigenous communities - men, women, children, elderly, infants when the word to blanketly justify such atrocities wasn´t our current-day "terrorism," but the generation-removed term "communism."
we waited as the armed guards checked my i.d. after a few minutes, they gave me the ok and we started in. it was hard to ignore the piles of empty wooden coffins that formed morbid columns banking the entrance.
these are people who visit indigenous communities throughout guatemala, speaking with survivors, to aid in locating and digging up bodies piled in mass graves.
guatemala has a terrible recent history - 36 years of "the violence," begun by a CIA-led coup, when a u.s. trained and supported, guatemala army "disappeared," tortured and killed tens of thousands of guatemalans and massacred entire indigenous communities - men, women, children, elderly, infants when the word to blanketly justify such atrocities wasn´t our current-day "terrorism," but the generation-removed term "communism."
we waited as the armed guards checked my i.d. after a few minutes, they gave me the ok and we started in. it was hard to ignore the piles of empty wooden coffins that formed morbid columns banking the entrance.
we first watched footage of mass grave excavation. of wailing mayan women standing at the edge of an uncovered pit, wrapping their rainbow-colored woven shawls over their faces, as they caught glimpses of a telltale shred of clothing that put a name to the bones being uncovered as those of their husbands, mothers, neighbors, children.
laura led us into the forensic lab - rudementary by northamerican standards - where cardboard boxes of remains stood in piles to greet us - case numbers, names of villages printed in black marker. beyond the boxes, a dozen tables shrouded with blue sheets, and on them skeletons being painstakenly pieced together.
laura led us to the first table. "here is a heavy trauma victom. gunshots here in the bottom of the skull, here in the neck, here in the spine, the hip, the rib cage. here you can see lascerations in the chest area." we watched as she picked up the skull to show the bullet projectory. our eyes rested on the long slices in the bones of the rib cage - the work of a machete. we counted 9 bullet wounds.
we moved to a table with soil - covered indigenous women´s clothing, a huipil, a corte (mayan blouse and skirt), a hair cord, sandals, a woven baby blanket.
"here is a 30 year old women, and her baby. the woman was shot here in the head. the baby died 3 days later, we think of starvation, in her mothers arms."
we moved to another table.
"here we have the remains of at least 5 victims, as noted by the five right femers we have found. as you can see all show signs of fire damage." they were burned to death.
"here are the remains of a 2-3 year old. we can tell because the bones had just begun to fuse." we watched as she picked up pieces of the crushed toddler´s skull.
a social work masters student asked if the workers themselves had any support or counseling for their mental health withthe kind of work that they do. a smile from laura. "well, no. it doesn´t affect us like that. the more we see the more we are motivated to do our part to see that justice is done. to make sure this never happens again in our country."
as the students began to file out, i hugged alma and kissed her check - the traditional greeting. she was working on the case of the women and child. although i had only seen her 3 times before this, she seemed an old friend. "how are you?, " I asked as she carefully brushed the earth off of the tiny baby´s bones. "good. when are you going to start translating? you should have this down now" "next time, i think."
we made small talk. with the weight of brutal death all around.
i had fought the lump in my throat several times during our "visit" - my 4th time to this place with student groups. and i felt relief and gratefulness each time the tears welled up, each time i swallowed hard. it still impacted me as it should to see these things. next time, when i try the translation, i hope i have to stop to cry.
please god never let me become accustomed to this.
laura led us into the forensic lab - rudementary by northamerican standards - where cardboard boxes of remains stood in piles to greet us - case numbers, names of villages printed in black marker. beyond the boxes, a dozen tables shrouded with blue sheets, and on them skeletons being painstakenly pieced together.
laura led us to the first table. "here is a heavy trauma victom. gunshots here in the bottom of the skull, here in the neck, here in the spine, the hip, the rib cage. here you can see lascerations in the chest area." we watched as she picked up the skull to show the bullet projectory. our eyes rested on the long slices in the bones of the rib cage - the work of a machete. we counted 9 bullet wounds.
we moved to a table with soil - covered indigenous women´s clothing, a huipil, a corte (mayan blouse and skirt), a hair cord, sandals, a woven baby blanket.
"here is a 30 year old women, and her baby. the woman was shot here in the head. the baby died 3 days later, we think of starvation, in her mothers arms."
we moved to another table.
"here we have the remains of at least 5 victims, as noted by the five right femers we have found. as you can see all show signs of fire damage." they were burned to death.
"here are the remains of a 2-3 year old. we can tell because the bones had just begun to fuse." we watched as she picked up pieces of the crushed toddler´s skull.
a social work masters student asked if the workers themselves had any support or counseling for their mental health withthe kind of work that they do. a smile from laura. "well, no. it doesn´t affect us like that. the more we see the more we are motivated to do our part to see that justice is done. to make sure this never happens again in our country."
as the students began to file out, i hugged alma and kissed her check - the traditional greeting. she was working on the case of the women and child. although i had only seen her 3 times before this, she seemed an old friend. "how are you?, " I asked as she carefully brushed the earth off of the tiny baby´s bones. "good. when are you going to start translating? you should have this down now" "next time, i think."
we made small talk. with the weight of brutal death all around.
i had fought the lump in my throat several times during our "visit" - my 4th time to this place with student groups. and i felt relief and gratefulness each time the tears welled up, each time i swallowed hard. it still impacted me as it should to see these things. next time, when i try the translation, i hope i have to stop to cry.
please god never let me become accustomed to this.
