Violence and errands.

Guatemala is a violent country.

Thankfully (knock on wood) during my time here I have been fortunate enough to not experience that violence in a drastic way. I have not been a real victim, although I do find myself prisoner of fear, perhaps one of the more understated additional consequences of routine violence. As I move about my daily life I am aware of the horrible could have beens and the leery possible-robberies or petty thefts to-be surrounding and threatening me. There are also far more atrocious violent acts of the rape, murder, kidnap, torture, and senseless combinations of the aforementioned. These acts pass on such a routine basis that they are sometimes featured as single paragraph or line blips on the national media scene in such a manner that one could almost forget that inhumane suffering is actually transpiring in relation to individual lives.

Domestic violence isn't really even registered within this. It is like its own supreme reigning force of normality that people barely even bat an eyelash at except to pay it lip service as something vaguely "bad" when viewed as publicly necessary. Granted all of this is tied into the horribly corrupt police force and the pitiful lack of cases that are actually pursued or investigated nevertheless brought to any modicum of justice. I have been on buses before and seen out the window a man openly beating a woman, presumably his wife, on the side of the road. And the bus won't stop, the people won't cry out in protest, and even if we were to "help", the police would never do anything about it and the woman would probably get beat even more harshly as soon as the couple disappeared from the public eye. I have seen this more than once, and at least a handful of friends have witnessed similar if not nearly identical situations. It's the kind of situation that makes you want to vomit for feeling so awful.

Sometimes the insidious reality of it (the culture of violence) stares you straight in the eyes without blinking once.

Sometime in the past year one of the some 80-odd Habitat building brigades of international volunteers helped build a house for a family in Zacapa. Both the mother and the 11 year old daughter helped build their new home, which they were eager to move in to and get out of their renting situation as soon as possible. The house was completed and awaiting a few minor things like electricity and water hook ups, and the family was waiting to move from their old rented place to their new home.

Today I had to run errands for my boss, one of which was to get quotes for the printing of an 8x10 photograph, the making of its frame, and a small plaque to attach to it with the girl's name and, in Spanish, "We will remember, you and carry you in our hearts forever". It is a meager gift to be given to the girl's mother in memory of her daughter. The girl was alone in the house one day cleaning something and was raped, beaten, and then murdered by the landlord. He is a drug dealer, and from what I can understand, nothing of any consequence will happen to him for that, because he has a lot of power.



Excuse my language, but that's just plain fucked. Every aspect of it.