July 3, 2000

Dear Friends,

Estabamos como ciegos. "We were like blind people." These words were spoken by Victoria, a 50-year-old Maya K’ekchi woman who lives in a lush, fertile valley in northeast Guatemala, where almost all the land belongs to a few wealthy people. Victoria never had an opportunity to go to school as a child, and she cannot yet write her name, but she is learning in the literacy classes of her presbytery. I could not find the words to respond to her words about being as blind people because they could not read or write. The image was too powerful. I simply let it sink into my mind and heart as we continued talking. I was meeting with the leaders of the presbytery of Playa Grande, one of five K’ekchi presbyteries. Other women in the group told me: Antes no sabíamos ninguna letra, ahora sabemos algunas. "Before the classes began we did not know any of the letters, now we know a few." They said, "Before, when everyone spoke in Spanish, we could not understand anything and felt so left out. Now we can understand a few words."

I looked around at this group of five women—the older ones with eight or nine children, the younger ones with four or five, and often another on the way. I know something of their life—it is physically hard and difficult, a life in which they are often valued only for the tasks they can perform and the children they bring into the world. It is not a life designed to foster self-esteem, so I marveled at the beginnings of self-confidence and pride that I saw in their words and faces. This is all so new for them, I thought.

Later that day I thought of the group of girls and women I had been with the week before. It was the second time I had climbed the hill to reach the community called El Mirador, a short, but steep climb up a pathway with spots of fresh mud that will cover the entire path soon, when the heavy rains reach this part of the country. The name of the community, "El Mirador," refers to the lovely view you can see from the top of the hill. It is quite a view, but you will not find much else at the top of the hill: land has been cleared and burned, a few houses are under construction, there is a "meeting tent," a kind of picnic shelter with benches where I found the women and young girls studying both Spanish and K’ekchi. An older woman wearing a bright pink huipil (blouse) had a determined look on her face as she repeated each new word after the instructor. When I asked if I could see her books, she carefully handed me a plastic bag in which she guarded these treasures from the rains and dampness. Again, I saw the beginnings of self-confidence and pride in who they are, real people with the possibility of learning!

These are a few of the several hundred women, along with some men and children, who meet in small groups throughout the K’ekchi presbyteries to learn to read and write. They have no desks or blackboards; there are no well-lit classrooms or shelves with books. Instead, students sit on wooden benches, in a shelter with a tin roof that provides protection from the rain, in a church building or beneath the shade of a tree. They bring their notebooks, pencils, and text books. They come because they are hungry to learn, because they long for light that will open up a new world for them.

Some people say the women are too old to learn, that they are unaccustomed to the discipline of studying, that they have too many responsibilities with home and children and there is no time to study. All this is a part of the truth, and the women will probably never become proficient in reading and writing either Spanish or K’ekchi. From personal experience, I know it is not easy to learn a new language when you are in your 50s—and I was accustomed to the discipline of studying and had plenty of time, with no other responsibilities when I began to study Spanish. Yet the women are learning, not only the letters and words, but self-confidence and pride in who they are.

I rejoice in the dedication of these women. I give thanks for the funds, sent by a Presbyterian church in the United States, to help support this work. And I pray that the light that has begun to shine in the darkness of these women’s lives will grow brighter and stronger, for surely this is part of the life and hope that Jesus Christ brings to us.

Rev. Ellen Dozier

The 2000 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, page 236