August 2, 2003

Friends,

The last time I wrote anything was in December of 2002. Since that time we have been trying to determine if there would be another place for us in Guatemala, and since there was, what then to do with our business, our house, even our dog? Fortunately, all has worked out and we are pleased to return. I have discovered, though, that writing after a long layoff is more difficult than it would appear; but here is the first effort of our next tour. I trust all is well with you.

Gloria and I have been fortunate to spend the past three months in an intensive study of the Spanish language. Where we were speaking in the ponderous tones of blocks and boulders which fell with heavy thuds upon the ears of our unsuspecting listeners, we have rounded off some of the sharper edges to the point where our speaking now causes a little less pain and conveys a little clearer image. We may never refine our language skills to the fine sand of fluency but we can engage in conversation with most Spanish speakers.

We lived in Coban, Guatemala, last year working with the Kekchi, one of the indigenous peoples in the country. During the next three years our work will take us over the entirety of Guatemala and we will be working not only with the Kekchi but also with some of the other 19 indigenous groups that live within Guatemala.

For most of the indigenous, Spanish is a second language. Language, that ability to convey ideas, feelings, actions, desires, the glue that some say holds a people together, that enables one person to share his innermost being with another because he knows he is being understood, may be central to how a people view themselves. Everyone wants to be understood in terms that he knows the other person recognizes. It is difficult enough to do that when we converse with those who speak our native language, let alone speak in the second language of both parties.

Last year the Kekchi asked us to learn their language. We were struggling enough with Spanish that it was immediately apparent we could not live long enough to learn Kekchi. There are some 400,000 native Kekchi speakers located in the states of Alta and Baja Verapaz and in the Petén.

There are larger numbers of native speakers of Mam and Quiche, two other indigenous languages in Guatemala, but Spanish is the common denominator for all of them. Interesting, when one considers that Spanish is not a language native to the area but was brought by the Spanish during the conquest. Along with the conquest by arms has come the conquest by language.

The 36-year civil war, which ended in 1996, was fought primarily against indigenous groups and they suffered some 200,000 deaths and related indignities—loss of ancestral lands, internal displacement, flight to other countries, starvation, etc

The plight of the indigenous in Guatemala is similar to that of indigenous in other lands—one of being oppressed, dispossessed, enslaved, abused. For the indigenous of Central America, Spanish has historically been associated with the conquest—with the oppressor—and it still is. The Kekchi had asked us to learn their language but we declined because time, money, and application all were limited. Instead, we have learned the language of the oppressor and, in effect, will become part of the process of encroachment and inexorable elimination of native languages in Guatemala. Never having viewed life from the vantage of anything other than as a member of the dominant culture I can only surmise how our inability and lack of time to learn a native language is perceived. We hope the possibility of their gaining a few skills, which will enable them to deal more easily in today's economy, is worth the risk.

But I do wonder where are the native poets, the writers? Where are those who speak and write to the hopes, experiences, dreams, and aspirations of any of the indigenous people in their native languages? Who is it who tells their story? History teaches that the language of those who subjugate them defines a people. Their story is told for them and their history is interpreted, if not stolen outright, by those over them. When Columbus arrived there were about 300 native languages spoken in what is now the United States. Surprisingly, there are yet some 150 native languages spoken here. The U.S. government entered into 370 individual treaties with our own indigenous and the record is clear that too often the government did not keep its promises. Taking the resources, driving the people off the land, and absorbing and eliminating native languages in the process, the question of oppression looms large in our own history. English may also be viewed as the language of the oppressor.

We lament the loss of native cultures but seldom do we sense that we may have had a role in it. This is the modern world, a changing world, the world in which we are still called to "do justice, love kindness, and to walk humbly with our God." But it is fear and suspicion of our fellow man rather than love of him that dictates how we spend our money, where we spend our vacations, and whom we allow in our associations. We see countries building taller, wider, and longer walls to protect their frontiers while others spend more money to destroy the people and institutions they see as their enemy while two-thirds of the world's people still lack basic necessities. Maybe we should all study another language or two in an effort to eliminate confusion and promote understanding for the good of all God's children. Perhaps merely a happy thought but we are eager for the challenge and the blessing Guatemala provides as we seek to apply our improved language skills in our effort to be faithful.

We appreciate your prayers and invite your communication.

Que la paz de Dios este con Ustedes,

Roger