Una semana en los pueblos Maya: Capitulo 4

Rabinal to Rio Negro

We set off early to make the trip to the community of Rio Negro. Most of us were excited for the boat ride, others not so much.

The first challenge was to get to the boats. The tricky thing was, the bus was down river from the dam, but the boat launch was up river of the dam, yet no roads led to the launch from up river...the only way to get to the launch was to drive up the dam. There were probably five or six 180 degree turns, all on the edge of a cliff. Our full size school bus had to negotiate these turns with precision. The driver used the manual transmission 'roll-back' to make a three point turn, backing up to within meters of the cliff. I have never been so nervous in vehicle in my life...but no worries, we made it!

Half the class, packed in a boat

The boat ride was a nice change, we had the company of some locals needing to get to their respective flooded communities along the way. As we glided up to the dock at Rio Negro, we could see the steep sandy path winding up the hillside towards the community centre. These paths were seriously steep, with gradients of 20-25% in some places. It was more of a hike than any of us expected...

heading up to the community centre

In a few minutes, we could see the some buildings in the distance. When we got closer, we saw a wonderful wooden house, surrounded by a spectacular covered porch, overlooking the river valley.

BEST

PORCH

EVER

The rest of the afternoon consisted of swimming and playing guitar on the best porch in the world. That night, we decided to sleep under the stars...what a beautiful place.

Glad I had a good camera!

The next morning was not so lighthearted. We had two options: Another boat ride and a short hike to a cave which was inhabited for over two years by survivors or the massacres. Or, we could hike a mountain side path, the same path used as the death march made by almost the entire community of Rio Negro on that fateful day. I chose the latter.

The hike started at 7:00am. We headed up the mountain on an empty stomach, stumbling around on a overgrown, loose and rocky path. The altitude (more than 2000m above sea level) was taking its toll on some, but we all made it to the top. We were at a flatland section between two peaks, and the sun was just starting to crest the horizon. It was beautiful, but as soon as our guide started recounting his story, the situation darkened...

March 13, 1982

Be forewarned, this paragraph has graphic content...He pointed to where he hid, he showed us where he was his brothers and sisters lie face down in the dirt, hands above their heads, listening and watching to the massacre take place. He walked us over to a low spot in the flatlands, he told us this is were they gang-raped all the women, before they walked them up to the pit. The pit was the most chilling part of the whole area. The men and boys were killed first, by machete or by hanging, after which they were tossed into the pits, they were the lucky ones. After the women were repeatedly raped, the would tie them to the 'killing tree' by the neck, and twist the leather strap around their neck until they suffocated or their neck snapped. For the youngest children, the most expeidient way to exterminate them was to tie a rope around their necks, and swing them against the killing tree, shattering their tiny bodies. The only time bullets were used was to try to shoot those who tried to flee. After it was all over, some survivors tried to cover up the bodies, as crows and wild pigs started to eat the remains.

View of the pit, now hallowed ground

These atrocities were committed by the Civil Defense Patrols (PAC) from Xococ, a community up river from Rio Negro. Like in many other civil conflicts around the world... friends, colleagues and sports team competitors become enemies, and ruthless killers. Communities are wiped out, and the landscape is changed forever. After the tour of the massacre site, we all needed a chunk of time to reflect.

Reflecting, scattered above the massacre site

After collecting out thoughts, we headed back down the mountain side to the community center to grab some breakfast. The food was delicious, as everything was prepared over an open fire. We thanked the women of the community for providing for us.

Starting the descent back to the village

I spent the whole bus ride back to Antigua reading Grahames' books and reflecting on this experience. This was the most dramatic, moving trips I have ever been on. I'm glad I could finally write about it.