The morning after the host family mix-up, Julio, the director of Antiguena, helped me find alternative accommodation. Teri, a fellow student, accompanied me to view a charming two-story house owned by Maria Morales’ family, which became my new home in Antigua. Its five rooms, each with a private bath, two kitchens, and a rooftop terrace overlooking Volcano Agua, embodied the essence of Guatemalan colonial architecture. As I settled in, the Spanish baroque structures surrounding me whispered tales of a complex past.
Later in the evening, with Maydu’s silence lingering after her workday, I ventured to the food vendors near Iglesia de la Merced. This 16th-century Catholic church, known for its ornate baroque façade and yellow paint, stood as a testament to Guatemala’s colonial past. The park outside bustled with weekend activity, filled with aromatic street food stalls.
Claudia’s Churrasco caught my eye. Her expert grilling of Churrasco Guatemalteco drew both locals and tourists. The weekend crowd swarmed around her stand, a stark contrast to its quieter weekday presence. As I fumbled with my wallet, an older gentleman helped gather my spilled coins, introducing himself as Don Ernesto, a retired history professor.
Our conversation meandered through local cuisine and architecture. Don Ernesto’s weathered face spoke of a lifetime of experiences, his eyes twinkling with curiosity as we chatted.
“Is it safe?” I finally asked, eyeing the sizzling meat.
Don Ernesto chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “The food? Certainly. Our history? That’s another story.”
I offered to buy him dinner, and he requested a Shuco, reminding me of the dish I’d seen at Hecho en Casa the previous night. We strolled to Selena Hostel, a vibrant spot with an ongoing yoga class, a small pool, and a co-working space. Even as it started to sprinkle, people were jumping into the small pool, creating a lively college dorm-like atmosphere.
We settled in with Gallo beers and Coronita micheladas, a spicy beer cocktail that Don Ernesto insisted I try. The bartender, Alecxia, a young Guatemalan, busily crafted daiquiris, Monte Carlos, and sangrias for the diverse crowd of mostly European travelers. Some lounged in hammocks or on a large outdoor bed in the courtyard, while others played pool or worked on laptops in the co-working space.
As we enjoyed our street food, Don Ernesto began unraveling Guatemala’s complex history. He spoke of the 1954 coup, where the CIA overthrew President Jacobo Árbenz to protect United Fruit Company’s interests.
“Árbenz wanted to give unused land to peasants,” Don Ernesto said, his voice taking on a somber tone. “But powerful interests saw it differently.”
Don Ernesto, who had witnessed the 36-year civil war firsthand, shared personal anecdotes that brought history to life. “America didn’t just start this war,” he said, swirling his michelada. “They were complicit. The Dulles brothers, representing United Fruit Company, convinced Eisenhower to back a coup. They had this view of the world implanted from a very young age – that there’s good and evil, and it’s the obligation of the good people to go out into the world and destroy the evil ones.”
He paused, his eyes distant. “Guatemala wouldn’t have suffered 200,000 dead over 35 years if they hadn’t intervened and destroyed our democracy.”
I felt my jaw drop, a mix of shock and disbelief washing over me. “Wait, what? 200,000 dead? And you’re saying the U.S. was behind this?” I stammered, struggling to process the information. “That seems… hard to believe. I mean, I know America has intervened in other countries, but this sounds extreme.”
Don Ernesto nodded solemnly, understanding my skepticism. “I know it’s difficult to accept, especially if you’ve never heard this side of the story. But this is our lived reality. My family and I were fortunate. We weren’t swept up and killed like so many others. But we saw it happen to friends, neighbors, entire villages.”
He took a long sip of his drink before continuing, “I don’t expect you to take my word for it. But I encourage you to research it yourself. The information is out there, even if it’s not widely taught in American schools.”
I sat back, my mind reeling. The conviction in Don Ernesto’s voice was unmistakable, but the scale of what he was describing seemed almost incomprehensible. As we continued our conversation, I found myself grappling with this new information, unsure of how to reconcile it with what I thought I knew about my country’s history.
Curious about Don Ernesto’s current activities in retirement, I asked him how he spent his time these days. He smiled, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm as he began to explain his involvement with Maximo Nivel.
“I volunteer with Maximo Nivel,” Don Ernesto said. “It’s an organization that facilitates community service programs here in Guatemala. We work on addressing poverty, improving education, and healthcare access in our communities.”
He paused, taking a thoughtful sip of his michelada. “You see, Guatemala has the largest economy in Central America, but more than half our population still lives in poverty. We’re working to improve political organization and social justice, but it’s a long road.”
Don Ernesto’s voice took on a tone of cautious optimism. “These programs help provide education and healthcare to those who lack access. By working with locals and volunteers, I can share our history and culture while also addressing immediate needs in our communities.”
“It’s about building bridges,” he continued, gesturing with his Shuco. “Yes, there are international volunteers, but we all work together in service of Guatemala. By sharing our history and current challenges, I hope to shape a more nuanced view of our country in future leaders, both Guatemalan and international. It’s my small way of trying to prevent history from repeating itself while also working towards a better future for our people.”
I nodded, beginning to understand the complexity of his role and the delicate balance he struck between addressing Guatemala’s needs and fostering cross-cultural understanding.
“These young people are curious and open-minded,” he added. “By working together, we can make a real difference in people’s lives while also fostering understanding across cultures. It’s not just about teaching history, it’s about actively shaping a better future.”
As I listened to Don Ernesto, I realized the depth and breadth of his commitment to Guatemala. His involvement with Maximo Nivel was part of a broader effort to address systemic issues in his country, using his knowledge and experience to contribute to positive change in his community. It was clear that even in retirement, Don Ernesto’s passion for education and social justice continued to drive his actions, now focused on direct community service and development.
Espanol
- El narrador se muda a una casa colonial en Antigua, propiedad de la familia Morales.
- Durante una cena en los puestos callejeros cerca de la Iglesia de la Merced, conoce a Don Ernesto, un profesor de historia jubilado.
- Don Ernesto comparte la historia del golpe de estado de 1954 en Guatemala, respaldado por la CIA para proteger los intereses de la United Fruit Company.
- Explica cómo este evento llevó a una guerra civil de 36 años que causó 200,000 muertes.
- El narrador se sorprende por esta información, que contradice lo que sabía sobre la historia de Estados Unidos.
- Don Ernesto habla sobre su trabajo voluntario actual con Maximo Nivel, una organización que aborda la pobreza y mejora la educación y la salud en Guatemala.
- Explica que su objetivo es construir puentes entre culturas y prevenir que se repita la historia, educando a jóvenes guatemaltecos e internacionales.
- El narrador reflexiona sobre cómo este encuentro casual ha transformado su comprensión de Guatemala y su historia.
