Lines That Breathe When My Heart Speaks and Other Poems

Quetzaltenango, Guatemala, 2019

Lines That Breathe When My Heart Speaks

My sweet young love,

  What bitter fruit you’ve tasted

Along your journey of life- 

  Brief, stunted, mired in self-hate 

To make you blind, oblivious

  To the silence at dawn.

I dreamt of the moment the sky opened,

  Pouring so gently the soothing light.

Awakened in you the tender desires;

  Without them there’s no feast nor famine,

No fire of any kind.

But you chose the dark clouds 

  Over daybreak;

Spinning round the hopeful vision

  Of so many worlds; yet your fear, 

Your eyes becloud the rage.

At dusk, a sense of meaning made true,

  The sounds of wheels turning,

Hammers banging, heat rising

  Inside the earth, the sky, and soulful voices.

But silence can only be marked

  By hearts beating and breathing 

Sweet memories;

  If only life could be there – 

Underneath all that trembles, shatters, and dies.


We looked out the gray mirror 

  Spilling out with remnants

Of life that awaken the 

  Sweet smell, the savory mouth,

The steady tapping of your 

  Spirit smiling.

The flowers floating elegance

  Whisper their white, 

Red, yellow hues

  Like the winged-airbrush

Of seagulls in flight.

You said we would love.

  My heart listened.

As our faces melted,

  The light’s reflection rested

On the crystal night. 

Museum of Tapachula, Chiapas, México

A Woman Shrouded in Loneliness

Tell me everything you know

  And I will tell you what I don’t know.

Truth is like a stubborn vine;

  No matter the obstacle,

A subliminal seedling makes its way

  From my bosom to where I am;

Truth to form, but not its matter

  When its defining moment 

Reaches out to cry so deeply;

  It surfaces from sleep and into

My darkest moment.

  There, we are one.

Until the sun sets in my eyes,

  After a long arduous confrontation,

The restlessness becomes

  Who I am.

Interrogating, interrogating.

  Every turn, every simple thought

And the complication fires up the

  Smoldering fire,

And, her I am – again.

  Can’t you see your drunken spirit 

That has betrothed me with you.

  The loneliness of me

And you, crying out for help.

  Screaming for a simple yes or no;

That’s ALL I know right now.

  Every day is a drowning;

Tormenting sounds all around

  When the baby arrives

I will finally see you again.

  And you will touch me.

Life is a touch.

  Crying becomes who I am. 

The Hour Glass Escape

After squeezing through the hour glass

 Past time zones and space,

I stand before the mighty ocean,

  My body slowly sinking into the soft sand,

The overly-powerful ocean,

  With every heave a rolling wave 

Lapping at my feet.

An enticing challenge of unfettered strength-

  Who is master? The supreme 

Ecology of life that holds the secrets of 

  Our birth and death, or

The human compassion

  With magical, mystical synergy 

That can turn hearts into gold and

  The universe into a peace offering.

Between the two worlds, underneath

  My feet, a mountain of sand rests

Like a sleeping giant preparing to 

  Burst open the wounds of our pain.

Each grain of sand coughed up by 

  A single sentiment from unknown peoples

Now present in each of us.

In every grain, a loss of self as compassion;

In every grain, a loss of hope for the future;

In every grain, a loss of vision as an organic whole.

The sands of doubt feed the voracious hunger 

  Of the infinite sea.

Retrieving my spirit I fly back into the hour glass,

  Flipped over for yet another life, another chance

For a new beginning


I gently took her tiny hand and 

placed it into mine; then, her slight

arms, and soon I felt her hug bigger

than life itself. We went up to the 

top of the highest concrete debris pile

and screamed so loud; it worked

because the world heard us and came

to our help, gave us something to eat 

and drink. We foraged the concrete

jungle for anything, and we learned the

lesson to be careful when you’re lonely,

hungry, or thirsty for you’re bound to

grab at anything that you don’t want to,

just to keep from falling apart. The next 

day a huge truck came by loaded with boxes 

and people dressed in nice, clean, bright

clothes, and they gave us something to eat

and drink. One man said that people on

the other side of the world envy us because

at least we have something to eat. Just

‘cause we got the earthquake we got 

something to eat. Then, the fires started

raging, burning off corpses that no one

claimed or maybe whole families that died. That’s

better, you know. In this hell, only the 

living suffer. My friend and I are family now.

We keep asking ourselves, when are we waking

up? When will the food stop coming? When will 

our screams fall on deaf ears just like

before the earthquake?

*Earthquake in Haiti, 2010, that killed over 220,000 people.

San Salvador, El Salvador, 2019


Exuberance is the color of the red sky,

   Bubbling over with hues of insatiable,

Incurable joy and happiness.

Exuberance is the river running wildly,

Dragging its abundance and selfish pride;

Everything in its path becomes its oneness.

Exuberance is the bright side of the moon,

  Hiding behind dark clouds; making fools of

Each of us for life is just an illusion.

Exuberance is laughter ravishing the ego 

  While devouring the soul.

Labyrinth Self-Help

Step 1.  Exhale

Fabric torn, walls cracked,

  Like your words splintered in my thoughts,

An opening, a door unlocked,

  Signs that soothe us when our heart aches,

Loneliness and despair suffocate.

When the seal finally explodes,

  Our vision contemplates honesty and truth;

The imprint we left behind – the shape of our body

  On the bed, the pillow, the smell of our skin,

Our thoughts scattered around.

Now, the breathing begins, for each breath – 

  A living will, an overwhelming feel of sentiment

For those we love, but an inescapable thought

  Of guilt for those we blame.

Step 2.  Inhale

Tenderness is the bird rummaging

  Through the backyard twig debris,

Infatuated with a withered leaf

  Its beak-action shredding pieces for a lovely nest.

A nature’s vignette to filter out our thoughts,

  From imploding violence – words, images, thoughts,

Each one too familiar to let go;

  Memory serves us badly, sometimes deadly.

But harnessing peace is what we do best,

  To calm our fears and wake-up each day;

Our heart and mind at rest finally;

  Then, the phone rings, the heart pounds,

Oxygen deprived, anxiety locks you up for good.

Step 3.  Free-Fall

You don’t know when you’ll hit bottom,

  But you know it’s there,

Even after you hit the ground,

  You’re still falling,

But at last, you grasp the center and 

  You start to feel the unbalance of balance.  

Museo de Tapachula, Chiapas, Mexico, 2019


The one smile in a million, the

  Unfettered speak of love for

The smallest sound of peace

  Emanating from the heart.

Rescuers abound, invisible angels;

  Human spirits dancing around us;

The bond is real, the hand reaching out

  To caress your face is not an illusion.

When everything is gone,

  Every living thing shriveled up and buried;

Our hearts will live forever;

  You, me, and the river that runs between us.  

Suchiate River border between Guatemala and Mexico, 2019

Half Moon Bliss

A walk under the full moon

  Leaves my heart breathless;

Tired of resiliency, my life

  Turns the worn-out pages 

Parched with tear spots;

  Now the new sounds 

Resonate from every corner,

  As a new sentiment readies

In the horizon,

  And so much love waiting

For its rising

Half Moon

So many half moons but never

  One quite like this one;

The other half vanished into the 

  Darkness, leaving me half-naked.

The streets of Old Town feel like

  An abandoned un-spirited house

Perched on a hill not too far 

  From the wasteland.

A half-cup of tea rebounds with

  Instant refills that serve as pauses

Throughout the lengthy string of words,

  Like a clothesline with yesterday’s wash

Hanging dry,

  Ruminating on all the reasons why

My heart is no longer full 

  But half empty

Remembering John Ross

Your poems are inspirational,

There isn’t one I don’t like,

Not one that doesn’t make me 

Think of you….

Standing, head-strong, barking like thunder,

Or, quietly thinking through your playful ideas,

Words, that seem to jump right out of thin air.

Each one is a tempestuous moment ….

A whimper turned rainstorm,

A sigh turned violent,

Each one has sent your head floating 

To the next dimension, the next door–opened.

I see your hands waving, your head turning, your eyes rolling,

Your shadow following.

You walk so quickly, where on earth are you going?

And as for Arminda’s laughter….

How rich it resonates through the rolling hills,

Reminding me of the glow of one afternoon in her patio.

I Can Think of You Forever

The circle broken, but in tact  – 

   Like words, fall on deaf ears but

Keep flying,

  Until they reach the exact spot

Where the sunrays sparkle

  The moonbeams glow

In your eyes, and

  Your spirit rises like a 

Tsunami about to devour


Frantic, the dying bird and

  The wilted flower

Like seeds grow and

  The entire world becomes

Blank, only 

  The blinking eyes can see

The image far off in the 

  Distance  —

Of a red rider against the sky

  On a cloud of dreams

Coming home.

San Salvador, El Salvador, 2019

Rapture Aperture

Sounds of winged whistling ghosts

  Quiet my heart as I taste your

Warm spices and herbs.

You are

   The red-throated bird

   Singing daybreak right 

   Outside my open window;

   The yellow flame floating

   On top of Jesus in a jar;

   Blurring spirit waves long

   Forgotten in my prayer book.

The memory man

  Taking snapshots of me and you;

Cruising down the road

  Never paying attention to its

Curvy Unevenness,

   For as long as we made it

Through the day, and then night

  Wasn’t so bad.

We were hungry, though;

  For more than the cotton balls

They dished out at the school cafeteria;

  Drowning in WORDS that meant too much

Or not enough but left us thinking

  More, even if the sounds just might

Kill us.

There was only one memory road,

  And your hand took me there – 

Your thought coin for mine,

  Your gold for my silver,

Your street for my road,

  Your path for my tree top,

And a view to kill for, from 

  The giant papalote,

The sea of mesquite

  Wandering through the vines of

Sweet and sour days, and nights,

  And the taste of long afternoons that 

Stay on your eyebrows like the pastel colors

  Of youth, and the vibrant color of love.

The Wicked Laughter of a Parrot’s Squawk

It’s not wicked, nor is it laughter;

That persistent squawk of a parrot 

Shrieking at me and the world;

Its voice piercing the plumed sky;

How far its resonance you can argue rests

Deep in one’s soul;

And there, the parrots’ presence anchored,

All too familiar to those of us who live in their midst;

Each trilled squawk marks a time of day, a certain

Feeling, an axe striking a pivotal illusion, a visual diary,

A scathing thought, a memory or two;

Tantalizing, perhaps, or disgusting, or perturbing, or nothing;

Nothing that seems like nothing, but there’s always

A gnawing sense that what is gone

Will come back to fill our lives, and complete the circle.

The parrots’ squawk 

Pealed around our meditating thoughts,

Lift our burden each time they take flight 

From tree to tree;

Even when we’re not listening.


If you could turn into a hummingbird

  You could fly and disappear,

Zip lining from branch to branch,

  Showing off the majestic color

And then, the hidden thoughts that

  Delight you can come alive,

YOU would come alive.

  And only your cherished memories 

Would flutter amongst leaves, and 

  Glimmer in the sun’s reflection.

Quetzaltenango, Guatemala, 2019

Ride to Enlightenment (Nowhere)

Parallel lives could or could not describe

How we often play tag,

Except I’m “it” more than you, 

Instead you decide to sit by the view window

That I glance over every once in a while,

Just to see if by chance our 

Destination is anywhere nearby.

If we can’t find the love we’re

Looking for in each other,

We will just end up hating one another.

I drink my sweet tea from the orange peel

 You left on the table,

Pondering whether love even existed at all.


The smell of sweet orange permeated the fresh air

 As I drank my second cup of wine just to 

Prolong the rich glow of an early afternoon.

 We exchanged words to quiet our souls and 

Distract the passion that rushed in an instant;

 Everything we wanted to say through our 

Touch, we spoke sometimes in communion

  With our bodies that filled our senses

Wordless, mindless, spirits dancing;

  Until you found the flower

That you wanted to keep for yourself

  And, I would run circles around you,

While your eyes were glued to the window;

  We live in two worlds,

You with the flower, and I 

   With the scent of strong orange.


Red brown tree

  Swaying from east to west,

North to South;

  I pray and guess –

Which way 

  The fall, 

The demise,

  The clearing up; 

Which way 

  The hope, salvation, 

Or taking back?


  Is right lies somewhere

Between life and me-

   The conscious over and 

Beyond the top; 

The curse 

  Is trapped, 

Like a seagull’s flight 

  Resisting wind shear

With all its might, 

  Fighting foolishness, 

Stopping time.

Museo de la Palabra y la Imagen, San Salvador, El Salvador, 2019


  The same sing-song

Of gilded traps like broken

  Moon pieces that don’t fit

Together anymore; like

  Dreams erased in a split second

When I stood outside in front of

  A locked door and only

A dim light splashed through

  The window casting a lonely shadow;

Dreams erased in a split second

  When my spirit died and left me

Empty, mindless, dead even to myself;

  A sobering moment of the

Bittersweet taste of love and hate and

  The missteps that took us

From heaven to hell in a split second.

  I want to be free, to fly away –  

Feathers and all, and you, and you by my side.

Heart of a Hunter

I have the heart of a hunter;

  It’s stone cold silent one moment

Then, leaps explosively at a crackling, 

  Squeaky sound.

While I sleep it becomes a lioness 

  Stalking its prey, or a warning siren

Blasting in desperation.

My serenity is breached as readily

  As I attain it; suddenly, I hear

The shrill noise of a thousand bees 

  Escaping for their lives.

Is there a conspiracy?

  My own heart betraying my peace;

The heart of a fierce hunter is far

  Too wretched to convince it sensibly and


  The battle scars are starting to bleed again.

San Salvador, El Salvador, 2019

When Angels Come Rushing In

Not the everyday guardian that keeps the

  Shoelace from tripping you over;

But thousands marching in silence

  And truth; each one meticulous:

The angel-brigade call to action,

  A duty for love-saving beyond saving lives;

Like flags flapping furiously, they will not surrender –

  Without love there is no life.

The stampede overwhelms our senses;

  You’d think justice has been deprived,

Or despair is helplessly teetering between you and me;

  Perhaps, the suffering has become too deadening;

Or, a wish for life has all but diminished;

  But, there, in the Garden of Eden, a flower,

A flower dying, and barely holding on.

Not the flower of life, or of evil,

  Or, sanctimonious goodness;

Not the heart beat of a living pulse;

  Not the earth, the sky, or water falling endlessly;

But the love that holds us together, like the force

  Between heaven and earth.

What will save us now?

A million stars?

  Relentless moons?

Fire from the living candles 

  Of angels rushing in?

Or, hearts beating inconsolably 

  For want to be in love?

What Can Always be (to Quetzil on the day of mourning)

You’ve entered a room where I once

   Casted a bottomless strain of

Human heroism and poetic injustice.

In a black humorless bed lay the remains 

Of someone you shared your dreams, your life, and secrets;

 Your river of blood has suddenly dried;

And your aching tears seem as stark as your emptiness

The world is empty; and the flesh is weak.

I can’t imagine life as it was; 

I cast shadows among trees and clouds;

I listen to words that erupt from my being;

My vision pierces matter like knives;

I walk like a solid spirit in a dungeon of earth. 

It’s a window of light I seek;

A breath of incense, so pure and pristine;

The warmth of a gentle touch, a pillow of something

Whereupon I can rest my weariness. 

When life is empty I think of the corpse;

   One day I’ll find my restful sleep and leave

What was toward, and what can always be. 

I often look for a place of calmness to rest

My weary head. 

The dream-state you imposed upon me

Has drifted me further into a white sphere;

I can’t think of roses without living in

Their satin glow;

Every burst of color swoons inside my echoes;

My body, a giant ear to melodious streams of

Music that carry me far above;

And my thoughts, my thoughts are filled

With emotions of being next to you, inside of you

I awoke once from the dream;

Like an angel wing-wounded I lay broken;

The drug had wilted away, leaving my bones

Cold, my heart stiff. 

This place I call real is without you;

Void of your warmth, your breath, your

Eyes upon mine.

The sensual state of life in a dream 

Buries my grief, my pain,

My only one thing to live for

Quetzaltenango, Guatemala, 2019

Not Far from the Border: Poems

My Bilingual Journey

Not Far from the Border: Selected Poems

For audio recordings of the SONGS, click here.

For STORIES and REFLECTIONS, click here.

Along the Border

Train weaving along border memories of

  my lotería and checkerboard life;

frames of family portraits fashioned

  into a colorful quilt of sweet voices,

slight profiles, and happy, happy eyes

  shining through our thoughts of 

trepidation erected by border walls 

  setting us apart, away from each other

toward a reality that looms like a 

  head injury; a train wreck, no matter

where this train takes us the halt is 

  always erupt and deadening.

When we get off the train, when our

  feet finally tread on steady ground,

you don’t know which side of the tracks

  your heart lies.

Their Dreams

Like swooping cranes

  They came to the valley of tears;

A flying spearhead bursting through the summer sky,

  Ready to conquer the hearts and minds of humanity;

Children writing stories like pieces woven into

  A swirling tapestry of imagination and innocence,

One by one, each story brings back the dream. 

They are the dreams of those that love them;

   The voices of children imbued with hope and determination,

Opening new horizons and turning the insidious thirst for sadness

  Into a monument that was our past, 

Revealing the present and future in their hands and

In their hearts.    

Chameleon at the Border


  Like a chameleon I carve my footprints from the 

Natural hue of the mud and sand pit spoils of my frontera,

  A border rich with countless of unheard stories.

I see like the border; I taste like the border;

  I feel like the border; the border is all 

Around me – but, mostly I see the border in their eyes, anchored

  On the sight of a new horizon; so desperate 

To leave that only the absence of memory lingers;

  I see the terror in their eyes each time 

They cross;

  Darkness swells inside their souls

At the thought of what lies beyond;

  There is no end:

I think like the border;

  The brown that I am deep inside and

The heart that I have;

  And the frontera that I call my home.  

For Every Bridge There’s a Wall (Our Birthright)

Pieces of earth puzzled into

mosaic revelations of gaps and stops;

the human stride hampered by

a matching duo of transnational

bridge and border wall; for every bridge

there’s a wall and still, the migration

continues like the ebb and flow

of relentless time and space, and

the rebirth and death of day and night.

Never stopping: like a lake that cradles

the spewing brew, or a river that collects

cascading water, or fresh sprouts of trees 

fusing with fossilized stumps. Humans’

undeterred spirits run their gamut like

water flowing, roots reaching, and rivers

morphing into oceans, deep, vast, and free.

Featherless flying beings we are, 

embracing the essence of our birthright.   

River Rain

The Río Bravo takes you across to safety 

  away from the clutches of jaws and jails;

The rio floats you across into the arms

  of the one that has loved you always;

The rio saves you from the monster

  that you dreamt about when you were five;

The rio haunts you in the darkest of

  moments and shatters your dreams;

The rio drives you mad

  until your spirit dies with you;

The rio turns you into a liar 

  and thief, a shell of what you used to be;

The rio baptizes you and leaves you 

   naked when you think you know its eternal secrets;

The rio pulls you under until

  your remains are deeply buried within;

Only the thick, mysterious fog can work its

  powerful magic, dragging, stirring

its ghostly spirits, and unveiling the corpses

  washed up on its shores;

The clouds, laden with sadness and anger,

  open, and let the rain burst into tears;

  Rain, rain, river rain. 

Warrior Planet

A planet for each one of us,

But a special one for you,

The warring prince, the heroic spirit,

The giver of laughter, of hope;

The one that commended presence

In the face of absence, in a vast emptiness;

A magician, for you knew no boundaries,

Where the stars meet, yours was

The brightest, the intense, the most

Enduring, and that’s how you fought. 

My brother earth has gone home, 

Fulfilling the promise of the father sun. 

Your life was my life,

A precious drop of water, of blood;

I stood on the doorway, watching your

Dancing spirit, finding refuge in the shadow

Of your stick horse, galloping to a neverland 

That found me up a tree, my castle, my dream. 

I could have watched you forever, you know. 

But that was not to be.

Our paths were different, our blood

Was destined for another place,

Yours was in a dark, mired corner, 

Where you died a thousand deaths,

And you came back on borrowed time,

For one more look, one more sigh, one more kiss. 

At last you found your monument,

A peaceful stream, a playful field

Of flowers, and in the end,

You valued giving more than giving itself,

You felt the depth of love deeper 

Than all the tears in the universe. 

And you took all of that forever,

A treasure to seek and long for,

A most precious gift you’ve ever given me,

My brother, my soul. 


Tears that emerge from my dreams

   are as deep as a well and as fiery as

The sun itself; you look at me in your coldness

   while I lay before you a story of loneliness,

One heart, one love and no one,

No one to give and to give back. 

Just an empty cradle,

And a mother and father that once held you 

Were gone, disappeared into a black hole,

Leaving you naked, in despair, drowned in the

Deepest tears, and fears, and agony of a life that 

Should have been right, not wrong. 

I can’t feel your pain, Papá,

Your falling curtains shut me off,

And I’m left with your soulful fears

   That burden you in the cloudiest nights,

That hurt you without telling you,

That silence you to a wailing, yelling mess. 

If you could talk to me from your cold and

   Bloody grave,

I would hear your anger forever gnawing at

   my heels,

I would feel all over again what I see in my dreams, 

A young girl crying to her father that 

She is the orphan and he, the ruler of her life. 

Children of El Porvenir

Bright as the color of blood,

  The clown’s frown was big and scary

The day I went to the circus with Grandpa;

  Blood streaming down my hand

I remember

   When a thorn pricked my finger –  

 Sweet – taste of life – stained my lips,

  Grandma – so quiet- watching me;

I remember 

 Blood on my foot, 

A piece of glass – between my toes –

  The pain, the pain so sharp, I want

To turn it off like a water faucet

  But I can’t.

Blood, so much blood –

  Like the pouring rain, one day — 

Gushing from an angry sky;

  Blood — on walls, doors, and windows, 

  Blood —  out of the refrigerator;

Too scared to see what’s inside –

  Like a horror movie too scary to watch;

My house is like a coffin –

  Bleeding, crying, hurting.  

Their dreams are not like yours

  Or mine –

Men killing men, knives cutting

  Into flesh, bullets flying;

Their Grandpa, their cousins, and brothers, sisters;

  All gone –  forever.

Yet their memories live on like dogged spirits – 

  Lost and cold from a nightmare that won’t go away. 

The Stick People painted 

   By the children of El Porvenir, 

Of death, guns, knives, 

   All –  So they can hang

Their drawings on chalkboards 

   For everyone to see. 

‘Cierren los ojos – no vamos a decir nada’

(‘Close your eyes – we’re not saying a word’)

My student sat unusually sullen and on edge in class;

the telltale signs told me that something was amiss.

History lessons are learned best in real-time but

hers was a virtual nightmare.

It’s how she feels after her life was spared.

It happened during a routine drive to the doctor’s,

just south of Matamoros.

Sitting in the backseat of a black SUV her mother suddenly

gasped, her heart jumped; she saw the gun shoved

through the slightly opened window on the driver’s side,

pointing at each of her family and friends:

four adults and seven children.

Her father and his compadre managed to stay calm.

After a quiet but unnerving exchange of words,

the man with the gun retracted his threat and

told them to be grateful that he had a good heart,

and let them go, but the roadblock prevented their

return to Brownsville. A thick air of fear and

panic hovered over them as they scurried in

search of a safe shelter to spend the night.

They waited for their escape after a night of sheer fright,

praying, until the gunshots finally stopped

at the break of dawn.

‘Cierren los ojos – close your eyes’ – my student’s mother

demanded as they raced passed a mile-long of debris that

she could only describe as a war zone.

She tried to obey her mother,

but her eyes wandered as images appeared –

many cars, even police cars – gutted, crashed into each other,

glass everywhere, dead bodies scattered throughout, and

two men loading up the corpses onto the bed of a

pick-up like sacks of potatoes, too many to count,

but maybe dozens, and the worst image that haunts her  –

dead policemen’s bodies hanging from trees!

At the U.S. border checkpoint, her father asked for silence,

‘No vamos a decir nada,’ ‘no one says anything’ –

out of fear, shock, even disbelief.

The Red Book

All of the photos are of  

  Very sad people, and corpses

Just lying there  – like the way they died.

  Some of the corpses are half gone,

Decomposed, leaving grotesque remnants

  Of something other than human.

I think of nothing.

Earlier in the morning I had eaten

  Pieces of fruit, watermelon, pineapple,

Grapes, sweet bread and coffee.

Later, I met some very nice people:

  Symbols of hospitality,

Expressions of gratitude,

  Conscience offerings,

Re-enactments of humanity 

  Portraying simple truths and love.

Back to nothing.

When something sharp invades your body,

  Your soul saves you from the onslaught

Of unbearable pain;

  You have to be patient; you have no choice,

It will be just a few seconds and then, 

  Your heart will finally let you go.

But, now there is something:

  I have a small box that holds just the right

Words that you said to me and the feelings

  That emerged – they seem to fit carefully

And perfectly into the box; and

  There, the 3-D photos of words, thoughts, 

Feelings; I will cherish as my very own,

  Until they disappear when I 

Think of the corpse of the young girl in the 

  Red book*, and the way she screamed

As she took her last breath.

(*The red book referenced here is Red Line by Charles Bowden. NY: Norton, 1989.)

¡Qué viva la paz!

“¡Qué viva la paz!” said the elderly street vendor

finger-stoking pieces of carbon ever so

gently for the perfect flame to warm the

huge tub of corns-on-the cob. At best a 

tentative respite on the day after 

this tourist safe-haven spot on the 

US-Mexico border was besieged by 

outlaws’ shoot-out, shutting down 

shops, sending hundreds to fend for 

themselves wherever they could find refuge.

Few remnants give clues to the 

actual facts; momentarily a white chalky

cross lies on the side of the street surrounded

by four unlit veladores next to a pool of dry blood.

A crew of city workers-like-robots 

shovel debris in the back of their pick-up; 

the broken pieces of lawn chairs, cement rocks,

and gravel left from the crash where the car chase ended; 

the cross and veladores removed like trash, everything,

except the blood that had seeped deep into the concrete;

Still resonating from the shock, the

street vendors spoke little of what they saw.

Terrified of flying bullets seeking human targets,

their thoughts controlled by sheer instinct;

the elderly corn vender quipped

in steadfast determination that upon hearing the

high powered rifles he ran home and didn’t 

return until the next day. Los rivales killing

each other, and two men dead was all anyone knew 

or thought they knew about what had happened.

The tourists left town, with them, the American dollar,

portending doom to a booming town, leaving 

a deafening silence, adding frailty to the wound. 

Crossing the bridge to Texas soil, the river underneath

wedges its powerful divide, but when 

fear strikes the heart, and death hovers, not

even the mighty Rio can pull us apart.

A Different World

Imagine a smile as big as the sky,

  Eyes dark, shimmering in the sunglow,

Just a glint of mischief in this boy,

 A tender age of 12,

Clever in his ways, full of laughter, making puns

  With friends nearby,

No other boy could match up

  To his love for life, home, and family. 

That was then. 

Today, his heart races to drown his grief,

  Churning oxygen barely clinging to every breath,

Knees almost giving out, weak, pale, deaf, blind, surreal.

  His eyes cannot believe the hell that has

Suddenly besieged his world;

  Terrified, confused, angry,

His hands holding his head as if 

  To keep it from exploding.

That can’t be.

The two people he loves so much,

  His father slouched over the steering wheel,

Covered with blood and bullet wounds,

  Clearly visible, dark holes, like the kind

He made with rocks on tin cans.

No, the body next to his father

  Can’t be brother, it can’t be,

He kind of looks like him, but he 

  Seems shriveled up,

Blood pouring out of his neck, onto his

  Favorite shirt he always wore when 

He was going out to meet a girl.

“¡Apa!” he screams.

No Picnic

Any other river like this 

one would invite the locals 

for a fun-filled picnic. 

Instead, the Rio looks muy bravo and 

desolate against the trappings of 

steel posts, wired fencing, and 

concrete military mesh. 

Pedestrians on the Mexican side of the 

bridge pour out into an open plaza, 

darting cars, waiting for city buses. 

Folk women utterly 

exhausted as they console their 

children, grab on to bundles 

of bulging plastic shopping bags, 

bearing  names of gringo 

stores from the American side of the bridge. 

When the border wall is erected

we won’t be able to see these 

retail gobblers but, who cares. 

As long as the money flows; 

globalism seeps through

impenetrable walls;

A preponderant fact for

the countless that dare to

cross into the land of promise and 

the purgatory of uncertainty; 

We hear stories that make your head spin

like the one of how pets

are treated with dignity 

unlike our brothers; and 

the earnings, no matter how long, 

how hard the work, barely enough to 

put bread on the table. 

At the Mexican side, a 

welcome-home flag awaits 

those who gambled wrong, 

big enough for the world to notice 

how it flies 

more boldly, bigger, and proudly than 

the American flag behind them.

Water (The River of Life in the Desert of Hell)

Water droplet on scorched tongue, 

  like a fragile twig almost dead, 

Too precious, too little, so wrong, 

  only a surreal existence lingers,

Fingers reaching for the empty 

  Plastic jug that feels like brittle 

bones aching feet useless appendages 

  that burden every slight stride

Now slow and heavy; 

  life pleading with merciless sunrays 

determined to kill;

  Caged in an inferno of hell, 

Let death be the victor, 

  Let death be the heaven that 

brings peace, peace, peace;

 And stops the agony.

Water for the thirsty, water for the dead.

My Mother’s House

Your house is only a glimmering reflection

Of the treasure lay buried deep in your heart. 

The photographs of loved ones scattered

   Throughout, now dusty, foggy and blurred,

Are the only thoughts worthy of opening your eyes;

But it doesn’t matter you can no longer see

Because your life, and mine with yours,

Are suspended in time, when laughter, joy and tears

were once the center of our shrine. 

I wish I could turn the hands of time and turn

this house again, to the one you knew so well,

That even when you suffered in despair,

You could still feel your blood run through our veins. 

And now, only our tears mark the time,

The clock knows so well that

With every turn you make toward your grave

So I turn with you;

Every word you can no longer speak

I speak for you; and with

Every love you leave behind 

Intensifies within me a raging fire. 

The love you have to teach me

Is worth more than this earth;

That the only thing living for is to live only once, 

But to love and love and love forever. 

Pure and Simple

Mama, your words are simple and pure

   The way the crystal spring water

Gurgles down its inevitable destination;

   I’ve heard them time and time again;

Even when they were silent. 

You were silent.

You hold the puzzle pieces in your hand,

trying desperately to place them where

they belong: the arches, the curves, the outline of

a passing bridge, towering trees and the walls:

The walls you hated that are still pressing against your bosom. 

There must be a missing piece.

I have it Mama, I have that missing piece;

it’s deep inside my heart, and

Some day, my reach will be strong

enough to give it to you.

Silent Lessons

As I sat weeping, my heart fractures as 

I looked into your dry-well eyes and 

You chided me for such nonsense;

   We all have to take life in whatever

Form or piece it finds us, like the pure

   Shape of the tortilla your soul designed;

You also found an art in dying. 

But it’s not death you give me, Mother; 

It is only life. 

A rebirth of love that eluded us since 

We were tied in that inevitable knot. 

A song of many verses that ring true of 

Sorrow, pain, despair, anger and love– 

How could I have known it was all there. 

I stare at the half circle you leave me, 

Wanting so desperately to close it. 

But it will always be half empty;

   It will never be full without your

Smiling eyes, your heavy brow and

The graceful sweep that you reigned on this earth. 

I’d be a Fool

I’d be a fool to think of myself as a flower 

  That you can hold in your hand;

But the moment is too fleeting and 

  The burn too great to endure.

Instead, with eyes closed 

  I will journey into the mysterious world

Finding comfort in feeling your presence

  Listening to your heartbeat.

You are the reason my spirit never rests

  You bring freshness to the old; 

Hope to the dying

  I want to be with you forever – 

Here, today, tomorrow.

But, now  – your arms are gone;

  No longer the assuring warmth;

I must distance myself from you 

  And feel the earth that bounds me

Even though my gift to you is an empty box;

  My spirit life is yours to keep.

You are the love that fires up my imagination

  But aches with loneliness since

I can only love you in my dreams.

Perfect Imperfections

  What will I take with me, 

In my final journey?

  Visions of larger than life moments, 

The entire beauty of this earth immediately 

  Fill my imaginative bundle.

Too much I think.

Perhaps, better the simple joys of 

  A fruitful life; nature’s true beauty:

A serene undulating ocean,

  The light, fragrant rain and the flowers that 

Bloom in the gentle sunshine;

  A world so rich with kaleidoscopes of 

Lines, shapes, color, light.

But, it all seems too perfect.

  Far from the real life that I’ve known,

Of pain, anguish, grief, and desperation.

  My perfect world is perfectly flawed.

How do I stack up the truth and make sense of 

  The chaos underneath the calm veneer;

El cruce between hell and heaven and back again; 

  Of people killing each other for 

Love, hate, vengeance, and 

  Loved ones, loved ones caught in the middle. 

I think I will take with me

  A small amount of joy; a little contentment;

And, although I’m a bit wiser, 

  I’m less the idealist, knowing that 

We are who we are because

of our perfect imperfections.  


I love the quiet of company,

  Of silent roses that spring

In my imagined room,

  Whispering ideas full of penny jars.

Colors speak to me, 

  Filled with emotional escapades;

The architects, tiny birds fluttering,

  From tree to tree, the budding 

Aerial acrobats that fly into my heart.

The ideas start like seeds that 

  Spread their roots and vines,

Flowers voice their love,

  Each one speaks with candor.

Each one proud of its colorful array.

And we marvel at their

  Brazen beauty that, like puzzle pieces

Work their way into our souls, 

  Our minds, eventually

Singing, laughing, crying.

Breathing life into our next thought

  Until our tree of life stands tall before us,

The real test of time brings us back to

  Real time:

‘Who are we, why are we here, 

  Where are we going, 

What will I leave behind?’

I Was There

In the instant that I see myself I see you – 

  At the moment you chose the road

Toward my way – I was there;

  I held your hand like a ghostly force; 

I was there when you kissed your fate

  To the wind – 

That was my sigh of relief; your vision

  Walking steadily toward me – each time 

A little closer, your eyes seemed more visible

  As the days grew less foggy and a light of 

Every new moon became brighter;

  I was there when your spirit rested 

on my chest, my face, my eyes;

  I saw your faint smile amid the torment of tears;

  Agony, love lost, emptiness, remorse –

I was there when sadness filled your heart;

  What I felt was in you – and you were in me;

I was there the mornings that you woke;

  For every strong heart beat there was hope;

And every step grew faster and bolder – 

  Toward the heart that waited and waited and waited

For you;

I was there with you whispering songs of love;

  When the horizon came to you;

You felt my yearning to be with you;

  Without you the sun would not rise;

The moon obliterated from the sky;

  Without you my words would drop

Like rocks into the depths of an abyss;

  Without you fond memories would disappear;

I was there the day you offered a rose to a heart

  As sweet as yours;

Your arms embraced idealized dreams and 

  Held them tightly, so tightly,

Because you knew that I wanted to be with you;

  From across the sky, toward the full moon and

Many stars beyond, 

  My half journey complete and my heart still

Waits for you.

My Song

Muse-ical notes from your second voice,

  Now settled and drifting

Into my empty Mondays.

Real time became the annoyance

  That I wrestled until my senses

Wore down.

  Not even, 

The thought of you could calm my

  Ill-fated memory log;

For I know,

  I have let a poem slip 

Through my fingers,

  Died too many times;

Flung my soul across songs,

  Stories that could have had life.


  The winter’s cold,

The storms’ evil eyes,

  The restless, aimless spirit,

The daily chants of cries, whimpers, prayers


  Make way to the image of you

Standing before me, and 

  I, pleading with you for

A harmony that I could call

  My song.

The Only Man in My Planet Love Song


You’re the only man in my planet.

You – two-legged, two-armed, one-headed

Creature amongst all warm bodies; 

You, a tail-less appearance 

Like a strong buffalo,

A giant mammoth, the tender butterfly, 

An acrobatic hummingbird. 

You have two hearts – one yours, the other mine.


The shadow sleeping by the bright,

Sunlit tree;

Your face is like an angel, your hands are as warm

As a winter fire, 

Your voice gentle like a silky stream.


You’re the mountain I climb and trip and fall,

And try again; where

My spirit soars like the eagle and we fly

Together – two, winged dinosaurs questing freedom  

Above the hovering clouds.


You’re the devil, too, when your eyes become slits

On a triangle-shaped head; your sting is spiked with

Deadly silence;

And you slither across my face – crying, laughing, screaming.

In my planet there is only one man, I swear;

But when darkness falls, light emerges and

A new horizon appears, and below me – I feel 

The steady ground rising, forming another planet, 

A new world, a NEW.

No Valentine

He loves me, he loves me not;

  He loves me, he loves me not;

The sting in my heart lingers

  longer than I want;

But he’ll call soon, and melt

  away icicles clinging to my thoughts,

And shatter all my doubts;

  But love, like the flower without petals,

Dies an instant death and 

Like another and another and another —

  He loves me, he loves me not;

Free to choose is the right

  To have the space – your space

To breathe your persona,

  What you’ve known all your life;

But too much space allows furniture

  To move in and soon we won’t

Find each other in a crowded room.

Not Far from the Border: Songs

My Bilingual Journey

A Cultural Space is where we grow up: our life experiences, identities, languages, the social spaces we inhabit – our ROOTS; and in my story, my heart and soul are NOT FAR FROM THE BORDER; it’s a life from cradle to grave.


For STORIES and Reflections, click here.

This Train Wreck

1. This Train Wreck

Riding high, riding low

My life has seen the world

On tracks of fire

Rumbling steel, along border wall

While frames of love and 

Happiness Fade away

To live apart, you and me,

Right on the other side

Of a river filled with 

Sorrow and despair

This train wreck

Is splitting my heart in two

I don’t know which side

My heart belongs

Days in, night falls, 

Too many destined to die

Upon the beast of hell and back

Love songs and memories stay

All we’ve got to hold on to

El cruce conmigo


Cuantos besos te ha dado mi vida,

Cuantas lágrimas llenan mi alma,

Por el dolor que me acompaña

Sólo espero a una esperanza

Voy a cruzar, voy a dejarte mi corazón.

Una tristeza se vuelve a un llanto

Cada vez que cruzo el Río Bravo

Si es el infierno o el cielo, no importa

El cruce es una infinita tormenta.

Ya no se ni pa’ donde me voy

Porque tengo el cruce conmigo.

Tu dices que lastimo a tu corazón

Si vieras lo sincero de mi intención

Lo hago por el bien de tu vida

Aunque tienes que seguir tu propio camino

Dame tu mano, y dame tu bendición.


3. El sentido (Desnudar)

El movimiento de la tierra nos llama,

Tú te vas, yo vengo, estamos en un espacio

A veces está obscuro, a veces soleado

Tú, sonriéndote como bebe, y yo

Llorando con lágrimas de ríos

Es verdad que tú tienes una gota de sentimiento

Para mis amores locos, tiernes, desviados

Es verdad que tu piel cerca la mía

Se enciende como el fuego de un volcán

No me lo dices, no me lo niegas

Y yo, buscándote trás las rocas, hojas, las nubes

Buscando señas de la verdad, trás la pared de la vida

Y tú, desapareciéndote con una bolsa llena de corajes,

Pasión, y mi corazón, mi corazón

Corazón desnudo, desnudo

La luna está de luto

4. La luna está de luto

La luna está de luto

Las noches la hicieron viuda

En toda la obscuridad

No muere el poder de la voluntad

La verdad vencera

Ante la luz del coraje

Cada minuto que arde mi valle

Hay una vida perdida

Con tristeza y agonía

Lo que mero se escucha

No son los golpes

Son los corazones quebrando

Uno por uno

La luna está de luto

Las noches la hicieron viuda

Esa noche te dije adiós

Como nunca lo esperaba

Tu sangre quedó en mis manos 

Y sentí tu vida dentro la mía

La iguana

5. La iguana

Bajo el sol imperdonable

Espinas de sangre

Piedras de fuego

Trás las huellas de sueños rotos

Un corazón temblando

De odio y angustia

Un amor ciego y libre

No se escapa de la mala venganza

Te dejo mis anhelos

Ya no los quiero

Aquí el camino termina

Los ojos cerrados, los oídos no quieren oír

Ya me voy, ya me voy

Con la iguana al cima de la montaña

En busca de las palabras

Que me dejastes en llamas

Me quemastes las palabras

Y me dejastes nada

She Fell from the Sky

6. She Fell from the Sky

A new gaze upon the moon

Tear drops glisten like sun filled dew

Ancient casts upon shadow dancing

And she stood there not like a hero

She sat there not like a queen

But she was the light of perfection

She fell from the sky

She was the light of perfection

She came out from the cold

She came out of the river rain

She came down from the mountain – to us

Stories brought us gold and silver

In the turbulent layer of low tide

She blows the sound of winds passing by

And leaves a heart heavy but whole

She stands there like a graceful tree

Begging for rain to fill our hearts

Birds feed from seeds of hopes and dreams

Waiting for the tender shoots to grow

She brings out her hand to stoke the fire

She lifts her soul to give life

She is the light of perfection

She fell from the sky

Sentir el sol

7. Sentir el sol

Donde el círculo comienza

Mi vida termina

Donde la luz despierta es ciertamente el sol

El sol intento en quemar

Los recuerdos de ayer son como 

Fantasía de una mirada cristalina

Tu voz, tu voz, que antes la escuchaba

Es solamente un sonido en la distancia

Cuando me pongo los aretes

Que vi en una fotografía

Me hace sentir quien era esa mujer

Quien sólo quería vivir.

Si vivir es matar

Será como el agua en mis labios

Si vivir es matar

Será como el arma que disparo

Para poder correr y llorar

Y sentir de nuevo el sol que me quema

Y sentir el sol que me quema


8. Soñando

Redondo es tu cielo, en tu cara

  Está el destino

Las voces de los multitudes

  Levantan la tierra cual/cuando lo dices

Y me llamas, me dices mi nombre

  Como el viento  lo ha escrito

El tiempo no tiene destino

  Mas sólo el amor que sigue tu camino

Vuela el pájaro  y te veo;

  La luna llena con tus lúminas risas

Cuando me pongo a pensar en tí

  Estás allí en mis sueños

Cuando me pongo a pensar en tí

  Estás allí en mi canto de lamento;

Por no vivir de tu amor

  Aunque sea por un momento.

La canción romántica

9. La canción romántica

Yo vi en tu mirada 

El espejo del aquel momento

Que tenía que dejar el sueño

Y vivir la vida,

Y seguír con corazón 

El camino solitario

Como solo entre en este mundo

Tú eres como el árbol que me ama

La flor que respira del aire

El agua que nos hace nacer

La canción romántica que nos hace llorar

Un adiós es el comienzo

Ni oro, ni plata, ni diamante

Hay un recuerdo que queda en el suelo

Será el esperado sentimiento solitario

Que viene con la mejor tristeza

All I Want to Hear

10. All I Want to Hear

The smell of spring keeps 

Begging to explode, but never ready

Like you’re ready to unfold

Just when I thought I held

The key to unlock the door

Your breathless utterances took out

The charm of any prince I’ve known

Serious candle burning

We’re praying out of fright

Only the acid rain can

Bid farewell to the frigid cold

I brought you flowers from

My garden of love 

And a rabbit’s foot 

For the grueling winter snow

All I want to hear is your “C” again

And your guitar playing

Even when dreams dry up

In the desert fields

And ghosts try to reappear

There won’t be a harvest this year

There won’t be a harvest this year

All I want to hear is your “C” again

And your guitar playing

Cuánto cuesta la memoria

11. Cuánto cuesta la memoria

Cuánto cuesta la memoria de tu amor

Si todo lo que he soñado fue un error

Cuánto cuestan todas las lágrimas que perdí

Y las noches que pasé sin tí

Sin saber de la maldita razón 

El fracaso me costó todito mi corazón

En un descuido tu amor se desapareció

Sin darme cuenta te alejastes de mi

Tenías que saber que estaba ciega

Tenías que ver el dolor que me causabas

Ahora el tiempo sigue como un buen amigo

La memoria firme de los engaños que me hiciste

Al fin de cuentas yo te amé

Mucho más de que tú tuviste la fé

Cuánto cuesta la memoria de un amor

Si todo lo que he soñado fue un error

Sólo la vida tendrá que mostrar

Que el amor nunca se puede a olvidar

Not Far from the Border: Stories and Reflections

My Bilingual Journey

A Cultural Space is where we grow up: our life experiences, identities, languages, the social spaces we inhabit – our ROOTS; and in my story, my heart and soul are NOT FAR FROM THE BORDER; it’s a life from cradle to grave.

Introduction:  Circles of Cultural Knowledge

Not Far from the Border: My Bilingual Journey is a collection of songs and poems combined with a reflective narrative to describe certain life-changing moments in my life, and how being bilingual and bicultural shaped my identity and guided my work and study.

In a large state such as Texas, communities are diverse in multiple ways. While some community members relish experiences with people in culturally diverse environments, others favor a less connected life with folks that they perceive as starkly different. Within our democracy that allows extraordinary freedoms and liberties, so many of us choose to live exclusively within the barriers of our cultural norms. Of course, economics and social attitudes are some of the factors that constitute our reality, and only a few expect any major changes to the issues that address the myriad of social and economic inequalities. Based on my personal experience, it seems that as we engage with others, in dialogue and interaction, for instance, we learn about others’ cultures, and in the process, we tend to acquire a perspective, not only of understanding, but also of self-awareness. This “circle of cultural knowledge” strengthens our perspective of the uniqueness of culture, and how as a society we shape our community, in the most profound, authentic, and essential sense of the concept. 

The circle of cultural knowledge is not only about keeping our culture alive in our own particular way(s), but it is also about participating in shared cultural experiences, or what some individuals would say, “giving back to your own culture.” 

My Story

My parents were born in México and they met in Nuevo Laredo (across from Laredo, Texas), where my mother had lived for most of her life. I was born in 1949 in Ciudad Juárez, across from El Paso, Texas. I was number three and the first daughter in a family of five brothers and a sister. My parents migrated to Texas when I was five; we lived in Alice, El Campo, and Lampasas before eventually settling in Fort Worth, Texas when I was in the sixth grade. Prior to crossing the border we lived in three border towns or cities: Juárez, Reynosa (across from McAllen), and Nuevo Laredo. My father was an experienced bootmaker and was employed by a boot company in the “Cowtown” center of North Fort Worth. My parents and three siblings born in México received naturalization or citizenship papers in 1967, the year I graduated from Northside High School. 

My father specialized in custom-made boots, but he held his job mainly to bring food to the table to feed a large family. His real passion was music. He could play the saxophone and piano (and probably other instruments); he taught my two older brothers everything about music, and they each learned to play an instrument, saxophone and trumpet. I wasn’t included in his “band,” but I was a very attentive observer. I learned to appreciate and love music in a profound way at a very young age, as if it were a third language added to my Spanish and English.  

I wanted to pursue an education but I was undecided on my major. I didn’t pursue a music degree. I don’t have any professional music training, although I have a deep respect for others that have dedicated their lives to the study of music. I learned to play violin in a school orchestra when I was fifteen, and soon afterward,  I “picked up” the guitar. I started writing songs out of frustration, both because I couldn’t play very well and I wasn’t satisfied with the songs I was trying to learn. The guitar became my constant companion throughout the years, in the best and worst of times.   


For song recordings click here.

For POEMS, click here.

1. This Train Wreck

The song, This Train Wreck, is based on a poem, Along the Border, which I wrote about living in a fusion of two worlds – two languages, two cultures. I was living in Edinburg, working at the University of Texas Pan American. After being there for a couple of years, I began to acquire a different perspective of the “border.” What was once a blur in my understanding of the dynamics of a river boundary, became the focus of an epiphany that led to an exploration of identity, in self and as a community member. Most importantly I realized that I wasn’t alone, that there was a world of people that had distinct commonalities and differences, but all living a life in two worlds. But, it is the manner by which each person combines the worlds, and then, navigates through the diverse complex situations, that presents a uniqueness in the expressions of culture and language. I often wonder to what extent border-life duality attributes to authentic creative expression, and thus, one of the reasons why so many inspirational poets in Texas come from “el valle” or the “border,” regardless of where they live today. 

In the poem, Along the Border, I juxtapose the sentiments of happiness in living in a Spanish and English language world, with the uncertainty and anxiety of border life. People live and work on either side of the border and the act of crossing is the only reminder that there are two immense countries that share a river, the Río Grande, which serves as the border. There are many differences between the two countries, but the people that live along the border share certain similarities, as expressed in the last lines of the poem:

When we get off the train, when our

  feet finally tread on steady ground,

you don’t know which side of the tracks

  your heart lies.

And, from the lyrics of the song:

This train wreck

Is splitting my heart in two

I don’t know which side

My heart belongs

 Related poem: Along the Border 

2. El cruce conmigo

In El cruce conmigo, the lyric’s voice is that of a parent of a young child on the eve of his/her  departure, reassuring the child that crossing the border (from México to the U.S.) is a sacrifice for the benefit of the his/her future. I know this voice from my childhood experience of migrating to the United States and since the time I was teaching third and fourth graders in early 1970s in Edgewood ISD, in San Antonio. I chose to teach in Edgewood, one of the poorest school districts in Texas, because I felt I would be needed there, mainly because I was bilingual and I would be able teach children in both English and Spanish, and because I could relate to the children’s experiences as first-time English learners. This elementary school teaching profession was not one of my original choices when I attended college. 

When I transferred to Texas Woman’s University (TWU) in Denton from a community college in Fort Worth, I had chosen the Performing Arts in Theater as my major. However, my life took on a very different turn when I met a professor, Dr. John Reilly, from TWU, at the grocery store in Denton where I was working as a part-time cashier. He was on a mission to recruit students for a new program, the Teacher Corps, specifically to teach in bilingual education. The program included tuition and salary for part-time work as a teacher aide. I accepted the offer mostly out of convenience. Upon graduation, our Teacher Corps was one of the few undergraduate level programs in the country. Dr. Reilly recruited me in the summer of 1969 and in the fall he was killed in an automobile accident. His memory lives forever in my heart. He was the first person that I’ve ever known to utter the words, bilingual education

After graduating from Texas Christian College (part of the TWU-TCU Consortium), I started teaching at Gardendale Elementary School in Edgewood, and after a year of teaching, I knew that I had made the right choice, not only because of the joy and intrigue in working with young children, but also for the opportunity to teach exclusively in Spanish, along with ESL. I saw myself in the children I taught: their first language was Spanish like in my case, and school was their only resource for learning English. As their teacher, my immediate reaction was one of pride and determination. I wanted to make a difference in their lives and teach them in ways that they could feel proud of their language and heritage, and of course, conquer the world. I barely made enough money to pay for rent and expenses, but nevertheless, I felt incredibly fortunate.  

When I attended elementary school in Alice, Lampasas, and El Campo, I had to learn English on my own, without any kind of second language instruction. I learned to read and write in Spanish when at fifteen I attended a Catholic boarding school and convent close to Chicago, and the only way to communicate with my mother was through letter-writing. And, with my mother, our communication was completely in Spanish. Fortunately, the Spanish language has a fairly strict letter/sound association, even so, I imagined my mother’s amused expression when reading my letters. I went to the school with my dear friend, Cruz Villanueva, for whom I’m forever grateful for being so kind to me. We had to take Latin courses.

After four years of teaching at Edgewood, I decided to leave the classroom and pursue advanced degrees, mostly because as bilingual teachers, we were in constant need of resources and assistance in improving our programs. Bilingual education was practically brand new since the passage of the Bilingual Education Act in 1968. My focus shifted from teaching children to educating the community and training future bilingual educators. I knew I had a lifetime of work in front of me, and after my Master’s degree from the University of Texas at San Antonio, I continued at the University of Texas at Austin where I received my doctorate’s degree. The move from San Anto to Austin was a huge leap of faith; my heart was both sad and content. San Antonio was a cultural arts haven (and still is) where my creativity blossomed in full, and I felt a strong sense of belonging. But I loved teaching, and I continued to work in my profession for the next forty-five years. I believe that I learned so much from my children; we learned from each other. The bond between and amongst us was strong; we seem to instinctively understand the challenges we face today and for the rest of our lives; we shared this common understanding to the core.

This sentiment is expressed in the refrain of El cruce conmigo:

Una tristeza se vuelve a un llanto

Cada vez que cruzo al Río Bravo

Si es el infierno o el cielo, no importa

El cruce es una infinita tormenta.

Ya no se ni pa’ donde me voy

Porque tengo el cruce conmigo. 

A sadness turns into madness

Each time I cross the Río Bravo (the Rio Grande)

It may be difficult or easy, it doesn’t matter

The crossing is always an infinite torture

I don’t know if I’m coming or going

‘Cause I have the border within me

Related poems: Their Dreams, Chameleon at the Border, For Every Bridge There’s a Wall, River Rain

3. El Sentido (Desnudar)

The double title of the song, El Sentido or Desnudar, reflects an English/Spanish language issue. The original title, Desnudar, was meant to describe in multiple meanings the process of “becoming,” one who is in a state of loss and hopelessness, and vulnerability, which is implicit in the description: “corazón desnudo” (literally, a naked heart). However, El sentido, (the purpose), seems to better describe the song through a Spanish language filter. Additionally, the song includes lyrics “borrowed” or influenced from English language songs, such as “el movimiento de la tierra,” from Carole King’s song lyrics, “I feel the earth move under my feet,” and “lágrimas de ríos,” from the song, Cry Me a River (“I cried a river over you”) by Arthur Hamilton.

The song refers to a period of time when, as a young adult I felt pressured to find purpose or meaning in life, and to make life-long decisions that I had very little understanding about. I was in middle school, high school and college during the social revolution of the 1960s, and the little that I understood about life was turned on its head.

My parents were struggling to keep their marriage together, and my two older brothers enlisted in the military and fought in the Marine Corps in the Vietnam War. There were many circles of our friends that were soldiers in the battlefields of Vietnam, a country we knew nothing about, and were clueless as to what they were fighting for and what they were enduring. Many young men from our community were killed in the war, but both my brothers survived. But my brother, Beto, had injuries from exposure to Agent Orange, a defoliant chemical, which complicated his health that led to a premature death in 1996. He wasn’t yet 50. The poem I wrote, the Warrior Planet, was meant to honor his memory and say good-bye to my brother, whom had been my closest sibling when we were children, and who had faced the monster of war, and fought bravely:

Where you died a thousand deaths,

And you came back on borrowed time,

For one more look, one more sigh, one more kiss.  

While the Vietnam War raged on like a burning house, on this side of the planet, I felt I was fighting my own war. I had so many questions about life in general and specific to being female, as in the expression in this line of the lyrics: “Buscando señas de verdad, detrás la pared de la vida.” (“Looking for signs of truth/meaning behind the walls of life.”)  On the one hand, I had a strong desire to be a mother, a sentiment acquired from age 12 when I took on the role of my mother’s helper, taking care of my siblings, fraternal twins, Johnny and Annie. But I also realized that motherhood alone could not fulfill my other dreams or aspirations. I watched as my mother struggled to find contentment and happiness in her role as a wife and mother. She had completed six years of school in Nuevo Laredo, and had yet to learn English. My father had a basic English competency. They had been married for about 23 years and had struggled continuously to stay afloat economically, and deal with changes that they never anticipated, at least not in the U.S. One day I arrived home from either work or school. I was nineteen. When I entered the house I found my mother sitting on chair, crying unconsolably, holding her hand over what seemed to be a cut on her head. I noticed a broken rolling pin on the floor. All I could do was to hug her as tightly as I could. I felt like I knew what had happened. I never saw my father again. He left without saying good-bye; I didn’t realize the true nature of grief until months and years after he had left. To this day I don’t know why they had such a fierce argument, perhaps, my father wanted to leave but my mother didn’t. It was a very emotional time for my mother. 

I felt as though my father abandoned me and my siblings; I try to express the sentiment in the last lines of the song:

Y tú, desapareciéndote con una bolsa, llena de corajes,

Pasión, y mi corazón, mi corazón

Corazón desnudo, desnudo

And you, disappearing with a bag full of anger,

Passion, and my heart, my heart

My innocent and hurting heart.

My father’s departure was a constant reminder that I alone am responsible for the choices I make in life, and in many situations my decisions were based on the desire to follow my instinct, urging me to stay on course, and look forward. 

These are some of the lines in a poem (Papá) I wrote for my father:

I can’t feel your pain, Papá

   Your falling curtains shut me off,

And I’m left with your soulful fears

   That burden you in the cloudiest nights,

That hurt you without telling you, 

   That silence you to a wailing, yelling mess.

If you could talk to me from your cold and

   Bloody grave,

I would hear your anger forever gnawing at my heels,

   I would feel all over again what I see in my dreams, 

A young girl crying to her father that 

   She is the orphan and he, the ruler of her life. 

Although I believed that having a family was a tangible option, I also saw myself as part of the Women’s Liberation Movement. At the time, women of color were mostly silent as White women took the center stage, demanding rights for equality in the workplace. It was in the 1970s, and the role of women was changing, and I believed that I could be part of that movement, even though I realized that as a woman of color, I had to over-achieve and work as hard as possible to fulfill the roles of a mother, wife and a career woman. Throughout the history of this country, women have always been at the forefront for change in our democracy, and this time the groundswell for support was broad and deep-rooted. I realized the challenges in overcoming the obstacles, even so I wasn’t deterred; I had more to lose if I didn’t make the effort.   

At the same time, the Chicano Movement was gradually gaining strength and momentum, where community leaders rallied support to demand justice and equality, in tandem with the protestations and demands of the civil rights movement. I was a Chicana in the movement and wholeheartedly supported the main principles that guided our struggle against inequality and for action to change. But, within the Chicano Movement structure, women played secondary roles that I felt were relegated to the kinds of inferior treatment that the Women’s Movement was fighting against. My priorities were different, and I believed then (as I do today) that I wanted to be part of a wider struggle against injustices for all kinds of people. 

Related poems: Warrior Planet, Papá

4. La luna está de luto

In the song, La luna está de luto, the moon is a metaphor that describes a grieving widow that has lost the “night” because of the gang violence and killings of so many innocent people on the Mexican side of the US/Mexico border. I wrote the song during the time between 2008 and 2012 when I was living and working in Edinburg, a border city, close to McAllen and Reynosa on the other side of the border. Just a few miles further west, the border town of Cd. Mier, once a beautiful city that had been drastically transformed due to the damages from horrific gun battles, some of these shown on local news stations. I also heard these kinds of stories from my students at the university (UTPA) where I was teaching education classes. The University of Texas at Pan American (UTPA) is now the University of Texas Rio Grande Valley. Another incident occurred south of Matamoros, across from Brownsville, that struck terror in the hearts of those affected. One of my students and her family were trapped during a gun fight on a trip to visit a doctor. Terrified and confused, they were able to escape the area during a lull in the fight. I wrote about it in the poem, Close Your Eyes. I also visited Nuevo Progreso, a border town known for its high attendance of tourists, on the day after a fierce gun battle where at least two persons were killed. Most of the people were unwilling to talk about the incident, and most seem unnerved by it as if they had become accustomed to these violent outbursts. There was one man, a food vendor that told me his story, which I retold in a poem, ¡Qué viva la paz! 

The Mexican newspapers published other stories, at least as much as they could since journalists were under the constant threat of being killed by the drug cartels. One story was about a young couple going home one Friday evening when they inadvertently drove their car into the crossfire of a gun fight. The song lyrics expresses what I imagined happened when the husband, who was driving the car, was shot and killed. His wife in the passenger seat, reached over to him and touched the blood on his body:

Esa noche te dije adiós

Como nunca lo esperaba

Tu sangre quedó en mis manos 

Y sentí tu vida dentro la mía

That night I said good-bye to you

I never would have expected;

Your blood was on my hands

And I felt your life inside of mine

Related poems: The Children of Porvenir, Cierren los ojos, The Red Book, ¡Qué viva la paz!, A Different World

5. La iguana

The song, La iguana, begins with the general voice of a migrant attempting to illegally cross into the United States. The background is part of a vast, semi-desert brush area in South Texas (“bajo el sol imperdonable, espinas de sangre, piedras de fuego“). Thousands of undocumented or irregular migrants have attempted to make the dangerous journey, seeking a new life. Although many originate from México, the majority of undocumented migrants in recent years have come from the three countries, Honduras, El Salvador, and Guatemala, also known as the Northern Triangle Countries in Central America. The lyrics speak to the harshness of their journey, and that even as they leave their old lives behind, in reality, their dreams for the new life may not be as fruitful as they believe. Many migrants perish in the South Texas labyrinth of death, yet very little if anything is done by the federal government to address this tragedy.

Bajo el sol imperdonable

Espinas de sangre

Piedras de fuego

Trás las huellas de sueños rotos

Under the suffering hot sun

Thorns of blood

Stones of fire

Leaving behind memories of shattered dreams

The next lines refer to the migrant experiences of violence, frustration and indignities that have compelled them to make the decision to leave and journey northward, despite their understanding of the difficulties and the possibility of losing their lives. 

Te dejo mis anhelos

Ya no los quiero

Aquí el camino termina

Los ojos cerrados, los oídos no quieren oir

I leave you (referring to their home country) everything I’ve ever dreamed about

This is the end for me,

I accept my destiny, my eyes are closed, my ears cannot hear

The line about the “eyes closed, ears deaf,” also refers to the common expression used by gang members in their pursuit to extort, control and manipulate the residents that live in the gang-controlled neighborhoods. Gang violence that contributes to extremely high number of deaths among inhabitants in the Northern Triangle countries is one of the major reasons for the migration waves. Many migrants with irregular documentation (no passport) make the decision to leave their homes because they believe that their lives are at risk, and that they don’t have other options. 

In the final lines, the lyric’s voice shifts to an expression of protest: for the inhumane treatment of undocumented migrants by U.S. government officials, for the lack of compassion and understanding on behalf of many Americans, for lack of policies or decisions that address the root causes of migration, and the unwillingness by our government to develop an effective comprehensive immigration policy to eliminate undue suffering and deaths among migrants. 

Ya me voy, ya me voy

Con la iguana al cima de la montaña

En busca de las palabras

Que me dejastes en llamas

Me quemastes las palabras

Y me dejastes nada

I’ll take this injustice to the top of the mountain

Wherever I need to go

To continue the fight toward justice

No matter how long it takes

Even if my protest falls on deaf ears

I will keep fighting,

I have nothing else to lose.

Related poems: No Picnic, Water (The River of Life in a Desert of Hell) 

Related Stories: Stories of Migrant Women from Central America in Search of a New Life; Migrant Deaths in South Texas; Hondurans: Why They Leave, Come Back, and Leave Again

6. She Fell from the Sky

This song is based on a story of women during the armed conflict in Guatemala, and how they struggled to survive. It was known as the 36-year Internal Armed Conflict between the State military and the counterinsurgent forces, which caused the lives of 200,000 people and some of the generals were charged and convicted in crimes against humanity and the act of genocide. The most affected groups of people during 1980-83 massacres and assassinations were the indigenous groups from the northern regions in the states of Quiché and Huehuetenango. The Maya Ixil suffered the most casualties and were subjected to horrendous torture and death, where 90 villages where they lived were completely destroyed, and at least 80,000 men, women, and children were killed or died while hiding in the mountains from starvation, the cold, or sickness.  

Stories of survival amongst the refugees surfaced after their return from the places of refuge in the mountains. Some families had been in hiding there for years. In the lyrics of this song, expressions of the bravery and strength against all odds speak to the harrowing journey of how women were able to survive and keep their children and others alive. What they experienced as victims is beyond comprehension because they were treated inhumanely, having to endure the most abominable, evil, and heinous torture. The army used violence against the women as part of their arsenal of weapons. The horrendous violence against the women was reprehensible, but the torture didn’t stop there. They saw their children being tortured and killed, and they were completely helpless.     

I’ve reported on the history, experiences, and challenges of the Maya Ixil and others in Guatemala as a volunteer/writer since 2012. My experiences and expertise as a bilingual educator have opened up a world of diverse perspectives, languages and cultures. The unique way(s) of becoming bilingual and bicultural is as complex as it is fascinating. I’ve gained an enormous respect for people across different borderlands; and for every learning moment that I experience in their presence, I gain a life time of joy and gratitude. 

Related: Who are the Maya Ixil? The Winds of Change in Ixil Country, The Maya Ixil School of Life: Ways of Knowing and Learning

7. Sentir el sol

This song is written from my mother’s point of view; from what I imagined she was thinking during the final phase of the debilitating effects due to the Alzheimer’s disease. The title is in reference to the simplest sensation, “to feel the heat of the sun,” which I noticed in my last visits with her. She couldn’t see or hear me; she was in another world. I wasn’t emotional then because I was too engrossed in her world and in trying to put myself inside of it. I recall several years before the complete onset of the disease that she was aware of the loss of memory, and would tell me that her time to die was near, which I try to express in the line: “donde el círculo comienza mi vida termina.” Writing and singing the song is a way of re-visiting my mother’s memory without the emotional strain that usually follows in moments of remembrance. She is with me, always.

Donde el círculo comienza

Mi vida termina

Donde la luz despierta es ciertamente el sol

El sol intento en quemar

Where the circle (of life) begins

So my life ends

The light that shines (on us) is the sun

The sun that radiates heat

Los recuerdos de ayer son como 

Fantasía de una mirada cristalina

Tu voz, tu voz, que antes la escuchaba

Es solamente un sonido en la distancia

The memories of the past are

Like fantasies through a crystal ball

Your voice, your voice that I once knew

Is now a sound from the distance

Cuando me pongo los aretes

Que vi en una fotografía

Me hace sentir quien era esa mujer

Quien solo quería vivir.

When I put on my earrings

The ones I saw in a photograph,

It reminds me of a woman like me

That just wants to live

Si vivir es matar

Será como el agua en mis labios

Si vivir es matar

Será como el arma que disparo

If living is dying

It’s like water on my lips

If living is dying

It’s like killing with a gun

Para poder correr y llorar

Y sentir de nuevo el sol que me quema

Y sentir el sol que me quema

Then, I can run, and cry

And feel the heat of the sun again

The sun that radiates heat

My Mother

In the poem, My Mother’s House, what stands out as “remembering her house,” is not so much about the physical contents, but it was the way we shared love: the indescribable mother-daughter kind of love:

Every love you leave behind 

Intensifies within me a raging fire. 

The love you have to teach me is worth more than this earth;

That the only thing living for is to live only once, 

But to love and love and love forever. 

Related poems: My Mother’s House, Pure and Simple, Silent Lessons

8. Soñando

Soñando (Dreaming) is a song about following your heart and dreams. I think about my own dreams and how grateful I am to have had the opportunity to realize some of these, even if they were short-lived. When we were growing up in Lampasas, Texas, we didn’t have many role models to follow. I remember wanting to be an actress or a nun because we watched television and went to church. I was intrigued by the idea of being an actor and pretending to be someone else. I’m very fortunate in that I loved reading as a child and would often prefer to get lost in my book rather than play with my friends.

As a budding actress, I had a bit part in Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, which was staged at the Casa Mañana Theater in Fort Worth. I was somewhat bored because I was sidelined during rehearsals but I used my off-time to prepare lessons for my students in the Teacher Corps program. In San Antonio, I was a member of the Teatro Chicano. We staged a street theater version of the Alamo, a play that centered on the ”truth” behind the siege of the Alamo, which is one of San Antonio’s main tourist attraction. In Austin, I had a pretty good major role in a play with the Austin Community Theater.

We started the Teatro Reflexiones group in San Antonio in the early 1970s, and chose to perform Henrik Ibsen’s The Doll House because of its gender inequality theme. However, to improve on its relevancy for our community we had to adapt it and translate it into Spanish. The Guadalupe Cultural Arts Center wasn’t yet around so the Our Lady of the Lake University allowed us to use their theater-in-the-round stage. The play became La casa de la muñeca; I played the role of Nora and directed it. The poster was made by César A. Martínez.

The lyrics in Soñando express how inspiration can be acquired by believing in yourself and staying focused on your dreams and passions. This truly is not so easy to accomplish. But it’s the creative process that is the most important. Fulfillment is achieved when you’re sufficiently satisfied and have no regrets for what you accomplished, as in the last lines of the song:

Cuando me pongo a pensar en tí

  Estás allí en mi canto de lamento;

Por no vivir de tu amor

  Aunque sea por un momento.

 When I think about you (your dreams)

You’re there in my song of lament

For not following my dreams

Even for a brief time.

Related poem: I’d be a Fool

9. La canción romántica

La canción romántica follows a traditional, old-fashion Mexican song style. As in many of these kinds of songs, there is a message or lesson about life. At some point in life, we are inclined to make difficult choices and in most cases, these are guided by the most practical reasons, the kind that have the best consequences on the long-run. The lyrics in La canción romántica emphasize that to achieve our life-long goals, we alone must own our journey; we are solely responsible for the outcomes.  

Y vivir la vida,

Y seguír con corazón 

El camino solitario

Como solo entré en este mundo

I realized that to live my life

I had to follow my heart

 And take the solitary path

Like I came into this world

The lyrics in the refrain reflect a reverential perspective of our world and by being humble and compassionate, we recognize that the simplest gifts in life give us the most fulfillment.

Tu eres como el árbol que me ama

La flor que respira del aire

El agua que nos hace nacer

La canción romántica que nos hace llorar

You are like the tree that loves me

The flower that breathes the air

The water that gives us life

The romantic song that makes us cry.

Related poems: Perfect Imperfections, Speak

10. All I Want to Hear

I’ve tried to express in my writings the ways that music has played an important role in my life. All I Want to Hear is my latest piece, and the same or similar message seems to emerge: that no matter the chaos or conflicts that we live in life, music is the salve that relieves the pain, no matter where it comes from. I owe my passion for music to my father, and although I didn’t get to know him as an adult, my childhood memories of love remain strong. 

Related poems: I want to be With You, My Song

11. Cuánto cuesta la memoria

Finally, Cuánto cuesta la memoria is a torch song in the Mexican tradition. It’s not a “ranchera” or “mariachi” but it has a familiar theme: falling in love and out of love, cheating, and picking up the pieces, etc.  As in most cases with song lyrics, the meaning is lost in the literal translation.  The awkwardness in the English translation points out how this song, and frankly, any Spanish language song, is meant to be sung only in Spanish.     

Cuánto cuesta la memoria de tu amor

Si todo lo que he soñado fue un error

Cuánto cuesta las lágrimas que perdí

Y las noches que pasé sin tí

Sin saber de la maldita razón

El fracaso me costó todito mi corazón

How much does the memory of love cost

When everything that I’ve dreamt about has been a mistake

How much do the lost tears cost

And all the nights I’ve spent alone without you

Without knowing the reason why you betrayed me

The mistake cost me all of my heart

En un descuido tu amor se desapareció

Sin darme cuenta te alejastes de mi

Tenías que saber que estaba ciega

Tenías que ver el dolor que me causabas

In a fleeting moment your love disappeared from me

Before I realized it you were gone from my life

You’ve had to have known that I was blind to what you were doing

You’ve had to have known the pain that you caused me

Ahora el tiempo sigue como un buen amigo

La memoria firme de los engaños que me hiciste

Al fin de cuentas yo te amé

Mucho más de que tu tuvistes la fé

Now, time is on my side like a good friend

But I won’t forget that you betrayed me

At the end I think I loved you more

Than the faith you had in our love

Cuánto cuesta la memoria de un amor

Si todo lo que he soñado fue un error

Sólo la vida tendrá que mostrar

Que el amor nunca se puede olvidar

How much does the memory of love cost

When everything that I’ve dreamt about has been a mistake

Only time will tell 

Whether love truly cannot be forgotten

For the broken-hearted, this is the kind of song that is easier to listen to over a glass of wine or shot of tequila. ¡Salud! Cheers!

Related poems: The Only Man in My Planet Love Poem, No Valentine

The Maya Ixil School of Life: Ways of Knowing and Learning – A Photo Essay

This video is a continuation of the previous work: Who are the Maya Ixil? In this photo essay, the central questions are: Why do the Maya Ixil, especially the young men, migrate to the United States in such large numbers. In the Nebaj municipality, 1,465 people, mostly young men were deported within a two-year period: 2018 – 790: 2019 – 675. Total of 1,465 is 1.3 percent of the total population of Nebaj. The video points out the economy in crisis, which has been deteriorating for decades. Several factors are examined, but clearly, the Guatemalan government has failed to step up in crucial ways, allowing the problem to worsen.

The video: The Maya Ixil School of Life: Ways of Knowing and Learning:

The Winds of Change in Ixil Country


In the Americas, history cannot be substantially comprehended independently of an appreciation of the importance of pre-Columbian history, colonialism, and post-colonialism.  Background historical contexts bring into light a myriad of factors that strengthen our understanding of history in a broader sense.  

Part I: The Great Mayan Civilization

The Maya Ixil of Guatemala are descendants of the great Mayan civilization that according to historians, archeologists, and anthropologists, have roots dating as far back (or further) as the Early Preclassic period when the discovery of Mesoamerican settlements began to tell their story. The work of a cadre of international researchers and scholars since the latter part of the nineteenth century have resulted in discoveries that point to the grandeur of the Maya people. The most important food, maize, was domesticated from wild grasses around 5000-7000 BCE, which allowed for subsistence farming to replace a migratory lifestyle, unequivocally transforming their lives. With masterful precision, they built magnificent cities with spacious, unique buildings. They created a functional social and economic society, organized around a hierarchical and sustainable mode of leadership. They invented an advanced form of writing, combining logos and syllables, and eventually, becoming substantially standardized and diffused throughout the Mayan society. The concept of 0 was an early Mayan invention in the world’s civilization. 

Mesoamerican history includes the stories of many civilizations, each one encompassing aspects of advanced scientific and mathematical accomplishments comparable and even superseding to those of other continents around the world. Historical and cultural accounts of the Mayas inscribed in archeological ruins contain numerous acknowledgements attributed toward the scholars, scribes, and artisans. The winds of change in the Mesoamerican world reveal societies devoted to knowledge and achievements, but they also confirm the prevalence of warfare and how the outcome of such violence shaped the lives of people. 

There’s an abundance of historical evidence that friction and conflict existed amongst and between the Mayan groups, and it seems that certain groups sustained an upper hand in the way they unabashedly inflicted cruel, miserable suffering on their adversaries. But, no one could foretell the kind of violence that would be instigated by the Spanish conquistadors that wanted only the treasures that they could take for themselves, and were intent on destroying everything else. Some historians point to the fact that, upon their arrival, the Mesoamerican civilization was work in progress for at least 15,000 years, and the Spanish conquest set out to destroy it in a very brief period of several years.  

The Spaniards arrived in 1519, making landfall in the shores of the Bay of Campeche, the Gulf of Mexico, and then, initially traveled toward the valley of Mexico. There are numerous tales, legends, and historical accounts of the Spaniards’ conquest and subsequently, the destruction of the great Mesoamerican civilization. But, notably interesting is that a singular fact can sum up the underlying motive behind the Spanish conquest, that the pillaging of the “treasure” and destruction of a civilization was justifiable for the sake of spreading Christianity, particularly, in homage to the Spanish Crown.

The Ixil were Conquered in the 1530’s

The Spanish conquistadors’ conquest included the Ixil country because of the region’s proximity to the Cuchumatanes mountain range, where they could possibly mine valuable minerals. It was not an easy triumph since the Ixil people and neighboring groups fought courageously against their heavily armed enemies, but to an avail. The European-Spaniards imposed the feudal patterns of land ownership, and declared the embattled survivors as slaves, for which the people would not be able to escape, even after the power of Spaniards diminished. 

The Spanish takeover throughout Mesoamerica, as well as in Latin America, created a jolting impact on the lives of the indigenous populations. From the point of their conquest forward, the systematic land grabs, and by means of slavery or forced labor, and debt servitude, the indigenous populations plummeted into a dire state of poverty where they could barely survive off a subsistence way of life. The Maya Ixil people, for whom an agricultural economy had been the sole means of living for thousands of generations, were forced into a very different survival mode due to the subjugation enforced by a foreign power. Forced to abandon their culture, indeed, their entire identity, the Ixil people had no choice but to adapt or fade into non-existence. Of course, they chose to survive, and by using their well-endowed mental and physical attributes, they adapted in ways that proved to satisfy the invaders but at the same time, remain steadfast in their dignity and respect toward their ancestral roots. 

The Spanish Crown persisted in strengthening a power base whereby an elite social class of Spaniards and non-indigenous (ladino or mestizo) land owners enriched themselves through the acquisition of Mayan ancestral lands and the use of forced labor amongst the indigenous people. This hacienda-based economy had been in vigor under the Spanish Crown for two hundred years until the 1724 abolishment of the system of encomienda (a forced-labor law), in the condition that the Mayans converted to Christianity. By then, the population in Ixil country had been drastically reduced to its lowest number due to Old World diseases, and that many families had fled to the mountains. 

From Oppression to Violence

Life under Spanish rule was predicated on the conqueror’s belief that Guatemala was their possession to do what they wanted, to live out their lives as if they were at home in Spain, but much better, and that the native population was to provide for them in every way possible.   

Their egocentric approach guided the Spanish Crown invaders’ blueprint for a conquered country, replete with the comforts of life similar to their home in Spain: the spirituality of the Ixil would be replaced with the Spanish version of Christianity; the political component would follow a hierarchical organization whereby the ruling Spaniards claimed a privilege of uncontested governance over the Maya, turning the people into subordinates within a caste-like system; and the economy would enrich the Spaniards so they could assume the higher echelons of the Spanish Crown society. All of their exploits were detrimental to the health and well-being of the indigenous population. By the mid-eighteenth century, the Maya Ixil had lost 80 percent or more of their population due to horrific diseases and poverty-related deaths. But, the Spanish rulers also realized that they needed the indigenous populace to stay alive, for their sake. The Maya Ixil people possessed the utmost levels of skill and knowledge in farming, for instance, and the consistent conqueror’s determination was to identify their resources or abilities and then,  to exploit these for themselves. And, of course, to gain possession of their lands so that their capital acquisitions would enrich them and their families for generations to come.   

The southern and eastern regions of Guatemala were considered well-suited as the “core,” while the North and West areas were deemed the “periphery.” The conquistadors favored the pleasant land topography and climate in the core area, and immediately focused on growing wheat and raising cattle since bread and red meat were essential to their diet. They brought slaves from Africa to use as labor, and although slavery amongst the indigenous population was abolished in 1550, nevertheless, they were used almost as slaves, working in the fields and other labor for very low wages, through debt peonage, i.e., paying off an exorbitant debt by working it off, requiring them to fulfill fiscal and labor obligations for the Church, and through a system of labor repartamiento, which forced them to work year-round, away from their homes. The conquistadors and their proxies kept a very tight control on the indigenous work force, especially with the emergence of commercial ranching and agriculture. The Spaniards took possession of the best fertile lands to grow and harvest the cash crops such as cacao, cochineal, indigo, sugarcane, and tobacco. Their haciendas charged the indigenous workers with the responsibility of raising sheep, mules, horses, and cattle. The fincas in the high plateau of the Cuchumantes mountains were at that time, the largest in all of Guatemala and beyond.   

No doubt, the indigenous population under the powerful suppression of the Spanish conquerors, endured a long-term suffering of structural violence. The economic hardships and the psychological impact of living in constant fear and control had substantial consequences. But, yet another period of sheer terror and torment would be forthcoming. Some historians have argued that the armed conflict, or as was called the “civil war” of the 70s, 80s, and 90s had its antecedents in the period of the Spanish conquest, but particular events in the late nineteenth century steered the country toward the civil-armed uprising. Specifically, events in the late 1950s and 60s acted as fuel that accelerated the fury of bloody battles, placing the Maya Ixil in direct harm of the conflict. 

According to historians, the Internal Armed Conflict lasted for 36 years. The casualties were astronomical: 200,000 deaths, the majority of these were Mayan, many human rights violations were committed, mostly by the military, and at least a million people were displaced internally. Between 1976 and 1983, under the leaderships of Gen. Romeo Lucas García, and then, Gen. Efraín Ríos Montt, respectively; the Comisión de Esclaramiento Histórico (CEH1999) reported that 626 Mayan villages were totally destroyed. During the seven-year period, 150,000-200,000 deaths were reportedly killed. The Recuperación de la Memoria Histórica documented a total of 80 village massacres in the Ixil country (Chajul, Nebaj, and Cotzal) within a three-year period, 1980-1983. The case against General Ríos Montt in 2013 brought international attention to the genocide committed against the Mayans by the Guatemalan military. Ríos Montt died in 2018 during the appeal process after he had been convicted for crimes against humanity and genocide and sentenced to 80 years in prison by the country’s federal court. Many other responsible officers have been convicted and are currently serving prison sentences, but others have yet to be brought to justice.1  

Part II: The Liberal Revolution, 1871 -1944

The Liberal Revolution of 1871 consisted of a change of “guard” led by García Granados and Justo Rufino Barrios, who later, in 1873, became president. The “new” guard was known as liberal because it replaced the 30-year conservative ruling faction that had resisted the kind of change needed to compete at a broader level, in lock step with the capitalism of the modernized societies around the world. Rufino Barrios was known as Guatemala’s “Reformer,” because of the “sweeping” changes he instigated at the social, educational, economic, and political levels. He presided over the development of a new constitution; and brought into his government’s control of the powers of both the aristocracy and the Catholic Church. Rufino Barrios’ administration played a key role in promoting the privatization of Guatemala’s resources, the foreign investments, and in developing coffee as the main agroexport of Guatemala, which some historians point out had an enormous consequential impact on the lives of the indigenous population and threatened their survival. He played a major role in the 1873 inauguration of the Polytechnic Institute, a national military academy that graduated many of the country’s dictators.  Under his leadership, the armed forces increased to 15,000. The infrastructure he prioritized led to the construction of the railroad, and more telegraph lines. His vision was to create a unified Central America, and even went to war with El Salvador that refused to join. He died in battle in 1885. But the liberal ascendency continued in the country with the consecutive dictatorships of Barrillas, Reina Barrios, and Manual Estrada Cabrera.  

The dictator, Manual Estrada Cabrera who was president from 1898 to 1920, was known for using the military force as an instrument of terror. He also embraced and supported the economic development of the United Fruit Company, owned by the United States. Estrada Cabrera was forceful in his dictatorship by persecuting his political opponents, shunning individual’s human rights, and suppressing the news outlets. He was also accused of embezzling federal funds from the treasury. As a powerful dictator, Estrada Cabrera could not sustain his position without criticism and protests, and the eventual fallout from his supporters. He was removed from office, and within an eleven-year period, three other presidents were democratically elected, although not without controversy based on suspicion of fraud. A military coup d’état in 1931 marked the end of a series of presidents wrought with conflict, and the beginning of General Jorge Ubico’s term.

Ubico’s thirteen-year tenure as president (1931-1944) is well-known for its dramatic departure from the Liberal Revolution ideals which set the 1870s revolution’s course in motion. Ubico drew praise for the country’s advances in economic growth, but his dictatorship led the country into a down spiral of democratic ideals. He suppressed the freedom of speech and promoted the 1816 decree that an indigenous member of the population would be assassinated for violating the laws. He used this law to resolve conflicts amongst community members, and appealed to the masses that he was their savior. He administered the Vagrancy Law that required the indigenous community field laborers to work for extended periods of time every year, for very little wages. He maintained a positive, productive relationship with the United States, and used the economic aid toward increasing military power and for self-aggrandizement. Ubico’s unique ability of manipulating the United States government to his favor probably represented the standard modus operandi by which various dictators adopted in their quest to gain similar diplomatic aid or support.   

Part III: The “October 20, 1944” Revolution 

In the Summer of 1944, Ubico was confronted with a nationwide strike led by a wide variety of people, including those from the middle-class, university students, teachers, and intellectuals. Ubico deployed the military force upon the strikers, and among them, one of the protesters, a young teacher, María Chinchilla Recinos, was shot and killed. The protestors became furious and the military could not maintain control. By the end of June, Ubico had resigned and one his appointed generals, Federico Ponce Viades became his proxy. On the first of October, the editor of the opposition newspaper, Alejandro Cordova, was assassinated. Twenty days later, on October 20, a military junta, led by army officers, including Jacobo Arbenz Guzman, launched a successful, relatively bloodless coup d’état and forced Ponce Viades to resign. The October 20th date became a rallying cry for future protests against military dictatorships for decades to come, some of whom unleashed an unprecedented torrent of human rights violations.  

The teachers’ political party, Renovación Nacional, had chosen their candidate, Juan José Arévalo for president. Arévalo had a Ph.D. from an Argentinian university and at first, wanted to work in the Ministry of Education, but not under the presidency of Ubico. After working in Argentina as a professor, he returned to Guatemala in the summer of 1944 and became a leader in the Renovación Nacional party. The presidential elections were held in December, 1944, and Arévalo was announced the winner in a landslide victory.

Arévalo promoted socialist policies, and contrary to his adversaries claims, he vehemently rejected communist ideals. His was a “spiritual socialism,” that promoted compassion and understanding in dealing with the social and economic problems of the indigenous population. Seventy percent of the population were illiterate, and malnutrition and health issues were rampant. The Liberal Revolution’s policies concerning land holdings had been extremely biased against the indigenous communities, thus, the elite landowners owned three quarters of agricultural (fertile) land, leaving the peasant population in dire poverty. Yet, Arévalo envisioned his country as capitalist but with the focus on benefits for everyone. His ideas laid out the foundation for the reforms that his successor, Jacobo Arbenz Guzmán, would eventually integrate into his own vision. 

Arévalo’s government ratified a new constitution, known to be one the most progressive in Latin America, mandating suffrage for women, and organizing labor in order to promulgate laws that treat workers fairly and justly. 

Jacobo Arbenz Guzmán served as the Defense Minister in Arévalo’s presidency. His democratic ideals were at odds with many if not most of the other presidents who followed dictatorship examples, despite the fact that they had graduated from the same national military academy, the Polytechnic Institute. When Arbenz Guzmán won the presidential elections in 1950 with sixty percent of the vote, his first mandate was to modernize the agrarian reform bill. The bill was passed by the National Assembly in 1952 and was immediately enforced. The main goal was to transfer uncultivated land from elite landowners to the poverty stricken indigenous families. This was also important because the World Bank refused to loan funds which the country desperately needed. The landowners would be compensated with government bonds whose value was equal to the cost of the land expropriated. The reform project was deemed successful on several fronts, however, in the final analysis, only a few families successfully completed the land transfers, leaving 80-90 percent of the contested landholdings with the previous owners. Some historians argued that while there were problems with the land reform laws, overall, they addressed the most urgent injustices experienced by the poor farmers. The manner by which Arbenz exited or  was ousted from the presidency lays out the complexity of the terms of success, leaving many questions unanswered. 

The Agrarian Reform Law had at its core the phenomenal potential of correcting the historical injustices perpetrated against the indigenous people. The period from 1944 to the passing and enforcement of the reform bill was hailed by many as nothing less than a revolution, and Arbenz’ quote reaffirmed their belief: [the reform was not only] “the most precious fruit of the revolution and the fundamental base of the destiny of the nation as a new country, [but it also caused] an earthquake in the consciousness [of the Guatemalan people]” (Handy, p.169). Perhaps, it was the perception of Arbenz’ remarkable success that alerted the key players to assert their highest levels of power, that eventually caused his downfall: the U.S. State Department’s John Foster Dulles, under President Eisenhower, both of whom viewed Arbenz as a kind of threat to the United States, especially within the context of the Cold War; the Guatemalan military perceived Arbenz as a president that would enable the indigenous population to rise and challenge their authoritative position; and the various sectors such as the oligarchs, the politicians, and landowners would lose their positions of influence and power. That the three factions would eventually converge to construct a theater of urban, guerrilla warfare is often the least known within the scope of the historical armed conflict of Guatemala. 

Behind the Coup d’état: Operation PBSUCCESS

The blueprint for ousting President Arbenz in the CIA’s Operation PBSUCCESS has been well described by historians, most notably by the authors/journalists of Bitter Fruit: The Untold Story of the American Coup, (1983) Stephen Schlesinger and Stephen Kinzer. The descriptions of the events, timelines, and key players underscore the clandestine nature of Operation PBSUCCESS, but answers related to the reasons for launching the operation in the first place are less clear, unless the inherent intent was to create an ambiguous or conflated response to the question of motive. Clearly, the Cold War’s strategy to contain communist expansionism played a huge role in the decision made by President Eisenhower’s administration and the manner by which it was administered by the State Department, Secretary John Foster Dulles. But there was also the economic interest, namely, the United Fruit Company based in Guatemala, that was central to the decision making process. 

Since the 1954 coup, world leaders, especially from Latin America, have harshly criticized the United States involvement as a political interventionist without purpose. Eventually, official records were revealed that the Secretary Dulles and his brother, the CIA director, Allen Dulles, benefitted financially from United Fruit Company, clearly in violation of the Conflict of Interest laws. Secretary Dulles and his law firm, Sullivan & Cromwell, negotiated the land dealings between United Fruit and the Guatemalan government, and Allen Dulles was the director during Operation PBSUCCESS. Both men were on the United Fruit Company’s payroll for 38 years. The powerful members of the military junta, defeated in the 1944 coup d’état, and in conjunction with United Fruit, maneuvered their way back into power, using their connections with the Dulles brothers. To keep these financial dealings in private, it was important to  maintain a “political” message, that the United States intervention was necessary to halt the “communist”  government of President Arbenz. President Eisenhower, eager to fulfill his role as a powerful leader against the threat posed by the Soviet Union, whole-heartedly approved of the plan. The “economic” message was also inserted in the military components, however, the language used was specific to naming United Fruit Company as an important investment that benefitted the United States as a country.  

The campaign to overthrow Arbenz’ government was in full throttle when the State Department decided on John Peurifoy as the ambassador to the Guatemala. Peurifoy, a life-long Democrat from South Carolina, was working in the State Department when he had a disruptive dispute with Senator Joseph McCarthy and his charge that communists were amongst staffers embedded in the Department, which Peurifoy vehemently argued to the contrary. Later, however, Peurifoy delivered to Congress the claim that a “homosexual underground” existed in the Department, which coincided with McCarthy’s anti-gay rhetoric. He was appointed Ambassador to Greece in 1950, and three years later, he returned to the United States, leaving behind a reputation of being undiplomatic, and a meddler in their country’s internal affairs.  

As Ambassador, one of Peurifoy’s main goal was to convince President Arbenz that the United States had the sole interest of making assurances that his government was not communistic. The public relations company hired by the United Fruit Company, John Clements Associates, had the exact opposite assignment of lobbying to powerful influencers, and convincing them that Arbenz’ administration was intensely involved in communism. John Clements, a McCarthyite crusader against communism, developed a 300-plus page study, widely distributed to Congress, on why Guatemala’s president should be removed. Clements also added another volume to his study, specifically addressing proposed strategic military maneuvers, and the selection of Col. Carlos Castillo Armas as the lead officer, later named by the CIA as “Liberator.” 

In November, 1950, Carlos Castillo Armas, a colonel in his forties and long-time enemy of Arbenz, led an army of 70 in an attempt to take over the Aurora Military Base in Guatemala. The operation proved to be a failure since 16 soldiers were killed and ten were wounded, including Castillo Armas. He was sentenced to die by firing squad, but after six months in prison, he was granted asylum by the Colombian government. 

Around Christmas in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, 1953, Castillo Armas began to broadcast and recruit for his “National Liberation Movement.” He awaited orders from the CIA in Nicaragua, aided by the dictator, Samoza, who was part of the collaboration.  Allen Dulles, the CIA director, was the major force throughout the execution of Operation PBSUCCESS.

The Bitter Fruit authors, Schlesinger and Kinzer, offer a detailed and intriguing account of the coup. Initial steps in the Operation included the smuggling of weapons, presumably purchased by Arbenz. While the loaded ship of Czech origins stood anchored at Puerto Barrios, Honduras, the CIA commenced their next strategy of alerting President Eisenhower and the National Security Council of the weapons as proof of an imminent uprising and thus, the urgency to commit to a coup for the sake of saving Guatemala from the dangerous communists. Then, between June 18 and June 27, 1954, using Honduran soil to launch ground troops and aerial attacks, a series of bombings and gun battles ensued, causing the deaths of 17 soldiers and extensive property damage. The CIA used its improvisation tactics to create a scenario that the Russians were complicit in the attacks, even disguising the U.S. jet bombers, dressing them up as Soviet aircraft.   

The entire operation involved the CIA, the State Department and the Executive Branch,  and together, on the behest of the United Fruit Company, conspired to launch an illegal coup d’état to oust a democratically elected president. 

President Arbenz felt that he had no choice but to surrender to the immense pressure, leaving Guatemala for asylum in México on June 27, 1954. The United States’ military might was overwhelming, and any diplomatic means by which to negotiate with such a powerful country were nonexistent. Perhaps, the most blatant response against Arbenz came from his leading military commanders, whom he had trusted and respected. They refused to support him, not because they sided with the United States, rather, their concern was about their survival as the dominant force amongst the indigenous populations, which their military status had consistently allowed them to exercise in privilege and power. Scholar/researcher, Jim Handy (1990), writes insightfully on the circumstances behind the military’s position of dominance among the rural communities. The general consensus was that the Reform would essentially lead to the  diminishing of authority, or authoritative “grip” that the military had adapted for decades. Schlesinger and Kinzer described the ruling generals and their civilian backers as a “wealthy caste unto itself,” in reference to the special capitalistic privileges that engendered them individual wealth and exclusive access to the upper echelons of society.  

Part IV: After the Coup  

Col. Castillo Armas eventually took over the presidency as a dictator. Although he was CIA’s  third choice for the position, the “Liberator” became the ideal obedient loyalist, and tyrant, as was expected. Within a three-year period (1954-1957), he officially abolished the heart of the Reform Law, Decree 900, outlawed political parties, banned any and all organizations and unions, prohibited voting by the mostly poor and illiterate populace, and restored the Secret Police brigade. He also ordered the burning of literature he deemed “subversive,” which were writings by leftists and revolutionaries, including Nobel Prize winner Miguel Angel Asturia’s novel, El señor presidente, based on the life of Manuel Estrada Cabrera during his reign as a dictator. Castillo Armas encouraged foreign mining companies to purchase drilling rights, and indeed, welcomed capitalist investors; he yielded to the demands of the Catholic Church and allowed it to own property and include religious instruction in public schools, restoring ties with the conservative Catholic faction.

Secretary of State Dulles seemed satisfied with Castillo Armas’ overall performance, except for his obstinate refusal to arrest the 700 ardent followers of President Ardenz, following the coup, that, as asylum seekers were protected in various foreign embassies. Dulles wanted to brand these loyalists as criminals, or Russian agents, even though they were not. He wanted them expelled from Guatemala, and sent directly to Moscow. Perhaps, Castillo Armas recalled how the Colombian embassy saved him from the death sentence, and that asylum in a foreign embassy was the only legal mechanism by which the defeated ranks could find a respite from impending punishment.2

Ixil Country After the Coup

It was as though the 10-year “revolution” had never occurred, or perhaps, it was a dress rehearsal for the “real” one yet to come. Or, as Jim Handy explains, the Agrarian Reform movement put into motion the process of slowing down what was apparent since the 1950’s: the gradual proletarianization of the campesinos. Certainly, the reform failed in achieving the most important objective, which was to allow the indigenous peoples’ rights to their lands that had been illegally seized.  

But the Agrarian Reform served to expose the long-standing abuse of authority imposed upon rural communities largely populated by the indigenous peoples. Jim Handy’s research work  reveals the systematic land grabbing by wealthy landowners, well-connected to the government’s military, in an attempt to monopolize municipal land, essentially pushing out the campesinos from their restricted planting areas. The campesinos were forced to pay in the form of “rent” for using the land, which only added to their economic constraints as subsistence farmers. 

The Agrarian Reform Law was not designed to expropriate all community lands. In fact, the large number of denunciations were made by those using the land, mainly, the campesinos and not because of ancestral ownership. Thus, allowable expropriations were based on usufruct, with the aim of benefitting the farmers that needed the land for survival.

The land expropriation during Arbenz’ term came to a sudden halt after the 1954 coup. But, historians observed the  accomplishments as well. David Stroll writes in his book, Between Two Armies in the Ixil Town of Guatemala, that the coup brought very few but important benefits to the communities. Even though Castillo Armas reversed the right for farmers to unionize, the organizational structures were established during the Arbenz’ presidency when they were mandated. So, the farmers essentially continued their organizational structures on their own, and proceeded to rally around their candidates in local elections. Stroll points to the way that the Maya Ixil leaders were able to reassert themselves in town halls, a monumental achievement in a history dominated by colonial and post-colonial rulers and politicians. However, the politicization process wasn’t completely favorable to the community as a whole since two distinct factions emerged in opposing directions: 1) the elderly men, or principales as they are called within the indigenous communal hierarchy, and at the other end of the pole, the elite oligarchy; and 2) the young, progressive, liberals, referred to as “communists.” These factions played a significant role in the years leading up to the 36-Year Armed Conflict and its aftermath.  

The Vagrancy Laws had been abolished as part of the reform, but even so, farmers continued to work at the plantations as before, but this time on their own volition because their families depended on their wages. 

But the elite landowners continued waging their political battles against the Maya Ixil people. The nearby Finca La Perla in Ixil country was one of the many haciendas that fell under the reform’s expropriation mandate, and in their defense, the landowners accused everyone, including the entire Maya Ixil on the side of the reform, as “communists.” This was the label for whom the progressive faction of the Maya Ixil could not deflect.

The Maya Ixil Pragmatism

No doubt, the Agrarian Reform Act rattled a hornet’s nest, and hostile conflicts, once private and out-of-sight between the landowners and campesinos, became known in public spheres. The Maya Ixil had long struggled to maintain their livelihood as farmers, but their protests and denouncements consistently fell on deaf ears. Instead, the communities acquiesced in the spirit of solidarity, adapting to national norms but at the same time adopting them. This was their way of life since the conquest, and survival was dependent on how well they succeeded.  

Part V: The Beginning of the Armed Conflict

The consensus among historians is that the Internal Armed Conflict began in 1960 and ended with the signing of the Peace Accords in 1996. However, the debates continue as historians posit various views and arguments; for example, some consider the October 20, 1944 coup d’état as the actual start of the Armed Conflict, not 1960. But certainly, key events during that period, described below, attributed to the turmoil that was later defined by historians as the underlying pillars that foregrounded the Armed Conflict.

The Cuban Revolution (1953-59) and its triumphant success for Fidel Castro’s regime and its jubilant Cuban supporters against a well-defined enemy deeply resonated throughout Latin America, Central America, and México. It was the ultimate revolutionary, freedom-fighting bravery that was almost too perfect, and many young, idealistic intellectuals found their hero in Fidel Castro and Ernesto “Che” Guevara. Many young Guatemalans were swept into the revolutionary spirit, and many felt that it was a sign that the revolution could be fought and won in their home country. Fidel Castro’s speeches declare that the Cubans now had the destiny in their own hands, that their freedom represents independence without foreign invasion or intervention. Castro immediately sought out a working relationship with the United States, but he was met with rejection and admonishment.   

The U.S. Counter-Insurgency Expertise Comes to Guatemala 

In 1960, five years after the start of the Vietnam War, the United States military and the CIA had committed to supporting the southern Vietnam region controlled by first Bao Dai, then, Ngo Dinh Diem, against the Viet Minh forces, also known as Viet Cong, or Vietnamese Communist. As in the case of the 1954 CIA-backed coup, the pressure wrought by the entanglement with the Soviet Union and the Cold War greatly enhanced the U.S. decision to intervene in the North-South Vietnam conflict. The United States overwhelming support for the South was imbued with the intent of crushing the North’s pro-communist ideals and structure promulgated in conjunction with the Soviet Union. 

During the Vietnam War, the United States’ military forces and the CIA developed specialized techniques and strategies to engage in a myriad of combat situations. The Green Berets were brought in as a specialized unit. Amongst these were forms of torture and covert operations to track down the enemy. Their counter-insurgency expertise was touted as among the best in the world, and they operated training camps in the U.S. (Fort Benning) and Central America (School of the Americas). This kind of training was welcomed by the Guatemalan military, but not for the reasons for which they were developed. Rather, the warfare techniques were used to harm, maim, and kill individuals, many of them civilians, targeted solely because of their opposing political views. 

The Uprisings That Marked the Beginning

After Castillo Armas assassination in 1957, General Ydigoras Fuentes stepped in as the next U.S.-approved dictator. Without using proper protocol, Ydigoras allowed the U.S. military and CIA to use Guatemala for their next operation: to train a selected group of soldiers, mostly Cuban exiles, and launch an attack against the Castro regime in an effort to regain control of Cuba. 

Once the operation was in public view, the Guatemalan military’s reaction was highly intense,  and what happened next was clearly unexpected by the military. Three uprisings, starting in November, 1960 ensued: in the first instance, which took place at a military base in Guatemala City, the attack was instigated by an insurrectional group, made up of as many as half of the Guatemalan army, including 120 officers; and then, a second one, that resulted in taking control of Puerto Barrrios on the Atlantic, and yet a third one at the Zacapa military barracks, in which 800 unarmed campesinos also participated. In each case, the attacks and raids were executed by dissident groups, and a rebellion began taking root, one that vehemently opposed President Ydigoras’ decision to allow the U.S. to use Guatemala to launch the operation, known as the Bay of Pigs, on the newly inaugurated government of Fidel Castro. 

The United States, fearing that the uprisings would lead to a coup and thus, ruin the Bay of Pigs operation, reacted with force. The military ordered several B-26 bombers, piloted by the Cuban exiles, to attack the rebels. On a patrolling detail off the Guatemalan coast were five Navy vessels, including an aircraft carrier. The revolt ended, but many of the soldiers chose to escape rather than face punishment. Amongst these were two young men that eventually worked together to form the leadership backbone of the rebellion at the start of the Armed Conflict: Lieutenant Marco Aurelio Yon Sosa and Lieutenant Luis Turcios Lima. Even though both had attended U.S.-sponsored military training their political views about the role of the U.S. in Guatemala could not be more critical. Although their views or ideologies differed, they shared the common notion that, based on their admiration for the hundreds of campesinos that participated in the attacks a year earlier, the rural communities, mostly indigenous, could rise to the level of combat necessary to overthrow the government. They both believed in the “Che” Guevara model of combining social and military action, i.e., educating the rural communities of their democratic rights, so that they will eventually assume appropriate action, including engaging in combat. Yon Sosa and Turcios Lima moved to the eastern region of Guatemala, in the countryside, bordering Honduras. At that time, the grassroots, community action for social change was a popular approach for whom the Brazilian Paulo Freire is known in the literacy campaign for the masses. They had recruited the first wave of guerrilla fighters and called themselves the Alejandro de León November 13 Guerrilla Movement, (MR-13) in honor of their comrade killed in the November uprising of 1960. Several days before their second attack on February, 1962, they delivered a communiqué stating the urgency to overthrow the Ydigoras government and replace it with a democracy that represents human rights, and adopt a foreign policy based on self-respect. The group targeted the army camps near Puerto Barrios, but once inside the compound, they were swiftly chased out by the soldiers. 

A month later, a second group of guerrilla fighters emerged. The former Minister of Defense in the Arbenz administration, Carlos Paz Tejada, led the group, the October 20 Front, so named as a tribute to the 1944 revolution. His message was similar to Yon Sosa and Turcio Lima’s, i.e., calling for the end of the despotic rule of Ydigoras, and particularly, the termination of foreign power intervention that he allowed, and to set up a government worthy of the people’s trust.  

As former military leaders, well-trained in the counter-insurgency field, Turcios Lima and Yon Sosa recognized the U.S. military as the most powerful and specialized in the world, and thus, their intentions in leading a rebellion was focused on a brief and well-strategized plan. Clearly, their plan was modeled after Castro’s successful, perhaps, brilliant revolution blueprint. However, once they left the leadership of the original group, the conflict evolved into a very different vision than they had imagined. Basically, it was hard-pressed to find anyone that predicted the intensity and scale of the counter-revolutionary violence, predicated and executed by the right-wing, and elite factions of Guatemalan society.    

Ydigoras’ Problem

On March 16, 1962, hundreds of student demonstrators marched in protest and demanded Ydigoras’ resignation. They represented the major opposition political parties, including the party founded by Castilla Armas. As predicted, Ydigoras’ response was to call in the military and after the two-day raucous fighting and resistance, there were at least 20 students killed and 200 injured. The violent protests proceeded for at least two more months. Ydigoras doubled down by replacing his entire cabinet with appointed military officers. 

The United States viewed the attempts to oust Ydigoras as a national security threat. The U.S. government offered to help, and Ydigoras eagerly accepted. The target was the eastern region of Guatemala, in Zacapa and Izabal, where the first guerrilla (MR-13) was founded. The aid was in the form of U.S. manufactured T-33 jets (for training purposes) and transport jets. Two American officers and five soldiers formerly trained in Vietnam as specialists in counter-insurgency, set up a base in Izabal for the purpose of furthering their techniques in specialized training of guerrilla warfare. Among the ranks of instructors were 15 Guatemalan military soldiers that had been especially trained in the Canal Zone camp. 

By the end of 1962, Ydigoras, aided by the U.S. military and CIA, had managed to halt the student revolt and the guerrilla groups. But, the number of casualties was extremely high with hundreds either killed or jailed. Amongst these were students, middle-class professionals, campesinos, community leaders, and former military soldiers. But Ydigoras was removed from office and Colonel Peralta Azurdía replaced him. One of Peralta’s first official action was on March, 1963, when he ordered a ban on all political parties, presumably to deter political unrest.  

The Organization and Disorganization of the Guerrilla

A crucial turning point in the early organization of the movement was Turcios Lima and Yon Sosa’s joining the traditional, decades-old Partido Guatemalteco del Trabajo (PGT – the party of labor), after leaving the MR-13, which had a far-left ideological base. Then, between 1962 – 65, the Fuerzas Armadas Rebeldes (FAR) was formed, and FAR became the guerilla front of PGT. But when César Montes became the newly elected leader of PGT, an ideological conflict flared up between the members, intensifying the conflicts between Turcios Limas and Yon Sosa. FAR had developed a strong following, and as the 1966 elections approximated, its members had their hopes on one of the progressive candidate. But, the PGT leader, César Montes, preferred his former law professor, a member of the Partido Revolucionario (PR), César Méndez Montenegro. A serious stand-off between the FAR and PGT members ensued, but ultimately, the FAR officially announced their support for Méndez Montenegro. After he was elected in 1966, the FAR began to partially demobilize. By then, Turcios Lima, angered over FAR’s support for Méndez Montenegro had left the PGT. In 1966, he was killed in an automobile accident, and Yon Sosa, who had also left, was killed in 1970. So rancorous was the animosity between the FAR factions supporting or opposing Méndez Montenegro, that, once he became president, Méndez Montenegro allowed the U.S. military to intervene, causing violence, chaos, and death at an unprecedented scale. The PGT-FAR faction opposing Méndez Montenegro became the Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias (instead of “Rebeldes”).

The “Butcher of Zacapa”

Méndez Montenegro appointed a ruthless officer, Colonel Carlos Arana Osorio, as commander of the eastern region, in the state of Zacapa, where the guerrilla activity was most active. Historian/anthropologist and author of Betweeen Two Armies in the Ixil Town of Guatemala (1993), David Stoll labeled Arana Osorio, the “butcher of Zacapa,” in reference to the colonel’s notorious reputation in ordering the killings of so many people, some were guerrillas, but many, perhaps, most were civilians. It was known as the Zacapa-Izabal campaign, and the specially-trained military used anti-guerrilla tactics, including political kidnappings, disappearances, and assassinations. The targets were selected individuals that had been associated with the Arévalo-Arbenz presidencies, prominent members of the PGT-FAR, students, intellectuals, activists, professionals; anyone that was perceived as a leader, and as leaning toward “liberalism.” Paramilitary groups such as right-wing terrorists also participated, aiding the military in finding their victims and threatening others. As the violence escalated with time, so did the terrorists’ expertise in the precision by which they targeted “key” individuals. Within a seventeen-month period in 1966-68, it was estimated that the Zacapa-Izabal campaign resulted in the deaths of an estimated 3,000 to 8,000 people.

The U.S. Military Aid, 1966-1970

Arana Osorio’s ambition to eliminate the opposition led to a close affiliation with the United States. He allowed the U.S. Green Berets to conduct the specialized counter-insurgency training starting in October of 1966. The training included techniques similar to those practiced in Vietnam, such as interrogation or torture of prisoners, guerrilla warfare and jungle survival. The U.S. also granted the Guatemalan military a total of $17 million in funds and equipment. Vice-President Marroquín Rojas informed the media that a squadron of U.S. planes, flying out of Panama, had dropped napalm on certain guerrilla bases without landing their planes in Guatemala. 

The U.S. aid to Guatemala also included $2.6 million from 1966 to 1970 for equipment and training of police officers. The National Police increased their force from 3,000 to 11,000 members. By 1970, over 30,000 Guatemalan police officers had received the training. Guatemala had the second most largest police force in Latin America; Brazil had the largest but its population was at least twenty times larger.   

The Guerillas Attack the United States Military

The guerrilla forces were outraged over the assassinations, kidnappings/disappearances, and overall, the blatant manner by which the President Méndez Montenegro and Col. Arana Osorio carried out the campaign of terror and violence. After the ultra-right paramilitary tortured and killed a former beauty queen turned activist, Rogelia Cruz Martínez, the guerrilla killed two American targets: Colonel John Webber, director of the military aid mission, and military advisor, Lieutenant Commander Ernest Munro. The guerrilla communiqué, in an attempt to reconcile the murders, blamed the United States for the death squads that have unleashed an excruciatingly high level of violence on the civilian population. 

The guerrilla also attempted to kidnap the U.S. Ambassador, John Gordon Mein, and use him as a trading chip for the release of one of their leaders, Comandante Camilo Sánchez. The plan failed and the ambassador was shot and killed as he fled from the guerrilla. 

By the time the next presidential elections were scheduled in 1970, Arana Osorio decided he had the best chance to win the presidency. His campaign message was that he had the best record to prove that he upheld the law and order, just as he was known for, and that he had succeeded in the attempts to eliminate the “communists.” Arana Osorio had also succeeded in coalescing the far-right into a well-defined constituency, insuring success at the ballot box. The elite, oligarchs, wealthy landowners, the powerful military, and supporters cleared a pathway for his victory by rigging the elections and bankrolling his campaign. In the first three years of his presidency, Arana Osorio remained focused and on track in the terror campaign, adding double or more the number of murders, assassinations, and disappearances. Essentially, it appeared as though the Zacapa-Izabal campaign, initiated in 1966, had become an institution in itself. It became sort of the standard with dealing with the opposition in general.

The Guerrilla Increases in Size and Power

During Arana Osorio’s presidency, two considerably strong guerrilla groups emerged, splintered from the FAR revolucionarioas faction: the Organización Revolucionaria del Pueblo en Armas (ORPA) founded by Rodrigo Asturias Amado in 1971; and Ejército Guerrillero de los Pobres (EGP), founded by Mario Payeras and Rolando Morán in 1972, some of whose members had fought in the 1960 uprising in the eastern region. ORPA’s leaders cited reasons for their unit based on the perception that FAR was racist and excluded the indigenous populations. EGP pursued the “social and military” action approach, a Cuban revolution invention, in recruiting from the rural communities, which were primarily from the indigenous population. The EGP, strategically focused on the rural highlands of Huehuetenango and Quiché, assumed the major role in the conflict that embroiled the Maya Ixils from the mid- 70s to early 80s. By this time, the guerrilla had adopted similar terrorist tactics, albeit at a smaller scale. Among their first targets, the EGP selected Jorge Bernal Hernández Castellón, a former advisor to Arana Osorio and known as the strategist for identifying and ordering the disappearances and killings of people they deemed as radicals. The guerrilla expansion was unquestionably on the rise, especially after the kidnapping of the son of one of the prominent families, for whom a ransom of $5 million was paid upon his release.    

Arana Osorio’s Replacements

Arana Osorio’s reign as the fearsome dictator continued with as much veracity as he could muster, but even the political right-wing faction viewed his actions as extreme.  In 1974, a new military general, Gen. Kjell Laugerud García, was installed as a replacement for Arana Osorio. Seemingly a moderate in his administrative style, Laugerud García nevertheless continued with the campaign of terror that his predecessor had established. As if the violence and chaos wasn’t enough, a strong earthquake shook Guatemala, killing 25,000 people in 1976. Laugerud García disallowed foreign aid and his government provided only the smallest amount of help for the victims. The guerrilla’s increase in active warfare engagement signaled a dangerous turn in the conflict, positioning the military to respond to guerrilla aggression with even more force. This type of tit-for-tat pattern only increased as the armed conflict evolved into a major, tragic catastrophe. 

F. Romeo Lucas García 

It was October, 1978 and another massive protest erupted in Guatemala’s capital after a wealthy landowner, F. Romeo Lucas García, was named the winner in a fraudulent election. The protest began with a dispute over the increase of bus fare. The military’s response was predictable and after a couple of weeks of sparring with the protestors, the number of casualties included 30 deaths, over 300 injured, and at least 600 arrested. Labor leaders called for a national strike and the protest widened and deepened as protestors in the thousands clamored for the end of institutionalized repression. The labor strike became official on October 20, on the anniversary of the 1944 revolution. In response, the military targeted a university student leader and during the course of his speech to a huge crowd gathered at the plaza across from the National Palace, the military gunned down the young man with machine gun fire. The assassination had the intended effect of not only killing a student leader but striking fear and terror in the hearts of the protestors, indeed, all Guatemalans. By the end of Lucas García’s presidency in 1982, another layer of violence had emerged; this time it was more malicious and catastrophic than previous assaults, the killings were grotesque and monstrous, and the victims were innocent civilians, poor families from the indigenous populations living in rural communities. 

Lucas García and his brother, General Benedicto Lucas García, whom he had selected as military-in-charge, had created a government of unprecedented power, and the manner by which they proceeded, with a confidence of impunity and ruthlessness, points to their perception that the State power of Guatemala could not be constrained, not even by the United States, the most powerful country in the world.   

The United States’ Response

Schlesinger and Kinzer (1983) include some of the details in the communication delivered to the United States congress by Guatemalans that sought the attention of the constitutional body. A leader of the political party, René de León Schlotter, of the Christian Democrats, rose to the occasion and provided a congressional committee with an overview of the situation in Guatemala. His speech attempted to provide clarity within the context of the “fog of war,” stating that the violence in Guatemala is at a grander scale than one can readily perceive, and that the source of violence originates from the extreme right-wing political faction. The fact that Schlotter was a member of a center-left political party may have casted doubt among many cautious congressional members, but his message, delivered to Congress in 1976, resonates with substantial credibility within a historical context. His message underscored the unequivocal, overwhelming belief among the progressive factions throughout Latin America, that the United States was responsible, albeit indirectly, for promoting and supporting three decades of dictatorship regimes that have caused great undue hardships on Guatemalans and have consequently violated human rights. 

President Reagan and President Ríos Montt

At the time that the political, social, and economic climate could not be at its worst level in modern history, another round of violence, terror, and death was at the horizon with the installment of another dictator, General Ríos Montt in 1982. A year earlier in 1981, the United States, whose congress hesitated to admit or take responsibility for its mistakes in facilitating the institutionalization of a repressive military regime in Guatemala, had elected Ronald Reagan. President Reagan’s campaign slogan, “Let’s Make America Great Again,” was built upon a platform of patriotism, imbued with the assertion that the United States should take the lead in combatting any semblance of communism as exemplified in the Cold War, and particularly, in keeping at bay the enemy, such as the one behind the 20-year Vietnam War, that just ended 5 years before his election. President Reagan’s administration expended a great deal of energy, perhaps, a disproportionate amount, on Central America, contributing large amounts of military aid and other resources with the intent of facilitating the governments’ efforts to yield their oppressive powers and “defeat” their opponents. After General Ríos Montt became the self-proclaimed president of Guatemala in 1982, President Reagan visited Ríos Montt in Guatemala in December of the same year, lavished him with praise and renewed economic aid that the previous president, President Jimmy Carter, had withheld due to allegations of human rights violations. During the course of about a year, 1982 – 1983, President Ríos Montt was responsible for the complete destruction of hundreds of villages and the killings thousands of innocent people, mostly Mayan civilians, men, women, and children, and from the departments of El Quiché (Ixil country), Alta Verapaz, and Huehuetenango. The two presidents, representing two entirely different worlds, somehow shared the frame of mind to converge upon the consensus of what constituted military success.

Saving Guatemala

One of the most important elements of the Armed Conflict, and its tragic consequences on innocent people in Ixil country is centered on the young insurgents that comprised the first group or “wave” of rebels. Who were these insurgents and why did they pursue such an ambitious and dangerous road? By the time the young army lieutenants (Turcio Limas and Yon Sosa) and their comrades took the initiative to create the revolt against the dictatorship of Ydigoras in 1960, an ideological explosion had set fire to a generation’s new kind of thinking. The Cuban revolution had spotlighted the emerging conscientiousness of freedom and self-expression, and distinctively different ways of explaining the social and cultural world-wide order, which resonated perfectly with the kind of educational experiences of public university students sought throughout Latin America, including in Guatemala City. 

USAC and the Student Movement

The University of San Carlos (USAC) was founded during the colonial period in 1676 as the Royal and Pontifical University of San Carlos Borromeo. As one of the oldest universities in the Americas, USAC was originally established as part of the Catholic Church, receiving orders directly from the Vatican. During the course of almost three centuries, the university underwent four transformative changes, and in 1944, it emerged as a uniquely different university closely aligned with the country’s “ 1944 revolution.” USAC became part of the student movement evident across Latin America, and students’ empowered voices captured the fundamental shifts in the revolutionary collective in Latin America. The Cordoba Model, so named after the University of Cordoba in Argentina, was behind the inspiration for the USAC’s new identity. Essentially autonomous, USAC students served in the governing capacity, with the utmost authority to select the entire curriculum, from the subject matter to the professors. They enjoyed the privileged sanctuary that the university offered students, many, if not most, from the middle and upper classes. The students seized upon the opportunity to become self-autonomous,  entirely in control of their education. The leaders of the insurgency originated from this educational environment, and the most ardent and character-driven students joined the revolutionary forces. They were young, around mid-twenties, and had an affinity toward a vision of change that was not yet aligned with the reality that their youthfulness had not yet grasped. Some of the recruits were former military soldiers. Young women joined, as did students pursuing a pastoral vocation. The guerrilla units evolved over time, and by the time they arrived in Ixil country in 1972, they had become the second wave with the appearance and resolve of a full-blown military force, completely undeterred over the fact that the Guatemalan military was a far superior power, which they would never be able to match. In proportional terms, the U.S. supported military, fully trained and equipped with weapons (such as the Israeli’s M-16s in 1989), helicopters, jets, artillery and mortar power, was a colossal opponent. 

The Guerrilla Connecting with the Maya Ixils

David Stoll’s comprehensive volume, Between Two Armies in the Ixil Towns of Guatemala (1993), details the military tactics between insurgents and counterinsurgents that occurred from the 1970s to 1990s. He incorporates information from the work of an ex-guerrilla member, Mario Payeras’ Days of the Jungle: The Testimony of a Guatemalan Guerrillero (1983), in order to accentuate the authenticity of his facts and provide contextualization. Stoll adheres to his established thesis, that the guerrilla was principally responsible for the armed conflict, mainly in the beginning stages where, in his view, they stirred up and manipulated the Ixils to join their revolution. However, Stoll’s insistence on laying blame on the guerrilla is eclipsed by the overwhelming, well-documented information interjected throughout his book, establishing the fact that the Guatemalan military committed the most and worst atrocities against the indigenous peoples, especially the Maya Ixil.

The Guerrilla of the Poor

The Ejército Guerillero de los Pobres (EGP) chose to establish their base in the Ixcan region of northern Quiché in 1972, close to the Mexican border, amongst the Cuchumatanes mountain range and its dense forest, and not far from the Ixil towns of Nebaj, Chajul, and Cotzal. The guerrilla group had begun to transform itself into the “second” wave of recruits. Although they operated within the foquismo model of belief that a few “outsiders” could serve to start-up the kindling of revolutionary fire, their vision of how to accomplish success had widened to include a prolonged struggle, unlike the two-year time table of the Cuban revolution. What they stood for was crafted in the names they adopted for the two column fronts: “Che” (after Che Guevara) and Ho Chi Minh, so named in honor of the popular North Vietnamese revolutionary hero.

The EGP’s initial recruitment efforts among the surrounding communities were disappointingly unsuccessful. The people that were interested in listening to them, but not necessarily in joining them, were the indigenous groups in search of a new and liberated life, clearing the nearly impenetrable Ixcan, setting up cooperatives, schools, and clinics; a long-sought creation of a peaceful, autonomous, authentic “model” communities and towns. The groups were aided by the Catholic clergy such as the Maryknoll order in Huehuetenango. The Catholic Church had embraced the concept of Liberation Theology in the late 60s, and adopted the mission of facilitating change in oppressed areas in Latin America, with the expressed goal of instilling empowerment and autonomy amongst the poor. The Committee for Campesino Unity (CUC) was one of the groups that sought solidarity with the Catholic clergy, known as Catholic Action, working alongside the campesinos, which included labor strikes and political activism. 

The Assassination of Luis Arenas

Three years after the arrival of the EGP in the Ixcan, the assassination of Luis Arenas, an hacienda boss at La Perla, whose reputable character was well known in the area, became the guerrilla’s first political killing. The 1975 assassination and its motives and consequences, have been fiercely debated amongst credible sources, some suggesting that it was the EGP’s biggest and costly mistake. But, it caught the attention of two groups of people: those that felt it was a justified killing, and those that disapproved of the killing, primarily the hacienda workers that depended on Arenas for their living wages. It also brought the attention of the army. In the following year of 1976, the army arrested a man that the EGP had entrusted as a key bilingual Ixil and Spanish language intermediary. He was known as “Fonseca,” a fair-skinned Cotzaleño. After four days of interrogation and torture, the army had extracted from Fonseca the names of his contacts, and soon after, the army rounded up hundreds of innocent families and sent them to an army base Santa Cruz del Quiché; their fate was never revealed. The town folk blamed another man, Gaspar Pérez Pérez (a political boss), for presumably “welcoming” the army to their town. The use of torture to finger others, was one of many forms of brutal savagery that the army used systematically against innocent people. Among the Cotzaleños were the first EGP recruits, and from credible data sources, the Cotzaleños were among the Maya Ixil that overall suffered the most repression during the armed conflict. 

Nebaj and Chajul Encounters with the EGP

The EGP entered Nebaj in 1979, and although the Nebajaños declared themselves as “neutralists,” some eventually took sides between the State and the guerrillas, but overall, their most concerted effort was to protect themselves from both fighting entities. 

The Chajuleños were among the last recruits to join the EGP. In March, 1980, the State military police ordered all men in Chajul to form a line to receive ID cards, presumably as a form of control and to enlist them in the army’s civil patrols. The women folk erupted in protest, and after a struggle, the police responded with machine gun fire, killing 15 people. The year before, in 1979, the EGP had responded to requests from local Chajuleños to assist in dealing with their killing of cattle thieves. Basically, the Chajuleños used the EGP to deflect a possible murder charge. They wanted the EGP to take the blame. Then, the EGP in an effort to exploit their newly formed relationship, hauled into town corpses of soldiers they had killed in an ambush. It was a tactic among other means by which to reinforce their insistence that they should join their ranks for protection.

Promises They Could Not Keep

Perhaps, one of the reasons the Maya Ixil resisted the guerrilla’s efforts to recruit them was because in previous decade or so they had gained some traction in local politics. The 1944 revolution had left the campesinos without the fertile lands they badly needed, but they made some headway in figuring out their power base and using it to their advantage. The guerrilla’s campaign of promises convinced only a small constituency of the community, mostly progressive young males. But the older members–conservative, costumbristas, were against any kind of drastic change. The guerrillas’ message was clear and exhilarating, promising the villagers that they could win back their lands, procure constitutional rights to fend off discrimination practices against them, and prosper in an environment of freedom and democracy. By the beginning of 1990’s, the hardship and tragedy of a brutal war had worn out the last standing insurgency, and all hope of fulfilling the promises as an insurgency had been completely erased. In the armed conflict’s aftermath and in retrospect, one can analyze more clearly that the guerrilla’s promises of a revolutionary future were based on falsehoods and propaganda.

However, once the fighting erupted into a full-scale armed conflict, the Maya Ixil found themselves in a precarious position where their survival depended on whom they chose to support – the guerrilla or the State. But the Maya Ixils had a clear disadvantage because the guerrilla’s intent on embedding themselves within and amongst the people, creating an indiscernible space – was highly successful. Unbeknownst to them, the Maya Ixils’ mere presence amongst the guerrilla, or vice versa, had sealed their death pact. 

The 1980-81 Massacres

The insurgency’s tactic of ambush became the EGP’s preferred mode of attack. As a guerrilla that included local bilingual recruits, it had the advantage of knowing the strategic areas in the vast terrain. The army would immediately retaliate by massacring villages, falsely claiming that all civilians were involved in some way. As in the urban warfare of the 60s and 70s, the State military retaliated harshly against the insurgency attacks, and in every instance these would be much more powerful and deadly response. In February, 1981, the insurgency blew up a State army vehicle; the army retaliated by burning houses in the community, causing 45 people to be burned to death.  Soon afterward, the State army henceforth engaged in massacring villages without insurgency provocation. They had established a military tactic of claiming that all Maya Ixils were guerrilla soldiers and their communities, villages, and towns were in the “red” zone, indicating in military terms the regional position of the “internal” enemy. 

Massacres Without Provocation: The Death Toll Rises

The presidency of General Lucas García (1978-1982) ended a period of brutal oppression. But the despotic rule that was systematically established since the 1954 coup d’état was far from over. Under the command of his brother, Benedicto Lucas García, the regime had continued the use of  assassination death squads, which they deemed effective in eliminating their “opposition;” the civil patrols or PACs that were used as “voluntary” military units; and the so called “model cities,” which were more like prison camps, were being constructed. The Lucas García regime’s astronomical scale of violence and oppression was atrocious, and, yet, without rebuke from the United States, the elite military guard would not change its course.   

Chajul, 1980, 1981

The military targeted Catholic priests and other religious clergy that were part of the Catholic Action, a community-based religious organization which they considered associated with the guerrilla. The army assassinated the town’s priest in Chajul, causing panic and fear, some of the parishioners took refuge in Barrillas, Huehuetenango. This was not an uncommon assassination. Approximately 40 Catholic priests, many of them Spaniards, were assassinated throughout the regions affected by the violence, presumably because of their political views. The military coerced the town’s men to “volunteer” in the civil patrol without pay, and elected Domingo Rivera Asicona known as the Charismatic religious leader, as their commander. This act of military action was meant to make an example of what the State expected of the town folk. Many of the Catholic Church catechists converted to evangelical or charismatic religions for many reasons, but the military’s execution of Catholic Church clergy pushed these and other worshippers toward religious conversions. 

Cotzal, 1980

Shots were fired from a neighborhood in Cotzal; the military patrolling the town presumed the presence of the guerrilla. They entered the neighborhood, rounded up 64 men and executed them. They rounded up another 60 men and just as they were about to be killed they released them, and were told that they would be killed next time. None of these men were part of the guerrilla. 

Nebaj: December, 1981

In one of his last official speeches as military commander, Gen. Benedicto Lucas García sent a stern message to the Ixil town folk in Nebaj. The people had to choose whom they should support, and if they side with the guerrilla they would surely die. 

January, 1982: The Civil Patrols

A massive recruitment effort across Ixil country brought in thousands of recruits to join the civil patrols or PACs (Patrullas de Autodefensa Civil), essentially to serve as army surrogates. Many relevant sources indicate that up to a million Ixil men participated in these patrols, possibly the entire male population. The men of all ages were trained on how to “kill,” using methodical means by which to emulate the savagery that was commonplace in counterinsurgency manuals. Since the late 60s, the military had ensured that the army follow the extreme forms of counterinsurgency, which had been introduced by the United States, and young cadets had to endure extraordinarily cruel and harsh training methods so they would become the ultimate human killing machines. According to sources that describe the massacres and murders in Ixil country, some of the worst kind of killings were committed by civil patrol members, men that were also Maya Ixil and in some cases, knew their victims. Credible sources alleged that some of the murders were revengeful in nature. But, evidently, the army dismissed the extra-killings, or denied responsibility, explaining that the civil patrols were following orders. The civil patrols fulfilled the various roles required by army soldiers, even kidnapping suspected guerrilla fighters. The civil patrol recruits were obligated to participate several times a week. Their time away from their farming duties was strenuously difficult for their families.

February 13, 1982

The army ordered the civil patrols from Cotzal to “punish” the town folk of Chisis, an aldea nearby. The death toll included 200 men, women, and children. No guerrilla insurgents were reportedly killed. According to Ricardo Falla, author of Massacres in the Jungle (1992), the February 13th massacre was part of the first of three waves of “scorched earth” destructions in the same month, a military maneuver to eliminate the guerrilla and the people that declined to engage in fighting against the insurgents.    

March 23, 1982: Enter Gen. Efraín Ríos Montt

A military triumvirate replaced the Lucas García regime, and after a brief period of political wrangling, one individual emerged as leader: Gen. Ríos Montt, chosen as superintendent at the military academy, but most significantly, according to the general, he was chosen by God. The born-again general, banished temporarily from the country by his military comrades, had returned from exile as a member of the Church of the Word, and as leader of his country, the religion that he professed would play a huge role in his leadership style. He donned a populist leadership persona, calling for the end of the elite police forces terrorizing the middle and upper classes in urban areas, and general amnesty for the insurgency, carefully scripted with specific restrictions. The guerrilla rejected the amnesty offer, and the urban warfare of forced disappearances, death squads, etc. continued. His appearance and demeanor were in the same style as the previous dictators, but what was most uniquely different about Ríos Montt is how he used his religious fervor to deceive the masses and allow the horrendous killings of thousands of civilians, and then, ask them to forgive him because he is deserving of God’s forgiveness.  

1982: The URNG Combined Forces

The Ejército Guerrillero de los Pobres (EGP), having suffered significant losses in their ranks, joined with other guerrillas to create a better equipped and formidable force: the Unidad Revolucionaria Nacional Guatemalteca (URNG). Combining their forces with the Fuerzas Armadas Rebeldes (FAR), the Organización Revolucionaria del Pueblo en Armas (ORPA), and the Partido Guatemalteco de Trabajo/Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias (PGT/FAR), the URNG strategized a renewed plan to seek political amends for the oppressed masses, mostly the indigenous populations. Recognizing its shortcomings as a military force, the guerrilla umbrella sought a win-win solution in its negotiations with the State, but it was too little, too late since the army had become an unstoppable power giant. 

Early April, 1982

The army, in coordination with the civil patrols in the area, massacred the villages of Ilom Estrella Polar, Covadonga, Chel, Juá, and Amajchel, killing hundreds of men, women, and children. The intent was to “punish” the civilians, and not necessarily to engage in combat with the insurgents. The army command targeted communities based on the slightest evidence that certain residents allegedly aided the insurgents, and the order to kill indiscriminately was sanctioned by the office of the highest military commander, General Ríos Montt, General Commander of the Army and Minister of Defense, and second in command, Oscar Humberto Mejía Victores, Vice Minister of Defense. 

Late April, 1982

The army executed 46 men as part of a round-up of guerrilla supporters in the Nebaj aldea of Acul. The men had been fingered by a hooded prisoner.

May, 1982

In Tu Chobuc, near Nebaj, the army slit the throats of 29 non-combatant men, women, and children after finding nearby a guerrilla storage bin. 

June 6, 1982

The guerrilla killed 13 civil patrol leaders from Cotzal.

June 15, 1982

The army, in retaliation mode, and using a guerrilla disguise, stormed into the town of Chacalté, killing or wounding every inhabitant. At least 100 were killed and 35 were wounded.

June 9, 1982

Declaring himself as president, Gen. Ríos Montt also announced his platform for reform and the promise of democratic elections in 30 months. (Ríos Montt was removed from office in a military coup in August, 1983.)

July, 1982

President Ríos Montt issued the “fúsiles y frijoles” action plan that highlights amnesty, the return of displaced people that had taken refuge in the mountain, and the construction of army-controlled (aldeas modelos) and supported communities. The “amnesty with punishment” plan also called for the deaths of guerrilla insurgents and anyone that rendered aid to them.  

1982: The Year of Death and Destruction

The scorched-earth (tierra arrasada) military policy, initiated by the Lucas Garcia regime and continued by Rios Montt, ravaged Ixil country and beyond, causing catastrophic destruction of homes and communities, and thousands of deaths. The armed conflict that began in 1960 seemed to have crescendo to its highest level, but to the great dismay and chagrin of those most affected, the intense destruction and killings would rage for at least another five years.

Villages, whose inhabitants were all suspected of aiding the guerrilla, were systematically destroyed. The army and civil patrols regularly cut down the maize fields, the primary food supply, and burned down the homes and confiscated anything of value from their property. The people fleeing for their lives were shot dead, or if captured, they were rounded-up like prisoners and corralled in relocation camps. When they were completely helpless, homeless, hungry, sick, etc., the army, in their relentless pursuit, would administer even more harsh and cruel conditions to acerbate their struggle for survival, causing more to die. 

Acts of Genocide 1981-83

The United Nations Report of the Commission for Historical Clarification released in 1999, titled Guatemala Memory of Silence Tz’inil Na’Tab’al (CEH), records with utmost accuracy and careful documentation, the claim that as a State, Guatemala committed acts of genocide between 1981 and 1983. The legal framework that formed the basis for the charge of genocide is stated in the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide. It was adopted by the U.N. National Assembly on December 9, 1948 and ratified by the Guatemalan State by Decree 704 on November 30, 1949. Other documents such as Guatemala Nunca Más, by the Office of the Human Rights of the Archbishop of Guatemala (REMHI), provide documentation with precise details of the various human rights violations during the armed conflict. 

Genocide refers to acts committed with the intent to destroy, in any manner, a national, ethnical, racial, or religious group. For example: killing members of a group; causing serious bodily and/or mental harm to members of the group; deliberately inflicting on the group certain conditions that bring about the physical destruction of the members; imposing measures intended to keep women from reproducing; and taking children by force and placing them in another group. The document also indicates that the individual(s) charged with committing genocide shall be tried by a competent tribunal of the State.

In preparation for a trial purported to bring justice to the victims of genocide, a concerted effort was made by various professional personnel to collect any and all evidence to support the charge.  

June, 1982: Campaña Victoria 82

The Ríos Montt regime developed a plan by which the president could order the military to engage in action that involved the indiscriminate, unlawful killing of non-combatant civilians in their attempts to eliminate the guerrilla forces. Ríos Montt usurped the constitutional powers of the three branches of government in order to abuse his powers, cause extreme harm, injury and death to innocent people, and not be held accountable under the cover of impunity. The National Security and Development Plan in the Campaign Victoria 82 included objectives in military, administrative, legal, social, political, and economic terms, and identified three specific geographic areas as targets: Quiché, Huehuetenango, and Chimaltenango. The document’s guide, the Manual of Counter-insurgency Warfare, identified the enemy as communist, criminal, and subversive. According to one of the three strategists that designed the plan, General Gramajo Morales, the entire military plan was designed and developed thoroughly, down to the last detail. The first stage was to identify the population areas as “red zones,” indicating the threat level of the “enemy,” thus, proclaiming the killing targets, where the entire villages would be completely  razed and every inhabitant killed or hunted down, leaving no trace of life.  Ixil country was in the exact center of the military’s crosshairs. The clarity by which the documents exert in their plan of action was indicative of the extent to which every military member, from the top to the bottom ranks, was well informed, especially as it pertained to the overall message of what constituted “scorched-earth” destruction.  Researchers uncovered archival data that include declarations by military officials congratulating each other for the manner by which they used aggressive and extreme forms to kill non-combatants, using language that reeks of racism and hatred toward the indigenous people.

The Plan for campaign Victoria 82 was a national priority, and every resource was focused on its implementation.  Of the 10,000 new recruits that the army added to its force (totaling 36,000), at least 20 percent were young men from the rural indigenous communities that had to comply with the conscription of two years of service. 

Operation Sofía

If there were any doubt about the exact intentions behind the military operations in the Ixil region, it became abundantly clear during the so-called Operation Sofía. Under the leadership of President Ríos Montt and his operation commanders, the mission was to destroy, kill, eliminate, erase, exterminate – the indigenous population, particularly, the Maya Ixil. A specific mindset against the Maya Ixil is reported in Operation Ixil, a 1981 military document, highly regarded as a well-studied, psychological analysis and assessment report. The issue is described as a problem with the Maya Ixil, and the need to “save” them because of their historical and ethnic characteristics so they can become integrated into Guatemalan society. The indigenous population has endured racial discrimination throughout their entire history in Guatemala, and through the lens of racism, the armed conflict was an extension of the same structure that persecuted them because of their indigenous roots. 

Information based on archival documents of Operation Sofía reveal that between July and August of 1982, 500 specialized “Kaibiles” soldiers parachuted into the Ixil town of Nebaj.  These soldiers were trained to carry out the extreme forms of warfare and their orders were to “exterminate” the “Indians.” The entire Ixil population was deemed “the enemy” and whether the guerrilla was hiding amongst them was irrelevant. The “scorched-earth” operations accelerated as the army perfected its strategy. 

The following Graph A displays a time frame that marks the period between 1981-83, approximately 18 months when 75,000 people died, mostly non-combatants. To be more exact, the period between April and November of 1982, was the most deadly. The CEH concluded that 81 percent of human rights violations were committed between 1981 – 1983.

Graph A

In the following Graph B, the data show that 83.3 percent of the victims throughout the duration of the armed conflict were Maya, 16.51 percent were ladino or mestizo, and .16 percent were of another source. 

Graph B

Massacres, 1982

Graph C contains the location of the total massacres during the armed conflict. The CEH reports 18 cases of massacres which are specifically attributable to President Ríos Montt that took place in Chel and Ilom, in the Ixil region. These are recorded in the context of the most brutal and deadly, with 1,400 victims. The Archdiocese REMHI report, Guatemala nunca más, includes a total of 451 massacres in 1982, and particularly illustrated from this list as horrendously cruel and extreme in human rights violations were 180 massacres. These reports chronicle the testimonies of survivors, carefully detailing the most egregious crimes committed against a civilian population. Reports of killing innocent women, children, and the elderly, are incomprehensible; but the cruel, malicious torture of these individuals without purpose except to inflict suffering, is emotionally devastating. In almost every report that involves massacres, there are cases of sexual abuse and assault, on girls and women of all ages. 

In Tzalbal, an aldea of the Nebaj municipality, the army executed 300 people, all women and children. There were 310 victims that have never been identified. Later, in the same village, a woman and 20 others voluntarily surrendered to the army, thinking they would be safe. But, instead, the army executed each one.

Graph D data that show the percentages of human rights violations listed by department, which corroborate with the data on massacres displayed in Graph C. 

Graph C

Number of Massacres, 669, Perpetrated by Responsible Forces  (CEH)

Graph D

Ixil Villages Destroyed (1980-1983)

According to the REMHI, there were 80 massacres in the Ixil region from 1980-1983. The CEH recorded 90 massacres: 54 in Nebaj, 26 in Chajul, and 10 in Cotzal. The exact count of casualties as a result of these massacres is unknown, but from all other sources, the death count estimates probably exceeded 80,000. There were 17 disappearances recorded in 1982.

Forced to Flee

The army was ordered to completely annihilate the villages, assuring that the inhabitants would abandon their homes and become moving targets for execution. The people, in panic and terror, fled toward the mountain tops and dense vegetation. But, the army was relentless in their pursuit. The CEH concludes that about a third of the people that fled from the violence and sought refuge in the mountains died from starvation, decease, injuries, and/or grief. 

The number of civilians that took refuge in the mountains between 1980 and 1983 is estimated at 50,000. The three guerrilla-friendly areas where the refugees settled were known as “refugee zones:” Amajchel, Xeputul, and Sumal. Of the three, the Sumal area was at the highest elevation of the Cuchumatanes Sierra, and where the army maneuvered their next operation, the Campaign Plan Firmeza 83, beginning in August of 1982, until January, 1983. A specialized unit called, the Gumarcaj Task Force, was ordered to attack the encampments of refugees, numbering between 18,000 and 25,000. The military ground troops surrounded the Sumal region as aerial bombardments triggered a chaotic response from the large groups of refugees. Some of them immediately fled the area but were executed by the army soldiers waiting in camouflage. Many of the captured refugees were taken to Nebaj and ordered to serve in the civil patrols and/or to construct the army-controlled settlements. The Sumal and Amajchel were the last EGP-friendly settlements. Other settlements that sheltered the displaced refugees were organized as Communities in Population as Resistance (CPRs). These settlements eventually received some international aid, particularly from the Catholic Church. Amongst the various indigenous groups were the Maya Ixil, which constituted the majority. A decade after the refugee settlements began, at least 25,000 people were still living in the CPRs. Nebajeños were among the last refugees to finally return from the mountains. At the same time that the army pushed the refugees to return, under the banner of amnesty, the campaign of terror continued in the rural communities. 

Lack of Aid for the Refugees

The military plans for fighting guerrillas were developed and executed in minute detail, however, a grave error was committed in the manner by which the State managed the refugee crisis. The civilians, that were forced to “surrender” were treated inhumanely, as if they were hardened criminals, and in many cases their human rights continued to be violated. They were submitted to the feeblest essentials without proper medical attention. The State had created an unprecedented, disastrous crisis without the ability nor will to resolve it. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) was unable to assist the refugees, many of them Maya Ixil, because the aid was set up for refugees crossing international boundaries, such as the returnees that had fled to México. Funds were unavailable for refugees that had been displaced internally, within their country. The scale of poverty amongst the refugees was detrimental in every sense of the word. 

Restrictions in Army-controlled Areas

The army dictated when and where the refugees could live. These were called, “model cities,” or “development poles,” terms that hide their prison-like characteristics. The State defended these tactical plans to keep the people, the survivors, under close control and to keep them from “re-entering” the guerrilla forces. They were forced to build their shelters, without compensation, and continued to serve in the civil patrols. Despite the restrained conditions for re-building their lives, the people sought to create their plots of maize to subsist in a way of life that was familiar to them.  

The United States Aid and Support for the Army

The two significant questions that emerged in Post-conflict research and reports that addressed the catastrophic death toll and damages to the Maya groups pointed to the burden of responsibility and the role of the United States. Graph E below indicates the conclusion drawn by the CEH, that the Army was responsible for 93 percent of the human rights violations and acts of violence.  

Graph E

But from the point of view of the Maya Ixil, there are far too many reasons why not to blame the tragedy on just one group. The compulsory participation of the male population in the army’s civil patrols and the guerrilla’s Local Irregular Forces (FIL) brings into question the individual or collective responsibility of those that participated in the violence. Those that joined the guerrilla and survived, had similar views since their soldiering requirements included acts of violence. There’s no question that the carefully constructed strategy of “spreading the blame,” tactic was used by the army to deflect from the extreme cruelty in carrying out the mission to “exterminate” the targeted non-combatant population.  

The archival data in the CEH report include declassified communiqués between the U.S. and the State military. President Reagan’s Secretary of State, George Schultz, played a greater role in the politics of Nicaragua and El Salvador than in Guatemala. Schultz’ focus throughout his administration (1982-1989) remained in alignment with President Reagan’s commitment to end the Cold War. The Reagan administration continued to support the Guatemalan military’s role in the armed conflict at least until 1989, perhaps, beyond. The aircraft and artillery equipment used in field and aerial bombing raids conducted during the village and refugee massacres were from the United States. The communiqués between the CIA and Guatemalan State officials reveal that the “scorched-earth” policies were well known and supported by U.S. officials, based on their perception of the need to kill non-combatants and civilians in order to defeat the guerrillas. In referencing the burning down of several villages, the CIA communiqué disregards the death toll of non-combatants, stating instead, that many guerrilla insurgents and supporters or collaborators were killed. None of the released communiqués conveyed any sense of alarm over the killing  of thousands of civilians in indigenous communities.   

Unearthing the Truth, Literally

In the post-conflict period, between 1998 and 2001, a team from the Center for Forensic Analysis and Applied Sciences(CAFCA), conducted forensic anthropological investigations of over 100 exhumations in the Ixil region. By 2010, the CAFCA scientists completed over 167 exhumations. Their findings corroborate with those made by the CEH researchers on the causes of death, that many people died from starvation, and some were victims of violence. Most of them were non-combatants and civilians, and about a fifth were female. The location of hidden gravesites, the descriptions of the victims, and how many were buried, were submitted by the survivors in their testimonies, and included in both the CEH and REMHI reports. However, the remains of thousands of people that were forcefully disappeared have yet to be found. 

Charged with Genocide and Crimes Against Humanity

The cold and calculated planning and execution of thousands of civilians by powerful military generals and wealthy elitist individuals became an international outrage in post-conflict period of the late 1990s and 2000s. The question on how to bring those accountable to justice was paramount, but survivors of the armed conflict were reluctant to re-live the agony and suffering of the most shameful period of their lives. On the other hand, clarion calls for punishing those responsible were perceived as a necessary step toward the healing process. To date, only a few high-profile cases have been tried in Guatemala’s tribunal courts, although many military officials charged with related crimes have yet to be brought to justice, and remain on the list of wanted fugitives

The case of Ríos Montt, charged with genocide and crimes of humanity was the most prolific trial, which was a phenomenal accomplishment due the insistence and perseverance of many people, but particularly by Guatemalans determined to bring justice in their own judicial courts, “tribunales de alto riesgo.” The Ríos Montt trial began on March 19, 2013 and by May 10, 2013, he was convicted and sentenced to 80 years of prison for both counts, genocide and crimes against humanity. However, the Constitutional Court of Guatemala overturned the verdict, citing certain technical issues, and ordered a retrial. Ríos Montt died during the retrial proceedings, on April 1, 2018. One of the most significant outcomes of the case were the testimonies delivered in a courageous display of strength and fortitude by the men and women survivors, as shown in the documentary, 500 Years: Life in Resistance

Another high-profile case that resulted in a guilty verdict was that of the murder of Catholic Archbishop and human rights defender, Juan José Gerardi Conedera. Gerardi was a vocal opponent against the human rights violations committed by the army during the armed conflict, and as a bishop in Quiché, he strongly criticized the administration of President Lucas García for ordering the 1980 assault on the Spanish Embassy by the military, causing the deaths of 39 people. As an activist and a stern defender of human rights activists, Gerardi was a target by right-wing political groups. On April 24, 1998, Gerardi released the much anticipated book, Guatemala Nunca Más (a project of the Interdiocesano de Recuperación de la Memoria Histórica and the United Nations) that chronicled in well-researched detail, the human rights violations against the Mayan people by the State army during the armed conflict. Two days later, Gerardi was murdered in his home. Three former military officials were later convicted and sentenced to prison on June 8, 2001. One of the officers, Col. Byron Disrael Lima Estrada played a key leadership role as commander of the Gumarkaj Task Force during Ríos Montt’s period of “scorched-earth” atrocities. All three have since passed away including José Villanueva, and the colonel’s son, Byron, Jr. Author Francisco Goldman’s book, The Art of Political Murder: Who Killed the Bishop? (2007), writes an insightful narrative behind the crime and mentions the possible involvement but never convicted, of Otto Pérez Molina, another retired military officer, and former President (2012-2015), and currently serving a prison term for corruption charges. 

The CIA’s Involvement 

The case of Efraín “Everardo” Bámaca Velásquez, a former ORPA guerrilla leader and spouse of the American lawyer and author, Jennifer Harbury is one of the most significant cases that addresses the question surrounding the extent to which the United States’ CIA played a role in the armed conflict. Bámaca was kidnapped by the army in 1992, the year after he and Harbury married. The search for her husband, dead or alive, became an arduous, dangerous, and heartbreaking journey for Harbury, which she describes in her book, Searching for Everardo (1997). Her involvement in fighting civil rights cases against the CIA, the State Department, and the National Security Council led to the release of documents which proved that the United States had previous knowledge of Bámaca’s kidnapping. The astonishing and disturbing fact was that the military personnel responsible for the crimes committed against Bámaca were paid CIA assets. Once this was made public, a campaign was launched, and thousands of records were disclosed or declassified, revealing  that the U.S. and Guatemalan authorities were collaborating in the human rights violations committed during the armed conflict, to a greater degree than previously known. Harbury eventually learned about her husband’s fate but the whereabouts of his remains are unknown. 

Part VI: The Long and Winding Road Toward Peace

The pathway toward peace in post-conflict Guatemala entails layer upon layer of many narratives from various perspectives that require a lengthy undertaking. The most central question is how can a nation heal itself in the aftermath of an armed conflict that caused 200,000 deaths, mostly indigenous peoples, numerous physical injuries, over a million families displaced from their homes, 40,000 disappearances, and the traumatic, psycho-social ailments suffered by many survivors. The intention of the Peace Accords, or Firm and Lasting Peace, (Acuerdo de Paz Firme y Duradero), was to focus on a peace treaty whereby all sides could agree upon, and set into motion a plan to address the injustices, improve the institutions, and promote democratic rights and responsibilities. The United Nations team that comprised the UN Verification Mission in Guatemala or MINUGUA were tasked with this assignment from September, 1994 to November 15, 2004. The Peace Accords, which consisted of several agreements, but most notably the agreement on socio-economic and agrarian rights, and the agreement on the rights of indigenous peoples, were not vastly different from the international human rights declarations previously promulgated by the United Nations. For example, the UN specialized entity, the International Labour Organization Convention 169, promotes the protection of rights of indigenous and tribal peoples as exemplified in their 1989 revision of the 1957 convention. What makes the Peace Accords most significant is the State of Guatemala’s forthcoming in their acceptance of these human rights, upon which their official signature indicates. 

The Peace Accords represent a mandate for a democratization of the Guatemalan government, insuring the rights of all its citizens, and the strengthening of the institutions that protect these rights. Ironically, the United States, which extols its democratic values and condemns societies that don’t comply with the freedoms inherent in a democracy, rendered support and aide to Guatemala’s efforts toward creating a repressive and controlled society governed by dictators and despots. 

The question remains whether or to what extent Guatemalan government officials will uphold the Peace Accords. The current president, Alejandro Giammattei, presumably opposes the peace process much like the former military officers that financed his presidential candidacy. The government’s judicial system is particularly problematic because of its weak system of impunity and corruption. The institutions lack proper accountability because they’re largely controlled by former military personnel and the wealthy, conservative business owners for whom change toward a democratic society is their true enemy.

The Economy

Twenty-four years after the 1996 Peace Accords, the Maya Ixil face an economic crisis that threatens the future of the youthful generation. The educational system has failed to help children and young adults achieve adequate grade-level schooling, and to improve school drop-out rates. The few children that achieve high educational levels have economic challenges that often prevent them from attending higher education. Many adolescent males opt to migrate to the United States in search of employment opportunities. Migrating to urban areas such as Guatemala City or Quiché may offer a better solution, however, they will undoubtedly encounter various other problems such as gang violence. Many young women face similar economic challenges, however, they face other serious problems associated with femicides and domestic violence.  

In Their Own Words

The Ixil towns of Nebaj, Chajul, and Cotzal are experiencing an incline in population growth. The Ixil community leaders are active members in both their indigenous authority and in local and national politics. The technology advances are evident, at least in the use of mobile phones and the internet in some educational settings. But, home-use technology and more efficient and environment-friendly, alternative forms of energy are still far in the future. Families have altered their ways of living in an economy that relies on income to purchase their products, gradually replacing the subsistence farming way of life. The present-day Maya Ixil’s vision of the world is evident in their belief that survival is tantamount to a greater, more prosperous future.3


1.  Other references that are directly related to Stoll’s volume, and cited by him, are Guatemala: Nunca Más, Informe del Proyecto Interdiocesano Recuperación de la Memoria Histórica (1998); Massacres in the Jungle: Ixcán, Guatemala by Ricardo Fallo (1994); and Guatemala: Memory of Silence, T’zinil Na’tal”bal, Report of the Commission for Historical Clarification (1999). 

2.  Castillo Armas was assassinated in 1957 by a lone gunman who afterward committed suicide, and Secretary Dulles had to reduce his workload due to health problems; he died in 1959. His brother, Allen W. Dulles was a controversial director of the CIA until 1961. In his book The Brothers: John Foster Dulles, Allen Dulles, and Their Secret War (2013), author Stephen Kinzer, writes a biographical portrayal of the duo and their role in the international stage of diplomacy and power. David Talbot’s book, The Devil’s Chessboard: Allen Dulles, the CIA, and the Rise of the America’s Secret Government (2015), allows the reader to take a closer look behind the incredibly powerful CIA director and the assassination of JFK.

3.  Related documentary videos: Who are the Maya Ixil: A Photo EssayNebaj: A Collective Memoy, 11-2-19; and The Maya Ixil School of Life: Ways of Knowing and Learning; Author.


Bennett, R., J. Coon, and R. Henderson. (2015). Introduction to Mayan languages.     Language and Linguistics Compass, 1-14.

Breaking the Maya Code:   

Carmack, Robert (Ed.) (1988). Harvest of violence: The Maya Indians and the Guatemalan          crisis. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. CEH (Comisión para el Esclarecimiento Histórico de las Naciones Unidas sobre Guatemala (1999). Guatemala: memoria del silencio, doce tomos, Oficina de Servicios para proyectos de las Naciones Unidas, Ciudad de Guatemala.

Coatsworth, John H. (1994). Central America and the United States: The clients and the colossus. NY: Twayne Publishers.

England, Nora. (2003). Mayan language revival and revitalization: linguists and linguistic ideologies. American Anthropologist 105: 733-741.

Falla, Ricardo. (1992). Masacres de la selva. Guatemala: Editorial Universitaria.

Goldman, Francisco. (2007). The art of political murder: Who killed the bishop? NY: Grove        Press. 

Grandin, G. (2000). The blood of Guatemala: A history of race and nation. Durham: Duke University Press.

Grandin, G. (2011). Who is Rigoberta Menchú? NY:Verso Books.

Guadarrama, I.N. (2018). In the Shadow of the Half Moon: Struggles of Women From Central America in Search of a New Life. Austin, TX: Independent Publisher.

Handy, Jim. (1990). The corporate community, campesino organizations, and agrarian reform: 1950-1954. In Carol Smith, Guatemalan Indians and the state: 1540 to 1988. Austin: University of Texas Press, pp.163-182.

Harbury, Jennifer K. (1997). Searching for Everardo: A story of love, war, and the CIA in            Guatemala. NY: Warner Books, Inc.

Kinzer, Stephen. (2013). The brothers: John Foster Dulles, Allen Dulles, and their secret war. NY: McMillan Publishers.

Kruijt, D. (2008). Guerrilas: War and peace in Central America. London: Zed Books.

Krovel, Ray. From “indios” to “indígenas”: guerilla perspective on indigenous peoples and repression in México, Guatemala and Nicaragua. Interfacea journal for and about social movements, Volume 3(1): 145-171 (May 2011)

Loucky, James, and Marilyn Moors (Eds.). (2000). The Maya diaspora: Guatemala roots, American lives. Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

Manz, Beatriz. (2005). Paradise in ashes: A Guatemalan journey of courage, terror, and hope. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Manz, Beatriz. (1988). Refugees of a hidden war: The aftermath of counterinsurgency in Guatemala. Albany: State University of New York Press.

ODHAG (Oficina de Derechos Humanos del Arzobispado de Guatemala) (1998). “Informe         Proyecto Interdiocesano de Recuperación de la Memoria Histórica”, (REMHI), Guatemala   Nunca Más, four vols., Guatemala City.

Phillips, Charles. (2004). The lost history of Aztec and Maya. London: Hermes House.

Recuperación de la Memoria Histórica. (1998). Guatemala: Nunca más. Oficina de Derechos Humanos del Arzobispado de Guatemala.  

Report of the Commission for Historical Clarification. (1994). Guatemala memory of silence. United Nations. 


Rodríguez, N. P. & J. M. Hagan. (2000). Maya urban villages in Houston: The formation of a migrant community from San Cristóbal Totonicapán. In Loucky, James, and Marilyn Moors (Eds.), The Maya diaspora: Guatemala roots, American lives. Philadelphia: Temple       University Press, pp. 197-209.

Schlesinger, S., Kinzer, S. (1982). Bitter fruit: the untold story of the American coup in Guatemala. NY: Doubleday Publishing.

Smith, C. (Ed.). (1990). Guatemalan Indians and the state: 1540 to 1988. Austin: University of Texas. 

Stoll, David. (1993). Between two armies in the Ixil towns of Guatemala. Columbia, NY:  University Press.

Stoll, David. (2009). Mayas in postwar Guatemala: Harvest of violence revisited. Birmingham:   University of Alabama.

Talbot, David. (2015). The devil’s chessboard: Allen Dulles, the CIA, and the rise of America’s   secret government. NY: Harper Collins.

Traxler, Loa P., and Robert Sharer. (Eds.). 2007. The origins of Maya states. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archeology and Anthropology.









Asylum Seekers Waiting in Matamoros: Trading One Eternal Purgatory for Another

Matamoros, Tamaulipas, Mexico, October 7, 2019.  

       Over a hundred perhaps, two hundred or so, men, women, and children seeking asylum camp out on the Mexican side of the US/Mexican border, their cramped clusters of round multi-colored tents hugging the right side of the border. Most of them are from one of the Northern Triangle Central American countries, Honduras, El Salvador, and Guatemala, and all are asking the United States to hear their asylum claims even though they are technically supposed to ask Mexican officials for the same request – first. 

My report is based on a brief, two-day visit, as a volunteer advocate and intent on providing assistance to the migrants, mostly in the form of information as they navigate the legal and social trajectories of asylum seeking. Upon my entry into the unrestricted camp area, my list of mental questions quickly expanded in scope and complexity. As I perused the literature posted around the building of the Mexican immigration office, the Instituto Nacional de Migración (INM), I realized that most information involving process and procedures was disseminated by word of mouth. I turned toward a young woman, a survey taker with clipboard in hand and wearing a name tag. As I approached her I noticed another young woman, a mother with two young children standing nearby. The survey taker wanted to know if I was a “visitor” and what was I doing in Matamoros. The young mother wanted to know where she could claim asylum since she had just arrived from Honduras. The survey taker replied that she didn’t know and I responded that neither did I but that I would help her get the information. Thus, began my friendship with Marisa and her two children: José, age seven, and Miguel, age two.*  Eventually, I learned that Marisa’s decision to leave her home was sudden and swift although she had thought about it for a very long time. She told of her violent relationship with her partner and that he was also hurting the children. It became clear that her decision to leave was largely hinged on the violence that he committed against her children, that he had crossed the line and she would have to move in with her cousin in New Jersey where for sure he wouldn’t be able to hurt her and her children. She felt he would eventually kill her or her children if he found them. Her story is not atypical of the cases of each migrant in the asylum seeking camp. Generally speaking, the migrants are here because they feel that they have no other option; each one led to a dead end, and their only escape was to leave their country. Additionally, if they returned to their country they would be subject to the same violence and lack of protection from state authorities that they had experienced before leaving, except that having attempted to leave places them in further danger of retaliation from which they would not be able to evade. (For additional information, please see articles in this blog)

Recognizing the need to register her application for asylum, Marisa looked for the offices of the INM. The only person available, a custodian in a classroom style room, informed Marisa that she had to find the “right” person so she could submit her identification papers and formally request her claim. Marisa asked one official-looking man the question and he in turn asked what she wanted to do. She responded, in Spanish, of course, that she wanted “assistance, asylum.” No response. After asking about five other people that “looked” official with white shirts/blouses and light khaki pants, one of them, a female staff member, accepted her papers and without another word took them to her upstairs office. I waited with Marisa and her children virtually all day long, watching the stairwell carefully, for the woman to return her papers. At around 4 P.M., Marisa notices a man coming down the stairs with her papers, which she recognized because of the pink plastic cover. She approaches him, he hands her the papers and tells her simply to be here (pointing at the porch areas of the building), tomorrow at 8 A.M. 

The next morning, one of the male staff members tells Marisa that he would walk with her to the United States (across the bridge) to begin her application for asylum process. She was escorted by three male staff members, two were with INM and another one whose role was unclear although he wore a dark green uniform. I didn’t hear from Marisa again until the following evening.

When I returned to the INM camp site the next morning I was approached by one of the staff members who told me that “my friend” would return later in the day. She and her children had spent the night at the Border Patrol Headquarters. She would join the others at the camp and wait to attend her mandated court appearance, most likely scheduled for early next year. I drove back to my home in Central Texas and Marisa sent me a text message later that evening, indicating that she and the children were safe.

Upon her return to the camp, Marisa and her children will have to find a corner somewhere in the chaotic tent settlement to basically camp out with the barest of necessities until they can procure donated items, such as a change of clothing, diapers, blankets, and a tent. The INM staff member had told me that she will have to keep an eye out for the donation vehicles since he doesn’t know when they come around. 

During my time at the camp I was able to converse with a few migrants about their experiences, and accumulated their information with my observations. The living conditions at the camp are extremely dire, for everyone, but especially for the most vulnerable such as the young children and those with certain illnesses such as diabetes. Some of these problems have already been documented by others, some of which have persisted for years without any effort by the authorities to ameliorate the mental and physical effects on the migrants. But, this outdoor camp in the Matamoros-Brownsville border has specific challenges unlike other detention centers. 

  • All of the migrants I spoke with on this question (about a dozen) said that they do nothave access to legal representation/counsel;
  • Fulfilling court demands are difficult without legal counsel, and one migrant said that he had to reschedule his court appearance twice, due to the absence of the judge;
  • Most of the migrants I spoke to had been there for weeks; one for an entire month; some have a court date as late as January. These individuals feel that they don’t have another option but to wait it outin the camp.
  • The sanitation conditions are extremely dangerous: the camp has no running water; some migrants have resorted to bathing or cleaning up in the river (Rio Grande or Rio Bravo); they sleep inside cramped nylon tents (designed for two adults) and on the bare ground; their belongings were taken away by US agents at the time they made their asylum claim, so they don’t have a change of clothes or money; they don’t have blankets which are necessary as the evening gets quite cold; there are many small children without any toys or books (except a soccer ball or two), they are particularly vulnerable to extreme exposure to illnesses; there are no medical professionals available; there is no security – two women reported that men under the influence (locals, not migrants) harassed them in the evening hours, sleeping in their area; meals are brought in styrofoam containers and migrants stand in very long lines to receive their food and bottles of drinking water. There are about three portable toilets for everyone. 
  • They shared with me their experiences while in custody of the Border Patrol and the US immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). Particularly disturbing were the stories about how the staff from both agencies treated them – as if they were “animals” and joking about their miserable conditions; in undignified, certainly unprofessional ways; they were purposely kicked by the agents at night as they slept on the floor in the freezing cold “hielera,” as a cruel, inhumane tactic; all of their belongings were confiscated, even their money, which were never returned to them. These are practices that have continued to persist for years despite the outcries and pleadings by human rights representatives and activists to stop the “torture.”    

The migrants seem to live in a state of eternal purgatory; they seem to want to stay positive and hopeful. But one of the migrants, a man in his thirties, told me he was ready to go back to El Salvador with his fifteen year-old son. 

* The names of Marisa and her children are not their real names.

Images of the Matamoros INM migrant camp. The top image, on the other side of the cyclone fence, is the bank of the Rio Grande River (Río Bravo). 

Food lines – long and tedious; the bottom right image is a group of women from San Benito, TX giving out sandwiches to migrants. These donation groups are extremely helpful but their schedule visits are irregular. 

Children and adolescents create their own games and spaces to live at the INM camp. They lack games, toys, books, etc. It’s particularly hard on mothers with babies and toddlers; there are no chairs, benches, or tables. 

One of a few trash bins in the camp.







Images of the Gateway International Bridge (above) and the surrounding areas.

Left image of window inside Garcia’s, the popular tourist restaurant, overlooking the INM camp area (right image).