Mayan Families Relive Difficult Memories Amid COVID-19 Changes
Written by Madison Sweitzer
The COVID-19 pandemic has overturned our lives and routines, forcing everyone into a new state of “normal.” For many of us, our worlds have become confined to our homes and our classrooms and workplaces have shrunk to the size of a screen. Jobs have been lost, lives have been lost, and the news is a non-stop barrage of information clips that manically ping-pong back and forth between being optimistic and informative, and contradictory and fear-mongering. Amidst everything, what is so unsettling for many people is the novelty of this crisis. We haven’t faced something like this before, which leaves everything uncertain, unpredictable, and frightening. However, for many indigenous people from Guatemala, what is unsettling about this crisis is not the novelty of it, but the fact that it is eerily reminiscent of the past.
Earlier this week when an associate told Lupe about her fears that her father would not make it back from work before the mandatory curfew began each night, Lupe was brought back to the curfews enforced during the Guatemalan Civil War. During the war, the government-backed armed forces created civil patrols that would enforce strict curfews and vigilance over communities to keep a firm hand on the population. Much like our associate today, Lupe would anxiously await her own father’s return home each day.
Lupe’s father was a part of the cooperative movement, which was an effective way for rural communities to collaboratively make a living, but deemed by the government to be a facade for Soviet Communism that needed to be ruthlessly eliminated. Each day was a waiting game for Lupe, as she would watch for the lights of her father’s Jeep on the horizon, grateful for the mountainous landscape that let her see the headlights in the distance hours before he made it home. Lupe’s father always made it home, but that was not the case for some of her other family members and many others.
An aggressive army and an invisible virus are not identical crises, but their uncertainty, unpredictability, and ability to infiltrate our daily lives are the same. The curfew sirens blaring in the street, communities closing off to outsiders, and a sense of danger when leaving the home are all familiar. For indigenous families, the pandemic bears the emotional toll of not only the current crisis but of past ones as well.
The decades-long Guatemalan Civil War forced indigenous families into a precarious and marginalized situation, a position which only left them increasingly vulnerable to later traumas. The war was followed by a decade of poor harvest conditions in the 1990s, and an onslaught of natural disasters, including catastrophic mudslides that forced the relocation of entire communities throughout the 2000s. COVID-19 is the latest national disaster for Guatemala. This type of repeated upheaval leaves more than just economic and logistical damage, but imprints psychological trauma that persists across generations. Highland Support Project first established its Association of Women of the Altiplano region (AMA), to create spaces for emotional support for indigenous women to begin to combat these years of multi-generational trauma.
Today, AMA and Highland Support Project are still working to support these women amidst the latest crisis. We are taking actions to respond to both their immediate needs, such as unexpected food supply and distribution of critical health information, to long term sustainable solutions for food and economic security. Our Pixan program is continuing to provide an opportunity for women to sell their weavings to earn an income, and our upcoming Community Gardens program will create a new outlet for food production and economic stability.
Although we are certainly disappointed to have to cancel many of our upcoming service trips, we have been so grateful for all of the continued support we have received from afar. The women we work with are incredibly resilient and perseverant, and their strength combined with our continued support will get them and their families through this. So although many of you won’t be able to join us to mix cement and stack cinder blocks for stoves this Summer, we are so appreciative of the ways that you have kept our communities and work in your hearts by supporting us in the ways in which you are able.