"Custom"

Helpless.  At the moment, this is the only word I can find to describe the way I feel.  I just saw, first hand, why Guatemala is losing its struggle to overcome the rampant poverty that plagues the lives of so many of its citizens.

The past few days have been very busy.  The teacher workshop I’m leading tomorrow afternoon will finish off a week that included two teacher workshops, a parent workshop, a day of teaching classes in one of my schools, a half-day meeting with the departmental ministry of education, and a full-fledged battle with Peace Corps to get them to allow me to continue living in my house.  As I was finishing preparing for tomorrow’s workshop, Saturnina (my host mom) came into my room and told me that Juana, her 13-year-old niece, didn’t return home from school today.  She then informed me that Juana had run off to her boyfriend’s house, and that the two of them had decided to marry.  Juana’s parents apparently said that their daughter made her decision, and that there was nothing that they could do about it.  After talking to Satu about this for 10 minutes or so, she asked me to go talk to the parents.  So, at 10PM, I called my sitemate Rachael and asked her to accompany me on my quest to talk some sense into the parents. 

We arrived at the house, and after exchanging the customary Guatemalan pleasantries, I got right to the point.  I explained to them that Juana is still a child, and that, physiologically, she does not yet have the capacity to make this kind of a decision.  I explained to them that it would be years before her brain is fully developed, and that in this situation; they need to make this decision for her.  I also explained that many adolescents and teenagers are rebellious, and that their parents need to set rules and limits to protect their children from making mistakes that they will regret later on.  Finally, I added on the fact that, if she goes through with this marriage, she will be a mother in 9 months, before she even turns 14.  I explained that this is dangerous, and that her body is not ready to bear a child.  At that point, I was so close to breaking into tears that I had to pass the torch on to Rachael. 

Rachael went on to explain to them that it is their responsibility, as parents, to go and bring Juana home.  She emphasized my point that this girl is still a child, and is not prepared to make these decisions.  Juana’s uncle, who was also present, cut in to explain that, he understands where we’re coming from, but this is Guatemala, not the United States, and the customs here are different.  He also said that there have been cases where, after the parents go to bring their daughter home, the family of the boyfriend has the daughter killed.  I had never heard of this, and obviously needed to take this new information into account, but neither Rachael nor I could sit and listen to the same old excuse: “this is the custom here.” 

Guatemalans always talk about how awful the poverty is in their country.  “¿Cómo vamos a salir de la pobreza?” (direct translation: how are we going to leave from the poverty?).  They want to see a change, but they don’t see a way out.  And then, in walks a situation that gives them an opportunity to make a change, and they don’t take it.  Instead, they blame the problem on the local customs, and continue to feed into the cycle of poverty.  They want to see a change, but they don’t want to be the ones making the changes.

“Times have changed,” I told Juana’s father, “girls are marrying later because more girls are studying.  This is your opportunity to make a decision that will have a positive effect on the future of this country.”  He smiled and nodded, but clearly had no intention of changing his mind. “Girls who study,” I continued, “wait longer to marry and wait longer to have children.  When they do have children, they are healthier and more likely to study as much as, if not more than, their parents did.” 

I could tell at this point that Rachael was fuming.  She continued to press the issue with the father, while I tried to hold back the tears as I watched Juana’s grandmother begin to cry.  Rachael asked Juana’s mother what she thought.  The mother responded, very quietly, that Juana had made the decision to go, and there was nothing to be done.  It was clear that she was following what her husband said, but did not believe in what she was saying.

At this point, I broke back in and explained that it had become clear to me that they were not going to change their minds, especially if they were worried about the prospect of the family of the boy killing their daughter.  “You have to promise me two things.” I said, “When the boy’s parents come to see you tomorrow, you need to demand that your daughter goes to the health post and starts birth control.  Also, she needs to keep studying.  At this point, any hope of her being a professional may be out the window, but if she continues studying, she can at least learn how to better care for her children and manage a household budget, among other things.”

“On this point, I agree with you,” said her father, “and we’ll talk about this with the boy’s parents tomorrow.” 

Rachael made one more effort to get them to go bring their daughter home, but, at this point, it was a lost cause.  I told them that I appreciated that they had listened to us, and that, if Juana wants, I’d love to talk to her.  They thanked Rachel and I, and we headed home. 

Realistically, I can’t become more involved in this situation, because it could jeopardize my position in the community.  I’ll just have to wait and see what happens.  Just yesterday, I was joking around and laughing with Juana, without the slightest notion of what was going through her head.  If only I had known, I can’t help thinking; maybe I could have said something to keep her from running off today.

I wish more than anything there was something I could do.  I feel completely helpless.