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.
