Solidarity after Hurricane Stan

Solidarity after Hurricane Stan

Paul Pitcher – Guatemala

My Spanish vocabulary has increased considerably in the past month as I had to learn the words for mudslide, cave-in, falling rocks, etc. and figure out that “damnificados” meant victims of a tragedy. But of all the words floating through my world these days, it is a word that I have known for a long time that has made the largest impact on me. I don’t think that I fully understood the word solidarity until this last month when I had to reevaluate its definition.

Paul Pitcher – Guatemala

My Spanish vocabulary has increased considerably in the past month as I had to learn the words for mudslide, cave-in, falling rocks, etc. and figure out that “damnificados” meant victims of a tragedy. But of all the words floating through my world these days, it is a word that I have known for a long time that has made the largest impact on me. I don’t think that I fully understood the word solidarity until this last month when I had to reevaluate its definition.

The devastation from Hurricane Stan has been catastrophic in many areas of Guatemala. One of these places is Santiago, Atitlan and its surrounding rural villages of Pachichaj, Panul, Xechivoy, Tzanjuyú, Panaj, Panabaj, Tzanchaj, Cerro de Oro, and San Antonio Chacayá. A few weeks ago one of my co-workers recorded a few stories from the village of Panabaj. She writes, “The second stream of mud was 2 meters high, full with rocks and broken trees. It came down the volcano sides as an avalanche at 5.30 am in the morning. It had been raining all night, due to “Stan”. The sun had still not risen. Some people were just getting up, other families were still asleep. The survivors have described the sound, like the crash of a plane, as a very frightening noise.” Panabaj had around 500 houses in the village, there are now only 200, and the rest were buried in mud. This is just one example of one village. Countless families are missing, possessions lost, houses destroyed, lives changed forever, and many have had to move into temporary shelters set up in churches, schools, wherever possible in the town on Santiago.

I visited 6 of those “albergues” yesterday with a group from the office of Acción Cultural Guatemalteca. We hoped to provide assistance for at least a portion of these families who have lost so much. ACG has received quite a sizeable amount of financial support from our international partners, most specifically Global Ministries. This was the first step for me in redefining solidarity. With all the voices crying out in the wilderness from the mountains of Guatemala, friends around the world, a world suffering from so many natural disasters this year, still found the way and the strength to dig down into their hearts and answer the call. From this incredible show of solidarity ACG had to hire two new workers to coordinate the flood of incoming donations from international partners and our local communities. Step two, the support from local families, the communities of ACG locked in poverty who have come together to donate some corn, clothing, beans, toys, etc. And thus, ACG has begun a new job within its walls. Never before have we had an “Emergency Relief” commission as I like to call them.

ACG had an idea when this tragedy struck, and it’s an idea that permeates all of ACG’s programs. To take the assistance directly to the people, to ask them what they needed instead of bringing something they already had too much of or something that wasn’t even useful. And thus, step three. Yesterday I, along with Mateo and his 11 year-old daughter Lupita, met a truck coordinated by ACG’s two “Emergency Relief” workers Manuel and Alvaro in Santiago. The truck was full of cooking utensils asked for by the people; pots, skillets, pitchers, cups, plates, spoons, and ladles. As the truck pulled up to each of the shelters, the energy multiplied in the air. Yes, there were some problems, especially for those people who weren’t on the lists at the shelters and, this run; we had only brought enough for those on the list. But Manuel calmly explained to the people our situation and that we would do what we could to come back again. For most of the presentations I either hid in the back of the truck, finding boxes of materials as they were needed or stood down right in front of the truck putting together complete sets of bowls and plates, one for each family member. We picked up a couple of assistants along the way who quickly picked up my name. I couldn’t hide completely. At a few of the shelters Manuel and Mateo had me come in since the people were asking where the assistance came from. I explained about the assistance coming from the collaboration between ACG, Global Ministries, and others in the international community. I said that I knew it was but a little that we were giving but we hoped that the little we were giving would, step by step, bring needed relief. I could feel through the eyes of the people that they felt solidarity washing over them.

One woman was crying at the delivery of the materials for her family, her eyes wet with tears as she looked at all of us and said thank you in Tzutujil, the native Mayan language. I found that Tzutujil is similar enough to K’iche’ that I could understand it and so I talked with a few of the kids who would climb the sides of the truck to get a glimpse into the treasure trove of cardboard, plastic, shiny metal, and newspaper that grew as we opened box after box. One little boy kept reaching out his hand over the chipped green paint wooden slat on the side of the truck and saying, “ya jün” or “give me one”. And that is what I felt like we were doing, little by little, handing out one by one, directly to the families and the children a little hope and solidarity. All told, we provided assistance to 226 families yesterday, close to 1000 people in 6 hours. I would like to think that we provided a tiny light in the gloom that began to flood through the towns last month. It was a long day but as Mateo said to me as we drove back to Quiché in the dark, a very productive one. And so, as I walked into my home last night at 11:30 I took a deep breath. Solidarity has a new meaning for me after this tragedy and though it can’t take away the pain, the struggle, and the years of recovery that many Guatemalan’s will need, it is a comfort to know that it exists and see it in action.

Pablo
Paul Pitcher is a missionary with the Christian Action of Guatemala (ACG).  He serves as a communication and youth worker with ACG.