This past weekend we spent in Suchitoto, where Sister Peggy's Peace Center is located. On Saturday our group went to Lake Suchitlan.
We took boats across the lake, climbed up a green hill, and settled under an ancient tree to hear the story of Rogelio Miranda. Rogelio was a victim of the Copapayo Massacre in 1983 that had taken place on the other side of the lake (we couldn't get there because of the insane amount of water lilies on the lake).
Rogelio was a quiet, kind man who very humbly told us the horror of those days when he was nine years old. The army had been near his village, so many of them had left to go into the mountains. One group of them returned after they thought the army was gone. Rogelio was in this group. A few people that were with Rogelio and his family took a canoe out onto the lake that was spotted by the army and gave away the group's position.
The soldiers surrounded them and opened fire as people fled. Some swam away and escaped, many died, and the others were captured. The hostages marched with the army as they were told that they would all be fine as long as they cooperated. They walked with no food or water until they reached a small abandoned house. All of them were packed in this house until the next day when they began to walk again; hungry, tired, thirsty, and without much hope.
The survivors were split into three groups and taken to different areas. Rogelio was in a group with his aunt and sister. They were told to make three lines. Rogelio was in the front row with his aunt and sister. They heard the gun shots from the two other groups being killed. Thinking quickly, Rogelio jumped to the back row without grabbing his aunt and sister. He hid in the grass as the soldiers opened fire on his group. After they were all dead, he laid in the grass until the soldiers were gone. Next to him was another boy a little older than himself. The boy had a gaping wound all the way down his leg and had managed to keep quiet until the soldiers left. He couldn't move, so Rogelio took a rubber boot off of a dead man and ran back and forth from the water so the boy could drink. Rogelio knew, however, that he needed to move on and couldn't take the boy with him. He left and went to an abandoned village where he ate bananas and took refuge in a trench until he was rescued by guerilla fighters. He was the only one that had survived both days.
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The second night we were there, Miguel and I met Naom at a bar. He was a great guy and we had a fantastic conversation with him about the importance of cultural exchange, politics, the war, and Suchitoto. The next day we had a free morning, so Naom asked us if we wanted to meet his ex-guerilla mother and go to a waterfall. Peggy knew him and he was harmless, so we agreed. The next morning, Naom came to pick us up from the Peace Center. We walked to his mother's home where we met a few of his nine siblings and his hell of a mother. She was a kind, boisterous, beautiful woman with an infectious smile that endured through the war.
We continued our walk to the waterfall as we heard about the war, the after effects of the war, and life now. When we got to the waterfall we had to climb down a bunch of giant, geometrically shaped rocks and then I saw one of the most beautiful things I've seen since I've been here.
As we stared at the beauty, a brilliantly blue butterfly fluttered aimlessly in front of us. We sat in silent awe for a while, then we climbed back up the rocks past a group of nuns. We returned to Naom's house to say goodbye to his mother who was upset that she couldn't feed us or at least give us some lemonade.
The fact that Naom wanted so badly to share that experience with us was touching. He took time out of his Sunday to do this for us as well as take us to his family, and he carried a bag of water for us on our thirty minute walk.
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