La Familia (a day late)

Day 3 in Guate and I still haven’t made it to the archives. To be fair, they were closed on Sunday, so it’s only been two days that I was able to go. This isn’t to say that my time here hasn’t been productive, because it has. However, the ‘work’ I’ve been doing really makes me love what I do. Now let me tell you about my friend Sergio.

I won’t go into details here, out of respect for Sergio’s privacy and because there is enough to write a book. I keep joking that there’s enough to write a dissertation, but it’s actually going to be my second book. Suffice it to say, Sergio’s family is muy complicada. They really lived the Cold War in many ways, and thus he is the walking, talking (…and talking… and talking) incarnation of my research. My project is about exiles from around Latin America who ended up in Mexico City in the early years of the Cold War, and Sergio’s grandfather was among them. Sergio himself just happened to be in town during the first couple days of my visit and not only did he keep me company, he put me in touch with his family so that I could begin my research by tracking down his abuelo. And when I say he “put me in touch with his family,” I mean that I know have an amazing Guatemalan family here in the city. They are absolutely delightful and I cannot thank them enough for welcoming me over these last couple days.

Looking out over the Israeli Cemetery

After meeting everyone at dinner yesterday, today they let me accompany them to the municipal cemetery, where they were going to visit their father’s grave. (Sergio Sr.) Those of you who know me well know that I love cemeteries, so this was a treat. I never would have ventured there on my own, so I am grateful that they took me with them. After we paid a visit to Papi, we took a little tour of the cemetery, which was beautiful. The monuments vary in scale and age, with some old and overgrown and others shiny and new. The Gallo Beer family has a crypt that looks like King Tut’s tomb and the family of Colonel Castillo Armas, the leader of the coup that ended the Guatemalan Spring in 1954, is buried in a crypt that is painted a bright, azure blue. The most beautiful part, however, is the Israeli Cemetery, the final resting place of Guatemala’s Jewish population. It’s clean and well-tended, walled-off from the rest of the grounds, with colorful flowers and palm trees towering overhead. Before I headed out for the morning, a friend asked me to compare it to Xela’s cemetery. What I can say is that they’re both beautiful in their own ways. In Xela, the angels that watch over the graves have all been beheaded, supposedly as a gang rite. It gives the grounds a strange, haunted sort of beauty that isn’t really present in Guate. Here the angels still have their heads, but the whole place is framed by towering palm trees that give it a tropical feel. I suspect things would have taken on a different tone if we’d made our way to the paredon, the firing wall where prisoners were executed by the military during the Civil War. Understandably, my guide wasn’t exactly eager to take us there. History in this country is still very present.

Sergio leaves tomorrow and I won’t see him again before I go, but I hope to meet up with his family again while I’m here. In fact, his sister wants me to talk to their aunt, the last child of their grandfather who remains in Guatemala City. She just so happens to be headed for Xela sometime next week and has kindly offered me a ride. Not only do I get to avoid a lengthy bus ride into the mountains, but I get to spend the trip recounting the family history with the one person who knows more than anyone else. So no, I didn’t make it to the archive today. But it was a perfect, productive day.