Panabaj

Paul and I lived in the small hamlet next to Santiago Atitlan, Guatemala that is now covered with mud. It's hard to imagine that our home is under a quagmire of mud. We were the first Peace Corps volunteers in this area devastated by civil war. In fact, the massacre that spawned the town from banning ANY and ALL military happened the year prior to us starting our volunteerism in that area. I'd walk by the massacre site every day. Now they won't let the military respond with aid. These people were murdered by their own milatary, I don't blame them.

Our neighbors lived in a home with walls made of corn stalks. They cooked on an open fire and had dirt floors. They owned 3 cows and they all worked in other peoples fields. They had nothing except each other. Diego and Deloras had 11 children. The oldest daughter had a son the same age as Deloras' younges son and they had the same name--Franciso and Francisco. I would go over each night and sit and gossip with them around the fire. I'd tell them stores of Los Estados.

I don't want to think of them suffering from the effects of a devistating mudslide. My heart is broken.