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News
May 19 2025
by Mariela Esparza, a class of 2023 English major.
We received our guest speaker, Ronaldo, at 9 a.m. on Monday. Ronaldo told us that for the Mayans, everything spiritual was grounded in tangible things—the rain, the earth, and our hands—one month in the Mayan “calendar” has 20 days because there are a total of 20 palms from your toes to your head. After also learning about the Mayan Zero and Nahuales, Ronaldo had us participate in an activity. He asked us to place our palms together and just to observe if our fingers were parallel with each other, or if one was slightly higher than the other. In my case, my left hand was just a smidge taller. What we did then was take the taller hand, make a fist, and place it over our heart. We then were instructed to take the other hand and caress the other as if it were a baby’s head. While rubbing our hands we gave ourselves affirmations like “I am beautiful” and “I am enough.” Then, we placed our palms together one last time—my hands were equally lined up.
Inside the massive national palace nicknamed “El Guacamolón” or “big avocado,” one of our first stops was in a western plaza housing a bronze sculpture. The sculpture’s base comprises 16 interlocking and united arms holding the weight of freedom, represented by a block. The top part of the sculpture features two left hands (as they are closest to the heart) in an open position. Our guide explained that the hands are typically holding a white rose symbolizing peace.
Many doors in the palace have the imprint of the thumbprint of the dictator who built the palace, Jorge Ubico. This is an interesting, seemingly minuscule way to mark your presence in a decadent palace you have already ordered to be built in your likeness. By this, I mean that there are echoes of the number 5—there are 5 letters in “Jorge” and in “Ubico.” To reflect this, there are 5 arches on each side of the plazas, 5 fountains in a row, and 5 floors when including the terrace and basement. Is it worth mentioning that we have 5 fingers on each hand?
On December 2, 1990, in Santiago, Atitlán, the Guatemalan army opened fire on a peaceful crowd. 13 people were massacred.
The night before, a couple of Guatemalan soldiers were drinking and one of them was shooting his gun in the air. The soldier decided to go to the house of one particular indigenous family and terrorize them. Their neighbors, in an action of frustration and intolerance, went to the Catholic church in the city center to ring the bell to gather the town. Eventually, a petition asking that the army stay out of Santiago was written which the pueblo signed with their fingerprints. With their fingerprints, the people aimed to tell the president that enough was enough and that they would be standing in solidarity with each other.
ANADESA is an empowerment and development organization for the indigenous community of Santiago. During our visit, we learned about two of their programs: an education reinforcement program for children and a women’s group called “Mujeres Proactivas.” The bright green walls of ANADESA were decorated with their values and mission, including their motto, “A friendly hand in Guatemala.” After learning about ANADESA, we participated in a cultural demonstration. We all shelled the maize with our hands. Sophia sustained a (minor) injury on her thumb. We then observed a Tzʼutujil woman show us how to grind maize on a volcanic stone, using an expert level of technique in the wrists and hands. We were then all offered an invitation to try.
Corn is enormously important to the Maya of Guatemala. At Panabaj, students received a hands-on lesson about traditional ways of grinding corn.
At the end of our time together, we also had the opportunity to support the purchase of the handcrafted beaded jewelry of the women’s program.
Dinner with our Mayan Tzutuhuil host family
ANADESA also organized an overnight stay for us with indigenous host families. Most of our families had limited knowledge of Spanish and mainly spoke Tzʼutujil. My peers and I resorted to gesturing with our hands in an attempt to connect. As a true last resort, we took out our phones and shared pictures with her. Our host mom, Concepcion, took our phones and held them in her hands, zooming in on the photos with her fingers. She also communicated with her hands—cooking two lovely meals (with handmade tortillas) and even swatted flies away from our plated meals while waiting for us to come to the dinner table.
While sitting in my room with my peers (Paula, Jakyra, and Cameron) a little girl holding a piece of notebook paper splattered in pink marker scribbles walked in. Concepcion’s toddler niece lived nearby and had come to visit us. She walked around to each of us showing us her masterpiece. She didn’t speak a single word. When she came up to me, I noticed her palms were covered in the same pink marker. She was too young to be in school to learn Spanish, so I simply offered her my marker-free palms.
As I have been looking out the window of our microbus in Guatemala City, which is often, courtesy of the congested traffic, I have noticed signage for the UNE and VAMOS, two of Guatemala’s most prominent political parties. Both of these parties use the image of the hand in their logos. What I find interesting is that two of the least prominent political parties also use hand imagery in their logos: CREO and WINAQ.
At our first morning meeting, we stood in a circle and passed hand squeezes to each other to demonstrate our interconnectedness and readiness to support one another. Through this activity, Jakyra, who led, wanted to highlight not only our physical connection but also symbolize the passing of energy and support. This support isn’t about transferring burdens to someone else, but rather about being present and lifting each other up as needed, just as I’ve seen the Guatemalan people do in my short time here.
I didn’t know then that hands would be such a prominent theme during my time in Guatemala. I’ll leave you with this excerpt by Guatemalan poet, Otto René Castillo entitled “Dos Puños por la Tierra” or “Two Fists for the Earth.”
Tu mano con su flecha llega al mundo,
tu flecha con su mundo de bengalas
viene emplumada con sus rojas galas
para defensa del amor fecundo.
Tu gesto por su gesto no agoniza,
en tu mano se despierta la estrella:
tu coraje en la patria se eterniza.
The expanded Iglesia de San Juan Bautista in the center square of San Juan la Laguna glows blue at night.
Last week Pope Leo XIV issued his first major writing to the global Catholic church, an Apostolic Exhortation – an urgent word of encouragement – on love for the poor, Dilexi Te. As a Mennonite, this theme caught my attention.
We have experienced another hard week of gun violence in America. For me, it has been a week of intense emotions – heavy emotions as well as joy and hope. How do we escape the doom loop? How do we stop partaking when it is dished up to us from all sides of the media and culture that we swim in?
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