Thanksgiving day was spent amongst a group of about 30 Guatemalan youth in the highlands of AltaVerapaz, Guatemala. In that group of 30 youth, 4 languages and 3 countries were represented. I wonder if anyone reading this has caught on to the irony of that. Thanksgiving Day is historically the day when we white people try to calm our historical consciences by lying to ourselves. We try to forget the worst genocide in history by creating a day of giving thanks for our blessings, instead of understanding the history and how it´s effects ripple into contemporary life amongst indigenous peoples in this hemisphere. Thus this is the irony that I see and that I feel privileged to have experienced: Whereas Thanksgiving historically has meant to me to be a marker of the beginning of indigenous genocide and our justification of such through distortions of historically reality, this Thanksgiving Day I was able to spend amongst a group of indigenous youth where the prescence of their faces and their existence could not be overlooked. Their simple prescence made the Thanksgiving story that we teach our children in kindergarten come true. But this time, that story was told to me in its harsh truth.
I woke up every morning these last couple of days to an ensemble of three indigenous languages laughing and blending with the tones of Spanish as well. I saw a group of Ke´chi girls who were to timid to even look in the face of a stranger because life and the history of life had taught them and their ancestors to be submissive. But I also groups of Su´tuil and Ixiil youth be bold enough to be challenged and to learn about how to be agents of service amongst their communities. And for that, I give so much thanks......