An Unexpected Secondary Project

Building a classroom out of trash, starting a girls’ basketball club, painting murals – these are secondary projects that I never imagined taking on before I arrived in Guatemala, but how much did I really envision correctly before beginning the Peace Corps? In the end, as an ecotourism volunteer and a woman in Guatemala, these projects made sense. What I never could have imagined, but what became my most time-consuming secondary project, yet perhaps my most profound impact, was sending a rapist to jail.

Ten months into my service in Chahal, Alta Verapaz, after having consistently run long distances on the local, admittedly intermittently isolated, roads without problem, I was attacked. It was an out-and-back run which allowed my attacker to await my return. At about 41 minutes out, I turned around and in the distance saw two figures heading into the brush on the side of the road. I assumed they were two young boys who had just yelled “adios gringa!” at me when I past a nearby house.

As I approached where they had hidden themselves and saw no one, I became a little nervous and thought, “That’s strange.” I should’ve trusted my instincts, because in that moment, one jumped out. Always too trusting, I said, “hola,” thinking he was friendly. The shirt pulled over his head should’ve been a dead give away. When he started yelling at me in Q’eqchi’ (the local indigenous language) and approached me even when I said, “no tengo dinero” and waved my hands, I was scared. I knew then that he wanted me; it wasn’t a simple robbery.

He grabbed me by my upper arms and tried to drag me into the bushes. During this I saw a pick-up in the distance, which felt like a mirage – I would be dragged off and raped before it saw me. I was afraid for my life. I squirmed and fought enough that I was able to bite his right forearm and break free momentarily. I ran a few strides then felt him grab the back of my shorts and try to pull me back, but I kept on running and escaped.

I sprinted to the car without looking back. I guess he saw the car and spooked, escaping into the brush before he could be identified. Luckily, the driver was the ex-mayor with whom I was friends and trusted. “Tranquila seño” (calm miss) he told me when he left me to wait in his truck while he searched the fields to no avail. After dropping the cow off that he was selling, he took me home to my roommate and dog where they convinced me to press charges.

I didn’t call Peace Corps until the next day when the tears subsided. I also waited because I was afraid this would constitute a site change. But really, how could I have stayed? A quick move across the country took me months to overcome, but I did and, in the end, excelled in my new site.

After the fact, co-workers in Chahal said to me, “Oh yeah, I meant to tell you not to run there; there are rapists.” It would’ve been nice to know beforehand; I’d like to believe I would’ve listened to them.

That brings me to the aftermath – learning that this kid (18 years old, leader of a gang) had succeeded in raping girls from his village and other passers-by, but that they were too afraid to come forward (and rightfully so), I sought justice for their sake and to send a message to the men in the community. Hopefully the message was not interpreted as, you can’t attack gringas and get away with it, but rather that they need to show a higher level of respect for all women.

The court process was like most things in Guatemala – slow and corrupt. It is currently spanning 20 months. It began with statements and identifications and culminated in a six week trial. Days in court were far too short – we were only given a few hours at a time every 10 days, thus dragging out the process.

Peace Corps has been unconditionally supportive throughout this whole process, which included accompanying me on about ten different trips across the country to Cobán, providing an excellent lawyer and a Policia Nacional Civil bodyguard for the trial.

I never actually saw the perpetrator until the trial, but I positively identified him through photos that showed his six gold crowns. He was arrested but let out on bail, which allowed him and his gang to continue assaulting buses in order to pay his lawyer fees. When I finally saw him at the trial, I was not afraid to face him, while in previous months I would’ve been. I was seated in the courtroom when he entered and said “Buenos días” to the room. While not afraid, I still couldn’t bring myself to return the greeting.

He was on trial for attempted rape – we had to prove to the three judges (there is no jury in order to avoid bribes, intimidations and killings) that it was him and that his intentions were rape; the defense had to create doubt in that. We had a solid line-up of witnesses: me, the man who saved me, two psychologists, and the PNC investigator. Despite that the judge president was dozing off, and that I had to translate myself for my English-Spanish translator, I did well, although I couldn’t squeeze out any tears.

The defendant’s witnesses were his father, brother, mother and two brothers-in-law. They held no weight, being all family. The story was that the defendant was at the community soccer game from 3-6 pm (attack happened at 5pm). Since when do soccer games last three hours? They all had the same outline but differed on key details. His mom didn’t even know what day she was talking about. His brother-in-law said, “I just want Efraín to be free.”

Finally, on the fifth day of the trial, we gave our closing statements. I made a plea that the judges do their job and bring justice, not for me, because I was able to leave to safety, but for the women of Chahal who cannot. Waiting for the verdict, we were nervous that the judges would be misogynistic and/or side with their countryman. But when we returned to the courtroom, we were pleasantly surprised by a unanimous guilty verdict and the maximum sentence of eight years. It was the first ever conviction for attempted rape in the department (state) Alta Verapaz since it’s so hard to prove, and because most people blame the women.

I didn’t turn to look at his reaction, but I’m sure it was one of shock. I was expecting them to cuff him and haul him off to jail right away, but he was given ten days to file an appeal. Supposedly, if they had hauled him off then, it would’ve been a violation of his human rights, which in this country only protect the criminals. What about the human rights of the women in his community?

He filed the appeal (and probably held up another bus to pay the lawyer) and is still sitting at home waiting to see if they overturn the case (it has now been three months since he was convicted). I am (obviously) hoping that he loses the appeal. If he wins, I will have to return to Guatemala for a retrial. I want to return to this country that I love, but under different circumstances. I would love to, one day, return to my beloved Chahal. I have not been able to since I left in January 2009. Despite the negative experience that I suffered there, it is still full of so many wonderful people and good friends of mine; I just hope that one day it will be safe enough for me to return.