Community in 'The Holy Jungle'

The demands of some 25,000 internally displaced Guatemalans are not overly ambitious. They want to be recognized as a civilian population of campesinos and be left alone. They want to plant crops, build schools, chapels, and clinics, and sleep at night with the confidence that the military will not bomb or burn them or force their population to relocate. They desire the political space to participate in transforming Guatemala from a militaristic society into a civilian one.

Communities of Population in Resistance, or CPRs, are pockets of Mayan Indian civilians who narrowly escaped the burned villages and mass killings of the government's "scorched earth" campaign in the 1980s. Instead of crossing the Mexican border to find sanctuary (as thousands of refugees did, many of whom are extended family of those in the CPRs), they have held claim to Guatemalan soil, charging the Guatemalan constitution and international law to protect their rights as a civilian population. The CPRs have settled in the secluded--but guerrilla-warfare entangled--Ixcan jungle and highland regions of Guatemala.

The Guatemalan government has tagged the CPRs as the political arm and social encampment of the rebel Guatemalan National Revolutionary Unity (URNG) movement. The government army has burned the houses, bombed the villages, and strafed the farming land of the communities since they first settled in the jungle in 1982.

The communities recently invited a delegation to bear witness to their claim as a civilian, non-combatant population. The diverse 400-member group, of which I was a part, marked the first land visit to observe the CPRs and staged the largest media event around an otherwise well-kept secret.

At Mayalan, the first CPR community we visited, the celebratory marimba welcome was overshadowed by the drone of military helicopters hovering at tree level. The people were quick to mobilize their emergency procedure in the case of a military strike, a routine that has become a way of life for them the past 11 years.

The CPRs are highly organized, a point of hope for gaining civilian population status. They have asked for a permanent witness of 30 internationals spread evenly throughout their communities. They are requesting health and education teams to provide specialized training. And foremost, they are calling for constant political pressure on the government to be recognized and respected as a civilian population.

But despite the pleas of the CPRs and those who have spoken on their behalf, military occupation and attacks continue to intensify. Following our delegation in late February, an 8,000-troop military raid and occupation forced three communities, about 700 people, to flee to Mexico. The paths back to their community sites have since been mined by the army. Carlos Gomez Lopez, a Guatemalan delegate, was dragged off a bus and barely survived a shot in the stomach by three hooded men on his way home from the delegation.

On March 27, an anonymous "death list" of 24 journalists, labor leaders, religious workers, and staff members of non-governmental development organizations was faxed to the press and other organizations in Guatemala. According to the threat, the persons named would "become targets" on March 31, 1993, because they were involved in groups connected to the insurgency. Among the groups cited were the CPRs.

JESUIT FATHER RICARDO FALLA, the only priest maintaining a day-to-day ministry in the CPRs for the past five-and-a-half years, wrote about this militarized life in Massacres of the Jungle, released in September 1992. Based on testimonies collected from survivors, the book documents the killings in the CPRs by the military.

Because of the book and his ministry, the military has tagged Falla as a "guerrilla priest" and the religious ideologue of the URNG. Though he has received strong backing from the Catholic church in Guatemala, he was forced into exile last December.

As the CPRs struggle under military repression, one might question how the faith of the people is sustained. The Catholic Church in Guatemala has greatly bolstered the communities. Bishop Julio Cabrera of the diocese of Quiche, a member of our delegation, testified to the church's solidarity with the CPRs: "For a long time I have thought that the army tries to eliminate the indigenous people simply because they are indigenous. But they are going to confront a church that is not going to allow this to happen. We want to stand with the indigenous people, even if it means risking our lives."

Our delegation's three-day visit was filled with song and rich biblical reflection. The Eucharist, baptisms, and wedding ceremonies brought out the brightest colored Mayan dress and the whitest robes of the bishops against lush vegetation. Our worship gatherings were transformed into what Falla calls the "holy jungle": a mystical green cathedral of humanity celebrating their hope for a more promising future.

Jeff Shriver was editorial staff assistant of Sojourners when this article appeared.