The people of Guatemala left a special mark on me, after only a few short encounters. After conversing with them, watching them, and learning about their way of life, I felt a sense of peace and humility by time we boarded our flight back to the United States.
I value all of the time we spent with the journalists and human rights activists who taught us the importance of the social justice issues they are fighting for. I value the historic landmarks, buildings and people we learned about. Those meetings made me feel like a more insightful, cultured and intelligent student.
But the greatest thing I learned from my study abroad trip to Guatemala last spring was the meaning of humility.
They Trusted Us
Though they’ve lived through so much political turmoil and hardship, I sensed overwhelming hope in the hearts and eyes of the people who inhabit this beautiful country.
In the Panajachel highlands, we took a boat ride on Lake Atitlan, to visit several Mayan villages, such as San Pedro and San Juan. We traveled up through the hills, off the beaten path, through many underdeveloped areas.
We walked through narrow passageways, past people’s homes, and witnessed the lifestyles of people who barely had the minimal resources to survive. Their homes were made of adobe bricks or cement blocks, and most lacked electricity, running water and plumbing. We saw many people walking barefoot, on the dirt floors of their homes, and outdoors.
Although we nicely dressed U.S. college students were infinitely richer, the residents addressed us with smiles and warm welcomes, as we peeked into their neighborhood, and their lives. Little kids came running out of their homes to giggle and wave at us. Adults greeted us with smiles. No one failed to exchange a friendly “hola.”
It was incredible to watch people who have less care so much more, and to have so much brightness and kindness within them. It reinforced the idea of appreciating what is around you: family, friends, and community.
I experienced another instance of humility while shopping for crafts a village art gallery. A student wanted to purchase a painting, but did not have enough quetzals with him to pay for it. The artist told him to take the painting back to the hotel — which happened to be a long boat ride away across the lake — and said she would visit him at the hotel the next day to collect the rest of the money.
This was one of the most trusting gestures I’d ever seen: an artist letting a strange tourist walk off with a painting she’d worked incredibly hard on, believing he’d pay her late.
This interaction, and others like it, spoke volumes about Guatemalans.
Now when I think of Guatemala, I think of hopefulness and humility. I remember that, even in poverty, Guatemalan people find the strength to smile, and to lend a hand to people in need. I think of humility because social status is treated as less important than gratefulness, selflessness and kindness.
I’ve always believed in these ideas. But coming face to face with them was a revelation.
My trip to Guatemala was one of the most rewarding, eye-opening, and humbling experiences of my life, and I know I’ll cherish the knowledge I gained about the country, and myself, for the rest of my life.
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