What Now?

Over the past several days and weeks, I've been repeatedly asked the same question by friends and family: "How's it going in Guatemala?"

The truth is that I love Guatemala. Like the rest of Central America, it is a beautiful, diverse country, filled with amazing people, a vibrant culture, and well-preserved traditions. While at some point I see myself making my way back to the United States, the strip of land between Texas and Colombia has always treated me well.

If, however, you were to ask, "How's it going in the Peace Corps?", my response would be much different.  Before I start my rant, I'll fill you in on the events of the last week.

On Thursday we were informed (via email) that the two next COS (Close-of-Service) groups were being forced to leave before anticipated, some as early as 4 months. A blanket early-COS offer was made to every Volunteer in-country, upping the ante from the Interrupted Service option we were already extended. We were also told that Guatemala was refocusing its efforts in a more specific region of the country, termed the "Central Western Highlands." My site has always been described as being located in the Western Highlands. Looking back, the addition of the word "central," was unnerving to me, but I figured there was no way that Peace Corps would attempt to move everyone in San Marcos. I was wrong. Peace Corps also announced an All-Volunteer Conference, to be held in Quetzaltenango (Xela) from the 24-26th, to further discuss our options.

On Friday I received a call from the PCVL (Peace Corps Volunteer Leader) that lives in my site. She wanted to make sure I understood that my site was not included in the Central Western Highlands, and that I would need to change sites if I wanted to stay in Guatemala. Minutes later, the PCVL from my program called to confirm what I had already heard. "Look at it this way," she said, "at least you only wasted three months." Half an hour later, I was "evacuated" from my site due to disputes over a water source in a nearby town. After various armed conflicts between Ixchiguán and Tajumulco, one man had been killed. In fear of being held hostage and used as collateral, the police ran away from 10 municipalities, including mine. Despite how terrible this all sounds, I put "evacuated" in quotes, because without the calls and texts from our Safety and Security Coordinator, I would have been oblivious to all this. My site continued to be tranquilo como siempre. I hopped on a bus and headed out, knowing full well that I might never be back.

After spending Friday night in my friend Matt's site, I arrived in Xela on Saturday to anxiously await the conference on Tuesday. Sitting cooped up in a hotel with other, very-stressed-out volunteers, I had all the time in the world to overanalyze and speculate on my future. Fast forward to Tuesday morning, 8:30am.

Carlos Torres, director of Peace Corps for the Americas and Pacific region, stood to explain "how we got here" to a room of 200+ less-than-pleased Volunteers. While not the most empathetic man I've ever met, Mr. Torres logically explained the process of the decision to cut Guatemala's Volunteer population in half over the next two months. He made it clear that this was not a knee-jerk reaction to the volunteer being shot in Honduras, and that changes in Central America had been a long time coming.

In 2006, Spain reported 336 murders. In the same year, with an equal population, Central America experienced a homicide rate 42 times higher, with a total of 14,257 murders. Most of these deaths occurred in the Northern Triangle (El Salvador, Honduras, and Guatemala), a region recently described as "the most dangerous area of the world outside of an active warzone." The Serious Crime Index for Guatemala in 2010 was double the world-wide average. In this country, 1 out of 10 Peace Corps Volunteers per year experience a crime incident more serious than being pick-pocketed. This means that over the course of 27 months, 22.5% of Volunteers here will be raped, assaulted, or held at gunpoint.
72% of volunteers feel safe where they live. 63% feel safe where they work. 15% feel safe travelling. As Mr. Torres said, at some point you have to start thinking, "What are we doing here? Are we OK with the fact that we train our Volunteers on what to do in case of a bus shooting?"

A frog in a cold pot of water, which is then placed on a stove, will stay in the pot until it cooks to death. A frog thrown into an already-boiling pot of water will instantly jump out, although a little scalded. Are we that first frog? Are we being de-sensitized to the violence, gradually adjusting to the sickening realities of this place, until finally it's too late? Would we come to to the Northern Triangle to visit? To vacation? Maybe, maybe not. But that's not really the situation, as Volunteers, that we find ourselves in.

We're already here. We're already working in the lukewarm pot of water, trying to cool it down. To some of us, it may feel hot enough already. Unlike the frog, we can jump out at any point. In fact, comparing us to amphibians was slightly insulting, and really alludes to how little say we have in the matter. We are volunteers working in a country that we knew was dangerous when we jumped in. Weeks before I arrived in Guatemala, my dad forwarded me a news article about the drug-related massacre of 40 farmers near the border of Mexico. Yet I'm still here. The giant hand of Washington, D.C. just reached in and scooped out 100 of its "frogs". It is now shaking the pot, making it increasingly difficult for the rest of us to swim. 50 of us have to make the decision to leave or to change sites, to start over again somewhere new. We have until February 10th to decide, by which point we may not even know where we're going.

Mr. Torres repeatedly emphasized how this was not a rushed decision. Then why in April 2011 did Peace Corps bring in the largest training group that Guatemala had ever seen? Why were the January 2012 trainees given only 2 weeks notice that they were no longer coming? Why the arbitrary March 24th date, by which the numbers must be reduced from 225 to 120? It certainly feels rushed to me. After this week, my confidence in the Peace Corps/Guatemala staff increased tremendously. I think they are a fantastic group of people who really care about what they do, and are committed to keeping us here. Also after this week, I've come to realize how bureaucratic Peace Corps really is, and how little say any of us have to change Peace Corps/Washington's decisions. Yes, difficult decisions have to be made. But why are they making it so much easier to leave than to stay? What's the likelihood that 3 months from now, they have to make the next logical decision to evacuate the post entirely? Am I willing to take that risk, or would it be better to cut my losses, with full Peace Corps benefits, and call it a day? Am I still committed enough to reenroll in another, safer country? Saber.

I've only been in Guatemala for 6 months. For some, this decision is much harder. They've already received money to start projects. They've made more friends, forged stronger relationships. Their departure will likely have a greater impact on many more lives. I've been told over and over, "at least you have so much time left." With time and youth, though, come more options. If it were a black-and-white choice between staying and leaving, I would stay. The more I think, however, the more I realize how complicated this decision is, how colored by shades of grey, red, blue, and purple the next few months will be.

The new president, Otto Perez Molina, is planning a state of siege in my department, San Marcos. At the moment, the only thing preventing him is the lack of soldiers and money. When he has both of these, we will be given 24 hours to leave our sites, and we will not be able to return until the state of siege is over. This could be tomorrow, or it could be two months from now. Realistically, we can expect at least two more weeks in site, but I have already started packing my things. There is no guarantee that I will ever be able to return to Comitancillo during my 27 months in Guatemala.

The director of my project was as blindsided by all this as we were. As a result, he does not have new sites prepared for the 15 of us who have the option to move. Because we have so little time to decide, it is possible that I will not have a new site by the time I need to make up my mind. Even worse, I may not have a new site by the time we get the boot from San Marcos. In this case, I'll be living indefinitely with a buddy of mine until I can be relocated, and Peace Corps will have to come and pick up my things.

The next few weeks and months will no doubt be incredibly stressful. At the moment, I've decided to proceed as if I were staying. If the state of siege turns this into an irreparable mess, maybe I'll go home. But I came to Guatemala with the intention of serving for 27 months. There still is a lot of time left, and I will adjust to a new site much faster after having already done it once. I'm trying to look at all this as an opportunity and a challenge, a possibility to grow stronger and learn. Packing up my things, sick, and with a stress headache, that's easier said than done. Who knows, my new site could be even cooler than my current one. I'll have the opportunity to learn a new Mayan language and intimately get to know another part of the country.

The biggest reason to stay? In a few weeks, I'll have a puppy dachshund to keep me company.