Tag: i rigoberta menchu

The second half of I, Rigoberta Menchú was (somehow) more brutal as the first. As Rigoberta explains how she became actively involved in guerrilla groups and resistance movements to protect her community, she is met over and over again with the deaths of members of her community, her compañeros and her family members. I was surprised at the level of detail with which she describes her involvement in the deaths, kidnapping, and/or capture of soldiers. It seemed to me that a certain level of death was normalized in the first half (particularly the way she described children dying), and that even in personal tragedies (the death of her brother on the finca), it was understood as a part of life.

I don’t feel like this is what she is saying when she talks about death in the second part of the novel. The deaths in the second half of the novel, especially the deaths of her father, mother, and brother, are all due to political injustice and the extraordinarily brutal treatment of the army during the Guatemalan Civil War. I thought that the way this was presented in the book mirrored how she was becoming more aware of the worsening situation facing the Indigenous community in Guatemala (and elsewhere in North, Central, and South America). The deaths of her siblings in the first half, are, of course, still tied to this. (Although, this tie seemed a retroactive realization rather than one she understood at the time- understandable as she was a child.) She talks about the deaths in the second half differently, however. I think this is because she was younger when they occur and her relationship to family and authority changes throughout the years. I thought it was also significant that the chapter on death and customs around death came after the death of her parents, and that the community is always present and prioritized. Last week, I talked about how I felt that she saw these earlier deaths with anger; this week, I think we see how that anger crystallizes and spurs action.

In last week’s class, we touched on the idea of whether or not parts of this story are exaggerated or false. I do not know if I formed a strong opinion last class. After reading this, I don’t think I care whether or not these things happened to her specifically, the fact is that they were happening, and in many places still are, to all kinds of people. In situations like this, does absolute personal truth matter more than getting the world to pay attention? Than getting people the help they need? I don’t think many of us would say that the specifics of what happened or how it happened matter more.

Reading I, Rigoberta Menchú was an experience. There’s a lot I want to talk about in regards to the first half of this novel, from the way community is organized, to daily life, to relationships to work, family, and others, and of course the ways in which social hierarchies intersect all of these.

I was shocked by the simultaneous tenderness and anger with which Rigoberta describes her early life. I’m not sure if that is a mischaracterization of her feelings or not. There was a palpable frustration in many parts, especially when she talks about working on the finca and interactions she had with those in positions of power. However, there was also a deep recognition that what she was doing, what her parents were doing, was in service of something larger. Responsibility is something she talks about a lot- and I think this feeling of being responsible to other people is captured nicely when she describes how she felt after her work began to contribute to her family’s income: “I remember very well never wasting a single moment, mainly out of love for my parents so that they could save a little of their money […]” (pg. 40) Of course, this feeling of responsibility translates across the rest of her life as well. When she describes the role of the community, there is a deep sense of shared responsibility, of communal connectedness, towards each other. This exists from even before you are born.

The weight of this responsibility is also felt in death. Rigoberta explains that death was not uncommon- especially in the case of children dying from malnutrition. The loss of community (or, the absence of it) during her youngest brother, Nicolás’s, death is felt strongly as well. Any death is heartbreaking, but I really felt bad when Rigoberta explains that they couldn’t even communicate with others except sometimes through signs and gestures. What an isolating experience, coupled with what I’m sure is immense grief. This only became worse when the caporal of the finca says that they will have to pay to bury Nicolás’ body (and to keep him buried there). The entire finca system seemed incredibly unjust but this was truly an act of cruelty. This part also illuminated the dehumanization that Indigenous people underwent simply in order to survive, as well as showed some very serious tensions and intersections between class and ethnicity. The workers are treated with (less than) no respect, yet the entire system is reliant on them coming and selling their lives for months at a time, often with their children in tow, and a great personal cost. The contrast between life in Rigoberta’s village and the strong communal ties and the isolating, violent experience at the finca (and in the city of Antigua, actually) was unsettling.