This was a telling second half recounting the excruciating pain Rigoberta has had to witness or read about, with the death of her little brother, father, and mother being told back to back. These deaths, and her and her broader Indian and poor Ladino peoples prolonged suffering throughout their lives, we come to understand her reasoning to give her whole life to a cause held so dear to her heart; even with opportunities to flee and start anew – to receive and bask in Western cultural capital – Rigoberta and her sisters contend they must return and stay in Guatemala to continue the fight. Throughout this latter half of her story, I was surprised but also relieved of her division between the Christian religion for the rich and for the poor. The wasteful nuns she stayed with near the end of the book, who did nothing for others, versus the other clergy throughout Guatemala who align themselves with a revolutionary form of Christendom that aligns with the needs of the poor against their repressive enemies. In this way, the Indians reconciling Christendom with their own suffering and traditions, undoes the critique of religion being an opium for the masses, and begets a revolutionized Christianity where the Kingdom of God is here now on Earth, and we must partake in action to bring it back to its glory, including doing what we must to preserve our people and culture – even if this means committing original sins. This brings us back to the introduction of the novel, explaining how this is a story of using the repressive measures used previously against US now against THEM.
Another point I was interesting about and still am, is her recognition of Spain’s hand in all of this suffering as well. She says this during the telling of the story of how her father dies in the Spanish embassy. What reparations have been made? What apologies have been said from colonizing countries toward the colonized? In this breathe, the struggle is not over. As many of us in the class, I assume, come from these colonized and repressed parts of Latin America, within our lineage lies a bit of Indigenous heritage…. How are we, can we, today, resisting the Machismo/Mestizo/Ladino culture that parts of our ancestors died underneath the foot of?
4 responses to “Rigoberta Menchú, Second Half”
I also was surprised about her incorporation of Christianity into the novel that wasn’t in a bad light, and was also slightly confused. It made more sense, like you said, when she talked about using Christendom against her oppressors, and it reminded me of the themes throughout Arguedas’ book of learning the language of the opressor to use it against them.
It is interesting how Rigoberta talks about Christianity so acceptingly but it also shows how everything is perspective. Christianity could be seen as oppressive or it could be seen speaking to the people, it all depends on what lens you use. People are not so different as we seem. The similarities are out there if you look.
Hey Josh, I too was relieved to see Rigoberta separate the Christianity of the rich and poor. I am, however, interested in why she still see’s some redeemability in the religion. Is it its broad reach within Guatemala, a binding force between Ladino and Indigenous alike, or is it for us, the audience. If she’s writing for a Western audience, appealing to Christianity allows for the implied audience to create a direct connection with the plight of poor Guatemalans?
This is a really interesting point about the intersection of religion and revolution. I agree that religion is often oversimplified as an object of colonialism when it actually has a long history in Guatemala that has changed its usage a lot since Spanish colonization. I also think that religion has become a very useful tool for political organizing and movement building, especially in Central America.