Here, the volume of every day violence and death is greater, and still grows larger, even after peace was signed, than during the years of war - or at least it still feels like it. The culture of violence had become so pervasive across generations in Guatemala, that we internalized it: the violence wasn’t just normal but also part of our national identity. I was 8 years old when a peace agreement was signed, but there was one problem: war might have ended but there was no peace. The results were forced disappearances, enduring systemic violence, and genocides. After a military coup in 1960, the war raged between an oppressive military regime and a series of indigenous paramilitaries, taking the national front stage for over 30 years. Guatemala is a majestic country, blessed by its legendary past and at the same time cursed by the disturbing cycle of violence. Little did I know about the country, its people, the experiences, or the wisdom that awaited for me there. Abruptly, I was placed on a plane with my aunt and the little possessions I had, with a ticket to a new destination: Guatemala. My mother found herself in deep trouble while we were living in Los Angeles. I was just 3 years old when my world was shaken upside down. My story speaks of a post-war generation eager to change the narrative present in the country and contribute to society, and how I found myself building a space for peace and transformation in one of the most unlikely places. I will recount on how conflict became a personal catalyst for peace. From my abrupt arrival to the land of the Mayas and my difficult upbringing in a post-war environment, to becoming involved in community efforts and returning to the United States, while learning to move on from a conflict. I would like to share with you a piece of my childhood in Mesoamerica.
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