The Bad

The house from up on the mountain. photo courtesy of Jacques

For those of you checking in on this blog for the first time here is a quick recap of the incident that pretty much turned my trip (and the lives of seven other people) upside down.

About three in the afternoon of Wednesday February 15th.  Jacques (Brigitte's dad) found an envelope with a note and a cell phone that had been pushed under the gate on the driveway.

Everyone was there except Brigitte who was working in Guatemala City that day. The note was addressed to Brigitte, and said: (I'm summarizing) "We know who you are, we know what kind of car you drive, we know your husband (ex husband actually) lives out of the country and we know where your son Joris goes to school. You will pay us 30,000 Quetzales (about $3,900) or you son will die"

Brigitte did not return home. Jacques, Joris and I packed essential things and took a taxi to Guatemala City where we hooked up with Brigitte and a colleague who put us up in his house. (A beautiful house he owned with his sister in a gated and guarded community not far from the city.)

Brigitte made a report to the police, and with the help of a friend of a friend (who has contacts high up) cut through enough bureaucratic bullshit to get the attention of Guatemala's Attorney General. None the less, it was agreed that Brigitte, Joris and Jacques should leave the county immediately, which they did three.   (Brigitte told me on the phone how strange it was to be "exiled" in her own county.)  Can you imagine going to work in the morning and not being able to return to your home that evening?



Friday I went to Antigua and got a room for a few days.  Sunday I returned with Jacques and helped him gather up a few more things, said goodbye to him there and stayed on with Clara and Family for the rest of my time in Guatemala. I did not feel in any danger. The  times that I was available for a hug, or had a lap for one of the kids to sit on made the rest of my time in Guatemala totally worthwhile.

I can not close this portion without interjecting my personal view.

My friend Brigitte is a caring, resourceful and proactive person. I feel very lucky to have met her. (I owe that to a group called Servas that we both belong to. It is an international service group dedicate to world peace. You can check that out here: Servas.org ) 

Brigitte is a fair skinned woman from Holland, who has lived in Guatemala most of her adult life, she was married to a Honduran man, but she has been raising their son alone for many years. Add to this, she has adopted and is supporting an indigenous family and building a house and working and traveling throughout Central America promoting fair trade and labor practices.... and the list can go on.  I think Brigitte could be considered one in a million in regards to being a female living in a Latin American culture. 

With all this in mind, it is my feeling (I'm not alone) that the lowlife who has caused all this suffering is one of the workers she had helping her build her house. There are times when they stole from her, times when they flat assed took her money and did no work. They charged for materials that never made it to her house, and
Brigitte pretty much carried on, accepting this as "the way things are done in Guatemala" 

I feel the culprit is one (or more) of those "machismo" men who got their pretty little Latin egos bruised by my friend who could stand face to face with any of them and say what was on her mind.

photo courtesy of Jacques

OK, I have said my piece. Every moment in our lives is a turning point.  I witnessed a major turning point in the lives of two families I care for.  I have witnessed how strong these people are and I have no doubt that down the road life has many more treasures to offer them.

Right Joris?

I agree with Ken!!