Topic: Guatemala
This past weekend I went back to Santiago Atitlan so that I could talk to the people who would have known Fr. Stanley. On my first trip, I talked to the caretaker of the church where Fr. Stanley was pastor and spent his final night. He told me that it would be fine that when I returned I could talk to some people. He even brightened up when I said I was a distant relative. This is a testament to what I have heard…that the people loved Fr. Stanley so much that even today their feelings run deep for him. From the time I talked with the caretaker I was excited about my return trip.
The time finally came last weekend and I grew ever more antsy as the boat approached Santiago. We walked directly up to the church declining every offer by the little boys to take us to Maximón (see above trip to Atitlan). However, Murphy´s law was in effect: “If it can go wrong; it will.” When we climbed the stairs that opens up to a square in front of the church we saw the remnants of a festival and heard joyful singing bellowing from the church that lay before us. “Oh, Mass must be going on,” I thought. Boy was I wrong…it was a charismatic gathering of teenagers that would last until 2pm. My buddy and I took the opportunity to spend time in the chapel where Fr. Stanley was murdered.
After a while, we left the chapel to wait in the square where I met a man that would be old enough to have been an adult during Fr. Stanley´s patoralship. Yet Murphy´s law strikes again. I think he didn´t understand a word I was saying in Spanish (a problem I have never had here as of yet or after). He ended up taking us to the sanctuary behind the curtain of the teen gathering. There he showed us how the church has honored the five people who first brought the Catholic faith to the people and who paved the way for Fr. Stanley. Afterwards, he led us out of the church, through the group of teens, and there asked for a tip (something that is common to do here). I obliged him since he did show us something that we would not have seen or understood otherwise, but still no stories of Fr. Stanley.
At 2:30pm the group finished, and I entered the church to find the caretaker who I thought might be helping clean up and prepare the church for Mass that evening. Shall I say Murphy´s law again…he was not there and in fact at home from what the first person I talked to told me. The second person, an older woman, did not speak Spanish…only Tzutujil, the language of the people in Santiago. Now the time was nearing for our boat to embark for the other shore (our hotel) so I sadly gave up the search and returned to the docks with my desire unfulfilled thinking maybe one day they will be.
The funny thing is…I will leave Guatemala and two days later a group from Oklahoma will arrive to celebrate the 25th Anniversary of Fr. Stanley´s murder. Though I have tried I am unable to stay here for one more week for the celebration…again to my chagrin. Oh, well like I told everyone: “This trip was in the hands of God. His will be done on it.” And it was.
However, the best meal yet that I have eaten here was that night in Panajachel. Oh I could go on about it for hours, but I won´t. I will just say that the three course meal was well worth the Q287 (about $39) for the both of us.
