From the Publisher
From Foreward of We Were Taught to Plant Corn Not to Kill: "One of the remarkable aspects of this book is that a Mayan woman has interviewed the Maya in the Mayan language about their experiences of oppression and violence, and the people have opened up and spoken. This book offers first-person narratives about the extensive, organized violence against the Maya that is destroying the fabric of their culture."
"My advice to you is to let this book unfold. It is a profound poem, a historical document, and a personal biography. Nestled within stories of horror are breaths of hope. Pictures of violence are illustrated in startling, vibrant colors that contrast the shadow of death with the light of life.
But this book is not just about Guatemalan society. It is about the courage to take action. Both the authors and those they interviewed have taken a risk by telling their personal stories of love and loss, trauma and truth. Through their courage, the authors and those interviewed teach us an important lesson: In the end, nothing can silence the power of humanity."
Daniel L. Shapiro, Ph.D.
Harvard University
Director, Harvard International Negotiation Initiative
Harvard Law School
From the Author
The danger has not gone away in 2009. One of the reasons I wanted this book to be written is because there is no communication about the war between the new generation and the people that went through this war. All that we learned through our suffering will be lost and forgotten if the story is not told. People without experience and knowledge are easily manipulated. Many believe the best way to solve a problem is to bribe, threaten or kill. In Quiche today there are lynchings and murders that never reach the newspapers in Guatemala, let alone the international newspapers. The politicians in my country can manipulate my people easily because the people do not remember or do not want to remember what happened. Sometimes I despair that there will ever be any change in Guatemala. Some of the last paintings in this book include the "Vulcanos of Peace" and "Trensadores de Esperanza". My mother finds peace through weaving beautiful "Guipil" blouses for her family. These beautiful Guipiles, with vivid patterns and brilliant colors, are what standout in the minds of many visitors to Guatemala. My mother works every day for four to five months to make a Guipil for her daughters. We want the tourists to come to the highlands not just to buy our handicrafts but to learn about our culture and keep the eyes of the world on us. Witnesses make it harder for cowards to kill. This book bears witness.
Taxa Leon London
About the Author
Tax'a Leon is a Maya human rights worker, artist and law student. She grew up with 12 brothers and sisters in a small K'iche' Maya village in the department of Quiche, Guatemala. She is a native K'iche' speaker and learned Spanish when she was fourteen years old. She recently immigrated to the United States and lives with her husband Douglas. Douglas London has worked nine years in Guatemala where he founded and directed a mental health clinic to develop culturally appropriate mental health treatments for developing nations. He has worked in developing nations around the world. He has a degree in public health from Johns Hopkins University and a degree in International Education from Columbia University. He is a researcher at McLean Hospital and on the Faculty of Medicine at Harvard University. London is an expert in international mental health.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
INNOCENCE "In the days of violence, I washed clothes in the town. One day, when I was coming back from washing clothes, I heard the sound of a whistle and heard people say that this afternoon they were going to come and give away balls for the boys and dolls for the girls. The parents were unsure, but the children insisted on going to receive a toy and for this reason that afternoon they arrived, dozens of children accompanied by their mothers, children that came very happy because the poverty was such that many children had no toys to play with.
That same afternoon army trucks arrived carrying soldiers. When they gave out toys, they asked the children the name of their parents and if the name was on a list they carried, they took the boy or girl and hit them hard with a shovel on the ear [a fatal blow] and threw them into a hole that they had prepared. Upon seeing this, the fathers began to beg for pity for their children. Many fell to their knees and implored mercy for their children. But instead of listening to them, they were killed in the same way as their little ones. Many mothers wanted to run away with their children but they couldn't escape. The soldiers had made a circle around everybody there that afternoon and everywhere there were cries of terror. They were all killed. I was going to go with my children that afternoon, but thank God we were delayed. We had started going out on the road where we were going to meet up with everybody but far away we could see and hear it, the screams of the children. We hid in the bushes until the soldiers left, upon sunrise the next day we casually walked out of our village like nothing had happened without taking anything, only the cloths we were wearing. We rented a house and somehow managed to pay for it, although there were many times that we are unable to eat. But this was not important because I had my children alive at my side.
We returned to our house a few years ago and found the house full of weeds and bushes, the doors of the house were opened, the dishes in my kitchen were thrown on the floor. More than 12 years after we left our house I found out they [soldiers] stayed in my house and I can still see the chicken bones that they left in our house. In those days the soldiers killed people and ate in my house."
"For my first five years, I went to a little school where they only spoke my native language of K'iche'. In my sixth year I had to go to a school where only Spanish was spoken. I did not speak Spanish and the teachers made no effort to help me understand what was being taught. When the teacher gave an assignment in Spanish and I didn't understand it, that was my problem. If I came back to school with my homework done incorrectly, the teacher would take a ruler and hit each hand 20 times. I came home from school many days with both my hands raw and red from the teacher's beating. I wasn't able to pass the classes and had to stay in the same grade because I couldn't understand what the teacher was saying. Most of the indigenous students suffered as I did.
At the beginning of the next school year the teacher asked one of the boys to peel back the fibers of a plant then put it over a fire and harden it. For many days the teacher would whip my hands with this branch until they were raw. He would say you must learn to do your homework but I couldn't do my homework because I couldn't understand what they wanted me to do and they would not explain it to me. In school, as little children, the teacher made those of us that could not speak Spanish stand in public in a group and they put a sign in front of us saying "these children are lazy" while the other students and adults laughed at us and we felt ashamed. That is how they forced us to learn Spanish and taught us to be ashamed of the fact we were Mayan."
