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They Didn’t Understand A Word I Said, But They Understood Love
Understanding kindness without words
When I first arrived in the highlands of Guatemala that June, I was amazed at the sheer beauty of the raw, mountainous landscape. The village was small, with perhaps 40 mud huts, and sat in a region carved out by volcanoes.
I thought I’d come to help. Anyway, that was the idea. Little did I realize how much I would gain from the experience.
I was there as part of a group that sought to provide humanitarian help to this remote village. I was a part of a medical team that brought medicine and knowledge about health and hygiene; part of a construction team that built stoves and latrines; part of a philanthropic team that brought shoes and hope to a people who had so little.
From the moment I stepped off the rickety, old school bus, children ran up to me with bright smiles and eager, brown eyes. Conversely, adults stood staring at us, guarded in the background, unsure whether we were friends or foes.
Kaqchikel, an ancient Mayan language, was spoken here. I knew a few Spanish words, but they were nothing like the syllables that flowed past my ears. We had one interpreter for the whole team during our week’s stay, who proved to be more than enough.
