BE THE CHANGE

Fiction, 2014

She leaned wearily back against the cold, sterile headrest. Despite the ungodly hour, she was alert. Flying always made her nervous, and she looked around to see if anyone else was a bit uneasy, too. The man next to her awkwardly caught her gaze, and she briefly smiled before turning away. They were rumbling along the runway now, and before she had time to send up a prayer, they were off the ground. There was a familiar twisting in her stomach, followed by lightheadedness. She closed her eyes, willing for sleep to take over and get her through the first part of this trip. She had left home with Alex, when they had started this journey four weeks ago, yet she was returning without him. She was left alone to her thoughts and an eight-hour flight. Uneasy, she tried a more focused technique, thinking carefully about her recent experiences and trying to sort them out in her head. She had learned long ago how to mask her emotions, and she had acted confident and optimistic when she left Alex. It was a façade. In honesty, she was frustrated, drained, and confused. What difference did I make, anyway? she thought gloomily. She could not get Ana’s face out of her mind, and she clenched her fists, wishing there was more that she could do.

***

Guatemala had been a surprise for her. When Alex had first told her about the trip, Kelly agreed without hesitation to come with him. She had no summer plans, and the chance to go on a mission trip like the ones Alex had told her about was exciting. She idolized him, she really did. She had not given more than a second thought that language might be an issue, and she did not show much concern for the fact that they would be staying with a host family who didn’t speak English. Adventure and good deeds were calling her name; she was going to change the world.

Now, two weeks later, she found herself adjusted to her new environment, but this did not lessen the shock she felt each time she met local kids in their homes. She glanced at Alex to gauge his perception of the situation. Kelly did not speak Spanish so she found herself relying on Alex to be her ears and voice. Everyone here probably thinks I’m incompetent. I can’t even speak Spanish for myself… I’m not stupid! she wanted to make them understand. But she pushed those thoughts out of her head and smiled as she asked what was being said. They were standing in the middle of a dismal yard. They had to brush back wayward tree branches and tall weeds to make it back here in the first place, and their destination was more dismal than their journey. She watched as a duck scurried across their path.

This place wasn’t much different than the others they had visited. The ground was dirt, interspersed with mud puddles. Rocks jutted from the earth in enough places to make it uncomfortable. The walls and roof were formed by sheets of metal, the original silver hidden by the rough color of rust. It was clear that, here, the word “shelter” was up for loose interpretation, by necessity. A line of brightly colored clothes divided the yard, shifting in the heavy wind. Plants threatened to take over the shelter, with drooping trees and creeping weeds growing along the yard. Two puppies were wrestling one another by her feet, and Kelly shifted her gaze upwards. The sky was picturesque, bright baby blue with the kind of clouds that resemble white cotton candy. How could such a perfect sky reside over such an imperfect world? she wondered, looking back to the conversation Alex was having with the yard’s resident. This patriarch, an elderly man who did not quite measure up to Alex’s shoulders, was speaking violently. Kelly gave Alex and their interpreter a concerned glance, trying to assess how she should react. Alex caught her eye, giving her a solemn, yet reassuring nod. She had begun to understand the gist of conversations over the past fourteen days and caught phrases here and there, but she was bored and frustrated with her inability to quickly interpret. Communication was her forte back home, and she had underestimated how much she would be affected by its loss.

She walked away from the distraught man to the three children standing on the edge of the yard. The girl, obviously older, put her arms protectively around the two smaller boys. Kelly gave her a reassuring smile and offered some of the candy she and Alex had brought with them. The girl’s dark eyes gave way to a slight smile, and then a giggle, before putting out her own small hand to accept the treat. She was wearing a dirty dress, one that was clearly second-hand and much too big for her slight frame. Her dirty brown feet were bare, exposed to the sharp rocks that covered her yard. The boys weren’t much better off, with oversized-collared shirts, touting the brand names Abercrombie & Fitch and GAP that Kelly was so used to seeing back home. They were all looking at her with curious chocolate eyes, and while she waited for Alex to finish his conversation with their abuelo, as she took the elderly man to be, Kelly practiced her limited Spanish with them.

“Cómo se llama tu todo?” she asked, a little embarrassed with her uncertain pronunciation.

“Me llamo Ana,” the young girl responded softly, in a tired voice that better suited an old woman. “Sus nombres son José y Luís,” she said, nodding towards her brothers.

Kelly was proud that she understood what Ana said and was pleased that the little girl trusted her with her name. Ana cautiously took her hand and began walking Kelly around the yard, pointing to the many animals roaming freely and stopping to let Kelly pet them every so often. The older girl admired Ana’s simple joy in playing with the animals, thinking that she could learn a lot from the child.

“Kel,” Alex said, finished with the conversation and walking towards where she stood with Ana and the boys.

Kelly grabbed Alex’s hand when he reached her; she found herself getting anxious when she was separated from Alex because the risk for a language barrier was constantly present in each situation she found herself. She was also eager to hear what Alex had learned from his conversation and raised her eyebrows impatiently.

“Okay, so I caught most of what happened, but I had to ask Don Romeo to interpret a few different times. But I’m really getting the language down, and man, that was crazy. Those poor kids!” he turned his head to indicate Ana and her brothers, who were busy playing with the puppies.

“What did he say? Where are their parents?” Kelly asked. She knew that something must have happened to them; it wasn’t a matter of if something had happened but rather what had happened to them. The organization Alex and her were working with during their time in Guatemala was dedicated to serving orphaned children in the rural mountains. Over the past two weeks, she had met several young kids with a tragic past and seriousness beyond their years. That was just the way things were, they believed. And here, it was. As Alex began to tell her about Ana’s family, Kelly felt her eyes widen with horror as the story turned from desperate to desolate.

It was like every other day, the grandfather had told Alex. Ana’s mother, Maria, had spent the day selling trinkets to tourists in Guatemala City, trying to earn a few quetzals to buy food for the day in the market. After several hours and a little luck, she took her earnings to the local marketplace to purchase beans and tortillas for lunch and dinner, and she made her way back home. Ana’s father, Martin, spent sixteen hours each day in the fields picking seasonal crops to earn money for the family. That night, however, was different. Martin did not return. According to the grandfather, it took a couple days for the family to figure out that Martin had been killed in a farming accident.

“That’s when it all really started,” Alex whispered.

Maria took to drinking as she struggled to provide for her children. Sometimes they had food, sometimes they didn’t. It depended on the day and her degree of sobriety. A month after Martin’s death, Maria had had enough. Ana and her brothers were at the market, trying to beg for food, and Maria gave up.

She had been drinking earlier in the day, the grandfather said. At least, that’s what he guessed. No one really knew exactly what happened, except that when the children returned home from school, they found their house engulfed in cruel flames and their mother hanging lifeless from a nearby tree.

Kelly could hardly imagine the scene. The small figure of a woman, dark skin and even darker hair, hanging limp from the twisted tree. Stiff from rigor mortis. Perhaps Ana had walked over to reach her mother’s hand. Perhaps she had tried to put out the fire. With what water? Water was at least twenty minutes away, in the center of the market. Perhaps she screamed and ran to get help, knowing it was too late. She couldn’t be more than eight years old. Did she realize what happened? And her brothers, did she shield them from the truth? Did they cry as she went to get help? Perhaps they just stood and stared, too numb to do anything until someone found them.

Kelly shuddered. How can you go on after witnessing that? she wondered. She didn’t know what to say and gave Alex a desperate look.

“I know,” he said simply. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders to give her a squeeze. “I know.”

Kelly glanced over to Ana and met her eyes, trying with all her might to express the emotions that were filling her like flood waters, overwhelming and dangerous. She walked over and gave the girl a hug, wanting with all her strength to take back what happened. It’s not fair! she thought.

***

At the four-week mark, Kelly decided that it was time for her to return to the United States, cutting short her intended stay by two weeks. Alex needed the experience to practice his language skills so he chose to stay, but he understood her reasons. The language barrier was taking its toll on her and she was homesick. I’m going to miss you. Stay safe, please she had told him. She changed her flight and packed her bags. See you in a couple weeks, babe.

Adios!

***

Kelly opened her eyes, bringing herself back to the present. The musty smell of air travel had faded into familiarity, and she looked around at her fellow passengers. The flight had left at five am so most of them were still sleeping. They just didn’t even know how good they had it, Kelly thought bitterly. She turned her attention back to Ana a few thousand miles behind her, and sunk into herself. Ana was just a little girl, but she’d already experienced more in her lifetime than Kelly ever would. Despite this, the girl was resilient, giggling with her brothers and playing with her puppies. It was her way of life, and Kelly hated it. What separated her from Ana, except the lucky chance that she was born in America and Ana was in Guatemala? Even worse, Kelly thought angrily, what could she possibly do? She subconsciously grabbed the chain she wore around her neck, a handmade pendant that read be the change you wish to see in the world, as she remembered how eagerly optimistic she had been before leaving on the trip. She was going to go to Guatemala and change lives.

The only life that had been changed was hers, she thought. But maybe, that was the point. She thought about all the kids she’d met in Guatemala. They were young and vibrant. They had all suffered personal tragedies, events that would’ve crushed her. Yet, they continued on. There was so much need in the world. Her experience in Guatemala was a meager fraction of the larger poverty problem, and she was just one person. Kelly sighed. It was overwhelming, but she felt resolve returning to her. It was the least she could do, she reasoned. She would make a difference. She would use this experience to change her way of life and also fight for these kids. There would always be problems in the world, she knew. She looked out the window at the creeping sunrise, remembering the picturesque bright blue sky with fluffy clouds over Ana’s yard, with her young brothers, squirmy puppies, and tragic past. Kelly closed her eyes and promised herself that she would never forget Ana’s story. Like the rising sun, full of promise and potential, Kelly knew that while Guatemala had changed her, she could still be the change for someone else.