Padre Guadalupe Presente!

On the approximate anniversary of the disappearance of US-born Jesuit priest James Carney in Honduras, civil society organizations sustain the memories of the disappeared.

On Saturday, September 17th, the Witness for Peace Honduras International Team attended an event in the town of El Progreso commemorating the 1983 disappearance of Father James Carney, a Jesuit priest better known locally as Padre Guadalupe. The event was co-hosted by the Equipo Reflexión, Investigación y Comunicación (ERIC, or the Reflection, Investigation and Communication Team in English), a Jesuit social justice organization dedicated to intensive research projects, and Radio Progreso. Speakers included Padre Ismael Moreno, director of Radio Progreso and ERIC, and Berta Oliva, the director of COFADEH (The Committee of the Relatives of the Disappeared in Honduras).

Padre Guadalupe and the Agrarian Struggle: Permanent Effect

The exact date of Padre Guadalupe’s death is not known, but the commemorations are held around September 16th every year to approximate the day of his murder. Thirty-three years after his death, the facts surrounding it are still shrouded in official secrecy. What we do know is that, during his time in Honduras, the Chicago-born Padre Guadalupe was increasingly radicalized and, by extension, increasingly viewed as an enemy of the state, leading to his exile without trial in 1979. He re-entered the country as an unarmed chaplain for a guerrilla unit, and was disappeared shortly thereafter, with the most likely outcome being execution by Honduran state security forces.

Padre Guadalupe’s legacy in Honduras is profound - one local community named itself after him, and his passionate dedication to social justice through faith reverberates in the Honduran left to this day. His autobiography, available for free download in English and Spanish at the link above, is a must-read for anyone interested in social justice, revolutionary movements, or the history of Honduras.

The event, while focused on Padre Guadalupe, also served as a reminder that his death, while unthinkably tragic, was not unique - COFADEH has documented the cases of more than 200 disappeared in Honduras over the course of decades, and in spite of changing governments and constitutions. In the popular imagination, disappearances are more commonly associated with the right-wing military regimes of Chile and Argentina, but as COFADEH shows, Honduras has its own tragic tradition of disappearances, beginning in the 1970s and continuing until the years following the 2009 coup.

The singular tragedy of disappearances is highlighted by the approximate anniversary that commemorates Padre Guadalupe’s. It is the lack of knowing - for the families of the disappeared, especially, and for the community and country at large - that compounds the tragedy of a presumed execution. It is families who do not have an exact date to put on headstones, who do not have remains to bury, who do not have even the cold comfort of knowing when, where, and how their loved ones died (or whether they died at all) that makes disappearances such a profoundly and deeply tragic crime. And beyond this, the lack of knowledge in the forensic sense lends itself to official deniability that only decades of deeply intensive investigations can undo. In a country where impunity for crimes committed in broad daylight reigns as the norm, the crimes buried in a shroud of darkness take on an ominousness nearly impossible to describe.

The Future Is In Our Hands

But at the event, the few hundred attendees stood in stark and moving resistance. During Berta Oliva’s speech, she started a call-and-response with, “Padre Guadalupe, presente!” Padre Guadalupe is here. She built to a crescendo, saying the names of the disappeared, with the crowd affirming their presence. “Presente! Presente! Presente!”

As long as people like Oliva and Padre Melo, and organizations like ERIC, Radio Progreso, and COFADEH, continue to speak the names of the disappeared, and to investigate the causes and dates and times of their deaths, US-trained and funded Honduran security forces can never truly disappear them. As the crowd affirmed, through their words and through the unbelievable courage of their very presence in a country where protests are increasingly criminalized, the disappeared are, through their works, their deeds, and their memories, still here. We must say their names.

Pa’lante,

Bryan & Ryan

Los sonidos del silencio

Al conmemorarse los seis meses del asesinato de Berta Cáceres, los y las hondureñas exigen justicia.

En la mañana del 2 de septiembre, 2016, el equipo internacional de Acción Permanente por la Paz en Honduras subimos la escarpada escalera de La Gruta, una iglesia contemplando el pueblo rural de montaña de La Esperanza, Intibucá, donde hace seis meses Berta Cáceres fue asesinada en su recámara.

En medio de serias amenazas e intimidaciones, la organización que ella co-fundó, El Consejo Cívico de Organizaciones Populares e Indígenas de Honduras (COPINH), arregló una serie de eventos para conmemorar el aniversario de su asesinato. Lo más prominente, realizó una movilización por las calles de La Esperanza lo cual comenzó en los meros escalones donde centenares de líderes y enlutados habían congregado el día en que su comunidad la enterraron.

Cuando llegamos, vimos solamente un puñado de lo que se convertiría en cientos de manifestantes provenientes de diversas organizaciones de la sociedad civil de todo Honduras. Al principio, sin embargo, fuimos recibidos por una banda de marcha compuesta de alumnos y alumnas locales, acariciando una melodía que, flotando encima la percusión polirítmica, nos parecía vagamente conocida. Después un momentico, la identificamos como la inconfundible y pertinente gran éxito de Simon & Garfunkel, “El Sonido del Silencio.”

Aunque dudamos que la banda había tenido la intención, nos parecía una forma particularmente apropiada para iniciar una manifestación nacida de la frustración acumulada de un pueblo enfrentando una chusma de silencios: desde el sistema de justicia hondureña; a los arquitectos de la política exterior estadounidense; hasta las corporaciones transnacionales, las cuales muchas consideran cómplices en el asesinato de Cáceres.

“Después de seis meses del asesinato de Berta Cáceres,” gritaron los jóvenes integrantes del Paso a Paso, un programa socio-educativo con sede en San Pedro Sula para adolescentes en riesgo, “¡Exigimos justicia!”

Paso a Paso representó una de las varias organizaciones que participaron en la movilización. El COPINH también fue acompañado por otro socio asociado de Acción Permanente por la Paz, la Organización Fraternal Negra de Honduras (OFRANEH), una organización de base de justicia social para la defensa de los derechos de las indígenas negras garífuna de la costa norte de Honduras. Sosteniendo una gran pancarta anunciando, “¡OFRANEH está presente!” el grupo desempeñó un papel eminente durante las acciones, reafirmando su compromiso solidario, que ya lleva décadas, con el COPINH.

Todos y todas de los representantes de una delegación considerable de Casa del Pueblo, un creciente movimiento populista sampedrano, llevaban camisetas blasonadas con la letra de una canción que reemplazaría el silencio en nuestra mente: “Berta no se murió, Berta se hizo millones, Berta soy Yo...!”

“¡Exigimos justicia!”

Después de las organizaciones antes mencionadas se habían reunido en La Gruta, los y las manifestantes iniciaron su marcha por las calles de La Esperanza. A ellos se unieron allí - y cada vez más a medida que la movilización se avanzaba - por los residentes locales y otras. En la parte delantera de la línea era una camioneta pick-up que lleva un micrófono y altavoces, a través del cual los miembros del COPINH levantaban consignas y canciones, así como reproducía clips - todavía profundos y oportunos - de los discursos de la bienamada Berta.

Un canto recurrente que resonó fuertemente con los manifestantes, así como los espectadores asumieron una llamada y respuesta:

“¿Están cansadas?”

“¡No!”

“¿Tiene miedo?

“¡No!”

“¿Entonces…?”

“¡Adelante! ¡Adelante! ¡Que la lucha es constante!”

La marcha se detuvo por algún tiempo en frente del edificio municipal, donde los y las integrantes de la OFRANEH se reunieron en la entrada del predio y condujeron una ceremonia invocando a los espíritus de sus antepasados a través de los tambores y el humo. Los miembros de la policía y el ejército llegaron, pero la manifestación continuó con toda tranquilidad y sin incidentes, y el COPINH tuvo la oportunidad de compartir un extracto de Cáceres reconociendo que la policía rasos son los "hermanas y hermanos" del movimiento.

De allí, la marcha se vertía por el pasillo principal de la ciudad hacia las afueras de Intibucá parando en el palacio de justicia, donde los sonidos del silencio judicial fueron interrumpidos por los gritos para la justicia desde una multitud unificada. Las y los manifestantes se aglutinaron en frente del juzgado, algunas sentadas alrededor del perímetro, para escuchar los discursos de los y las representantes de las diversas organizaciones presentes. Llegaron las patrullas de la policía y el ejército, armadas y en espera de una confrontación que nunca arribó.

A pesar de que los altavoces representaban una amplia y diversa sección transversal de la sociedad civil hondureña, el mensaje resonaba bien claro: justicia para Berta Cáceres, el fin de la impunidad, el fin de la militarización, y el respeto de los derechos humanos y para quienes que los defienden.

“Entonces, adelante!”

Una pregunta recurrente durante las delegaciones en Honduras y los eventos continentales en los EEUU, se va de siguiente manera: ¿Qué es lo que yo puedo hacer para ayudar? Este fin de semana pasada, el COPINH y varios miembros de la comunidad de Río Blanco nos hablaban sobre la alta importancia del proyecto de ley HR 5474 "La ley Berta Cáceres de los derechos humanos en Honduras," que suspendería de forma inmediata la ayuda militar para el gobierno de Honduras hasta que, entre varios estipulaciones, se esclarezca el caso de Berta. Por lo tanto, sugerimos encarecidamente que llame a su representante ahora a instar a él o ella que co-patrocine la ley.

Una vez que haya hecho eso, suscríbete a este blog, síganos a Witness for Peace en Twitter y Facebook para actualizaciones oportunas, considere acompañarnos en una próxima delegación (o el patrocinio para alguien más), y considere convertirse en un/a donante sostenible para ayudarnos a mantener nuestra presencia en Honduras, y todos nuestros otros sitios.

Pa’lante,

Bryan y Ryan

Equipo Internacional de Honduras

Acción Permanente por la Paz

The Sounds of Silence

Commemorating the six-month anniversary of the assassination of Berta Cáceres, Hondurans demand justice.

On the morning of September 2nd, 2016 the Witness for Peace Honduras International Team climbed the steep staircase of La Gruta, the church overlooking the rural mountain town of La Esperanza, where six months earlier Berta Cáceres was assassinated in her home. Amidst ongoing threats and intimidations, the organization she co-founded, The Civic Council of Popular and Indigenous Organizations (COPINH). organized a series of events to commemorate the six month anniversary of her assassination. Most prominently, they held a march through the streets of La Esperanza which began on the very steps where hundreds of leaders and mourners gathered on the day her community buried her body.

When we arrived, we saw only a smattering of what would become hundreds of protesters from various civil society organizations throughout Honduras. We were greeted, however, by a marching band of local schoolchildren playing a melody that, piercing through polyrhythmic percussion, struck us as vaguely familiar. After a moment, we identified the melody as the unmistakable and apropos Simon and Garfunkel classic, “The Sound of Silence.”

While we doubt that the youth band intended it, it struck us a particularly appropriate way to commence a march born from the compounded frustration of a people confronted by a multitude of silences: from the Honduran justice system, U.S. foreign policymakers, and the transnational corporations which many view as complicit in Cáceres’ murder.

“After six months since the assassination of Berta Cáceres,” chanted young participants from Paso a Paso ¹, a San Pedro Sula-based educational program for at-risk youth, “we demand justice!”

Paso a Paso represented one of many organizations present for the demonstration. COPINH was also joined by another Witness for Peace partner, the Black Fraternal Organization of Honduras (OFRANEH,) the grassroots social justice organization defending the rights of the Black Indigenous Garífuna from the north coast of Honduras. Bearing a large banner declaring “OFRANEH is Present!” the group played a prominent role throughout the demonstration, reaffirming its decades-long solidarity with COPINH.   

The members of a substantial delegation from Casa del Pueblo², a growing populist movement also based in San Pedro Sula, all wore t-shirts emblazoned with the lyrics of a song that would replace the sound of silence in our minds: “Berta hasn’t died, she’s become millions. Berta is me!”

“Exigimos justicia”³

After the above-mentioned organizations had gathered at La Gruta, the demonstrators began their march through the streets of La Esperanza. They were joined there - and increasingly as the march went on - by local residents and others. At the front of the line was a pick-up truck carrying a microphone and speakers, through which COPINH members led chants and songs, and played clips of Berta’s still profound and timely speeches.

One recurring chant that resonated strongly with the demonstrators as well as onlookers took on a call-and-response:

“Are you tired?”

“No!”

“Are you afraid?

“No!”

“And so…?”

“Onward! Onward! The struggle is ongoing!”

The march stopped for some time at the municipal building, where members of OFRANEH gathered at the building’s entrance and led a ceremony invoking the spirits of their ancestors through drums and smoke. Members of the police and army arrived, but the demonstration continued peacefully and without incident, and COPINH took the opportunity to play an excerpt of Cáceres acknowledging that the rank and file police are the “hermanas y hermanos⁴” of the movement.

From there, the march poured down the main corridor of town to the outskirts of Intibucá stopping at the local courthouse, where the sounds of judicial silence were disrupted by the crowd’s unified cries for justice. The protesters gathered in front of the building, some taking seats around the perimeter, to listen to speeches from representatives of the various organizations present. Police and military patrols pulled up, armed and awaiting a confrontation that never came. Although the speakers represented a broad and diverse cross-section of Honduran civil society, the message was clear throughout: justice for Berta Cáceres, an end to impunity, an end to militarization, and respect for human rights and those who defend them.

“Entonces, adelante!”⁵

A recurring question at Witness for Peace speaker’s events, and on Witness for Peace delegations, is “what can I do to help?” Some time during the events this past weekend was spent discussing the importance to COPINH and others of HR 5474, the Berta Cáceres Human Rights in Honduras Act. We encourage you to call your representative now to ask him or her to co-sponsor the act.

Once you’ve done that, subscribe to this blog, follow Witness for Peace on Twitter and Facebook for updates, think about coming on an upcoming delegation (or sponsoring someone else’s visit), and consider donating to help us maintain our presence in Honduras, and all of our other sites.

Pa’lante,

Bryan and Ryan

Witness for Peace Honduras IT

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1 "Step by Step" in English ^↩
2 "The People's House" in English^↩
3 "We demand justice!" in English^↩
4 "sisters and brothers" in English^↩
5 "And so...onward!" in English^↩