In a community very far from the city of Quetzaltenango, called El Rincón, in San Martín Sacatepéquez, lived my family who were very simple and humble like no other. My dad Felipe Cabrera Juarez, always came to work from sunrise to sunset every morning. María, my mother, took care of us and carried out her domestic chores.
In that wonderful community lived another family who were sometimes on good terms with other people, and sometimes not. One day, a member of that family began to criticize us, saying that my father was always drunk, that he didn't care about his family's life--as Guatemala ranks first in alcohol consumption. He claimed that we were thieves and that we had broken into his house, laughing out loud while mocking us.
My dad, despite the criticism, worked and didn't care what the neighbor talked about, and never failed to protect us. He always went out of his way to provide for our food, shelter, clothing, and health. My father always told us: "My children, beloved wife, please never humiliate your brothers, nor your neighbors, because you reap whatever you sow. We have fought hard to live in peace, so that you can have a better life. Maybe many times we wanted a pair of shoes, but we never bought them because of our economic situation".
My dad fell sick for many days, and one day... he died.
His last words were: "My son, take care of your mom and don't disrespect her. Obey the advice of the elders. They have lived and have a lot of experience in life. But take care of yourselves." My dad died with a smile on his face.
At that time, in addition to the criticism, we lived through the internal armed conflict. Many of the peasants survived the situation they were going through. We have no right to judge other people without having corrected our own mistakes. Let us judge constructively without hurting others.
Edited by Emmanuella A.Kyereme
2nd Edit: Andru Shively (VUB)