Let's Talk About Rape — Empowering survivors, changing the narrative

When I started to scream, they put a very dirty cloth in my mouth to shut me up. There were several soldiers who were raping us and others guarding the door; when one entered, another left. I lost count of how many soldiers had raped me.

elena

Indigenous Ixil Maya survivor of conflict-related rape from Guatemala

My name is Elena de Paz Santiago. I am 53 years old and a Mayan Ixil woman from Nebaj. I’m originally from the community of Janlay, but now, I live in the Municipality of Nebaj, Quiché, Guatemala.

I grew up alone without my parents and experienced great suffering during the war in 1982 during the de facto government of General José Efraín Ríos Montt. I was little when the conflict occurred and bared witness to my mother being raped in front of me by the soldiers. I started to scream out of fear; I was shaken and believed they would hurt my mother. Whilst they were raping her, other soldiers grabbed me. I lost consciousness shortly after. I had no recollection as to how they had cut my leg. When I started to scream, they put a very dirty cloth in my mouth to shut me up. There were several soldiers who were raping us and others guarding the door; when one entered, another left. I lost count of how many soldiers had raped me.

After that multiple rape, I had a haemorrhage and lost a lot of blood. This happened to me when I was twelve years old. At such a young age, they left me with this pain, a pain that has never left my mind. I truly believe this pain will not leave me until the day I die, not until I am gone to forget it. I can’t stop thinking about what they did to me. The fact that they used me hurts me a lot; what they did to me left a wound that will never heal in my heart.

elena

Let’s Talk About Rape® is a collaborative, therapeutic project empowering survivors to reclaim their narratives. Through self-portraiture using a shutter release cable, participants set their own agenda as a tool for healing.

Elena, Ixil Maya (Nebaj Quiché) Nebaj, Guatemala, 2024

There are days when I’m fine and other days when I ruminate about everything they did to my mother and me. I think that it was there where she died, in the military detachment from the Tzalbal Village; that was the last time I saw her. I don’t even know where they took her. Many children died there as well; it is only by God’s grace that I am alive.

I don’t remember many things; I don’t recall the exact dates. Before, I remembered it perfectly, but now, I don’t remember much. I think that’s a result of everything I’d experienced during the years of war, for all of the time we fled to the mountains.

One day, as I was fleeing with my father, I saw a scene that I will never forget. I saw a woman; she was already dead, naked on top of a man. There was another man who was missing an ear; they had it ripped apart from him. I will never forget that image. That was the way the soldiers tortured people when they were not offering information or responding to them about the things they wanted to know. They also cut off people’s noses.

My mother was from the Xoloche Village; that was where they burned all of the cobs. I recall seeing them do so. The soldiers’ intention was to leave us without food so that we would starve to death. Thank God we didn’t die. My dad looked for a herb called Santa Catarina and that fed us as well as those who had left for the mountains. He also went out to look for some corn for us. I don’t know how he found it, but he came back with it. They ground it, and we ate it like that, raw with the water from the Santa Catarina stalks, and when we couldn’t get water, that was what we drank.

There are many things that the military did to us. Every time we left home, they would tamper with our belongings, and when we returned, we could no longer touch things because they would leave bombs in between the furniture and amongst utensils. I remember the day when my aunt died. She had unknowingly triggered a bomb. The military’s intention was always to kill everyone. Those experiences are the ones that I cannot forget, and even more so when I have pains in my leg. I still ruminate over these events.

Elena, Ixil Maya (Nebaj Quiché) Nebaj, Guatemala, 2024

I live here alone as my husband died. People will not leave me alone; I never feel at ease. Some people still bother me and say that I’m a prostitute. I don’t care what they say because I know and God knows how much I work. I’ve been alone for 19 years now and have raised my five children single-handedly. One of them committed suicide. To this day, I don’t know what he took, and I don’t know if it’s a consequence of what the soldiers did to me, but I feel like evil always follows me because my children began to suffer with some mental health challenges. My daughter had a child, but life’s struggles made it difficult for her to be as emotionally present as she would’ve wanted to be. I don’t even know who the father of my granddaughter is. She is now seven years old, and I am taking care of her. Her mother, my daughter, is being cared for in the Psychiatric Juan Francisco Mora Hospital in Guatemala City.

I now must work different jobs to support us, such as cleaning houses and cooking for other families to support my children. When my children were little, it was difficult for me. If my mother had been there, I would have given her the money, and she would have supported me with taking care of my children, but I was left an orphan. My mother’s body has never been found. We have gone several times to look for her body and not found her. Neither have we recovered my father’s corpse; we don’t know where he was taken.

During the Covid pandemic, I still had to work because how else would we be able to support ourselves? Whenever I returned home, I prepared myself hot water with lemon and drank it. Thank God I didn’t get sick. The CALDH, a human rights organization based in Guatemala, helped us a little with groceries at that time. There are always organizations that accompany us at workshops, and I’m someone who likes to participate a lot. At the time, it makes me happy, but only during the activity, and afterwards what I experienced comes back to me again. There are some that say that it can heal those wounds, but I can’t erase them from my mind. There are healing therapy workshops where they promote healing with plants, but I feel like I can’t heal; I feel like I only find relief for a moment. When I am sleeping, I dream of the place where I was during the war. When this happens, I just start praying; I can’t do anything else.

I’ve been alone for 19 years now and have raised my five children single-handedly. One of them committed suicide. To this day, I don’t know what he took, and I don’t know if it’s a consequence of what the soldiers did to me, but I feel like evil always follows me because my children began to suffer with some mental health challenges.

elena

My father did not die because he stole something; he was a hard-working man. Later in life, my father had another wife; they had another daughter. So when my father died, they took the land and left me nothing. Then, I realised that the owners had changed. That is why we came to occupy this land where I am now because it was for the people who had been left with nothing, but unfortunately, there are interests at stake. Here in the Sajbuta Community, conflict has risen already as there are two groups in the community.

I couldn’t study; I learned to speak a little Spanish by working in the houses. I grew up working, then I got together with my husband, but I never told him what I had experienced. I told him that the scar I have was because I had fallen when I was a child. He never knew anything. I had hoped for a better future, but unfortunately, I didn’t have a good life with him either as he started drinking alcohol.

I have always been working, and now I also sell Ixil crafts to be able to support myself financially because I like to have money to support my needs. Whenever I participate in training and workshops, I always take the opportunity to bring along some traditional clothing to be able to generate some extra money, which I use to cover expenses for my four children and my granddaughter.

Previously, I thought that I was the only one this had happened to during the war, that only I had been raped. But then María Cedillo came looking for me and asked if I wanted to testify. I started going to the meetings, and that is when I realised that the same thing that had happened to me also happened to many. Some were raped when they were pregnant or were left pregnant as a result of rape.

This is when the court journey began. I had to revisit my pain and tell the judges what happened to me. I went there to tell them the same thing I am telling you. The court called me to testify two or three times; they asked me if what I was saying was true and said if I told lies, I could go to jail. Every time I testified, I had to show my leg. During one of my appearances in court, I questioned them about having to show my scar and why it was that they were summoning me. I questioned whether they believed what I was saying and whether they took my word regarding how I got the injury that I have. I wasn’t receiving any gain or advantages for testifying.

The road has been difficult, but I continue fighting for our voices to be heard and hope to prompt dignified justice for the survivors.