There is always a long, long, line of people in front of the federal bank on the Xela Parque Centro every day. The line is composed mostly of men wearing straw cowboy hats. Only one at a time is allowed to enter the building and each one is patted down for weapons  before entering. None of the other banks have a line like this.
 Everytime I walk past I wonder “what are they doing?” I decided to ask someone and this is the story I got. During the long civil war in Guatemala, the government forced it’s citizens to roam the countryside and engage the guerrillas. They received no pay, just go do it or else. In the 2000 presidential election one of the candidates promised retroactive pay for these former paramilitaries. He was elected and then decided it was not possible to pay them (politicians are the same all around the world). But the paramilitaries were still well armed and began to make noise and break things. The government acquiesced, and  began cutting and distributing checks. The line at the bank is former paramilitaries picking up their checks.

With this knowledge, I walk past the crowd with a new cognizance. When I look at their eyes, some are friendly, some are hardened, some of them look at me like they are evaluating me. I wonder what their eyes have seen, what their hands have done.  Perhaps when I get a better command of the language I will iniciate a conversation with one of them. To hear of their experiences might make me appreciate sheltered life in the “land of plenty” more. Guatemala is place of far different culture and history.