Welcome to La Laguna, Guatemala

A very disgruntled 10-year-old Martina walked down the street of her school, her feet kicking up dust and her hair feeling like it would burn up in the afternoon sun. The flimsy old book she clutched was in danger of falling apart at the spine, not helped by the fact that it kept sliding around her sweaty hand.

Just an hour earlier, Martina had been in a great mood. Her classmates at school each got to choose a book from the classroom library to take home and read just for fun, no project to go along with it. Martina really wanted a book in a series she loved called Los Chicos del Vagon de Carga, or The Boxcar Children. Her teacher just had one copy, but since it was older Martina was sure no one would take it. Martina loved to read.

Everything went wrong when her teacher pulled out the class roster and began calling out students to choose their books. The list ordered names alphabetically, and Martina's last name was Zacarias. There wasn’t even a book left on the shelf when it was here turn to choose—her teacher pulled an ancient one out of her own desk drawer and gave it to Martina.

“Remember to take good care of your books! You need to bring them back to school each day,” the teacher announced. “Although I don’t care much about that one,” she said to Martina. “It was in this room before I started teaching here.” Martina looked down at the unreadable title, her good mood crumbling away like the pages of the book.

As Martina walked down the street, she passed an ice cream cart, some of her classmates playing soccer, and a church band playing outside—all typical sights of the town she had spent all her life in: La Laguna, Guatemala. “Na’an, mal diox,” Martina said to the ice cream vendor in her first language, Tzutuhil, politely refusing to buy anything. Usually Martina liked La Laguna, but now it felt stifling. When she passed a Carmelite convent, she turned onto a much smaller path going through a forest and leading to the edge of Lake Atitlán, her favorite place to play after school.

After climbing through bushes and over fallen trees, she made it to a big rock right by the water. She lay down in the shade and looked over the lake, taking in the fishermen in the distance and the volcanoes beyond that. She closed her eyes and let a soft breeze cool her skin just a little bit. Martina had never made the trip with her parents to the ocean, but she couldn’t imagine how any water could be bigger or more peaceful.

Finally she opened the book, read the title of the first chapter, “Heart of Heaven, Heart of Earth: A Tzutuhil Tale,” and began to read. She struggled to read some of the words since it seemed not to be written for children, but the story immediately drew her in. According to the book, people used to be able to disappear into the clouds, into volcanoes, or under the lake. Gods, goddesses, and spirits lived everywhere. Some people could even turn into animals. A bird flew over the lake, and Martina imagined how nice it would be to fly. She looked back down to read, but did a double take—for a second she could have sworn she saw a silver face in the water, but it was gone. “I am getting tired,” Martina thought. “No wonder I’m seeing things.” She closed her book and drifted off to sleep.