I wonder if this fear will ever cease to exist? It's very important that fear does not control the person, but how can that be when fear permeates the lives of innocent victims? I'm finding myself asking too many questions. Someone told me to be extremely careful not to ask these questions to the wrong people. Who are the wrong people?
IN NOVEMBER 1989, while working as a missionary in Guatemala, I was abducted by security forces and taken to a secret torture center in the capital city.
The U.S. government funded, trained, and equipped the Guatemalan death squads—my torturers themselves. The United States was the Guatemalan army's partner in a covert war against a small opposition force—a war the United Nations would later declare genocidal.
The military was on a rampage. Students, unionists, priests, nuns, teachers—anyone working for change was viewed as a threat and targeted for repression.
I made my decision. I would stay with the people of San Miguel, not cede to fear and flee because I had the passport and the means, luxuries the villagers would always lack.
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