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ZOILA RAMIREZ 14 A Maya Voice: Living in Vancouver WHEN I came to Canada I thought that all my dreams had died.1 But at the same time I could see that I had the right to talk, that I no longer had to worry that tomorrow the army would come for me or do something to my family. My physical protection is guaranteed here. There's freedom to express yourself here, a kind of liberty that is different than what we sought. We wanted the right to be Maya, to be indigena , but for this I need indigenous education and knowledge of what it is to be Maya. We have rights to speech, to look for work, human rights, but I don't feel I have psychological or mental freedom. I feel confined , surrounded by something that's not mine, something that belongs to others. I have also thought about my children and how now they could really succeed. So being here is a mix of good things and bad. For so long I felt lost, as if I had nothing left, no happiness. Now that we've been here thirteen years, I am beginning to see things differently, although there is still something inside that is empty. The human mind is a lot like a computer. When we think or speak we return to the disk, remembering things that have happened, that will never be forgotten, that will continue to hurt us. So even when I hear that the war is over, that all is calm, until I see it for myself I can't believe it. It still affects me so much. We may smile but inside we're still crying. We have to be patient, but I've suffered so much. I wonder if I'm only getting worse thinking of what happened. It's hard to imagine that I'm going to live and die here, I really can't accept that. Even if I am an old woman with a cane in my hand, I have to return to Guatemala. Here everything is driven by money. You can't go anywhere without spending money. It's expensive to go out or even to visit, especially if your friend lives far away. In my village, you could walk to other villages . We'd bring a dozen eggs and return with salt, and if you didn't have money you could bring something later. You could pick fruit as you passed by a tree, there was so much. Here you have to pay for even a small apple. Coming from a place where you barter or could go out and glean from the fields, it is so completely different. 210 Copyrighted Material A Maya Voice: Living in Vancouver 211 It's hard here because the circumstances of this different culture close off my other options. If I wanted to organize a group I would need money. I'd need to show that I have a degree. I know about natural fertilizer and traditional gardening, but I lack a degree in agronomy, so I couldn't work in that field. If I wanted to teach Maya art or Maya cosmology , I couldn't. So these restrictions me quitan los valores (limit my options). IfI were in Guatemala with my people, I could speak and practice together. But here, in this system, I feel oppressed. All of my dreams are still based in Guatemala, and often involve forming groups, talking of how the war hasn't ended, and how we have to seek freedom for Indians and have the right to land, or we'll only stay poor. I also dream of friends who died in the struggle or who were never seen again. Sometimes I dream of building adobe houses or doing ceremonies. Mothers dedicate themselves to their family in Guatemala, but here there are so many changes in that as well. I sensed from the start that this country would be difficult for me. People are too cold, hardly greeting you or visiting, lacking corazon (heart). Here you can be very isolated , even more when you don't know the language. I didn't ever think I would learn English. But there was no other way, so I knew I had to do everything possible. When I first went to classes, I didn't say a word for five months. Now that my children are older I have begun to learn to write and read, though...

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