Making an Honest Living

LOS PUMPOS, Guatemala—As a 20-year-old college student who has spent his entire waking life carrying out the abstract task of learning, it’s hard for me to grasp what it means to make a living for myself in this world. It’s strange how the quest for “Veritas” can push me further and further away from reality. Yet, I’m fortunate that every trip to Guatemala slaps me in the face with a taste of that reality. In my latest journey home, I realized we have a need to abandon abstractions and focus on finding sustainable ways for others to provide for themselves.Three 60-year-old brothers occupy my memories of the early part of this summer: Don Saúl, Don Celso, and Don Rubén. Each of them owns a small plot of land in the rural Pacific town of El Pumpo, where cattle grazing was profitable until the same plots of land became divided amongst increasing numbers of children. The next generation of Guatemalans in this town only has three viable ways to live: working in Guatemala City under dreadful conditions, taking the long, uncertain trip to the United States, or getting involved in the perilous drug trade. How’s that for opportunity? Good luck at keeping them on the other side of the Mexican border.With the help of my father, I applied advanced aquaculture technology to three ponds, one in each of the Rodriguez brothers’ plots. Those 60-year-old men put my 20-year-old body to shame. I don’t imagine very many people are interested in the intricacies of aquaculture, so instead I’ll relate a typical postcard moment that I think conveys a lot.It was late one evening after a long day of work as the sun was setting behind the mangrove. People were filtering in from town to spend the evening with the Rodríguez brothers, and yet Don Ruben was still finishing up hammering a board into the exit of one of the shrimp ponds.Another man, Don Amadeus, had just come in, and though I don’t imagine anyone but Guatemalans could tell him apart from the rest, he was definitely of indigenous ancestry. Don Saúl and Don Celso were joking like they do all day long, when Don Ruben came back with a group of people who had gone over to watch him work. One of the men, Carlos, had a gun sticking out of the seat of his pants. Later, I found out that Carlos was involved in shipping cocaine into the United States.Macho as he was with his gun, Carlos started making fun of Don Ruben for the job he was doing, comparing him to a little kid with his hammer, which gave everyone a good laugh. Don Amadeus had a particularly raucous laugh. And since Don Ruben’s pride as the oldest brother was threatened, he said, “I should hire an Indian to do it for me.” Despite the laughter that followed, the air became significantly tenser.In that short moment, pretty much ending the conversation, so many power dynamics and varying life paths of modern day Guatemalans were depicted. Carlos with his gun, Don Rubén as the older brother, Don Amadeus as a member of an imposed racial category, and machismo all around.Each of them the male provider of his family, followed a different path. Carlos chose the path of the least prestige, but of the most power, possessing both force and funds. Don Ruben inherited his wealth and the best plot of land as the older brother. Don Amadeus had to eke out his living as a carpenter, but even his pressed shirt, pants, and formal shoes couldn’t hide his relative poverty. Each remains inadequate and defined by mostly hurtful circumstances—Don Amadeus by race, Don Ruben by inheritance, and Carlos by sinful economic demand in a country other than his own.Though each of these men has the power to define himself personally, he does not possess the tools to define himself professionally. It was this realization that led me to the conclusion that the noblest path a Harvard student can take is to give these people the tools to make an honest living. And if possible, allow them to choose a path that doesn’t involve moving away to contribute to someone else’s wealth, or working within a dangerous, illicit industry. I can sit around all day discussing abstract ideas with my fellow Harvard students—education, race, politics—but unless we find sustainable occupations for the people around us, it’s all for naught.Kyle A. de Beausset ’08-’09, a Crimson editorial editor, is an environmental science and public policy concentrator affiliated with Leverett House. His idea of a good time involves being chased by Mexican smugglers.