Volcanoes and Robbers

On one of our last free weekends in Guatemala, a few of us decided to climb Volcan Agua. Luis was supposed to come with us as our guide, because we had heard about how dangerous it is for gringos to be alone in the mountains. But at the last minute he was unable to come – so we left without him.

The climb up the volcano was pretty. We were moving through lush jungle and every new height gave us a different view of the expanding landscape. It would have been prettier if the path hadn’t been carpeted with litter. We were almost wading through trash the whole way.

At the top of the volcano, we rested in the dormant crater, ate lunch and took pictures. Though exhausted, we were in good spirits, and made our way back down the mountain, greeting those we passed and stopping to pray for the city we were returning to.

But near the end of our climb down, I suddenly heard Corey yelling.

As we came around a bend in the path, three young Guatemalan men wielding machetes suddenly jumped out of the bushes. Shirts wrapped around their heads covered their faces, exposing only their frantic eyes.

Corey – called “Oso” (bear) by the Guatemalans - began waving his arms and yelling in Spanish for the bandits to leave. He was worried we’d have to fight for our lives. But when the lead robber chose to throw a rock rather than use his machete, Corey realized they weren’t going hurt us. They only wanted our things.

Panicked, the robbers yelled at us to stay quiet and give them our bags. I handed my backpack to the one closest to me and sat down on the ground. Corey told all of us to just stay calm, and I nodded in agreement. It was best to just stay out of their way and wait for them to leave.

They cut my bag open – the machetes were apparently very sharp – and took some cash.

From the others they took cameras and cell phones. Parker, bold as usual, asked if he could keep the memory card from his camera. Surprisingly, they let both he and Landon take their cards back.

Then, just as quickly as they had appeared, they left.

“Quieres mantequilla de maní?” (You want Peanut Butter?), Corey yelled after them sarcastically. They hadn’t taken our lunch supplies.

In town, we reported the robbery to the police and got a ride back to San Juan. When we told our host families about what had happened, we found out how lucky we had been. They weren’t surprised we had been robbed, but they were surprised by how.

When bandits rob gringos, they typically have guns instead of machetes - and they use the guns. They also take everything, even clothes, leaving their victims naked in the wilderness. And if there’s a girl, like there was with us, they usually take her with them.

God had totally been protecting us. We had avoided guns, total robbery, and kidnapping. I guess if you’re going to get robbed, it’s best to get robbed by amateurs.

I had some trouble sleeping after that. I had always believed that people are sinful and capable of hurting each other, but I hadn’t really encountered it so strongly before. The experience left me feeling exposed and vulnerable. I now have a much more accurate perception of human nature.

The next couple days, those of us who had been robbed talked with each other to process what had happened. Some were angry. Some were shaken. But we all agreed that we had handled the situation as best we could.

Surprisingly, I was not angry at our robbers. They were three stupid kids going down a road they would someday regret. More than anything, I wished I could buy them dinner, talk with them about their lives and share the love of Jesus with them.