Guns Guns Guns

Before I left for Guatemala City, I heard a lot of crazy stories about this place. Armed robberies and rapes seem to be day-to-day practice. Pick up a copy of the Prensa Libre and you´ll find out that these stories are unfortunately not even unfounded. And research by The UN Development Program and Human Rights Watch states that ´Guate´, as the city is called here, has the highest murder rate per capita of Latin America.

I must admit these facts filled me with a certain sense of insecurity, strolling down the streets of this dirty chaotic metropole. Especially when carrying a big backpack and being a blond gringo without a sun tan.

The Guatemalans seem to share my concerns; army presence is high and cops or private guards with machine guns and shotguns are part of the scenery. But although they are here to protect me (I hope), they make me feel uncomfortable as well. What are they expecting?

On Thursday evening, the threat suddenly becomes very real. When my Guatemalan friend Wendy drives her car in Zona 1, we witness the aftermath of a fresh murder scene in a street we were supposed to pass through. A forensic team has already put the signs on the asphalt to mark the used bullets.

No reason to be paranoid of course. Most of the violence is gang-related, a situation that grew worse after the US started deporting Latin American drug dealers back to their countries.

And Wendy, who lives here for 27 years, was robbed only twice, of which once with a gun. No reason to be paranoid at all.