Dalila doesn’t know the dead man

Are there any places you visit regularly, which are well familiar to you? You leave your house, have a 15 minutes walk, you talk to neighbors and then you are already where you want to be. With family, friends or at a nice little shop, where you buy regularly little items. From my house in Chimaltenango to the house of Dalila (one of my sisters in law), it’s a one kilometer walk. I have been there, a lot of times since the mid nineties. The house is crowded in the late afternoon, when the men of the family return from work. There are 10 persons living in the house. There a too much animals in the yard. Dogs, cats and chicken. Dalila and her youngest brother Sender, speak Spanish very fast. They are the fastest in the family. Both keep the way of speaking, like the people from Jutiapa do. Both speak incredibly fast. I needed years to understand them. Sometimes there are still words, which I cannot distinguish, but Dalila gossips a lot. So What?

On Sunday 11th of august, at about 5 o’clock in the afternoon, a man was shot down in the suburb / settlement Las Illusiones 2 (Illusions two) of Chimaltenango. about 50m from the house of Dalila. Not far away from the place, where years ago, I used to pass the shop of Dona Delia. When the ambulance reached the place, there was nothing to do. Already dead!

Dalila doesn’t know  the dead men. Nobody in the neighborhood knows him.


There are rumors, he may be a migrant from Honduras. The other day, while the police is investigating the case, a man is arrested after the control of his documents. He is wanted for murder since 2015. Maybe he has to do something with the other case too. Perhaps not?

I am familiar with the streets of Chimaltenango. I like to walk and stroll around. I do not love Chimaltenango, but I like it, really. Only sometimes I wonder why the killings in the streets of Chima are such a normal thing to me. Nothing special happens! Death is always near in Guatemala. Even if your forget it, for a while.

Maybe that’s the reason why I always feel more alive in Guatemala than at any place in Europa. Because the holy death (la santa muerte) is always looking over one’s shoulder!