SANJUAN. In the remote pueblos of the Guatemalan highlands people have yet to hear of the peace accords now being signed by the government and guerrilla leaders. They are still living with the terror and disruption of 35 years of civil war, curious but wary of the United Nations workers and local human rights organisations who are telling them things have changed.
Alejandra Castillo, education officer with the UN office in the department of Huehuetenango, near Mexico says: "Can you imagine how difficult it is to explain the nature of the United Nations to people who have never travelled beyond the nearest town. Most don't understand the notion of legality, far less international law."
The notion of legality is rather tenuous in Guatemala, particularly in the highlands where the war was fiercest and army repression of the indigenous Mayan population merely set the seal on a brutal post-conquest history of virtual enslavement by ladino, that is, Spanish-speaking mestizo landowners. Until recently judges merely laughed at the sight of an indio trying to protect their rights through the courts.
But this is changing. The UN mission to Guatemala was set up in December 1994, invited by the combatants to mediate their talks. It has no peacekeeping role but with a mandate to monitor human rights and publish its findings, it can embarrass the government. Almost uniquely for a UN mission, it has also become involved in a massive programme of popular education.
"Part of our mandate is to help build an awareness of human rights and of the accords that have been signed on the identity and rights of indigenous people and on socio-economic reform," Ms Castillo explains. "It's a very subtle and complicated message to get over to a largely illiterate population."
All formal education takes place in Spanish, which for more than half the population of around 11 million is a second or even third language. Thirty Mayan languages are spoken in the highlands.
Schools are tumbledown affairs, often lacking desks, chairs, books - or teachers. Ill-paid and often contemptuous of indios, the ladino teachers rarely achieve much. Children, if they go to school, leave at 12 to work in the fields. Girls learn weaving and housework. Traditionally their only defence has been their tightly-knit communities and strong culture. The civil war has damaged even that.
At the height of the counter-insurgency in the early 1980s, when perhaps 100,000 Mayans died in the highlands, 200,000 fled to Mexico and many others were herded into closely-guarded "model villages", the army conscripted many men into "civil action patrols". The patrols often came to dominate their communities with their own brand of right-wing violence. Drawing their authority from the army, in some areas they thrived while both local government and traditional village organisation withered.
To the outsider, this militarisation of Mayan society is virtually invisible. In San Juan Atitan, for instance, leaders of the mountain village and outlying hamlets are lined up expectantly on the verandah of the town hall - all men, all in their traditional dress of pink embroidered shirts, brown tunics, white trousers and pink-ribboned straw hats, all waiting for a UN talk.
But behind the picturesque clothing and reserve lie deep political divisions. Complaints about rights abuses have all concerned the mayor, who is also leader of the patrollers. Until now he has refused access to UN educators and, now they are here, he stays away.
Ms Castillo, observer Judith Kent and a translator are here for an introductory talk on the peace process and the work of the UN. If this is successful, they can arrange visits to outlying hamlets where they can short-circuit the mayor's opposition and, vitally, talk directly to women, who are often isolated.
Ms Castillo says: "We show them a map of the world to explain where Guatemala is and who the UN are, then explain our role in terms of football - with the government and guerrilla as the two sides and us as the referee.
The UN prefers to work through "promoters" who train others in popular education techniques. These can be not only teachers, but Mayan cultural and community leaders. But this has created its own tensions. In Huehuetenango independent community leaders and non-government organisations were wiped out in the early 1980s and only the teachers were left. They are not so interested in telling indios of their new rights.
Ana Maria Calderon, a UN indigenous affairs officer, says: "The accord on the identity and rights of indigenous peoples has radical implications for teaching in Guatemala. "It doesn't mention bilingual education directly, but it does refer to the importance of teaching in appropriate languages. This is a worrying prospect for ladino teachers."
Frank La Rue, a lawyer and director of the Centre for Human Rights Legal Action, says: "Education is no substitute for changing the system. Reform of the legal system and controls over the police and the military are vital. Whatever the government and the guerrilla agree, there are powerful forces who do not want change.
"With the UN here, people are no longer as scared of speaking out. Two years ago they wouldn't even take a leaflet on human rights. It was too dangerous. Now people are being given the potential and the aspiration to demand justice. That's a big step forward."