From the tender age of eight, Menchú witnesses the grueling reality faced by the Indian workers on the finca. Their journey to the plantation is a suffocating ordeal, crammed under a tarp in the back of a truck, engulfed by the stench of excrement. Upon arrival, they find a flimsy shelter of branches and a single crude toilet intended for over four hundred souls. Deception is rampant, as landowners manipulate quotas and inflate prices at the cantina, leaving many workers drowning their woes in its confines. The fields, tainted with toxic pesticides, become a silent reaper, claiming the lives of workers, including one of Menchú's dear friends.

Tragedy strikes one year on the finca when Menchú's youngest brother passes away. Her mother must choose between incurring debt to bury him immediately as custom dictates or waiting until they return to the Altiplano. She opts to honor tradition, with the other workers rallying to support the grieving family. Menchú recounts with seething memory, "Those fifteen days working on the finca was one of my earliest experiences and I remember it with enormous hatred. That hatred has stayed with me until today." The family's reunion at their Altiplano home is shadowed by this sorrowful news.

Nearing thirteen, Menchú finds herself in Guatemala City, serving as a maid. She shares the role with Candelaria, an Indian who has assimilated into ladino culture, yet remains a beacon of kindness, teaching Menchú the ropes and encouraging her to stand firm against their capricious mistress. Here, Menchú confronts the harsh realities of ladino bias — a dog eats better than she does, and while Cande enjoys a bed, Menchú is relegated to the floor. Eventually, her yearning for family and mounting indignation lead her to leave. Upon returning, she discovers her father's imprisonment for resisting land seizures, a battle won only through extraordinary effort and rare fortune.

The year 1967 marks the first military crackdown on Menchú's village in the Altiplano. As the land, long nurtured by the Indians, finally yields its bounty, landowners descend, pillaging the village and evicting its people. Deceitful government officials, in league with these owners, exploit the Indians' illiteracy, tricking them into signing documents that, unbeknownst to them, allow only temporary land tenure. In this tumult, Menchú recognizes the potency of language and the manifold ways in which the illiterate are exploited. Determined to master Spanish, she prepares to bridge cultural divides and embraces activism with the formation of the CUC—Comité Unidad de Campesina, where her family plays pivotal roles.

The government attempts to fracture the communal fabric of village life by parceling out land too small to sustain any family. In defiance, the Indians unite their plots, creating shared spaces for living and cultivation. With Menchú's parents as community leaders, they are chosen to reside at the center, a symbol of resilience. In retaliation, soldiers invade, unleashing a wave of terror — looting, murder, rape, and torture. Menchú's community counters with ingenuity, setting traps to repel invaders and even capturing a soldier, whom they release after a stern lesson in humanity. Buoyed by this triumph, Menchú organizes neighboring villages, arming them with the spirit of resistance.

Menchú's initial foray into organizing is through Bible study sessions, a reflection of her community's devout Christianity, influenced by Catholic Action since 1945. She notes the affinities between Catholicism and Indian culture, such as ancestor veneration and a hopeful promise of an afterlife. As she resolves to learn Spanish for better organizing efforts, supportive priests offer guidance. Yet, Menchú acknowledges a duality in the Catholic Church in Guatemala: one of hierarchy,...