Like You

Like you I
love love, life, the sweet smell
of things, the sky blue
landscape of January days.

And my blood boils up
and I laugh through eyes
that have known the bud of tears.

I believe the world is beautiful
and that poetry, like bread, is for everyone.

And that my veins don't end in me
but in the unanimous blood
of those who struggle for life
love,
little things,
landscape and bread,
the poetry of everyone.

- Roque Dalton, translated by Jack Hirschman

an open plea...

I've been overwhelmed this month by people's openness to us as United States-ians. It seems that with the influences that our government has had in the history of this country, people would be a tad more hostile. However, while our government was supporting the military, there were a great deal of individuals, and organizations supporting the people of this country - and they have not forgotten it. They express gratitude for past support and for our continuing to come to their home to hear their story. I feel so blessed to be here, listening to these stories.

Having grown up with such extreme privilege, it's easy for me to forget that not everyone gets a voice. Not everyone gets to tell their story and be heard - and man do these people have stories. And when they finish I often find myself sitting there, overwhelmed by the heaviness and strength in their testimonies, overwhelmed by the responsibility of knowing it all.

And then, almost without fail, as if knowing that the question of 'what now?' is hanging in the air, they just ask us to tell it again, to whoever will listen. It's such a vulnerable, open plea for the spreading of truth. Such an idylic belief in the idea that if people know what happened - it's less likely to happen again. So here I am, being repetitious, and perhaps overly reflective - but I'm glad that you're here listening/reading. It can feel like it's all too much, but i know that this is a first step. Thank you for caring about me and for caring about these stories and these people that continue to teach me about how connected we are to each other.

"a generation or two ago no one knew what was going on here - and that's why all of this craziness could happen."

- professor at local university, San Salvador

a four block walk...

So it may not the most socially responsible consumption - but man. oh. man. do I love Cinnabon. And I have certainly never lived within a four block walk of a Cinnabon...but I do now, which is dangerous and wonderful. Who would have guessed, in El Salvador.

Entertainingly enough Cinnabon's mission statement here is: Hagamos que nuestros visitantes digan "WOW!"/We make our clientes say "WOW!". Ha. That's my coworker Joe in the photo, he's a fellow (and perhaps even bigger) fan of the bon.

Well, that's globalization for you...and in this case, especially on a tough day when I'm missing home, I'll take it.

community exemplified...

Mud, bugs, extreme heat, bad roads, kinds of toads and spiders i've never seen, bucket baths, latrines...yup, sounds like a weekend in the country. Truly though, for all of the discomforts it was beyond worth it to see and experience this community first hand.

The members that now make up the community left their homes for safety during the war. They fled to one of the few overcrowded refugee camps - 400 people in a church basement with one bathroom. There was little to no food and if they left the church they would be killed by the military - outsiders occasionally took risks and visited them, to bring food and, eventually, to help them leave the country.

With the help from a British man, they escaped to Nicaragua and lived there as refugees for 10 years. They hadn't known each other before the refugee camp, but they organized, formed a co-op to work communally and essentially became each others new family. And when they decided they wanted to return to their country, they weren't allowed. The government was threatened by an empowered group and feared they would be a political base for the guerrillas.

To make a long, powerful story shamefully short, they protested and fought and eventually made their way back into El Salvador - with a new communal plot of land. As part of the Peace Accords at the end of the war, the government agreed to redistribute the land. However, they were against the idea of giving it to a group of people rather than individuals - organized groups are threatening to the status quo. This community had become bonded enough that they fought to receive their land communally; they created a communal daycare, gave each family a piece of land to work individually, built homes for all together, and have developed the best educational system in the region.

What struck me as most moving is that the community has truly been a support network for the individuals within it. over the last 15 years, nearly all of the surrounding areas (whcih took their land in individual plots) have lost most of their land - poverty prevails and when land is all people have it's too easy to sell it for medicine or school or debt. However, in this community, it's not an option to sell. You have your land to work, but it's not yours to sell. You're part of a whole; and your success directly affect your community's success. These people work so ridiculously hard to continue to improve the lives of those around them.

I think in the face of affluence it's easier to forget the ways in which we are connected to our communities and the incredible potential for strength that's there. Perhaps this will be become more apparent as we get a little less comfortable in the states. Certainly this community isn't without it's flaws, but it was beyond encouraging for me to see this sense of community lived and out and exemplified so beautifully.

plantas de fuego!

one of the larger components of my job is to accompany students to the doctor/hospital when they aren't feeling well. i've been there every day since sunday, usually with digestive issues...but last weekend presented a new scenario.

in groups of 2-4 students ventured out to rural Christian Base Communities to study the ways in which people's faith manifests itself in everyday life and in their communities. (i spent the weekend sleeping, catching up on reading and, in general, relaxing.) students came back and raved about the level of organization they saw, the sense of community they felt and the general warmth of the people.

one girl also showed me her arms and made some joke about them being red. they had gone on a hike and something irritated them, it seemed - a rash, we assumed. she took some bendryl and went to bed. throughout the course of the following day (at the beach) the 'rash' turned into some of the most horrific blisters i've seen...ever(this pic doesn't really do it justice). we decided it best to visit the doctor and found out in the ER that she had second degree burns...from a plant!

fortunately the 'burnt girl' just so happens to be one of the most gracious, upbeat people i've met and we actually had a really good time in the hospital - i think we were both just in shock and we couldn't stop laughing about how bizarre it all was.

what? plants that burn? apparently it's a defense mechanism some have developed...and everyone on the hike was worried about spiders. who knew - plantas de fuego. i swear, the learning never stops around here.

six of many...

Heavy day. Full of really necessary learning, but not easy to swallow. We visited a college university here in San Salvador where, near the end of the war, six priests were assassinated by the military.

During the war here in El Salvador there were three main entities: the military, fighting to maintain the system of the time (supported by the US), the guerrillas, fighting for change, for a balancing out of the status quo (often seen as 'communists'), and the civilians. The priests fell into the civilian category - but they were Christians. They were theologians, professors at the university; they were question askers. Through their support and development of liberation theology they presented a Christ that favors the poor, that calls for an end to suffering.

And this was enough for them to be lumped in with the guerrillas, to be considered a threat to the state. Enough for the El Salvadoran military, backed by ours, to consider brutally killing them justified.

That weekend in Nov, 1989 marked the first military action in the capital and included a US supported military "campus check" (which would later be determined as having been used to plan the killings). Two days after the check, the military returned in the night, drug the priests out of their home, shot them, broke open their skulls and spread their brains on the front lawn (the lawn, now a rose garden, shown in pic). Brain matter on the lawn - a strong symbol sent to the people that the military would do anything necessary to kill the ideas, kill any thinkers considered revolutionary.

To know that it happened is saddening, and angering. And looking through the pictures of the tortured bodies was sickeningly heartbreaking...but to know that our government was part of it - that they encouraged the killing of priests who were speaking out about human rights...that seems even harder to swallow.

Much to think about.

share your food

I was gifted with a new spin on an old story in class today.

Peggy was talking about the 'Jesus feeds the 5000' story and pressing us to think on it in new ways - to consider the idea that perhaps Jesus didn't magically duplicate the fish and bread, but that rather he convinced the few who had food to share it with the many, and that in his presence people were encouraged not to consume more than they needed.

And if you think about an angry hungry mob (or any society based on consumption), and then think about what he pulled off - this perspective seems far more impressive to me than the traditional one with which I grew up. What kind of a personality would it take to pull that off?

I don't present this example to be 'blasphemous' - or say that Jesus couldn't have magically duplicated the food. But I know that I'll never pull loaves out of a hat; however, I can learn from and work toward this new example. I feel closer to and more encouraged by a Jesus who organized the masses without magic and somehow got the simple "share your food" message across to the few who had much. And "they all ate and were satisfied" - Luke 9:17