Just 3 more weeks

Something I love so much about Salvadoran Spanish is the way they add the word “super” to make just about any phrase that much more exciting.  My favorite expression would have to be “super wow,” which is used only in times of extreme disbelief or amazement.  I love it!  On that note…I’m super stressed!  With only 3 weeks to go, I’m finding myself completely perplexed as to how to maintain the normal busy schedule while completing all my final papers and projects.  I have no idea where I’m going to find the time to do it all!  And not to mention, I’m completely freaking out about the thought of saying goodbye to Cedro and everyone in the Casa program.  A lot to take in for sure!  So in an effort to save a little time, I’ll be posting more pictures and fewer text in the next couple of weeks.

 

The pictures below show our group participating in the activities of the 19^th anniversary of the UCA martyrs, a 24-hr. event that includes salt paintings in the street, a soccer tournament, an all-night vigil, and numerous dance and music presentations.  The event commemorates the lives of the six Jesuits, their housekeeper and her daughter who were murdered at the UCA on November 16, 1989.  It was an absolutely beautiful experience. 

The following link takes you to an article published in 1999 that takes great care to explain the situation and the context in which the massacre took place.

 

http://www.marquette.edu/library/collections/archives/Conversations/No16_1999/No16_brackley.pdf

 

Me and my roommates before the tournament

Vigil

Our salt alfombra (carpet)

Campo

Two weeks ago we left San Salvador and headed to various pueblos in the department of Chelatenango to spend 6 days with families in the campo.  This week is a central part of the Casa program, and an experience that brings out a lot of fear and reluctance in students.  The prospect of living in an unfamiliar space with unfamiliar people, eating large quantities of unfamiliar food, and experiencing all that comes with no plumbing and sometimes no electricity is a little scary.  I felt pretty comfortable going into the week just because my praxis site has introduced me to a similar living style.  The only thing I wasn’t used to was using iodine drops to purify my water.  Iodine definitely has a distinct taste…yuck.  But those handy little crystal light packs do an excellent job of masking the flavor!  And guess what?!? As of yet I haven’t contracted any parasites.  Victory!!

Each day our activities varied slightly and included swimming in the river, washing clothes, peeling green beans, working in the milpa (corn fields), laying in the hammock, making tortillas and warding off chickens left and right.  My host mom and dad got up every morning around 5 a.m. to begin the day’s work, and didn’t sit down again until 9 p.m. when it was time for bed.  The roles of the male and female are very much established in the campo.  All of the men work all day in the fields while the women stay home and take care of the children and do all of the cooking.  Although a clear manifestation of machismo, these established roles for the woman and the man assure an efficient system for the collection, preparation and distribution of food– the main concern. 

Probably the most memorable moment of the week came on the Wednesday morning after the U.S. presidential elections.  I had woken up many times that previous night, my heart pounding and my mind spinning, because I had no way of knowing the results of the election.  Equally invested in the elections, my host mom received word of the results and came over to my bed at 6 a.m. to tell me that Obama had won.  We both started jumping up and down as she said over and over again, “ganamos!” (we won!).  And although I am still really sad not to be in the states during this time, it has been such a gift to experience the Salvadoran’s interest and excitement in the elections.

One of the hardest parts of the campo week was communicating with the community members. And I say this for two reasons, the first being the different accent and style of speaking of the people who live in the campo, and the second being the serious nature of the topics that arose in conversation.  The area where we were staying was the hardest hit during the 12-year civil war that ended in 1992, and for this reason each person in the community has incredibly tragic stories of suffering and death.  

So now that I’m back and have had some time to think about my week in the campo, I’m struggling to fit the experience into some kind of comprehendible something.  And I just can’t.  Like everything here, there are no clear-cut, black and white answers.  That place of security and solace where everything makes sense just doesn’t exist.  And it is learning to live in a place of such confusion and ambiguity that often has me restless, fuming mad and just about fed up with everything.  But it’s starting to get a little easier…but only a little ;). 

Having returned from this week, I can now proudly say that I have noticeable Teva sandal tan lines on my feet!  Attractive.  In addition, I have come back with one less pair of underwear (consequences of washing my clothes in strong river currents), and pants that fit a little snugger (effect of the gargantuan amounts of fried plantains, potatoes and tortillas I packed away over the week).  I guess I could consider this preparation for the holidays ha! 

Take care,

Chancita 

Below are pictures of my campo pueblo.

Happy Halloween!

Where does one go to spend an entire weekend in silence? A monastery!! This past weekend we piled onto a bus and made the 3 hour trip to Esquipulas, Guatemala to stay at a Benedictine Monastery for two nights and three days. It would be an understatement to say that I was thrilled at the prospect of a few days of rest. I got my own room, my own bathroom, luke-warm showers, and plenty of time to sleep, read, walk around aimlessly and look at Monks, and catch up on homework. But I must confess…I wasn’t completely silent. But neither are the monks, so I really didn’t feel like I was cheating. One of them really liked to tell jokes. Here’s his favorite:

As the story goes, once Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit God expelled them from paradise. But some say that Adam never really left paradise. Why you ask? Well, because he never had to deal with a mother-in-law!

Okay, so maybe you had to be there and hear it in Spanish from a slightly rotund and balding monk. Trust me, it was worthy of a good number of laughs. Oh, and I also got to milk a cow! I didn’t really enjoy this, but it was exciting nevertheless.

And now I’m back to busy days and nights of little sleep. But everything is a lot easier now that I had some time to catch up on a lot of rest. And tomorrow I’m off to the department of Chelatenango, El Salvador (about 4 hrs. on bus). I will be staying with another Casa student with a family in the campo (countryside) for a week so that we can gain some sense of the everyday life of people who live in very rural areas of the country. It’s about a 45 minute walk from where the bus drops us off, and we’ll be carrying a big basket of food to give the family. Because of such a long haul, it is suggested that we only take one backpack with us for the entire week. So somehow I have to fit in a towel, bed sheets, clothing and toiletries into my little green backpack. I guess this means I can’t take my usual arsenal of supplies for all of the “what if_____ happens?” Well, I’ll figure it out.

Tonight we´re all celebrating halloween. The five of us who live in Casa Ita have been thinking all week of something we could do together that wouldn´t require much time, effort, or any money. So I think we´re set on the ¨five senses.¨ I better get back there before they claim all the good senses and I have to be smell...

Have a wonderful weekend/week and don’t forget to VOTE on Tuesday!!!!!!!

Hasta Luego,

Chancita


P.S. I just got back from immigration and was able to get another 60 days in the country. Hooray!

Vacaciones!

Our fall break landed on the week of October 6th. Everyone in the group made different plans for the vacation, but the majority decided to venture out of San Salvador and do a little exploring of Central America. Some stayed in the country and the rest of us were split between Guatemala, Belize and Honduras. I spent the week with a group on the island of Roatan off the coast of Honduras. The place is known for its hot and humid climate, feisty mosquitoes and nasty sand fleas. What? You don’t see the appeal? Oh, well I forgot to mention the beautiful beaches, world renowned snorkeling and diving, and most importantly cheap lodging. And don’t worry mom and dad, I spent the week basically marinating in bug repellent and sunscreen.

We stayed in this little place across from the beach with no a/c and occasionally no running water...but only occasionally. Oh thank goodness for the ocean. But the stagnant heat was probably what gave us the most trouble. In the afternoons when the sun was most intense we either fought for a spot under the ceiling fan in the room, meandered through the few air-conditioned stores nearby, or sat in the ocean and popped our heads out every now and then. But despite the slight discomforts, we really had a blast! We caught up on some much needed sleep, snorkeled, kayaked, swam, explored the island and ate a somewhat suspect assortment of foods from the neighborhood grocery store. I didn’t know so many things could come in cans...yum.

Probably my favorite day of the entire week was spent with a woman who owned an artisan shop on the island. Originally from Guatemala, she came to Roatan about 12 years ago to sell her art. We talked awhile on the first day I came into the shop and then when I returned to make a purchase, we decided to go snorkeling together that afternoon in West Bay, an area of the island that caters to those willing to pay a little more than $25 a night ;). So after hanging out on the beach with wealthy Italians and trespassing on plenty of classy resort and condominium hotpots, Evelin led the way to her favorite snorkeling spot off of the West Bay beach. And I was really enjoying myself until I came face to face with a beast of a fish. At that point I was ready to call it a day.

The rest of the trip went pretty smoothly, with the exception of a less that ideal encounter at immigration coming back into El Salvador. I had 39 days left on my visa until I had to appeal for more time in the country to last me until Dec. 17. I tried to talk my way into 90 more days in the country, but those immigration officers were not going to budge. And instead of just leaving me with my 39 days, they cut it down to 25. You can imagine I took offense. So I decided to re-approach the officer (i.e. dig myself into an even deeper hole) and demand at least my 39 days. But I deserted that plan quickly once I saw a team of officers begin to approach the desk. I figured having to appeal for more time in the country after 25 days is better than being thrown out all together.

And on an unrelated note, I just mailed my absentee ballot !! I’ll tell you, it felt pretty amazing to sit in my room in El Salvador and vote for the elections in the U.S.! Probably one of the hardest parts about being in El Salvador right now is feeling disconnected from the U.S. during such a crucial time. The coordinators have been really great about letting us come over to watch the presidential debates, and have supplied us with some wonderful podcasts and literature explaining the economic crisis. It’s all quite overwhelming and unsettling, but I am very grateful to feel somewhat connected with what’s going on around the world.

Take care,

Chancita

BASTA!

BASTA! (ENOUGH!) This is exactly what I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs last Thursday as I sat in Philosophy class at the UCA. But before I could even excuse myself from class to go and deal with my frustration in private, my eyes began to fill with water and the whole room became a blur. Although I knew I would soon have tears rolling down my cheeks, I had no desire to get up out of my seat. I just wanted to sit and cry. So that’s what I did. I cried softly until break at which point I began to sob with my whole body. My shoulders were shaking, my nose was running uncontrollably and my shirt was heavy with sweat. What a sight I must have been! I guess you might have called it a detox of sorts. And it was my way of saying BASTA! Enough! Enough! It was all just too much for me to take in.

That previous weekend we visited the town of El Mozote in the department of Morazan which is located about 5 hours from San Salvador. On December 11 and 12 of 1981, El Mozote was the site of a massacre planned and carried out by an elite section of the Salvadoran Army, the Atlacatl Battalion. This battalion is also responsible for five other massacres during the civil war in El Salvador including the murder of the six Jesuits, their housekeeper and her daughter in November of 1989.

A woman by the name of Rufina was the sole survivor of the El Mozote massacre, barely escaping death by hiding behind a tree. She continued to tell her story of the mass killing and burning of her town until her death a few years back. Today, a few of the buildings in the town have been rebuilt, and a beautiful memorial stands in remembrance of the victims - about 800 were identified but it is estimated that around 1,000 people were murdered during the two days. Rufina’s daughter (who was living outside of El Mozote at the time of the massacre) is now the one who tells her mother’s story. She served as our guide during out visit to El Mozote. It was an incredibly overwhelming and haunting experience. As we stood in the center of town and she spoke of the events of Dec. 11 and 12, she pointed in the direction where the original church stood – the place where the soldiers kept all of the men until, few by few, they were taken into the field to be shot. Right across from the church was the land where the house stood in which all of the women and children were trapped before killed. We then walked on the same path that all of the younger women and girls were forced to follow before reaching the clearing where the soldiers raped and killed them.

Standing on the ground where so much blood was shed and so much horror experienced was something too big and awful for me to wrap my mind around. I was haunted with the thought of how it must have felt to hear the screams of your husband, child, wife, brother, sister, aunt or grandfather being tortured, and then to know it would soon be your turn. And then I started thinking about every other person within just the past 100 years or so who has also had this experience? Just think of the genocide during the holocaust, in Rwanda, in Bosnia, in Darfur. How is it that these human rights abuses have been committed within our grandparents, parents, or even our own lifetime? How many human rights violations before that? And what is happening right now as I sit here at the computer and write this? Who else is screaming in agony? And why aren´t we all aware of these situations? Or are we choosing not to be aware? How does one respond as a global citizen to all of this?

I don’t know. I just don’t know. And last Thursday during philosophy class I guess it just all came crashing down on me. I couldn’t bear to feel such powerlessness and confusion. How am I/are we supposed to make sense of it all? But then one of my classmates came over, wrapped her arms around me and just held me. And at that point I realized that to just feel, and to let myself fully feel any and every emotion (or lack of emotion) no matter how frustrating or bizarre, is the best way to respond at this moment. To just feel without judgment or analysis, without seeking a concrete answer or solution, is what I think is most important right now.

I’m going to keep thinking about this. Please let me know if you have any thoughts or insights.


Hasta pronto,

Chancita

For those of you interested, I highly recommend The Massacre at El Mozote by Mark Danner. He does a wonderful job of explaining the context in which the massacre occurred, and U.S. response and involvement in the war. Know that the descriptions are very graphic.

Week 6

This past weekend I had the opportunity to just hang out and catch up on homework. Well, that was the plan anyway. Given a free weekend, I thought I would have no problem just taking it easy and getting a lot of rest. But the shenanigans started on Friday night when we decided to go out dancing. We arrived at la discoteca around 9:30 and the dance floor was completely empty (we got there a little early, oops!). Luckily this didn’t phase a single one of us (we’ve gotten very accustomed to frequent stares and strange looks). Once about 11 o’clock hit, gringo hour came to a halt as the place filled up with tons of people. As the Salvadorans approached the dance floor, we felt a little less than adequate and retreated to our booth. But after a brief rest, we mustered the courage to get back out there and proudly display our awkwardness. After about another hour of dancing, we packed up and joined the crowd for karaoke!

The rest of the weekend was filled with many attempts to write papers and read for my classes, but somehow I always found myself doing something else. For some reason, trips to the botanical gardens and cooking lessons from the Becarios intrigued me more than the thought of writing a paper on the Existential Imperative ;). But my time in the sun quickly ended on Sunday night when I realized just how much I had to do for the coming week. I had a little more than a few late nights and early mornings this week…bummer. It’s hard to figure out time to get homework done down here because I’m either completely exhausted after Praxis or busy with other activities. We’re all trying to figure out a balance between course work and the other parts of the program. Here’s what a typical week looks like for me:

Monday:

7:30a.m. – 4:30 p.m. Praxis site
5:30 p.m. – 6:30 p.m. Weekly program meeting
6:30 p.m. – 8:30 p.m. Praxis Class

Tuesday:

10:00 a.m. – 12:30 a.m. Spanish Conversation Class (at the UCA)
1:00 p.m. Lunch back at Casa Ita
2:00 p.m. – 5:00 p.m. Sociology of Public Communication in El Salvador (UCA)
6:00 p.m. Dinner!!
7:00 p.m. House cleaning
8:00 p.m. Spirituality night (optional)

Wednesday

7:00 a.m. – 4:00 p.m. Praxis site
6:30 p.m. Dinner!!!

Thursday

10:00 a.m. – 1:10 Philosophy of Suffering and Solidarity (UCA)
1:30 p.m. lunch at casa Ita
6:30 p.m Pupusa night with the Romero Program
8:00 p.m. - Community night

Friday

8 a.m. – 11 a.m. Liberation Theology (UCA)
12:30 p.m. Lunch!!!

(I love Fridays)

So my week is pretty structured, and I often find this to be a bit overwhelming. It’s really important for me to have down time, so I’m trying to figure out a way to make sure I fit in naps and yoga. Some weeks it’s just not feasible for me to do everything, and I’m learning to be okay with this. And although the classes are turning out to be a lot of work, each one is helping me process all of my other experiences. Every course relates closely with an important aspect of the Salvadoran culture, which is helping me connect theory with application in a real-world setting. And this is really helpful when I’m trying to integrate and process everything.

Tomorrow we leave at 7 a.m. for a weekend trip to El Mozote, the site of the 1981 massacre. We will be there all weekend and return on Sunday night. I hope to have a lot to write about when I return.

Wishing everyone the best!

Chanita

P.S. I promise to get a slideshow of pictures up soon!!!

Praxis Weekend

Last Friday (Sept. 13) I left San Salvador for a weekend at my praxis site, Canton El Cedro. I packed the essentials but also made sure I had sheets, about 2 gallons purified water and a full role of tissue paper. I had no idea who I would be staying with, where I would be sleeping and whether there would be running water. I was slightly nervous…okay, extremely nervous. But when I arrived in El Cedro on Friday afternoon, my host family for the night was waiting for me at the entrance of the center. They immediately bombarded me with hugs and kisses, grabbed all of my belongings and led me to their house. Jaquelin (3 yrs) led the way down the narrow forest path, gracefully dodging rocks, deep holes and trash.

When we arrived, I was greeted by the other six children (Veronica, Blanca, Rosita, Selena, Omar and Juan). Needless to say, I was a little overwhelmed! They led me into their three-room home and showed me to my bed. After getting situated, I walked outside and spent the next few hours playing lots of games, one of which involved yelling out the names of fruits and then running about in circles. Haha! I then went into the kitchen to help prepare dinner. Marie Magdalena (mother) showed me how to prepare the fire, and then let me help her make tortillas. I don’t think I’ve had one meal here without tortillas! Shortly after Jose (father) returned from work around 7, we sat down for a dinner of chicken, rice and tortillas. Like a lot of the men in El Cedro, Jose works 14-hour days in construction, 6 days a week. We ate a delicious dinner of chicken, rice and tortillas. And although there were more than a handful of awkward silences and misunderstood conversations, I really enjoyed sharing a meal with the entire family. By 8 o’clock, it was pitch dark and time for bed.

At 4 a.m. I woke up to the father leaving for work. Shortly after he left I was then startled by piercing squeals in the distance. I later found out that those sounds were coming from the pig that would feed the community that afternoon at the Independence Day celebration. The pig roast lost all appeal very, very fast. It was especially difficult to join the women who were making the pork tamales. But sometimes you have to put things aside and just go with the flow. That happens a lot here…haha. Anyway, the rest of the day was filled with a community parade, traditional dances, music and poetry as presented by the children at the center. Beyond cute!

That evening I made my way to another part of the community where I would meet my next host family. Just like my previous family, this family of five was waiting for me with open arms. There was a little time before bed for picture sharing and a few rounds of what appeared to be a form of bocce ball. In the morning I woke up to the sounds of the mother killing a chicken. I will never complain about the incessant beeping of my alarm clock ever again! Ah, haha. After helping the mother make a huge batch of platanos (fired plantains), we all sat down for breakfast where I managed to have a 30 minute conversation with the dad about sports! I can’t talk about sports in English, so who knows what I was saying. After breakfast we all got ready to go down to the river to wash clothes and cool off. On our long walk down, we were joined by about 10 more kids. We spent the next 2 hours splashing around and washing clothes. This was probably the highlight of my weekend.

When I returned to San Salvador on Sunday evening, I was filled with so many conflicting emotions and reactions to my weekend. I haven’t quite processed all of the experience, and probably won’t be able to articulate what exactly I am feeling for quite some time. Although my weekend was filled with so much joy and laughter, I can’t romanticize the lives that these people lead. They live amongst trash and diseased animals, have no plumbing or running water, and have no access to proper healthcare or adequate schooling. I can’t say that I have a true sense of the hardships the people of this community experience, and no matter how many visits I make I don’t know if I ever will. At the end of the day, weekend, or week I can always return to my privileged life. These people don’t have that option.

Wishing everyone the best,

Chancita