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!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
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
Saturday, October 11, 2008
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
