El Salvador!

Much has happened since my last post, most notably an extraordinary and perspective changing alternative spring break trip I took to El Salvador. Alternative spring break trips are week long service or educational trips that take place during spring break. At Lewis and Clark, each trip is organized by several lead students, supported by a faculty member, and filled out by a varying number of strictly participant students. The trip I went on to El Salvador was one of 4  trips taken by Lewis and Clark students.

We stayed in the small town of Guarjila, which is in the Chalatenango region of El Salvador. Most of the fighting during the civil war took place in Chalatenango as the mountains in this region were the territory of the FMLN (the guerrilla army). Guarjila itself was destroyed multiple times through the war and at different times served as an operations base for the FMLN. It was in this town that we lived for a week. The population is just a few thousand people, there are two schools and a few small stores that service the entire town. We stayed with several host families around town accepting their extreme generosity. Everything they had to give was offered, and every accommodation possible was made for us.

Rather than launch into the full story from start to finish, I will post pictures and provide short anecdotes for each. If anyone should like the full story, we should talk about it over a beer in person. If you have very limited time to read this, I highly suggest you skip to the video at the end of this post which conveys the most important lessons that El Salvador taught us while we were there.

El Tamarindo, the community center that we were working with during our week stay. The above picture

is of the hockey rink/recreational area (it was once a chicken coup).

El Tamarindo was formed in the days following the conclusion of the war by several people in Guarjila. It has served the community in many capacities since it inception, but originally was formed as sort of search group to find and properly bury the remains of loved ones lost in the war. It now provides the town with a place of safety and respect amidst the alcohol, drug and abuse plagued streets. El Tamarindo has parenting classes, woman's fitness groups, nightly games and activities for young people, hosts weekly potluck community dinners, provides college scholarships, and recently took over the physical education curriculum for the town school. El Tamarindo provides a place to foster self-empowerment. It was explained to us that everyone that comes to El Tamarindo must contribute something, whatever they have to give, be it respect, hard work, a smile, or love. In my opinion, this is what makes El Tamarindo so successful and special: people are both respected and expected to also be respectful, they are held accountable for their actions, and expected to earn their keep. By being asked to contribute something (the things I just mentioned), people begin to see that they actually have something to contribute and are therefore valuable!

 Luis, John, and Gio, members and founder of El Tamarindo.

John Guiliano (wearing the grey sweatshirt), is a larger than life figure that was one of the founders of El Tamarindo. He is American and was born and raised in NYC. After attending Columbia University, John played for the Boston Bruins, a professional hockey team. After several seasons he became frustrated with the materialism he experienced around him, quit the Bruins, and became a Jesuit priest. He worked in Mexico smuggling people across the border to the United States and was eventually kicked out of Mexico. This was in 1984, when El Salvador was in the first years of its brutal civil war. Hearing that people were in need, John went to rural El Salvador and joined fellow Jesuits in aiding the rural poor that had fled to the mountains. Seeing the reality of the war, John eventually joined the guerrilla force and fought for the FMLN for 8 years. Immediately after the war, El Tamarindo was formed, with John at the center, and he has been continuing to live and serve with the people of El Salvador since.

The celebration of Romeo Day in El Tamarindo.

 The Catholic church was at the center of the civil war, being the philosophical authors of the increasing demand by the poor for more representation and fair wages. The Catholic church took action based on a philosophy called liberation theology. Liberation theology proposes that if Jesus Christ spent his time aiding and liberating the poor, then the Catholic church should also do the same, making its aim to serve those that are treated unjustly and marginalized. Archbishop Oscar Romeo was the voice of the poor and oppressed in El Salvador in the years leading up to the war, encouraging the people to break the system of extreme wealth disparity by peacefully demonstrating. The Salvadoran National Army, being controlled by the wealthy oligarch, very much disliked this sort of political assertion and assassinated Archbishop Romeo while he was giving mass one morning. Romeo's assassination is regarded as the beginning of the civil war. 

Romeo Day celebration in El Tamarindo.

We were lucky enough to be in El Salvador on Romeo day. El Tamarindo hosts a dinner on Romeo Day for the war veterans and elderly of the town. The youth serve the elderly their dinner and the elderly give passionate and rallying speeches late into the night. The fire and spirit that was present on that night sent chills down my spine. Here was a group of people that took up arms, ran and fought through the mountains, and witnessed unimaginable cruelties being acted upon friends and loved ones. They spoke directly to the youth, urging them to never give ground and to stand for fair representation and the ability to make a living wage. It is remarkable to me that those that have lived through such horrors still vehemently believe in what they fought for, even after having seen the high cost in fighting for it.

The view from Betti's, the local restaurant where we had most of our meals. Betti fled to Honduras for a portion of the war, but still could not escape all of the fighting. Betti lost her sister, and her husband lost both of his hands to the violence.

Rio Sumpul, strikingly beautiful and also the site of one of the largest massacres of the war.

In addition to simply living and building relationships with the people of Guarjila, we also had daily sessions with John during which he gave us relevant historical and cultural context of the day's events. Of the many talks we had with John, his recount of the massacre at the Rio Sumpul was probably the most intense. As the National Army performed its carpet bombing across the Chalatenango region, entire towns fled to the mountains. The Rio Sumpul massacre was just such an instance, with helicopters pursuing fleeing civilians through the mountains and eventually catching them near the river bank. In a biblical display of desperation, mothers reportedly threw their children into the river with the hope that they would drift down stream and avoid the helicopter fire. Very few survived the attack. For many years no one would swim in the river.

Rio Sumpul, when there's a trip to the river, the whole town joins in.

We loaded into the bed of a few trucks and joined in on the town swimming trip. Rio Sumpul is now seen as a place of beauty and fun and enjoyment. This highlights what I believe to be one of the most remarkable aspects of the people we met: their resiliency in the face of such horrors, their ability to put the past behind them and live in the present. For to live in the past would be to live in the war and to relive unimaginable pain and suffering and brutality. It is this resiliency and determination to carry on that allowed us to have a wonderful day at the river with everyone from the town, laughing, building human pyramids, and playing tag.

 Rio Sumpul, this tree is known as the Tree of Life. As one of my groupmates remarked, it is poetic how the rebirth of culture and life after a war mirrors the rebirth and growth of nature. This tree witnessed the atrocities committed here in the past, as well as the love now shared here.

The drive back from Rio Sumpul.

Also on the drive back from Rio Sumpul.

A guard at a rural gas station. 

The presence of armed guards was very startling. Every gas station and grocery store had at least one armed guard, and even the school in Guarjila had several soldiers out front. I could never make the distinction as to who belonged to organized national armed forces and who were private hired armed guards. Coming from a place where it is normal for citizens to have guns in private, but abnormal to show force in public, it was strange to see the reverse. 

We always traveled in the bed of John's pickup truck. I deeply miss driving through the mountains with the sun on my face, wind in my hair, and friends at my back.

Robert Pirtle and I on Romeo Day. The matching was by pure coincidence.

 We won the Best Mango competition, a high stakes, pure adrenaline event.

 Pirtle and I in our room with our host family!

Our other host brother, a black scorpion, found crawling on Pirtle's back in the middle of the night.

 Maria Serrano, at the time of this picture she held the position of the Salvadoran equivalent to the vice president, she has since retired to teaching in her home village.

We met some truly extraordinary, larger than life people on the trip, and it makes me wonder whether the struggles and challenges of surviving a war and fighting for freedom necessarily brings that out of people. John told us that the war, in a strange way, was the best, richest part of many peoples lives. From oppression came passion; from violence and the loss it caused came deep, sincere appreciation for loved ones; from common struggle came community and camaraderie. It almost seems as if the war brought out both the worst and the best in people. Whatever the case, the people I met there were unlike any I have ever encountered in their deeds and character. 

Maria was a leader in the FMLN during the war. She took up arms after her village was occupied by the Salvadoran National Army and she witnessed their acts of oppression and cruelty. There is a documentary about Maria and her role in the war called Maria's Story. It is on Netflix and  absolutely worth the time to view. The filmmakers traveled with Maria for two months during the war and examined her role as a FMLN leader and also how the war affected her and her family. 

She and John have been close since fighting along side each other. We were given the opportunity to meet and talk with Maria one afternoon at the government's capital building in San Salvador. She spoke with us about her experiences through the war, the rebuilding of El Salvador and her plans to retire to teaching after her time in office expires (which actually just ended not long ago, as a new president was just elected within the last months!). Maria explained to us that some of the people currently serving in the government with her were leaders of the National Army during the war. So in the same government there are former leaders from both sides of the civil war, working together. I simply can't imagine putting aside differences and collaborating constructively with people that directly had a hand in organizing death squads that murdered friends and family. Maria's own daughter, Cecilia, was ambushed and killed in the war. And it is with these people that Maria sits with and works with to build a better future for her country. She said that she constantly prays and strives to have forgiveness, respect, and grace for those around her, and it is these things make her work possible, and make El Salvador's future possible.

Boston, John's faithful companion, always a part of the action.

Moments before the historic regional soccer tournament, we represented Lewis and Clark College with much passion and little skill. The tournament was put on by El Tamarindo. Such a tournament is a perfect example of the many capacities of the organization.

The kids were always fascinated with taking pictures, but were extremely shy in front of the camera.

The University of Central America in San Salvador, John speaking with us about the murders of 6 Jesuit priests, their housekeeper, and her young daughter that took place on the University's campus. These murders are regarded as the beginning of the end of the war.

University of Central America, portraits of the priests and their housekeepers.

The previous picture of us sitting with John in a beautiful garden area is actually the lawn on which the priests were murdered. John knew them rather intimately and was actually visiting them at that very house just days before the Salvadoran National Army broke their gate down and took their lives. John was very ill and was saying goodbye to them thinking that he was going to die. John was therefore able to give us a very personal portrait of the priests and their roles in the war. John explained that the University existed (and exists still) solely to promote and research social justice. Thus, the University was not quiet about condemning the cruel acts committed during the war and was therefore not regarded favorably by the National Army. In 1989 the National Army forced their way onto the campus and murdered 6 famous Jesuit priests, their housekeeper and her daughter. This sparked an international investigation into the civil war and the acts of the Salvadoran National Army. After the atrocities of the National Army were exposed to the world, the United States ceased to provide funding the Salvadoran government, condemning their acts. However, there is overwhelming evidence that shows that the US government had knowledge of these acts long before they restricted aid.

A mall in San Salvador. Being here highlighted the extreme wealth disparity within El Salvador. This mall (the nicest I have personally ever been in) is just a few hours from Guarjila, where running water is an extreme rarity and the houses are all cement blocks with tin roofs.

A beach to the south of San Salvador, where we spent our last night in El Salvador. I slept on the beach that night and saw the Milky Way for the first time in my life.

 A sunrise visit to the monument honoring Archbishop Romeo and the thousands lost at the massacre of El Mozote. This brilliant photo was taken by one of my group mates, Andrea.

John speaking with us at El Mozote about the philosophical roots of the war.

Slowly, over the course of the week we spent in Guarjila, a clear message emerged. It is the same thing that allows El Tamarindo to thrive, that gives Maria Serrano the capacity to work alongside those that murdered her daughter towards a greater goal, that fosters a palpable sense of community in Guarjila, and that motivated Archbishop Romeo to willingly lay down his life for the liberation of the oppressed. It is simply love. Love that acts ceaselessly, love that gives unconditionally, love that forgives the unforgivable, love that demands accountability from others for the sake of self-empowerment, love that builds us up and inspires unimaginable strength and resiliency. While our exposure to the horrors committed in El Salvador revealed to us the shocking depth of evil and brutality that humans are capable of, what astonished us even more was the immense capacity humans have to love. Indeed, for every personal recount of some terribly cruel act committed in the war there was always an even more remarkable story of compassion, sacrifice, perseverance, and love.

John and I talked about being poor one evening. He told me that there is a difference between being poor and being in material impoverishment. Material impoverishment means that you lack money and the means to buy nice things, or to afford a safe place to live. To be poor means you have nothing left within you; you are spiritually, emotionally, and physically defeated. Being poor means you have given up, being impoverished means that you lack material wealth. This struck a distinct chord with me, and there was evidence of it throughout Guarjila. I met a woman that makes $7 a day selling fruit and only has her most basic needs met. Yet she is outwardly happier and more content than most people in the States that make $50,000 a year and have a world of opportunity at their fingertips. The truly poor people are here in the States, and most make multiple thousands of dollars. I met people that live off of dollars a day in El Salvador, and I would consider almost none of them poor. Simply put, what those in El Salvador lack in material wealth they make up for in love and spiritual wealth. Conversely, we may have an excess of material wealth but there is a severe deficit of love and happiness in our society. Why are we afraid to tell others that we love them? Why is it looked down upon to be the one who cares the most? Why do we not deeply love those around us? It's as if we treat love as a finite resource that must be reserved only for certain moments, situations and people. I realized in El Salvador that a good life is based upon love, and a good world will only come about if we collectively decide that we will love beyond ourselves, beyond our family, beyond our religion, and beyond our national borders.

Below is a short video I made about our time in El Salvador, I hope you can get a better feel for the spirit of the people and the place through it. The dialogue is my best attempt to capture that phantom feeling that permeated through the entire trip, during each interaction, and with each smile shared.

Here is a link to El Tamarindo's website. The organization functions solely on donations, so if you are feeling generous here is a cause as good as any you will find to support: www.tamarindofoundation.org

We had and extraordinary team, I love them all and I feel very blessed to call them my friends.