Reflections on the ERP of FMLN

It is difficult to know where to start because we have been so busy, constantly moving and going from one meeting to another, from one historic site to another, from one location of tragedy to another.

Swimming in Rio Sapo

We spent last night at the Rio Sapo preserve which our guide, Serafin, said is in the middle of an ancient volcano. This seems quite possible since the entire area was made up of basalt outcroppings which are the extrusive form of lava flows. The students stayed in tents while the adults stayed in a cabin. I woke up a couple of times in the middle of the night and it was blissfully quiet, no roosters crowing or dogs barking or traffic. We had to hike into the camp about 45 minutes so we were hot and sweaty so the best part was swimming in the Rio Sapo which was quite warm and refreshing. 

Our guide, Serafin, was also a former guerilla fighter for the ERP, one of the armies that formed the FMLN. He told us about his time as a soldier starting at the age of 11 years old. He was part of the intelligence and counter-intelligence division of the ERP. 

Serafin talking around the campfire

One of their biggest successes was setting a trap for General Monterosa in 1984 who was responsible for the massacres at El Mozote and elsewhere. He was considered a highly professional soldier by the US military. He was trained at the School of the Americas and was implementing a “scorched earth” policy or also what was known as “depriving the fish of water.” This term refers to the policy of eliminating the civilian population (water) through genocide and massacres and dislocation so that the insurgent guerilla forces (fish) have no one to support or hide them.

The ERP was successfully broadcasting Radio Venceremos (We Shall Overcome) throughout the war to publicize their victories and message to the people and the Salvadoran military was unable to locate them or their radio transmitter because they kept moving it. But the ERP heard that General Monterosa liked to collect trophies of war so they thought this might be an opportunity to entrap him. 

They allowed word to get out through a known informant that the radio transmitter was going to be in a particular area at a particular time. They staged the area around the phony transmitter to look as though a battle had just taken place and the transmitter had just been abandoned. When the army found the transmitter, they immediately radioed back to General Monterosa for instructions. As the guerilla expected, he wanted to come and personally retrieve the radio transmitter. He brought a large contingent with him of journalists and even a priest in a separate helicopter so they could have mass to thank God for allowing them to have this victory over the guerilla of retrieving the transmitter. 

Finally, when their celebrations and press conference was finished, the general loaded the transmitter into his helicopter and took off. Less than a minute into their flight, the guerilla exploded the bomb hidden in the phony transmitter. General Monterosa and his advisors were killed and this sent a shockwave through the Salvadoran and US military establishment because they had totally underestimated the creativity and capability of the guerilla. 

The wreckage of Monterosa's helicopter

Monterosa was responsible for the massacre of thousands of civilians, many of them family members of the ERP guerillas. So that night there was a celebration at his death, though many say that it was too easy of a death for him.

Paz y justicia,
Geoff

Day Three of Our Amazing Experience

Hello all, 

After only two full days in El Salvador, I feel so overwhelmed with conflicting emotions, the impact of passionate stories and lack of sleep that I can hardly write. This place and the particular experiences I have been having in this place have rattled something loose inside me and I´m not quite sure what that will mean for my future. For me, this week will be less about reacting and more about recording. The impact of my time here is something, I believe, that will be only uncovered with the passing of quite a bit of time and after even more reflection. Like another great lady I´ve heard of, I look forward to pondering these things in my heart.

The Rose Garden

 

 

 

 

Today began bright and early with a visit to the University of Central America (UCA) here in San Salvador where we were joined by members of the South Bay Sanctuary Covenant. We were fortunate enough to receive a guided tour of the Oscar Romero Center and Martyrs Museum on campus given by an esteemed journalist who was present on the site of the Jesuit slaughters mere hours after the attack. Upon seeing the torn and bloody clothing and other personal belongings of the 6 murdered Jesuit priests, a Bible torn apart by bullets, and patches of grass with the blood of the martyred men, I felt the nearly irresistible urge to run or scream or find some way to be anywhere but there facing the horrible truth of the depravity of mankind. I was uncomfortable in a way I have never been uncomfortable before. I was uncomfortable in a way that was exactly the way I should have been made uncomfortable.

Prof. Tom Sheehan @ UCA Chapel

After the tour of the museum center, we visited the university chapel where we heard from Thomas Sheehan, a personal friend of Ignacio Ellacuria, one of the martryed priests. Like many churches and chapels here in El Salvador, the university chapel had posted images of the Stations of the Cross. However, the UCA chapel depictions of the Stations were drawn to specifically incorporate images of the body tortures that the Salvadoran people had suffered during the civil war. Some of the images where highly realistic and graphic in their depictions, but the university remains adamant about keeping these images posted as a reminder of the sufferings of the Salvadoran people.

Robert Hueso- Stations of the Cross

 We grabbed a quick lunch and then settled in for my favorite discussion thus far. Sra. Julia Evelyn Martinez, professor at the UCA and staunch defender of women´s rights, shared statistics about the high incidence of sexual violence, teen pregnancy and maternal mortality within El Salvador. However, most importantly, she shared with us her views on the underlying structural and societal causes behind these alarmingly high numbers. Women´s lack of access (and therefore lack of participation and representation) in academic, political and economic life in El Salvador all contribute to the cycle of poverty and abuse that is all too often perpetuated throughout generations. She ended her presentation by imploring all of us to make a personal effort to do whatever we could to support the furthering of women´s rights in El Salvador and not to underestimate our potential impact.

Rounding out our day of heavy hitting speakers was Supreme Court Justice Mirna Perla. Justice Perla spoke with us at length about security and the prison and judicial systems in El Salvador. The grand theme of her discourse was impunidad (impunity) and the effect that this perceived (and actual) sense of unaccountability has on the continuation of a deteriorated public security situation.

Finally, over dinner our group was regaled by the musical talents of Freddy, a local guitarist and composer. He shared thoughtful, inspirational and occasionally irreverent J local songs. It was a joyful and optimistic end to a long day of learning about the ongoing struggles of the Salvadoran people.
Kiah Thorn

Second day in El Salvador, 2012

Hello all,

It is the second day of our trip to El Salvador and I have had quite an impactful, beautiful experience throughout the course of just one day.

To start off our day, we visited a park where El Monumento a la Memoria y la Verdad stands. This memorial lists about 30,000 names of homicides, disappeared, and found individuals from the Salvadoran Civil War. The wall has a gold, brown, tannish mural with an image representing Salvadoran history from the 1930s on protruding from the cement. 

The mural depicts the theme of death as integral to modern Salvadoran history. Bullets are shown flying over the heads of figures hugging each other. There was also a group of women illustrated toward the center of the mural who held a portrait of Monsenor Romero, and whose eyes held the most intense, almost accusatory glance. The vast amount of names was daunting, especially since I had never visited a similar memorial, and it was impactful to think that there were a lot more names that were missing. I really appreciated an image at the end of the mural which represented those whose names were not etched into the mural.

We also attended mass today for the first time and at first I was a little hesitant because even as some of us kneeled and went along with the prayers our group was more or less conspicuous as a delegation. Further, we arrived in the middle of mass which I hadn’t expected. For some reason, I thought we would attend the entire mass, and while that may not have really been the point of our presence or perhaps even possible due to our tight schedule, I couldn’t help but think what the Salvadorans in the church might have thought of a group of American youth strolling (not literally, of course) into the church mid-mass. I come from a family that finds late-comers somewhat rude, and while that’s most likely not a widespread feeling, I couldn’t help but wonder whether we might be unintentionally perpetuating possible stigmas regarding the fleeting, not earnest presence of the United States as in solidarity with Latin America. 

Not that such misconceptions can really ever be avoided without conversation and a mutual search for understanding – and no doubt Salvadoran’s perceptions of Americans are much more nuanced to generally judge a gringo harshly from the get-go. In general though, the service was a great experience – I heard songs that I grew up with such as “Cordero de Dios” and “Entre Tus Manos,” which was truly an uplifting experience especially since I realize that these same songs are played throughout Latin America, or at least in Chile, Mexico, and El Salvador. The sense of community and general spirit they brought to the room seemed to me to be a testament to religion’s potential power for bringing people together for positive change.

After lunch, we listened to Jenna and Maria, two young women who work with Salvadoran youth who are incarcerated, helping them express their harsh, jarring experiences through creative writing. The talk the girls gave was impressive – I also really appreciated their new method for maintaining attention during lectures – moving about or spinning around quickly, etc. etc. at 15-minute intervals. Their talk was fascinating, as was reading the Salvadoran girls' poems, and several students mentioned the similarities amongst the incarceration system in the US and that which Jenna and Maria shared with us in the workshop.

After that, we heard Jean, a journalist, and his wife, Guadalupe, give their accounts of their experience in the civil war. Guadalupe's tale was extremely touching and despite its gravity she managed to be extremely expressive and animated, smiling throughout and, at the end, recognizing her family's fortune in being protected by god and also describing the humanity of those who perpetrated grievances against her family. She said that there were both FMLN individuals who harmed her but also some "with big hearts."

We closed the day with an equally impactful group reflection. I am excited for what the rest of the week will bring.

Welcome to El Salvador with Defaced Cathedral

Dear Readers,

We are happy to report that we arrived in El Salvador without any delays or problems. The weather is relatively mild, in the mid 80s and delightfully cool at night in San Salvador. 

This evening we participated in the march in commemoration of Archbishop Romero. We had a great time walking with the people of El Salvador, talking to young and old alike. It seemed to me that there were more people participating this year than last year and it was more fun. They were mixing up the march by inserting waves of people crouching and then standing with our arms raised as the wave caught us. It was really fun. One placard quoted Romero: "Unless the church is the church of the poor, it is not the true church of Jesus."

When we got to the Cathedral which is where they have always concluded the march with a mass, the Cathedral was closed because war veterans have been occupying the Cathedral to protest a lack of access to their pension or benefits as veterans. But even worse than that was to see that the front of the Cathedral with the beautiful fresco had been totally removed. The story is that the local bishop of San Salvador is attempting to remove anything that might suggest support for Archbishop Romero and indigenous culture. It was removed between Christmas and new year when people were away or focused on other things. There has been a lot of criticism about it in the local press and it was actually a violation of law to remove something that was considered part of their cultural heritage. It is such an abomination that it left me speechless. It reminds me of the Taliban blowing up the Buddhas in Afghanistan. Compare the picture at right with the one from last year on the right margin.

We also met with Ernesto Garcia today and we had a good overview of the history of El Salvador since 1932 when the massacre of the indigenous people occurred. 

We are all very tired and most are already in bed and I'm using toothpicks to keep my eyes open right now.
Pace e bene,
Geoff

Revisiting Double Consciousness: The Twoness of the Seventh Son in the Global World

Hello Followers,

The following are my thoughts that I gathered after our second day of being in El Salvador. Since our return, I have had a full on reflection and will be posting that soon. Until then, I present this to you for your reading pleasure and mental stimulation.

-Doc

One hundred years after Bro. du Bois chronicled our souls, the Negro, the Colored, the African-American, the Black man is the still the Seventh Son. Matured past our adolescence, we are comfortably into our adulthood, yet we still don our nascent veil. The second sight has colored and dominated our American experience with, yes more bad than good, more ugly than beauty. Yet, our half-brothers and sisters were still baffled when Sis. Michelle stated that she was proud of our country for the first time in her adult life.

America the beautiful, “father of the free world”, has still left his bastard children, the sons and daughters of fake love and forced sex, in this awkward space where we are acknowledged in public but not so sure if he penciled us in to his will. That’s why a customs form in a Salvadoran airport gives this Seventh Son pause. The form asks for nationality. A first time traveler away from my earthly father’s land, this was a new experience for me. I have always existed in a situation where I had to qualify my claim to my American name with a “Black” or “African”. So in reading the form, everything in me says to follow suit with business usual and write “Black”. But I know the expectation is to simply write “American”. Such a funny thing for my fatherland to engrain in me! In my own home, I am not valued as an equal child, but the rest of world still sees me as a privileged son of my American household. I cannot even begin to protest their assumptions or even try to explain myself. And how can I? Nobody is even asking!

And truthfully, it is unfair for me to think they would or even should consider to ask. Why should they make distinction between Americans? After all, all of us Americans do invariably prosper from the repression of our Salvadoran siblings. Moreover, how can I expect a consciousness of American racial woes to arise in their minds when the bruising construct of race has not wholly shaped their social inequalities? I mean not to present the case that El Salvador is free of racial oppression; the complete destruction and denunciation of the indigenous peoples, speaking of the Spanish language and usage of the American dollar goes to show the extent of White imperialism and manifest destiny. But at least in El Salvador, at least on the basis of skin color, there is no difference in appearance between those who removed baggage off the plane and those who sit in the National Assembly. In my American father’s house however, those who removed the bags off the plane might have looked liked the Salvadorans, starkly contrasting in appearance to the majority of our legislative body.

It is clear then that for my Salvadoran siblings, what has more stratified their society has been class and access to power. And, in many ways, it was my American father who created this stratified society. And so, understandably, I am not conceived of as the illegitimate child but as just another member of the big house that so forcefully dictates who lives and dies in their land; all on the basis of money.

It’s interesting then to note that for Los Salvadoreños , their struggle for justice in their civil war is akin to Seventh Son’s civil rights movement (after all, we were all in some doing battle with Daddy Sam). That considered it is greatly refreshing to witness how the Salvadoran people honor the life and deeds of their martyr and wartime hero, Monseñor Romero. These celebrations are carried out with great fervor, passion and conviction. It excites me to celebrate the life of a man, so committed to his calling, to his community, to his Christ. Yet I sigh with the knowledge that a nation will never gather in such a consistent and mighty way for our martyrs. Nat, Malcolm, Huey and Pac will never get that turnout. And in the days we celebrate Martin, some members of the Seventh tribe celebrate it by turning their guns on each other while the heir-apparent of the American empire wholly forget about such a day.

All the same, I stand and march in solidarity with my Salvadoran siblings in great pride that someone will honor justice, regardless to my color. But, my Blackness weighs on my mind when the heralded member of my Seventh tribe, the (false) harbinger of the post-racial America, my great hero Barack Obama is seen as the face of American oppression. To me, he is savior; intelligent and left enough to be the change we’ve waited for. But in the Salvadoran mind, he is still a force of domination. No space to question his relation to the nation’s crimes. No time to parse out his personal politics. He’s only expected to do the right thing (like Spike Lee) or forever be written as complicit in crimes against humanity. This is a great tension, but a real one.

In many ways, Obama’s tension is the same burden of the seventh son. Our twoness has always been the veil we could hide under. But not now. Our veil is coming off in this swiftly globalizing world as we become legitimized at our earthly American father’s table. Never mind the fact this place never acted as our home. In the new world, where we are the enemy by default, our only hope for redemption comes in cleaning up our father’s mess. We, the bastard child, bare the sins of our father nation across the world.

Going forth in this adulthood of Black America, we must define a new solidarity of marginalized peoples across the world. People who suffer, people whose history suffered, people who are knowledgeable of suffering have a great obligation, the solemn duty to look beyond the mindset of social stratifications , practiced and inherited from our forefathers. It is incumbent upon us that when it comes to justice, we look beyond race, beyond nation, beyond the social remnants of our earthly father and instead turn to our Heavenly Father. We must become agitators for change. When we do this, the Seventh Son becomes fulfilled as a child at the table. Yes, we are disturbing the comforts and thoughts of our America father’s perfectly controlled empire. But who better than us? We create a new paradigm of patriotism; one where we call our father’s wrong out because we as a peoples who have been shunned by our father cannot bear to witness it again in the lives of another. This is the calling of the Seventh Son. This is the splitting of his veil and making his consciousness the mainline consciousness, the only consciousness that matters; the counsciousness dedicated to justice

Universal Connection

Please forgive our short absence but the internet was not available the last few days.

Thursday March 24, we left San Salvador and drove out towards the mountains beginning our journey to the Lower Lempa. Stopping first at Ciudad Romero, we celebrated mass and the anniversary of the assassination of Oscar Romero. These people had formed their community while in exile in Panama, and had come to this region after the war to continue their fight. Next, we visited the ACUDESBAL office, which is the headquarters of the United Communities Project a group of around 29 communities that have come together to help one another. Here we talked to the people who worked in these offices and learned about the projects that are being implemented in order to help the community. Next, we were welcomed by the community and introduced to our host families. There were five pairs and the rest of us were alone in our host stays. We had the afternoon with our families, and then went to a concert in Romero celebrating the life of Monsignor Romero.

However, what I would like to talk about is connection. The connection that many of us feel with our families, siblings, and friends. This week in El Salvador has opened my eyes to the extraordinary power of relationships. My host family talked of their experience in the war and the amount of struggle they underwent together. My host father said to me, "If one of us had food, we all had food. There were times where we did not eat for a week, but we struggled together. Now, I have this land and would never give it up no matter the circumstances." A common struggle linked the brothers and sisters of the war to help one another no matter the situation. Similarly, Comunidad Octavio Ortiz (where we stayed with our host family) had bonds that were deeper than anything I have ever seen. It was the embodiment of the notion that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. With each family invested in the community there was a sense of trust and respect amongst all. People thought about a future community, and not a future life for themselves.

In many ways I have seen this bond grow in our own group. Slowly we have shared our stories, reflected with each other, and built lasting memories. This experience has shaped us all in our own way, shown us a new way to look at the world, and will forever connect us in our journeys. I hope that through our experience and better understanding of the world we will never forget how powerful togetherness is. I can only thank the people who made this experience possible and took us into their lives. We are forever indebted to the people of El Salvador, and must commit ourselves to fight for their better future. Together this world can do anything.

En nuestras manos

Today was a day of powerful personal connections. In the morning, our group had the privilege of meeting with Ana Ortiz, the sister of Octavio Ortiz, a Salvadoran priest who denounced the government's crimes against humanity during El Salvador's civil war. Ortiz preached a system-changing brand of Catholicism known as Liberation Theology: Instead of simply accepting unjust events or evils in the world as the "will of God," liberation theology blames human suffering on the actions of men. Consequently, relief from these hardships can be achieved in the here and now, in this world, when we fight for social justice and human rights. This is the struggle that Ortiz inspired in his congregation. This is why he was branded "subversive."

In 1979, a mere four years into the priesthood, Ortiz was brutally gunned down by the military guard, who then proceeded to roll their tank over his body. Like many "subversives" or people who protested against the government, Ortiz was first offered safe passage out of the country in exchange for cooperation with the government. Showing true solidarity with the plight of the Salvadoran people, Ortiz refused to comply: his conscience could not be bought. It was this compromiso to truth, justice, and peace that cost Ortiz his life.

Learning about Ortiz's lucha today helped framed the context for one of the greatest milestone of our group travels, visiting the site of Archbishop Oscar Romero's assassination. Romero's life and work during the civil war have come to embody the very struggle for social justice of Salvadoran people. He was more than a national hero; Romero brought hope, and his memory continues to inspire a culture of resilience in the face of adversity today. For many, Oscar Romero is the most tangible definition of liberation theology in action.

Today, our group had the distinct honor of visiting the very church where Romero was martyred. A Carmelite nun, Mercedes Amador, offered us a tour of the grounds and a historical recount of the day of Romero's assassination. However, she made the experience truly memorable and thought-provoking by challenging us to connect to Romero's mission and to continue his struggle. We each chose a word that we felt described Romero: Paz. Justicia. Corage. Valiente. Forming a circle around the altar where Romero was shot as he gave mass that fateful day March 24, 1980, we repeated our word-- this time charged with the mission of bringing that word to life in our own lives. Being in that church, standing around Romero's very altar, I couldn't help but feel moved by the power of that moment. Mercedes reminded us of our own agency in bringing about change: Like Romero, we can effect transformative change now, without waiting on magic bullet top-down solutions. The sentiment was something I hope I never forget (so much so that I asked her to write it down so that I could transcribe it and translate it roughly to share here):

"La transformación de nuestros pueblos y nuestra sociedad está en nuestras manos. No en las de Obama, ni en las de Funes; sino en mis manos y en las pequeñas decisiones de cada dia donde yo actué con justicia, paz y solidaridad."

"The transformation of our people and our society is in our hands. Not in those of Obama, nor those of Funes. Rather, change is brought about through my hands and the small decisions I make each day in which I act with justice, peace, and solidarity."

-Araceli Y. Flores

Carry On

It is the eve of the 31st year of commemoration when Archbishop Oscar Romero, in the chapel of a small hospital in San Salvador, was horrendously assassinated while he was behind the altar celebrating Mass in the early evening of March 24, 1980. Today, we had the remarkable opportunity to visit this profoundly sacred space and recall a deeply disturbing time in history when this extraordinary leader was killed because of what he preached, how he lived and what he said. Archbishop Romero never said anything that was not consistent with the Christian gospels and the teachings of his Catholic Church. If these teachings have been given, it is clearly so that they might be carried out. At least this is how Monsenor Romero understood it. It has been said that he was not one to accept things "calmly" or "with prudence." He was faithful to and firmly convinced of these teachings. He died for them and for the Salvadoran people he unequivocally loved. Because of this, he was clearly guilty. Our world does not tolerate people like Romero. Our world tolerates and accepts those who are mediocre, those who are complacent. Archbishop Oscar Romero, the one who spoke out passionately about defending life in El Salvador did not want to defend his own life. He only wanted to be faithful. He had been truly converted.

Our guide today at Divina Providencia chapel was a young and articulate Carmelite nun. I suspect that many of us will not soon forget her. Though perhaps something she has done dozens of times for groups such as ours, she indeed conveyed a profound connection to everything she said, and likewise facilitated an experience for us that moved far beyond an ordinary tour of a small chapel. She asked each of us to speak one word that came to mind when we thought of Archbishop Romero. Compassion, justice, love, humility, courage, faithful, peace, sacrifice, among others were named. We were asked to remember our word.

There, gathered around the very altar behind which Romero stood and was cruelly slain by an assassin's bullet, we were invited to put one hand on the altar and call out that word again to palpably remind us that it is now up to us to carry on in the world with the conversion of our hearts the concerns of the marginalized, the oppressed, the forgotten. We must resist the tendency to remain silent or indifferent in full view of injustices of economic, political or social natures, all of which by virtue of being in El Salvador are unveiled to us daily as realidad - reality.

Today in that small chapel we were called to resucitar or resurrect that compassion, justice, love, humility, courage, faithfulness, peace, sacrifice and more in our own lives that we may be instruments of God, of Divine presence manifest in the world we inhabit. In 1979 Archbishop Romero wrote: It is God that makes use of people..... even if they don't have Christian faith. All of these...are instruments of God to love, to give encouragement, to give hope.....

Am I willing, are you willing, are we willing....to carry on?

Obama comes to El Salvador

One of the many banners in San Salvador welcoming President Obama

Today was the much anticipated day--President Obama arrived in San Salvador. In preparation "Beinvenido Obama" signs have been hung all over the city and pot holes on streets where his motorcade was likely to pass have been paved over. It's a pretty big deal for the President of the United States to choose the El Salvador as one of his three stops (along with Brazil and Chile) on his first Latin American tour. It's been a popular topic of conversation with many of the salvadoreños leaders we have met with, and, as most have pointed out, El Salvador was a logical stop for the Central American portion of Obama's visit. 2 million Salvadoreños live in the United States, and while it was once feared that Salvadoreño President Mauricio Funes would be greatly influenced by Hugo Chavez and his allies, Funes has made the very deliberate decision to remain near the political center, giving the Obama administration the opportunity to cling onto him as an ally in a region where we are lacking friends--since the political unrest in Honduras in 2009 the US has a complicated relationship with that country, Nicaragua's Ortega has chosen the far-left path by closely allying himself with Chavez, and Guatemala is having serious struggles with narcotrafficing.

However, Obama's visit has definitely complicated ours. We were originally intended to visit Monseñor Romero's tomb at the same time as Obama. Woops! That definitely wasn't going to happen--we had to change that! We tried going to the Cathedral this morning, but it was shut down to visitors for the entire day due to increased security. We also has great difficulties in accessing The Universidad de Central América this afternoon where we were had a tour of the sight where 6 jesuit priests were massacred in 1989 and were meeting with Rev. Dean Brackley, a jesuit priest and professor at UCA who has lived in El Salvador for over 20 years. Because UCA is just a few blocs from the Presidential Palace, army tanks were set up--blocking the road and halting traffic. Classes at most schools in central San Salvador were canceled today in light of the presidential visit. I also spoke with a woman who sells fruit and vegetables on the streets of central San Salvador who told me she wasn't allowed to sell today--and this would mean that she wouldn't be able to eat today. Hearing these words was humbling, and made me realize that this presidential visit comes at a cost--school children went two days without school; businesses wouldn't be able to operate, causing some to go hungary; and a significant amount of money was spent on welcome flags and paving over pot holes when there are much graver issues to be addressed. Hopefully some good will come of the Presidential visit. Hopefully our governments can cooperate and establish closer ties, and, hopefully, as Dean Brackley said, the US can help El Salvador become a model for economic and political development in Latin America.

--Rassy

Monday's Experience

Memorial to Martyrs

While it is only the beginning of the trip, the group has a very dynamic and positive outlook. We had the opportunity to meet with Carlos Dada, who had the Knight Journalism Fellowship at Stanford. It was impacting to listen to Carlos discuss his experience interviewing Col. Saravia, the man who led Archbishop Romero´s assassination. You can find the English translation here

http://elfaro.net/es/201003/noticias/1416/

Our discussion with Carlos ranged from drug trafficking, local and national politics in El Salvador, violence, corruption, the role and influence of the United States in ES. I walked away from that discussion with a greater appreciation for journalism and th and the diligent work he invested in his online-only newspaper El Faro.

Later on in the day, we had the privilege of visiting UCA the, University of Central America and listening to Julia Evelyn Martinez, Professor of Economics to hear her perspective on violations against women´s rights occurring in El Salvador. She described a cycle of Triple Discrimination By Gender in Reproductive Rights, Political Discrimination and Economic Discrimination. This lecture was informative with statistics and personal stories, and I feel safe to say that we all walked away with deeper interest in women’s rights - at home and abroad.

My favorite part of the evening was when we had a discussion of the state of mental health of El Salvador, followed by reflection and meditation exercise with Oti Guardado. This quiet time of deep thought and relaxation could not have come at a more perfect time. The group had more time for reflection later that evening.

Earlier in the day, the group had the pleasure of visiting the San Ramon barrio and purchase hand-made crafts to support the local Christian-based community.

I feel blessed to be among my peers on this great journey to not only know more about the history and struggles of El Salvador; our personal growth and development has shown through in our conversations, but we still have a long way to go. I look forward to the rest of the week and sharing this sacred experience.

God bless all and the people of El Salvador!

- Sarah

Violence Against Women

One of the most sobering presentations since we arrived was with Professor Julia Martinez at the Univ. of Central America (UCA). She spoke with us about the violence against women in El Salvador as well as the extreme criminalization of abortion. I will cite just a couple of the statistics she shared with us:

• Between Jan-Oct of 2009 there were 417 murders of women.
• Last year they discovered a mass grave of 260 women who had been raped before they were murdered.
•  And perhaps most alarmingly, El Salvador is number one in the world for feminicide and the murder rate is 40% higher than the next worst country, Guatemala.

It is perhaps too easy for us from an industrialized country to look with disdain upon these sad and depressing statistics, but the reality is that El Salvador is part of a worldwide pattern in which women and children are marginalized and victimized. Salvadoran women suffer from lack of access to proper health care, contraception and reproductive services, education, employment opportunities, etc. These also happen to be services that many women in the US also lack access to. So perhaps we are not that much different. Could it be that these are antecedental events that could lead to yet more violence against women?

I have suspicion that the way that we treat women and children in our society, nationally and globally, is a determining characteristic of our health. Perhaps women and children are the "parakeets in the coal mine" of global society. Their health and well being will determine our survival. What do you think?

Esperanza

"To have peace, you first need justice." -spoken by El Salvador's first woman Supreme Court Justice, Mirna Perla to our delegation today (with a loose translation courtesy of Danny).

Though in reference to the amnesty provided to former death squad members in the peace accords following the Salvadoran civil war, this quote resonates with all communities fighting for social justice.  Mirna shared with us tears for her husband who was assassinated during the civil war as a consequence of his position as the Director of the Non-Govermental Human Rights Commission.  Despite this sorrow her story was one of hope; she who was formerly labeled as "subversive" is now a respected human rights defender.  The hope of her story is one of many permeating the national feeling here.

We see this hope manifested as courage in the actions of Hector Berrios, a leader in the struggle for human rights in Cabanas.  Despite death threats he perseveres in the struggle, promoting the spread of information and the spread of solidarity.

We see the propagation of hope in the children of this country.  As Hannah mentioned yesterday, they're passion lent enthusiasm to the parade last night.  A parade for a man not of their lifetime, yet for great reason they have claimed as their own.  The youth energizes us, said Padre Luis after Mass today at Maria Madre de las Pobres.  Yet when I watch the church band comprised mostly of youth and the young girls who read Mass, I can't help but realize that the youth also inspires us.

And while this hope manifests itself in the young generation, we see its undying presence -molded with time-in the older generations.  When Padre Luis glorified both God and Romero at Mass, their love for their Lord and their Monsenor flowed through them, from their lips and from their spirits.  It was in this moment that I saw my Ita (my Salvadoran grandmother) in the faces of the elderly women around me.  Her words to me before I left echoed in my heart as I was humbled by the hope of the Salvadoran people.  A hope of such scale I have never before witnessed.

Though our speakers call for solidarity and though we have taken it as a buzzword for this trip, people seem keen to point out what could be counter efforts of Obama's visit.  Though out government and under it, our military, has undeniably committed disgraceful human rights violations I have seen hope in America for a change.  My dad is a Navy man currently stationed at a Spanish navy base shared with the Americans; here I have seen the power dynamics our country seems to play by.  My first day in Rota, the base CO opened his introductory speech with a humbling question: "How many foreign military bases are on US territory?  How many nations have military bases on foreign soil? We are in a privileged position."  Though I've seen this privileged position play out, I have also seen a striking degree of solidarity.  The Spanish and the American military communities have created a beautiful solidarity, working, socializing, praying, and committing to social causes together.  While I know that our nation still commits human rights violations, often facilitated by the military, I can't help but hope in the character of some of its current leaders to rectify these issues.

May we model our hope off that of the plentiful examples of the Salvadoran nation and incorporate it into solidarity with both our nation and others such that we can create a world of first justice, then peace.

-Erin

We Have Arrived!

To friends and family reading this blog- as of 6:15 El Salvador time (5:15 CA) we arrived in San Salvador in one piece, with all of our luggage and only missing a few hours of sleep. Luckily we were able to make this up as we waited for the rest of our friends from South Bay Covenant to arrive (minus Karen, we miss you!). We then had orientation and the opportunity to all get to know each other better and learn about all of the exciting things in store for us this week.

The big event of the day was the 3 mile walk de la Plaza El Salvador del Mundo hasta la Cathedral. Starting out with about a few hundred, by the end it felt like hundreds. We embarked on our walk as the sun set along with men, women, girls and boys of all ages. A few of us fell in love with two small girls carrying signs of Romero walking beside us. The range in ages represented stood out strongly to me; all individuals present seemed genuinely passionate about being there. As the night darkened, teens began chants and games, ducking and running. The adults joined in as well, however, yelling "Romero vive, la luche sige sige" with as much gusto as the youngsters. Across the generations families, friends and fellow countrymen walked together. The passion of the youth, who were either very young or not yet born when the civil war ended in 1992, particularly struck me. They care immensely about something that they never experienced; they may homage to a man they never saw or heard in real time. As the US continues wars abroad and the legacy of Vietnam fades, I feel like we as a country are missing something that El Salvador possesses: the imprinted memory in their hearts and minds of the struggles and triumphs that either they or their ancestors experienced. I get the sense that this march will continue in strength and power throughout the generations, preserving a crucial part of the Salvadorian identity and soul.

- Hannah R.

Compelled by Love

   This afternoon some of us watched the documentary, "Return to El Salvador," which describes the circumstances of a few Salvadoran refugees. These refugees returned to help their country. It described the circumstances of the violence of the civil war and the egregious human rights abuses of the Salvadoran military, including the torture and mutilation of children. It was sobering, even for someone who isn't fluent in Spanish to hear their stories. And yet, through their pain, fear, and outrage, they found the courage to resist this brutality for the sake of their children and a better future for El Salvador.
   Hearing their stories caused me to think that perhaps all of social justice is, at it's root, an act of love. The reason these people did not turn away and ignore the injustices all around them, turn away from the violence, and go far away and forget about the suffering of their countrymen and women is that they were compelled by love to resist. I don't want to be naive in suggesting that we are all little Mother Teresas, but it was clear to me in hearing their stories that they were compelled by love for those who were suffering. May we all be so compelled to love on behalf of those who are suffering violence and injustice.

El Salvador, Take 2

It's been a year, and as the 31st anniversary of the assassination of Archbishop Oscar Romero approaches, Geoff and Joanne have once again selected a group of 10 Stanford students to head down El Salvador for Spring Break on a solidity mission. We are Doc, Angela, Edgardo, Sarah, Araceli, Hanni, Thomas, Erin, Rassy, and Hannah. We are all sophomores, juniors or seniors (and just about all of us seem to be HumBio majors).

Over the past 10 weeks we have prepared for this trip in many ways. We've had two orientations with the members of Southbay Sanctuary Covenant Church, and we've heard from guest lectures who have presented use with a number of different perspectives on El Salvador--historical, environmental, religious, and even medical. However, I think few of us would contest that one of our most thought-provoking guest lecturers was Stanford Political Science professor Rob Reich.

Professor Reich presented us with Ivan Illich's speech entitled "To Hell with Good Intentions" and asked what gives us the right to go down to El Salvador and force ourselves upon the the salvadoreños? Don't we as Americans do more harm than good in other countries? Haven't we caused enough damage in Central America? How have we come to be so morally superior as to believe that are first world ways are better than theirs and that we can create simple solutions to their problems and provide them with a "better" lifestyle? And even if we could possibly help them, what could we possibly accomplish in a mere 10 days? What attitude do we approach the people of El Salvador with? Do we admit to our power as Americans or do we try to disempower ourselves and feign equality?

Professor Reich asked us a number of tough questions. We were able to come up with answers to some to them, others we will come to answer as we are in El Salvador, others we may never be able to answer. As a class we discussed that we aren't trying to change anything in El Salvador and have no intention of doing so. If anything, we acknowledge that this trip will benefit ourselves much more than it will benefit any of the salvadoreños we may meet; however, the question what gives us the right to impose ourselves upon the salvadoreños for our own personal gain remains. There is no easy answer, but the best we could come up with (at least at this point) is that going to El Salvador and participating in a cross cultural exchange is far better than sitting at home in our Stanford bubble. We feel that we have an obligation to learn about the world instead of only looking inward at our somewhat utopian community.

We realized that we may be able to justify our trip on some level if we use it as an educational experience to teach not just ourselves but also other Americans about experiences in El Salvador. To accomplish this we plan on recording conversations with El Salvadorians so that Stanford can have them on file for academic purposes, and we also plan to use this blog as a way to document our trip and share our experiences with other members of the Stanford community.

That being said, our departure is a short three days away, and I think it's safe to say that we are all eager to get to El Salvador and meet her people.

-Rassy

3/21: Reflections from 2010: Cabanas and Pacific Rim

Despite all the hope that Funes' new administration and the international solidarity movement (ever so present in the country this week for celebrations of Romero) bring, it all seems to crumble in the face of an overwhelmingly complex set of problems that seem to have no reasonable solutions in sight. Mining is one of those problems. Corruption is another. Drug trafficking yet another. And all three, as we saw today in Cabanas, are intricately related.

Pacific Rim, a Canadian mining company, appears to be one of the most aggressive mining companies pursuing exploitation rights in developing countries. According to established CAFTA (Central American Free Trade Agreement) doctrine, Pacific Rim sent surveyors into El Salvador to investigate the prospect of mining for precious metals in the country. To the great (dis?)advantage of El Salvador, they found millions of dollars worth of gold in the mountains of the Cabanas region, near Honduras. Pacific Rim filed the appropriate paperwork to acquire exploitation rights, waited the determined time period, and when such rights had not been granted, sought international legal action through CAFTA. The trial is currently under review by a tribunal in Washington DC.

Meanwhile, in Cabanas, people have begun to actively advocate for a law demanding an end to all mining in the Cabanas region. These activists--as we saw in the day of protests and action in La ciudad Victoria on behalf of the anti-mining faction in the region--draw much of their strength from the life and work of Oscar Romero. And sadly, many of them face the threat of following in his footsteps.

Four anti-mining (and two pro-mining) activists have already been killed in the conflict, and many more have received serious threats and assassination attempts. Marcelo Rivera, the first to be murdered, was found severely tortured and strangled 14 days after he was disappeared. However, the attorney general and his appointed investigator on the case covered up the murder, claiming the autopsy demonstrated Rivera had been killed by hammer blows to the head. Today at the rally, we heard Miguel Rivera, the brother of Marcelo speak about the loss of his brother and the need to continue the fight. He stated unabashedly that everyone must know that they are targets of violence and hatred--and that anyone may be next. The reality of those words weighed heavily on us all.

Padre Luiz Quitanillo, who led the ecumenical service this afternoon, has also been threatened, followed, and ambushed on numerous occasions by opponents to his call for justice and an end to mining in these rural communities. Part-way through his sermon he broke into tears, stating, "Please forgive me but I am scared. You know, men can cry too." This statement, bold and honest while simultaneously countering the prevailing culture of machismo in the country, hit home. Like Romero, Quitanillo probably understands well that his time may come soon. Yet he has no choice but to continue his fight for his people and for their livelihoods.

These activists, along with the free press radio station Radio Victoria, have been receiving increasingly dangerous threats beginning in 2006 but intensifying heavily since last summer. While many theories exist, there is still not a clear understanding where these threats are coming from. There are essentially three major pro-mining factors at work here, and at times they overlap entirely. Determining who is at fault and who is simply a front man is challenging. Yet the three groups preside over the situation of fear and condemnation of anti-mining activism in the region.

The first group are the right wing mayors of many cities in the department. These mayors, supported by ARENA (the right-wing political party in the country) have people in high places supporting them. The money ARENA has accumulated from privatizing industries and siphoning off money through widespread corruption has helped maintain these politicians in power. The second group, of course, is Pacific Rim and their supporters. While they have only a small official presence in the region, it is impossible to rule out the possibility that they have hired thugs to do their dirty work for them. Finally, the third group are the drug traffickers. While the traffickers have no direct stance in the mining industry, they do have an interest in ensuring that the region is accessible for their regular border-crossings.

While politics are changing and Pacific Rim is currently being managed through legal action, the drug trade is essentially untouchable. No one dares speak out against it, for fear of immediate retribution--and death. With a problem so intractable so fundamentally tied into the mining issues in Cabanas, it is hard to imagine a solution any time soon. However, seeing the powerful grassroots support, the unprecedented and historic international solidarity, and the commitment of people in the face of danger to stand up for their rights, one has to hope, if only briefly, that justice will be had in the region.

3/20: Reflection from 2010: National Solidarity March

When we first arrived at Salvador del Mundo for the national solidarity march honoring murdered Jesuit priest Oscar Romero the sun was blistering. The crowd was surprisingly small, until we encountered pockets of people hidden away in the small triangles of shade created by the stage, speakers, and banners, seeking a respite from the hot, still afternoon air. The emcees at the event constantly called out to the crowds, trying to rile them up, calling for "Aplauso, aplauso, mas fuerte!" but the crowd resisted, lethargic and seemingly uninspired. As the afternoon progressed, more and more groups arrived, filling in the empty spaces. Every so often an emcee would take the mike to welcome another new solidarity group who had come from some far corner of the world to share in the celebration and commemoration of Oscar Romero. There were groups from many departamentos (regions) of El Salvador, as well as Honduras, Nicaragua, Mexico, the US, Canada, South America, Cuba, and even Italy and Germany. In fact, the overwhelming number of foreigners was concerning, if not off-putting. In a solidarity movement such as this one, what does it mean to see (perhaps?) more foreigners than nationals celebrating? My impression is that the most likely constraint for nationals was money and time--there were likely many Salvadoran citizens who would have desired to participate in this powerful event, but did not have the luxury to travel long distances by bus, or pay bus and hotel fees. The foreigners, however, had no problems forking out for long airplane flights and extended hotel stays. While I found this imbalance to be largely concerning, I tried not to be consumed by it while I focused on the event itself.

Throughout the afternoon we listened to a series of musical groups, performing well known and revered songs praising the life and work of Monsenor Oscar Romero. Just as the sun began to set, the entire group--hundreds of people--proceeded down Alameda Roosevelt, chanting and cheering in solidarity of the struggle for liberty and freedom from poverty and oppression. The procession passed by landmarks both grand and ordinary--Optica la joya, an eyeglass store, and Parques Bolivar, celebrating the great revolutionary Simon Bolivar, and Parque Cuscutlan, home to a memorial naming over 25,000 victims of the Salvadoran Civil War. The march ended at the national cathedral, where the entire crowd was led in a mass and vigil. All along the way,calls of "El pueblo, unido, jamas sera vencido! The people, united, can never be divided." and "Romero vive! La lucha sigue! Romero lives. The fight continues." populated the dusk, as people from all countries joined together in the call and response. These calls, and the energy they invigorated, were initiated almost entirely by young people. It was amazing to see the excitement the youth brought to this process--it reminded me of organizing for Obama during the primaries and leading up to his election. If they feel anything like the hope that we all felt in that electoral climate, that bodes very well for the future of democracy and poverty alleviation in El Salvador.


Perhaps the most powerful moment in the march occurred before the march had even begun. Recently elected President Mauricio Funes appeared--unannounced--to speak to the crowds about the legacy of Romero and the importance of continuing his work. Coming from a country who's administration had been involved in the murder of Romero and many other Jesuit priests during the civil war less than 20 years ago, this was a powerful statement about the new direction for the country under this new leadership. This marks the first time the Salvadoran head of state has formally recognized or spoken at an event commemorating the death of Oscar Romero. Funes spoke of bringing young people together around the movement for justice, and specifically of a project he initiated to create a national soundtrack for the movement, incorporating traditional musical styles but also hip-hop, heavy metal, and other "music of youth". He also unveiled a new mural to be painted at the airport, welcoming everyone--both foreigners and returning Salvadorans, some driven out by the war itself--to a country that publicly honors Romero's struggle for the poor and is committed to continuing that struggle. Funes' message was loud and engaging, and the crowd perked up to hear him speak. Despite the heat, the excitement in the air was palpable. While many listeners probably understood very little (there were just as many foreigners, if not more, than Salvadoran nationals), Funes' messages did not fall on deaf ears. It stands to be seen how much he will actually change, but this march, and his words, definitely give reason to be hopeful.