Days in Cedro

Today's a two for one blog catch up day so scroll down and read about Mozote first :)

Wednesday the kids at Cedro had a water day. They filled inflatable pools up, changed out of their uniforms and were the happiest most free I've seen  playing, splashing, screaming and laughing in the pool. Exuding pure joy. I didnt know Wednesday was the day so had no clothes to change into. But watching their eyes light up and remembering how few days I have left here I couldn't help but join them. 

Last weekend I went to a celebration of the word for holy Saturday. The Christian Base Community I spend one day a week in does celebrations instead of masses where everyone is involved rather than the hierarchical traditional mass- they are amazing and beautiful. One of the reflections was on the meaning of water. And while myself and the student I went with thought about all the cleansing, joyful, healing moments we have had in water the community shared about how much of a struggle it is for them. A sign of power, marginalization and injustice.

That being said- in a country where water is scarce someone could see today's water day as a waste. But as I watched them with the biggest grins on their face all I could think about is how they too now can have a memory of water that is of joy and freedom. And oh how they deserve to play in the water so freely just like we all have growing up. 

When I got in in my clothes I was worried Sor, the quite uptight nun who coordinates everything would be upset. But when she saw me she just said "que alegre" and went on to encourage all the timid kids to get in the pools, splash and play. I assumed the chaos would make her crazy but instead she was fully embracing a chance for these kids who have seen and experienced way more than their young eyes and hearts should have to , to just play and enjoy themselves, it was BEAUTFUL.

I have been so lucky this semester to spend one day a week back on Cedro- the community that was my praxis site as a student.  Everyday I'm here I miss my praxis partners Claire and Annie who made my time all that it was- and we're thereto laugh at the ridiculousness and cry when it all was just too much with me. But it feels so much like home. Today two of the girls who were in kinder when i was a student came back and seeing them growing up gave me goosebumps. The Casa is all about relationships and being there again just reminds me how meaningful it is to be with a community for an extended period of time. To watch the kids grow up, be with the families through the ups and downs and really become a part of it. As this time quickly comes to an end I am so aware of what Emily said last semester "you can never have enough time with the people you love". The longer I'm here the longer I think I could stay, the more at home I feel, the more in touch with these communities in a way that allows me to really walk with them and work together for liberation. 

I so love being apart of the Cedro family. It's a funny little place- and different in lots of ways from some sites, every time I'm there it reconnects me to the beauty and pain of this reality in such a special way.

Watching Nina Reina do one of the little girls hair, the moms taking care of each others kids, Santos giving her everything for them- I'm reminded how beautiful and necessary community is. They are all raising these kids together, finding ways to sigue adelante despite their poverty and the injustices that determine their lives. And it's incredible. 

I see the kids  who's parents are not there when they should be, who don't have enough to eat, and whose pain can be felt in their arms that won't let go, their eyes begging for love and attention, yet their hearts full of love to give. Santos cries too often when I'm there- because people have been robbing the comedor, because Suleyma's padrinos still haven't sent money for her scholarship and her son decided to stop going to school. The reality is heart breaking, but it is real and it is home and I am so grateful for the chance to be close to it. To feel like I am with my family, with a community that is so special to me. That introduced me to all that this country is, rocked me to the bones and continues to teach me so much every single day.

Mozote

A few weeks back we visited Mozote- a northern department where 1000 people were killed in a brutal massacre by the Salvadoran army during the civil war. This is the third time I have visited and every single time I am completely rocked by the horrors that were committed in that massacre, so many others during the war and other horrible human rights violations across the world- which there are so many more than we often are aware of.

The army arrived in Mozote accusing people of being involved with the leftist guerrilla movement. The US government funded this anti communism movement and financially supported the horrific death of an unimaginable number of people. The army killed off thousands of people believing that if the guerrillas didn't have anyone to support them they wouldn't survive. Priests, teachers, protesters and anyone who encouraged the liberation and organization of the poor were persecuted. They along with so many innocent people were killed in an attempt to protect the power and wealth of the Salvadoran Conservative party.

The army arrived in Mozote and ordered every single person out of their house. Then separated the men, women and children into three different houses and group by group tortured and killed all but one survivor. There is a beautiful memorial to all the innocent, beautiful, joy filled children that were killed. And on the wall with a mosaic of a rainbow scene is a list of the names and ages of each child. Babies as young as three years old were murdered alongside their older siblings. And while no matter the age killing someone so brutally is impossible to understand, the murder of young, innocent children brings home the pain of the war to a whole other level.

When we are in Mozote or visiting the museum at the UCA with artifacts of the Jesuits killed or in Chalate hearing testimonies of the massacres that occurred there... Again and again we are left trying desperately to understand how a human being could possibly commit such atrocities to another human being. It is absolutely terrifying to understand that someone not that different from ourselves was able to look in the eyes of a young child and take their life. I will never be able to really wrap my mind around it. But I do see the way we can shut ourselves off from each other. Close off from the suffering of another and interact with the world out of our pain an suffering. I remember hearing in history classes that we learn about these things so they won't happen again- but they keep happening. And it makes me sick to my stomach to hear about them. Yesterday I heard about a 5 year old that was being intiated into a gang and had to kill his family to enter and instead killed himself.  Wars that the US governments continues to fund and support. Families who live next door to us and don't have enough to eat. Violence within families. There are a million examples. And so often I think what motivates these atrocities are greed, power, wealth, comfort- things that we somehow are convinced matter more than life and love. 

But we also have ways to not let these things win. And so many people are examples of how we can continue to fight against these atrocities, disconnections and the continued cycle of suffering. And I think it starts with simply being with each other, listening to our stories, walking together in our suffering and pain so that instead of having it come out in resentment or hurtfulness to another it can become a force of community and new life. 

Reflecting at the end of the day at Mozote we talked about what the time there called us to do. I want to carry the pain of Mozote with me. Like I said every time I'm there my heart is broken for these families and I have a visceral reaction to how horrible it was. But I don't only wanna be in touch with that when I'm there. I wanna remember the people of Mozote and so many other places whose lives have been taken so unjustly everyday. And sharing their stories is one way to do that.

Just like always in this country- even in this story of such deep pain- there is a glimmer of hope. Rufina is the single survivor of the massacre  at Mozote and her story is one of such courage and choosing life. As she stood in line waiting to be killed, listening to the screams of her children she decided to escape. She got down on her hands and knees and crawled away hiding in the bushes, running into the mountains and somehow surviving to tell the story of Mozote. If she were caught she surely would have been killed, likely more brutally than already planned and likely with consequences for the others. Even after surviving she risked endless persecution by the army for the rest of her life. And rather than ring paralyzed by fear and letting death take her- she took a chance. We stood in the spot where she made this decision. And I tried to imagine myself doing the same. I don't think I could have done that. And in the same way I want to carry with me the pain of this day I want to hold onto her example of courage and faith. If she had not survived the story of Mozote would have disappeared with so many other atrocities- but Rufina lived to tell it, and those of us who have heard it we too live to tell it. To keep fighting for a world where we choose love, where we look into each others eyes and hearts, where we tell our stories, heal together and know that we are capable of causing great pain.

Catching the Contagious Passion to Fight for Something More

Ive been meaning to blog for a long time now. So often I come home from an amazing day and want to share it with the world. Then I get caught up in whatever I have to do or am too exhausted and the weeks and things I want to write about add up… then I have no idea where to start. 

March 8^th was International Women’s Day. We were on the first day of our Silent Retreat at these beautiful hot spring pools a couple hours away. As I sat in the pool in silence I thought about what it means to be a woman. The challenges, especially around our bodies that society has told us has to be something in order for us to have worth. That we have to act a certain way, receive a certain grade or a list of things to make everyone else happy. With a group of six female students I just wanted to tell them each how worthy, beautiful and whole they are exactly as they are. And I really want to tell that to every single woman in the world. Sometimes I joke that being here has made my feminist inklings rage. And I actually hate that feminism and raging are so frequently connected. Being here has deepened my gratitude, love and amazement at all of the women in this world and has broken my heart at the injustice, suffering, lack of appreciation and inequality that so many face simply for being women. Yes when I am whistled at and objectified on the street I feel anger burning inside me…but I think it is justified. Most the time what I feel is so incredibly blessed to be surrounded by women who hold their families together, who get up every morning, who give and give with a smile despite how little they receive. Their strength and faith inspires me, the depth and beauty of their hearts and souls make me want to fight for them, for us. But I think it is stronger here because although still stifled often for being a woman, my voice can be louder than so many of the women I encounter here. And in the sisterhood I feel with them I feel a responsibility to fight for our rights and worthiness as women- unique, whole, broken, beautiful, universe’s inside each of us.

A couple weeks afterwards I went to an International Women’s Day event in the community I spend one day a week in. Surrounded by about 100 other women we sang “Mujer Salvadorena” and other songs, talked about what International Women’s Day means, sexual and reproductive rights and Eco Feminisim. It was incredible. These are things that don’t get talked about in this country. ESPECIALLY sexual and reproductive rights. And to be surrounded by women that are so often forced to be silent hearing them talk about their rights, was so empowering and inspiring. We women continue to defy and overcome the barriers that are so often put in our way.. and for this I am so grateful to be a woman.

Later that night we loaded up two busses and went to the annual Romero Vigil. Oscar Arnulfo Romero was selected to be the Archbishop of El Salvador in 1977. The hierarchy of the Catholic Church selected him thinking he would be a quiet, conservative archbishop who wouldn’t rock the boat. Others, like his dear friend Rutillio Grande (the first priest killed in the Salvadoran civil war) knew that he would be an archbishop for the people. Romero had a conversion and spent three years preaching about the rights of the poor, spending time with them in communities and denouncing the brutal actions of the Salvadoran Civil Army. He was shot while saying mass in 1980 and his death marked the official beginning of the 12 year war.

Romero is a hero for the people of El Salvador. And the way his legacy lives on is something I can’t fully understand. Yet in a time of deep injustice, suffering, fear, loss and pain- Romero was with the people, fighting for their rights, listening to their stories, walking with them while their government (and ours) took thousands of innocent lives. They believe Jesus passed through El Salvador in Romero, they are pushing for him to be a canonized saint and to this day his example gives strength and energy to so many in the fight for justice.

Every year the anniversary of his death is commemorated with a march, mass and all night vigil which consists of stories, music and celebration. Being a part of it this year was amazing. As we marched we did chants for justice, following Romero’s example and feeling his legacy run through our blood as a responsibility to carry it on. We walked a few miles to where his body is buried and had mass outside the Cathedral. During mass I felt frustrated because I couldn’t hear anything and was disconnected from the significance of the night. Luckily I didn’t leave on the first bus and soon was on fire with the energy of the people around me, so connected to the history of this country- so impacted by Romero. A few of us stayed with a big group of the Salvadoran students in our sister program.  Dancing with my amazing Salvadoran friends, I was so amazed at the energy with which they sang along to songs about Romero, the war and stories that really matter. They got so excited when some of their favorite songs came on and in their eyes you could see the ways these songs energize them to sigue adelante, to overcome the many barriers that are placed before them by their reality of poverty and marginalization and commit themselves to a better reality.  By the end of the night my cheeks hurt from smiling so much and my feet hurt from all the dancing.. I think those are signs of an evening well lived.

I am always amazed by the way the youth are connected to their history. They have heard their parent’s stories of the war and some only a few years older than us have their own memories. They see the ways people like Romero touched the lives of their family and they are unhappy with the reality they find themselves in today. Many leave to the United States, others succumb to the way things are because there seems no other options. But the ones I spend the majority of my time with have chosen something different- because they follow the examples of so many before them who believe something different is possible. And watching their eyes light up as they sung a long to the songs about justice I caught fire to the contagion of committing yourself to something bigger.

I feel so lucky to be surrounded by so many people who inspire me to work for something more and as I soak in how amazing this job and life are it’s scary to think that it is soon coming to an end. I am making big decisions for the next step and dreaming of ways to carry this home with me everyday. But for now trying to stay present here and let the example of these people become a part of me.