Remembering: Niña Santos' Uphill Walk

I've been meaning to start a new blog "series" called Remembering... for my heart, for my Salvadoran family, for the world.  Today... I want to remember Niña Santos, Mami Santos, the catalyst of so much of my experience in El Salvador.

Santos is a strong, petite woman who's face wears years of giving, working too hard, getting up too early, walking up and down the hill to get to work, accepting too much because "asi es la vida" and worrying too much about all of the people she loves. She has a family of 8 who she will never stop working for, who she loves and struggles with and for everyday, and who is the pride of her existence. She has 3 grandkids and even when she is the most exhausted and worn down the way she looks at them and takes care of them shows how deeply this woman loves.

Santos is the cook at Cedro- the community center where I spent my days as a student and was lucky to go back to last semester once a week. She knows every kids name, their story, their mom and what they need. She has a million and one responsibilities and keeps going- no matter how exhausted she is or how poorly she is being treated.  Almost stoic in the face of so much pain she is a pillar of strength-unstoppable, walking slowly but with such sturdiness and grace up and down the hill "porque los ninos tienen que comer" She told us that when the rains were pouring down during our time as students. There was no question that she would walk 45 minutes up the barely walkable, muddy hill in the freezing, muddy rain- because the kids had to eat and she would not let go of her responsibility to get these kids food- because she loves them with all of her being, and she knows how much they hurt and how much they rely on her to be there everyday and give them some nourishment, some sense of stability when everything else is falling apart.

But sometimes it feels like her life is falling apart. Her son was stabbed. Her daughter moved out. Her husband lost his job, hurt his foot and can't find new work. Everyone falls- and Santo's keeps standing up. And in her eyes we saw a brokeness, a hurting that connected to something inside of us. And we were so lucky to share some special moments where she could put down all of her work- sitting for a few minutes while we cleaned the dishes, or on a walk to a house and tell us about her pain. How she worries about her boys on their way into the city to work. She's not sure if they will finish school. If her daughter will get pregnant. How she will put enough food on the table. And when she lets out her suffering then you get to see the depth of her joy. The moments we caught her eye at the table- laughing quietly at some ridiculous thing happening. Or the smile when she heard her grandkids calling her, or when we did something ridiculously incorrect and impolite because our spanish was off. And all of her pain and joy and love for everyone she meets would exude from her face. And then she would hug us- and we could feel it all- universes of life, pain, fear, hopes and joy between us- held in a hug. She took us in, loved us so well and sometimes let us love her- rub her tense back, bring her coffee, clean the dishes for her.

Santo's is part of the reason I am here. Because as a woman she gets treated as less. Because she is uneducated she is treated as less. Because she works harder than most people I know and still struggles to put food on the table. Because her idea of God is one that is with her everyday in her suffering, yet she cannot talk about her womanliness, the struggles she is experiencing in her marriage, with her boss who is a nun- because she has less of a voice, fewer opportunities, more struggles but works as hard and loves as deeply as any of the rest of us. She walks back up the hill three nights a week to be with her Christian Base Community- where they read the bible and find comfort in the God who is with them, not abandoning them but accompanying them. And even though she has been poor her whole life, treated as less and struggled to survive, she still keeps walking up that hill, fighting for her kids, because she is committed to something better- something more for them than she had.

Sometimes I get so paralyzed by the suffering in the world- especially when I am far away from it. It is so easy for us to forget about the realities of poverty and inequality. And I wonder how I will keep fighting when it seems like it will continue to be hard, unequal, unjust and in my life time there will still be poverty, inequality and violence.

We have been talking about a perspective of abundance around here lately. Trying to imagine that the universe, God, whatever you want to call it- is generous and loving enough that there is enough love, life, food, justice to go around- and creative enough to make things better. And in the midst of one of my rants about how we can just simply say "May the Peace be With You" and hug each other not being fully in touch with how many people are living in a state of fear and violence- how can this be enough? How can anything be enough? Claire asked- "How can we have a perspective of abundance when things don't get better?"

Santos has this perspective of abundance. She finds light in the smiles of the kids and the comedor. Of her daughter continuing to study despite all of the barriers. Her sons working hard and trying to help her family. She holds onto the hope that there is in the little things rather than getting swallowed by the suffering. Because she has to. Unlike me she cannot get paralyzed by the suffering- because los niños tienen que comer- she has to keep walking up that hill.

And for Santos, I will keep walking up the hill. Keep remembering her suffering- especially when I feel like there is SO much abundance in my life and that is so unfair. I will remember the way she sees abundance, while continuing to marinate in the depth of her suffering and ask how and why our world can be so messed up- so that I continue to fight the uphill battle.

Here's to you Santos. Your love, your commitment, your pain and the hope that carries you up that hill- every single day.