Feelin' good

I've always kind of had a thing for book lists. The truth is that sometimes I feel good about life or slightly depressed depending on how many books I have been able to mark off of my "to read" list. This is probably a ridiculous but, it's just the way I am...

Anyway, in a couple days, I'm going to be headed to Central America for a couple of weeks. As most of you know, I love Central America and traveling is one of my favorite things to do. It is also a complicated time for Central America, it will be interesting to be traveling during the next couple of weeks.

I am going to do my best to take a picture a day and post at least a couple times while I'm there.

Before I forget...

Funes may have won the elections in El Salvador. "If the results are confirmed, Arena will have lost its first presidential poll since the end of El Salvador's civil war 18 years ago." [Read More]

Salvadoran Politics in DC

On Sunday, I was going to play soccer with some friends but ended up at the most interesting political campaigning event. The elections here in the US are over but, the elections in El Salvador are next week on the 15th. That means that the last push to get voters is on. Since something like 1/3 of the Salvadoran population lives in the United States, it is a significant political force. What will happen with the remitances and things like that is very important to the Salvadoran economy.

I guess today was the last day for campaigning in El Salvador. This morning I was reading that there have been 689 murders reported in the first two months of the year, it is unbelievable. The level of violence has escalated with the intensity of the political climate. This year, the elections are particularly interesting because for the first time in something like 20 years the FMLN (the leftist party) has a chance of winning the election. Everyone is wondering what will happen if they win and many are worried about what will happen if they don't.

Anyway, there was a group of people supporting the FMLN giving out phone cards to people so that they could call their families and encourage them to vote! It was really interesting. Once I worked up the courage to go talk to some of them I got thinking about the role that the US plays in Salvadoran politics, about how much I don't like the aggression of politics and many other things...

What do Salvadorans Eat?

This is a little bit of photojournalism that makes me feel "homesick" for El Salvador...

Lo que comen los Salvadoreños.

Notice the range in cost and quantity... it hurts a when you learn about the little 10 year old girl who eats one tortilla and a piece of cheese for lunch. She gets paid 6 tortillas a day for helping prepare the 'masa'.

Sushi Anyone?

Israel and I had talked about making and eating sushi the whole time I was in El Salvador. The unbelievable part was that we didn't eat any together until the day before I left. So, to make up for the three months of not eating sushi together we went out in style and had more sushi than either one of us could eat in one sitting (even though we did pretty good, I'll have to admit). I don't know if I can quite describe how much I'm going to miss Israel.

Isra and I finally enjoying some sushi together.




Eduardo doesn't like sushi but, he enjoyed himself anyway.

"Excuse me, do you speak Spanish?"

Santa Ana is a city with a story of its own and with it is my story. The story of all the failed attempts at visiting it and then finally, on a whim, leaving after work to get a glimpse of the fantastic cathedral and the picturesque plaza. It was gorgeous.

The Gift of Giving Thanks

Yesterday morning as I was walking to work I got off the bus and walked down the street towards work. I crossed the street next to the odd fountain and on the other side of that street where I pass every morning there is a guy who is in a wheelchair who sells necklaces, bracelets and things that he makes. I see him every morning as I walk to work. I say "buenos días" and he responds in the friendliest way "buenos días".

(You see, as a young foreign looking girl I often get some unwanted attention, "hellos" that are a little bit less than agreeable. I've become quite aware of the difference between a sincere "hello" and one that is suspicious.)

Anyway, my friend in the wheelchair always says good morning in a pleasant way. It is, in some ways, my favorite part of every morning. It's just one of those "kindness of strangers" moments that makes life really special. I have walked by for weeks thinking, I'm going to stop and buy something from him before I leave. Well, yesterday, as I was walking by I glanced at him and said good morning and he reached out his hand to give me something. I stopped and he had a necklace in his hand.

He said, "Take it" and I was surprised and said, "Oh No" thinking "You don't have to give me anything" and he gave me a disappointed look and said, "You're not going to accept it?" I asked him if it was a gift and he said, "Of course, its for you to wear!" I took it into my hand and said, "Thank you, that is so nice!" and walked away with a huge smile on my face. That little exchange made my day! I have smiled every time I've thought about it since then.
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This week was Thanksgiving and I was blessed to spend it with my family the Flores and the Quezadas who have become my family here as well. We went to an amazing thanksgiving dinner with a group of people made up mostly of Portuguese students and Peace Corps directors and volunteers. It was really cool. I enjoyed the conversation with the other volunteers and hearing all of their Thanksgiving stories.

I laughed quite a bit especially at the stories of one of the girls who grew up in one of those large families that always seem to have crazy stories. I am thankful for moments with strangers that fill your life and remind you that it is those little things that give us reasons to smile. Like stories shared with strangers around a Thanksgiving table and like my friend in the wheelchair giving me a gift before I had the chance to purchase it from him. I was thankful for both of those things, what a gift to be able to give thanks.

The "centro" of San Salvador

Last week, I got to do something that I had wanted to do since I arrived in El Salvador two months ago. I went to the "centro" of San Salvador. I had been warned repeatedly that I should NOT go there alone and I had not found anyone who would be willing to take me there. So, finally, I found the perfect people to take me and got the tour of the "centro" that I had wanted for the whole time that I've been here.

Because of how common thievery is in San Salvador but, particularly in the "centro" I didn't get to bring my camera. I'm a little disappointed about that but, I'm going to do my best to paint a picture with words. As we were getting ready to go we realized that someone who had been living in El Salvador for 7 years, had NEVER gone to the "centro". San Salvador is really a small city so, someone living here for such a long time and never going seems crazy to me.

I think, however, that it just goes to show how easy it is to isolate yourself from the reality that most people live in and experience on a daily basis. It is easy to live and move in "safe" circles and never have to encounter the darker side of the places that you live. Anyway, the five of us went down to the city and parked in one of the many guarded parking areas. We got out of the car and started walking. The street had stagnant dirty water in the gutters and there was litter almost everywhere. Not in massive quantities, just enough that it was decidedly dirty.

We walked a block towards a street that had (at one time) been a road for cars but had progressively been taken over by vendors in small little shops set up in tents and other makeshift shelters. We walked into one of the side streets. People were selling everything, hats, shoes, clothes, pirated DVD's "Three for a dollar!" as you walked down people would reach out to you and ask you what you needed, "What size are you?" the woman selling pants asked, ever store had someone begging you to stop and consider buying something from them. Once we got outside we found people selling fruit, vegetables, tortillas, and all kinds of other produce and merchandise.

We walked around in the midst of all the people, in front of city buses with attitude problems, and around little children who were working or playing depending on how old they were. As we walked around I was moved with sadness and happiness all at the same time. I love being in a space that is so decidedly human and yet, it was also somewhat dehumanized at the same time. The space meant survival, existence, THAT is the meaning of life for those people. That busy, dirty, loud, unsafe bustle of activity is life.

As we walked by the National Theatre, a grand old building, we were invited to go inside because there was a free concert! It was unbelievable. A concert that in the US they could have easily charged us a nice sum of money to get in, we just walked in. As we were being explained what the concert was about a young boy of about 11 walked up to us and said, "Will you tell them that you're my parents?" "Why?" we asked him. "They won't let me in without my parents" he said. So, he snuck in with us. "I come here everday" he said. There was something wonderful about that. Even this young child who was probably an orphan and lived with his grandmother was finding a way to fill his life with some of the beauty that is life outside of the chaotic mess that dominated the space where he lives.

We left the theater to go see the National Cathedral and then walked to the Plaza la Libertad which was like a scene from a movie where you have all the older men sitting around talking or playing their guitars singing the songs from the "good old days". I wondered how they were able to afford such leisure and then I decided to ignore the reality that it meant. We stopped and had an ice cream cone before walking back to our car and heading home to the tranquility that seems unreal in light of now near it is to the "centro" that turns out to be like a different dimension, a completely different reality.

all over the place

Recently I've been surprised by the many twists and turns that our lives can take. I wonder if I will loose the wonder I feel about life, it is frightening and overwhelming at times but always interesting.

• I've been wondering how I ended up being the slight "intellectual" that I am. Remembering when I read René Girard a while back, I'm still wondering about violence.
• I have many blogging friends and they often find really cool stuff.
• Leah shared this video the other day and we all know how cool TOMS are, I'd like some for Christmas!

• I'm a big fan of random improv and making fun out of simple everyday kinds of things. That is why this made me smile.
• I've been reading a book called, La Última Guinda by José Rutilio Quezada. It is about the Civil War here in El Salvador. I was even privileged enough to meet the author of the book!
  

random things make it good

I work in a very complicated place. It has not been exactly what I expected but, I'm doing my best to be patient and more assertive at times. One thing that has helped me with the frustration at work is that I've gotten to know some really sweet people here who have really loved me and encouraged me. The little details like the gift that a friend of Miriam sent me: a mug with some really amazing loose leaf tea or a walk at the park with a friend, all of those things make me smile and enjoy everything without letting the disappointment or frustration take over my experience here.




Last Sunday, I got to go to a place called Los Planes de Renderos with a really special family that has really been more than kind to me. It is a really adorable place not too far out of the city where you can see a great view of the city. It has a very traditional feel, people selling pupusas and other kinds of food in stands. While we were there some people were dancing some traditional dances. We actually tried to go to a place called la Puerta del Diablo but, there were too many people so, we ejoyed the view at the Mirador.

It's these little things that have made this time here really special, way more than I was expecting. My time here has been harder and more beautiful than I expected.

when the wind blows

The wind has been blowing in the past few days. At times it is a threatening and at times it is almost soothing. If you've ever lived on the Chesapeake Bay you'll know that strong wind that makes a loud rushing whistling sound through all the house. If you leave a crack in the window the wind will get to be so strong that it will wake you up (and I'm a deep sleeper usually). I love it! Everything is so cool and fresh when the wind blows.

Last week I went to the Museo de la Palabra y de la Imagen. It is a small museum that is doing its part in helping to preserve the memories of the Civil War in El Salvador. The conflict is so complex, all sides were convinced that they were defending a righteous cause and everyone was corrupted in some way or another by the atrocity that is war. The thing that fascinates me is how the country continues to be passionately polarized. I hope that they will be able to continue to grow in peace and freedom into the future.

an honest living on the bus

When I ride the bus to and from work I find myself with some type of person on every ride who is asking for help. Most people have some sort of speech or performance. There are the recovered drug addicts or gang members who have an amazing conversion story where they talk about how Jesus saved them from their past life. They usually give the message that you too can be saved and ask you to support the ministry that God used to help them by purchasing a sticker or something for 10 or 25 cents.

Other times it will be a man with his son telling us about how their youngest child has a terrible sickness and that they cannot afford the medical expenses to support their family. It is terribly depressing. There is the young boy about age 12 who got on the bus and sang us a song. I've seen him twice. He ends his song and says, "Thank you very much for helping me earn an honest living." It's so hard to see and hear that.

The other day, there was a clown and a man with no legs who got onto the bus. The man painted as a clown made some ridiculous comments and told everyone that his companion was the strongest man alive. He then lifted him up to hold onto the two bars on the top of the bus. He proceeded to do some acrobatic type exercises with some comical interaction with his partner. They then told everyone that they would appreciate a contribution.

A couple of days ago, I saw a young woman dressed as a clown with a little girl waiting to get on the bus. I saw her get on and though to myself, "She looks so sad." She got on towards the end of my bus ride. She set her little girl on the first seat and started to talk. "My name is Teardrop the sad clown. I want to recite a poem for you." She went on to recite the saddest poem. I cannot remember the words only the feeling I had. The poem told of the sadness of the clown that has to smile to hide their sadness, who has to smile to make others laugh. I had to get off before she finished her poem but, it made me feel very sad.

Maras in El Salvador

I just wrote a blog entry on the AP website about the issue of the Maras in El Salvador. There was a documentary made a little while back about the Mara Salvatrucha and the gang violence here. The story is so awful and so complicated, these videos help give an idea of what I'm talking about:

I get grumpy when I don't eat lunch...

Yesterday, when I was riding home on the bus the sky was blue painted with pink clouds and the moon was full. Did you notice? It was lovely. I could have just stared out at it but, I was tired. It is amazing how exhausting a day at work can be. I got home and sat down on my bed. The next thing I knew I was trying not to fall asleep.

You see, at work I don't do anything glamorous. Sometimes, I have to imagine how to explain concepts like "what is a wiki" and "how stuff shows up on Google" but mostly, my tasks involve some research, some translating, a lot of 'uploading' to the internet (which can take forever if the internet is slow), and most of my emotional energy is spent on trying to understand why things happen the way that they do here. Yesterday, I got quite a bit of work done in the morning and by 2pm I was called to join everyone for our (very late lunch) birthday celebration for the director.

"Lunch" (when it happens) is a little bit of a surreal experience. I don't know if you've heard stories of back in the olden days when people would close their shops and have lunch and a siesta for two hours but, that is sort of what happens here at my workplace sometimes. Yesterday, we waited for everyone to come to eat and then we ate, talked, and talked, and ate. Everything happened so slowly and yet strangely lovely in its own way. I get asked a question about Panama and then I get asked if I know the national anthem. Thankfully, I remember most of it, "Alcanzamos por fin la victoria..." and we started to sing. She has a wonderful singing voice.

"We lived in all of these countries," she said "we were taught that we were citizens of the world." Then she sang the anthems from Nicaragua, Honduras, Mexico, Guatemala, Venezuela, and then Ima came and they sang the Costarican anthem together. They had great old-fashioned voices and they sang their hearts out. Her siblings all love to sing. Last Friday, we went out to eat after work and her brother came with his guitar and friends and they went into the garden in the back of the little place where we were eating and they starting to sing old Spanish ballads with deep melancholic voices. They never came over to where we were sitting, it was like someone was singing the songs in whispers into our ears. We finished singing, she gave a speech and then we ate some cake.

Two hours had gone by and I had heard stories that you would only dream of reading in some strange, lost memoir. "War" she said, "is a terrible thing. We can disagree but that does not mean that we are enemies." And her daughter told of the days when she was a little girl and the children would be recruited to fight in the battalions. Children, how fully can they make decisions on their own? Do they just do what they are told? They can believe in almost any cause, how do you know if they are being taught the right one? These conversations bring some sort of connectedness in the midst of the terribly discouraging issues that we're working with.

Today, we learned how to use the program to change documents into PDFs and worked on some of the same old... reading, translating, and uploading. The day went by quickly and before I knew it it was past the "late lunch" hour and we hadn't eaten anything. Now, some of you have heard me start humming when I get hungry but, the truth is that I get grumpy when I'm hungry and I cannot concentrate. It was terrible. By then, it wasn't worth it for me to just go get something to eat and come back. I finished the project I was working on and left for home when I usually do, except without having eaten any lunch.

I arrived exhausted, mostly because I hadn't eaten. I don't understand how they can go without eating. "We're used to it" they say. I made it home and ate some food and felt a little recovered but, still more tired that usual. I wonder about all the people in the world who give themselves to social causes and ministries and completely sacrifice their lives for the sake of the people they are trying to help. Is it good? Is it right? We want to help others live lives with dignity and self-worth and we completely depreciate the value of our own lives. It is somewhat of a contradictory message. But, there are moments and times for complete self-sacrifice. How do we know when it is that time?

Remembering Romero

"The death of Monseñor Romero"

On Monday, I went to the UCA (Central American University, San Salvador) where on November 16, 1989 six Jesuit priests, their housekeeper and her daughter in El Salvador were brutally murdered by members of the Salvadoran military.

At the University there is a small museum to remember the Jesuits who died (the pictures were so awful that I actually started crying and couldn't look at all of them) and also Monseñor Oscar Romero who was the Archbishop of San Salvador until March 24, 2980 when he was murdered just as he as he held the consecrated host up during Mass. Monseñor Romero was an interesting figure in the history of the war. He's probably the most well known name from that time.

He was chosen as Archbishop because he was known for being conservative, the church, government, and everyone else involved didn't expect him to become a problem for the government. Romero, however, as he started to identify with the situation that the poor were living in, he became "a voice to the voiceless". Soon, there was concern that his teachings would motivate the opposition, the guerrilla, and those with Communist tendencies and the order was given to assassinate him.

"If they kill me, I will resurrect in my people."

For those who have done any reading in "global theologies" you might find it interesting that as I was walking around the UCA, my friend pointed at a man and said, "That is Jon Sobrino." I was so suprised! I had forgotten that he was here in El Salvador. He is one of the current day "liberation theologians" and was given an admonishment by the Vatican for his work. I had looked at some of his work while I was in college, I didn't get to talk to him but it was kind of cool to see him from a distance.

El MARTE

Since I last wrote I've done quite a few random things, some I never expected to do when I came. This morning I went to the National Art Musem (MARTE) with Israel and our guest for the day, Ben (who was visiting from Honduras). It was amazing. I'll share some of the photos we took while we were there.


There's Ben!




Last weekend I went to the circus and had amazing fish. I was working on organizing content at work but, then I got sick. That got me off pace and I have felt the need to rest a lot. It has been raining a lot here in the evenings. To be honest, I like it. The weather is this precious cool but not cold temperature and everything is green, green, green. I am trying to be cautious about what I write about and how I say it. There will be more as I catch on to some of the cultural and societal nuances that I'm still trying to understand.

La Libertad

On Friday afternoon, Omar came into the office and said "Hannah, you know that we're leaving right?" I said, "Oh, no. Where are we going?" "We're going to lunch" he said. "Ok" I said as I grabbed my bag. We all got into the truck and headed off. We stopped to get gasoline and I asked Alba "Where are we going?" "To get lunch" she said. I realized that no one was going to tell me where we were going so I just enjoyed the ride (an hour or so) talking to Delmi and Ima.


Soon enough we arrived in a cute little town and the first thing that I see is THE OCEAN! I was so excited. We went into a little beach restaurant. It was great.


[Starting on the left: Alba, Ima, Claudia, Ruth, Omar, Maria Jose, & Delmi]

The girls and I walked out onto the beach (none of were quite dressed for the beach!) and enjoyed the sand and water. I love the beach! I love the waves and the sand! Ah, it was lovely! It made me really happy.


Maria Jose, Claudia, Ruth, & Delmi





Ruth and Maria Jose are the youngest at Cemujer. I love them. They're such fun to be around!

One week, it's good to be here

I've spent one full week at Cemujer. At times it feels like it's been longer and at times it feels like I just got here. I like being here. In some ways, it isn't at all what I expected and in other ways I don't think I had a very clear expectation of what it was going to be like. One thing I had no way to know about were the colors with which the house is painted.

I knew that it was know as the "Casa Morada" so, I expected the outside walls to be painted all purple (and maybe some of the interior ones too). Well, the house IS purple and the inside there is a purple room and as you walk further into the house the rest of the rooms are also very colorful. The ofice where I spend most of my time is painted a bright yellow and bright pink! The hallway is painted a bright orange with the oposite wall being a bright greet. And so on and so forth. Very, very colorful! Almost dizzying!

I hope to jump into a lot of the events that Cemujer is doing and do a lot more reading and writing, of course.

On a much more personal note, I'm moving again tomorrow. I realized that there IS a bus route that will take me to work and back from the Flores' house. I think it will be nice to stay with them, even though I really have no complaints with Fidelina.

I like being at work, I like El Salvador, but... I have to admit that a couple of the evenings this week when I got on the bus to go home I felt somewhat homesick (or lonely for my friends who are spread all over the place). It's not a plesant feeling but, it's also one that doesn't exactlly have a cure. I'm sure I wouldn't notice it as much if I had a lot of friends here, but the feeling remains even when you make new friends.

Impressions: war is that way

Neither side can claim innocence in the war. War is that way. Everyone is side is breaking the moral law ‘thou shalt not kill’ and no one can justify the violence that was committed. “We avoided choosing sides,” the woman told me “we tried to stay out of the conflict.” No one in her family was killed directly because of the war “we were taken care of, thank God.” She was a teacher during the war. “No one in my family was killed but one of my co-workers…” her voice trailed off.

“Maria Carmen” she went on, “was killed by some of her own students.” There was a moment of silence and the weight of that statement filled my heart and mind. “You see,” she said, “that was what it was like during those times. Everyone was filled with hatred and even your own students might turn on you to kill you.” She went on to say that that she felt like the hate persists today. “Both sides are ambitious for power,” and forgiveness is elusive.

Impressions: if we only used what we have

Carla* was in her twenties during the war. She worked as a housekeeper in San Salvador, regularly traveling about 40 miles from her hometown to the capital. Most of the fighting happened in different parts of the country, at yet the war touched everyone in some way. If it wasn’t someone you knew it was someone you worked with who was killed in the war.

On her rides on the bus she would talk to people and the things they would tell her were very interesting. Carla told me of a conversation she had with a man who lived in the mountains. “He said he was native of this land” she said, “but, no one is truly native anymore,” she added already questioning his right to complain.

She continued saying “He said that his land was stolen from him and that they were fighting for their land. I asked him how much land he owned and he said that he had ‘una manzana’. I asked him what he did with it and he said that he couldn’t do anything with so little land. He wanted the government to give him back his land and fix the road to their town.”

She looked doubtful as she said, “I asked him why he didn’t get together with the other people in his town to do something about the road. But, he didn’t want to --you see? He didn’t realize that they could have fixed the road and would have been able to improve their own situation without any help from the government. Instead, he was just complaining for a right I’m not sure was really his.”

On another bus ride Carla met another man with similar circumstances but a different attitude. She told me that he owned a small plot of land and he planted corn and other things on it. Then he was given three chicks that he raised into chickens they were all laying hens. He sold the eggs and saved enough money to buy a calf. He raised the calf and soon had another calf and a milk cow. His wife sold the milk and between all of those things on their small plot of land they found a way of living that was more comfortable than most. Carla said, “I think that most anyone can find a way if they set their mind to it and we don’t need the government to do everything for us.”

Carla said that she read the ‘communist’ literature and did not find it compelling, she was convinced that people should work hard and not expect the government to do everything for them. “That land” she said, “how could they prove that it should belong to them anyway?” It’s more complicated than that. The guerrilla didn’t convince her. “They said things that sounded good” she said with regret, “but, as they spoke about the land and the people they destroyed and stole people’s property. What kind of communism would that be?” Then with the brilliance of a storyteller she concluded, “If only everyone could be like the second man who used the little he had to get ahead.”

*I have not used her real name.