Still Ridin' the High

YES WE DID!!!!!

Amazing night. I've been looking at my country from afar for over three years now. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's not so good. Tuesday night it was great. There are no words. It's difficult to explain to Americans what America looks like from the outside. It's difficult to explain to Americans why what we do, matters outside of America. There is nothing in the US to compare to the influence and presence that the US has in other countries. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's not so good. We talk about justice and equality and freedom and opportunity and then every once in a while, we actually do it. It's just the beginning. Now the real work starts and it is going to require every single one of us standing up and taking responsibility to work toward being something great again. But now it seems, once again, anything is possible.

We hopped on a bus 3 am Wed morning and arrived in Managua at about 11am. We are hanging out with a couple of other VMM volunteers Christine and Laura. They have been working at the Batahola Community Center for the past year. The center seems pretty amazing. It's a quick visit, we head out again this morning at 11. But I am glad we got to stop in and put their work and stories in context.

Tonight we will be in Tegucigalps and hang with Rob Orton, fellow RPCV. We will go to his site tomorrow and then , the new, latest plan is to head on to the Bay Islands and hole up on the beach for a few days.

In Chepe for Obama

I am back in San Jose at the Hotel Aranjuez, a personal favorite of mine. We spent two nights in Puerto Viejo on the Caribbean Coast of Costa Rica. Puerto Viejo is a nice place, the coast is beautiful, lots and lots of tourists though. We went ziplining on Sunday morning. It was a lot of fun. It was the most beautiful one yet. The jungle on the Caribbean coast is amazing. We were at least 100-150 ft above the ground on a couple of the runs. We saw a howler monkey and a toucan. It was my first time to see a toucan so I am glad I got to see it before I say goodbye to Costa Rica again.

Now we are back in San Jose. I have some errands to run today and am going to hook up with the few friends still in San Jose. Actually, I think we are going to go to a skeezy gringo bar tonight to eat good ol' American burgers and watch the election results with a bunch of current volunteers. It'll be interesting to see if I still know any of them.

I picked up Obama's book Dreams From My Father. It was really an amazing book. Honest, insightful, intelegent, compassionate, inspiring. It has actually helped motivate me to write my grad school essays. Made me remember that I used to have hopes for making the world a better place too. If he weren't running for president I would be wishing he was. Course, I'm not sure how I feel about having a literate president. Might take some getting used to. hehehehe....Anyway, get out and vote if you haven't yet. It's a big day for America!

One down, six-ish to go

We followed up a very bad hotel experience with an amazingly good one. We stayed at the Bocas Inn in Bocas del Toro Panama. We had an INCREDIBLE view of the water right outside our window as well as two hammocks from which to gaze at it. We spent two days there, doing a whole lot of not much. It was wonderful.

We left Bocas on Thursday, took a wet water-taxi ride to the mainland and then two more buses to the border. The border between Panama and Costa Rica is a river which you are able to walk across over a rather dilapidated bridge complete with haphazardly placed wooden planks. So we officially mark one country off our list and have landed safely in Costa Rica. Two more buses and we arrived in Manzanillo, a very small Carri bean town at the end of a rough dirt road. Manzanillo had been on my list of places to see that I didn't get around to while I was living here. It is beautiful. I managed to get myself up and went for a run yesterday morning. We spent another two nights there, enjoying the jungle and beach. This morning we took the bus into Puerto Viejo and are going to spend two nights here. We are going to go zip-lining tomorrow, swinging through the trees like monkeys.

Things are good. AS a side note, while traipsing through Central America, I am also trying to get references and essays together to apply for grad school. This is a not an application tactic I would recommend to anyone else as it is hard to wax poetic about my future when all I am really interested in doing is staring at waves from a hammock. Hopefully though, I will be able to talk someone into letting me into their program.

Panama City

We arrived in Panama City after a surprisingly painless 7 hour bus ride from Boquete. I was very disapointed that I didn't get a window seat, but survived nontheless. Panama is really a beautiful country. I am wondering how it has taken me so long to get here. Panama City is also a fascinating place. We only spent two days there, but I would definately like to come back and spend some serious time.

We went to the Panama Canal early Sunday morning. It was actually quite impressive. We saw a couple of enormous barges go through, watched a video and checked out there museum. It was all very impressive and well run. But, I think the most impressive part was that on each of the floors of the building, they had these box shaped aparatus' that when you pushed a button, water flowed out of a spigot into an arch from which you could drink without worry of intestinal distress. Fascinating! We snapped some pictures of this modern engineering wonder.

We also visited Casco Viejo which is the oldest part of Panama City. It is part ruins, part ghetto and part gentrified tourist neighborhood on the bay. It was really beautiful.

Unfortunately, our hotel was really, really, REALLY bad. We decided to splurge and then immediately regretted it. We got a room that had no hot water, no cable and looked like it was rented by the hour. When I complained to the front desk clerk he was amazingly rude and insulting. It was an amazing display of disrespect that nearly bordered on verbal assault. I am working on a strongly-worded letter to the owners of the hotel (that outta show'em) and am telling anyone I can get in contact with that they should not, under any circumstances, stay at the Costa Inn Hotel in Panama City. There is my mouse's roar.

We landed in Bocas del Toro yesterday and after dodging and icky gringo that wanted to charge us $60 a night for a concret box with no windows, we found an AMAZING hotel right on the water that is slowly healing the damage done by the Costa Inn. There just may be hope for the world after all.

Travel Route

For those of you keeping track, here's our travel route so far. You'll need to zoom out to see it. I will keep it updated as internet cafe technology allows:

View Larger Map

Boquete, Panama

We are officially flying by the seat of our pants. We have essentially tossed our original itinerary and are going which ever way the wind blows us. We caught the 11 am bus South out of San Jose, Costa Rica and made it as far South as Paso Canoas and we decided to call it a night. We found a hotel that is located literally between the Costa Rican and Panamanian borders. We took advantage the next morning to do some duty-free shopping and then crossed the border on foot. We were navigated back and forth between the Latin American beurocratic stamp windows by a 12 year old. At one point, just after we both handed him our passports and five bucks, it dawned on me that we were putting quite a bit of trust into him. I mean, he didn't even have an official looking vest. All turned out well though. We grabbed a bus into David and had an hour and half of the most pleasureable ride so far on the trip. Even included air-con. The highways in Panama are amazingly nice. In David we grabbed a bus North to Boquete.

We arrived here at about 3:30 in the afternoon in a complete downpour. It became immediately apparent that my raincoat, which has been molting liner dandruff on me for the entire trip, is absolutely penetrable by rain. So, it is getting tossed. Which leaves me raincoatless in Central America in hurricane season. Not to fear though, I'm sure I'll be able to find something in Panama City on Saturday. Until then, I bought a crappy umbrella from a local store.

The most striking thing about Boquete, after the lush green mountains poking out from the mist, is that there are a boatload of gringos here. Apparently, the AARP ranked Panama amond the top five countries in the world in which to retire. So there has been a flood. I hate to generalize too much, but my experience with Ex-Pats in Latin America has been that they generally come lurred by lower living costs and then proceed to try to make their new home just like the one they left behind. They end up raising the cost of living for everyone, fine for them and their American pentions, but economic death for the locals. They end up pushing locals off properties they have lived on since the beginning of time, evidenced in Boquete by the fact that there are more real estate offices than there are hotels. Anyone that makes the argument against immigrants that "If we went to their country we would learn their language and respect their culture," has likely never been outside of the U.S.

It is beautiful. We went rafting this morning through some amazing Class IV rapids. It was a ton of fun. I am glad I got it in when I did. At one point we floated past one of the 17 damns they are constructing. Next year, that river won't be floatable. I don't know what we are heading towards, but I am pretty sure it's not progress.

Tomorrow I'm getting a massage.

Plan B: Make Plan B

Against all logic and odds, I managed to get myself up early enough yesterday to go for one last run in the Puerto. It's really the best time of day, between 5:45 and 6 am. The ocean is gorgeous and the sun is not yet baking your insides, but also rather easy to sleep through. Then I went to dance class with my little old ladies, they are still a kick.

We were set to leave Puntarenas at about 2 pm and go to Monteverde, when a vendor guy came up and told us that the road to Monteverde had washed out with the last rain storm. We just looked at him and thought, "Well, that's not right. We are trying to get there." His story was confirmed when the bus didn't show up. So we sat there looking lost for a good twenty minutes trying to figure out our options, and also commenting that maybe we should start coming up with Backup Plans. We finally decided to head to San Jose and substitue Boquete, Panama for Monteverde, Costa Rica. We stayed last night at my the Hotel Aranjuez, my favorite San Jose spot and ate an amazing dinner at Tin Jo. Still rocking my Peace Corps discount, YAHOO!

So we were going to head to the border this morning, but when we got there, the bus was full. So we are set to leave on the eleven o'clock bus. We'll see how far we get. With a little luck we can get all the way to Boquete tonight and sleep in tomorrow. We are looking forward to holing up in a hotel for a couple of days. Do some rafting and swing through the trees on a zipline.

Gira de Despedida

Alicia and I arrived in the Puerto last night around 10 pm. It was a pretty easy bus ride. I think it helped immensely that we went out with the mara the night before we left and went straight to the bus without even a nap. So we slept most of the trip. It's a long ride, but buses are a completely different story in Latin America and are much more comfortable than you would imagine. Course, my standards are also pretty low.

So we landed back in the Puerto. We are staying with doña Julia, a family I hung out with a lot when I was living here. This morning we went for a walk through the community and said Hi to lots of people. Lots of surprised faces. Almost everyone remembers me so I guess that is a good sign. Even Fat, Nasty Bar owner got throw out a catcall for old times sake.

Most everything is still pretty much the same. The kids are a little bigger. The bridge crossing over the estuary into Fray Casiano has finally become completely depleted. Only an iron skeleton remains. Even the concrete steps have been taken apart. I was sad to hear that don Luis, my initial host dad has been battling cancer. He looks good, but much thinner. They say that he should be coming out of it. Ojala.

The puerto is still amazingly hot and we have already sought refuge within the air conditioning of the internet cafe. This afternoon we are going to hang out on the Paseo de Turistas, and keep ourselves cool with chilled beverages and maybe come patacones. Tomorrow we are going to go to dance class with my little old ladies and then head out to Monteverde.

Despedida

Things are coming to a close. I had my last day of work at SHARE on Wednesday. The last couple of weeks have been a flurry of running around, trying to wrap up lose ends. The reality of leaving is slowly starting to dawn on me. But not completely yet....

I was fortunate that I was able to see and personally say goodbye to some of the people I have been working with. It is a tough thing to do and carries with it an aura of abandonment, or so it feels to me. Salvadorans continue to be as I have always known them to be; gracious, resilient. It's been an honor to be here. I know it's time for me to go, but I don't have to look far ahead to foresee a visceral aching for this place. El Rinconcito. This heart-breakingly, beautiful place.

Fortunately, I have a month of beach/bar sitting with Alicia to buffer my angst.

Karmel Juyu and Antigua

We had our annual VMM retreat at Karmel Juyu which overlooks Lake Atitlan. It is simply a spectacular site. The pictures do not do it justice. It was great to be able to hang out with the other volunteers. Quite a few of us are getting ready to transition back to the US, and there were also a few new faces.

We spent the weekend at Karmel Juyu and then all piled into a mini-bus heading to the Moran's site. Most of us hopped out at Los Encuentros, Alicia, Laura, Christine and I were headed for Antigua and the Salvadoran volunteers were headed back to Salvador. It was raining pretty hard and we were thankful that a chicken bus was going by right as we pulled up. Apparently I dilly-dallied too long getting out my raincoat. Everyone piled onto the bus, and then it left without me. Ooops.

Not to worry. If there is any place in Guatemala that I feel confident I can get myself to, it is Antigua. I ended up catching another chicken bus about 3 minutes later. I was able to get a seat and I wondered if my traveling companions were so fortunate (they were not). As I mentioned, it was raining pretty hard which in Central America means that roads become rivers and often large parts of the mountains slide away. In dry weather, the chicken buses swerve around cars and corners at approximately mach 10. When it is raining, the chicken buses swerve around cars and corners at approximately mach 9.5. I long ago accepted that the act of traveling in Central America is an act in which I surrender any control over my safety or well-being. I think it is best to accept this and enjoy the ride. I was pondering this reality, and morbidly thinking of the role of chance in life. Thinking that missing that bus was really a minor event, but how often things like that can change your life. I was sitting in the front seat so I had a descent view out the front window (only one wiper on driver's side) and out the front door where the attendant stood calling out destinations and collecting fares. At one point, the door was open, and the attendant yelled excitedly to the driver "Dale! Dale!" which means "GO! GO!" I looked outside just in time to see a wall of water shoot off the mountain and clip the mid-section of the bus. It wasn't enough to knock us off course, but it was definately enough to get my heart beating and other anotomical regions puckering. Needless to say, I was content to meet the girls in Chimaltenango with nothing more than a good story.

We arrived in Antigua soon thereafter, found our hotel and then set out for dinner and internet. Kelly and Lisa, two Costa Rica PCVs traveling Northward by bus, were also in Antigua. They had passed through El Salvador, the week before. We had plans to meet up in Antigua for my second cameo on their "MesoAmerican Farewell to Freedom Tour." We didn't find each other than night, but I stumbled upon them the next morning in a cafe. So we spent the day checking out the sites of Antigua, a really cool city, except for the tourist inundation. It was a good time. We tortured the VMs with PCV talk. We split in the afternoon as Kelly and Lisa went to climb the volcano in the rain and Laura and Christine headed back to their site in Managua. Which left Alicia and I to pre-trip preparations for our own upcoming farewell tour. We did some shopping, ate dinner, drank a margarita and listened to an obnoxious, tortured ex-pat kiss wooden ducks in a Frida Khalo bar.

I made it back to El Salvador on Tuesday night and am trying to get things wrapped up here. I finish at work on the 15th and then we hit the road on the 18th.

Yo como Jimmy

I made it to Guatemala Wednesday. I stayed overnight at a house of nuns. It was very, VERY tranquila so I had time to do some more studying before the GRE on Thur. All I have to say about that is that it is LONG, looooooooooong. I think I did well enough that someone will take me, but don't think anyone is going to start throwing money at me. The best part is that I never have to take it again.

Thursday afternoon, I caught a bus to Alicia's site. I sat at a bus stop in Guatamala City for over an hour inhaling bus fumes. I made friends with a couple of the kids selling candies and other sweets when I asked them for the bus to Paoquil. They got quite a bit of amusement out of my pronunciation. After assuring them that I didn't want to go to Antigua, they made sure that the guys with the clipboards tracking the buses would tell me when the bus for Paoquil came by.

When the bus finally did arrive, it was a two hour ride to Santa Apolonia. It was a beautiful ride through the green, green Guatemalan countryside. I didn't even mind so much that I was squished in a bus seat. I arrived in Santa Apalonia and hung out with Alicia and the orphans. (Will post pics when I get back to Salvador) The kids are very cute and sweet and onery. They seemed to like it best when I would turn them upside down and shake them for change. The first kid I did it to was name Jimmy, so the rest of the kids would ask for a turn by saying "yo como Jimmy" or "me like Jimmy". They thought it was a game; I was looking for busfare.

This afternoon we are headed to Solola for a VMM retreat. The retreat site is suppose to be gorgeous.

Semillas de Esperanza/Seeds of Hope

The following is a piece I wrote for the SHARE eNewsletter.

“Work won’t kill you, but not eating will.” Maria Cecilia Salinas began working when she was thirteen years old. She says, “I worked in the fields. I went to the capital and worked there.” Now she is a forty-five year old, single mother of three boys. She is taller than most Salvadoran woman, her body stretched, thin and wiry as she pulls her dark hair back and fixes it behind her head. Maria Cecilia, along with others in the San Vicente Region, received a small loan through SHARE’s Semillas de Esperanza, or Seeds of Hope program. Seeds of Hope combines micro-credits with organic growing workshops to offer an alternative means of growing, if not survival, for Salvador’s poorest residents. The credits hover in the area of $200-300 and are used for buying seeds, renting machinery and, in some cases, covers rent on a plot of land. The workshops train the participants in the basics of organic growing.

Sixto Rene Diaz says he stopped using chemical fertilizers and insecticides five years ago when he began having liver problems attributed to his exposure to harmful chemicals. He said he tried growing the first year without anything and lost nearly his entire crop to worms. He started asking around and got some tips from different people on ways to grow naturally. He spent the previous day at a workshop on organic growing techniques. He says he’s excited about what he’s learned, but also feels encouraged that other people are out there doing the same thing. The group says that when they first started, people laughed at them. They didn’t believe you could grow crops without heavy-duty chemical pesticides and fertilizers. They said they knew the chemicals were not good for them, but they had always been told it was the only way. Blanca Estela Ramirez, admits that she wasn’t sure at first either, but that she had had success raising cattle with the ACAMG Cooperative, another SHARE partner, so was willing to give it a try. “I believe it now,” she says. Many in the group say that they joined the program out of desperation. Chemical growing is expensive and the genetically-modified seeds don't reproduce which means you have to buy new seeds every year. They were skeptical, but also out of options. Now, they say that sometimes it seems too good to be true, that they can grow their food without poisoning themselves; not in the growing, nor the eating.

Don Lucio Porfirio Hernandez walks with us through his cornfield in the community of El Arco. He has recently “folded” the tall corn plants over so that water will not collect in the ears mold the corn. He explains to me, that once the plant is mature, it will continue to grow doubled over. He points to bean plants growing between the rows of corn. He says corn and bean plants are good friends and that they will grow well together; the corn stalks providing structure for the climbing bean plants. “You can’t do this if you harvest with a machine,” he says. When the corn and beans are mature he and his son will harvest the crop by hand. They will keep part for their families and sell the rest.

Don Lucio and Esmerelda Villalta, the project coordinator from CRIPDES – San Vicente, discuss the bean and corn market. He calculates the figures in his head and most of them come out pretty low. When CAFTA dropped tariffs on agricultural imports, it put small Salvadoran growers in direct competition with US corporations. With the aid of government subsidies, the industrial growers in the US were able to sell larger, genetically-modified products for less than native products, even after adjusting for transportation costs. Naturally, Salvadoran growers stopped growing and began buying. Recently, the rise in fuel costs has sent food costs soaring. But now, when Salvador most needs local growers and local products, there are few to be found. Don Lucio tells me that a lot of people don’t think it’s worth it in the end; to work so hard for so little.

“But it has its advantages,” he says, “This way, my family eats.”

Upcoming

I have been studying lately for the GRE so, as you can imagine, not a lot seems blog-worthy. I am headed to Guatemala next week to take the GRE and also to participate in the VMM Retreat. I am looking forward to it. One, to be done with the GRE. Two, to see more of Guatemala.

Next month, October 15th, will make one year in El Salvador and bring to a close this episode of my Central American work. My how time does fly. I am going to do one last bit of traveling around Central America with my friend and fellow VM Alicia, who is also finishing up her service in Guatemala. A “farewell” tour of sorts that promises to be, well, memorable.

I am posting a link to the website of a photographer in El Salvador that has taken some really amazing pictures. Enjoy. www.jesusfloresfotos.blogspot.com

Getting Settled...

I made the big move last weekend, so today officially, makes one week in the new house. So far so good. The only domestic hang-up being that my washer is on the fritz. I think the pump has gone out. I have a theory on how it went down, but theories don't fix washing machines. I was able to do one load of laundry this morning by filling the tank with buckets. Worked quite well I might add, but I would really prefer a fully functional washer.

Other than that, things are pretty tame. Worked all week. Work is work. I am scheduled to take the GRE on the 25th of this month. Which means that in leiu of studying I have, rearranged my underwear bucket, calculated my student loan interest, and watched both the democratic and republican conventions. Desperation.

Barack Obama 8-28-08

That's my America.

Geographical Update

Now that I am delegation free for a while, there are some personal things that need to be taken care of. The big one, is that I will be moving to another house next weekend. As many of you know, I am NOT a fan of moving, in fact, I believe it is punishment for shoplifting in some countries. Also, I LOVE my house. I will miss it terribly, but alas, my budget and rent are no longer compatible. So it is time to move on. I will be moving in to a house with a Salvadoran woman I met through a mutual friend. The move will be short, just a few blocks, and is still near an important bus stop, and closer to work. So it should be good.

All that is left now... is to begin packing, which would imply not procrastinating via blog posting. :)

Ita Maura and EMU

I spent the last week or so with a delegation from Eastern Michigan University. The group was a little different than what we are generally used to in that they were traveling as part of a university course studying Poverty, Health and Human Rights. The group was also distinct in that it hosted a more general sampling of the U.S. For a 'perfect storm' of logistical reasons, it was easily the most challenging delegation I have been a part of. They were a gritty-honest cross section of the U.S. Diverse, not only demographically, but also in perspective and life experience. They personified our vast capacity for understanding and compassion, as well as solipsistic disregard. They were nothing if not real. Thank you.

The group spent four days in the community of Ita Maura. Ita Maura is an organized community that relocated from a refugee camp in Mesa Grande, Honduras to Chalatenango during the war. The name of their community honors Ita Ford and Maura Clarke, two of the four US Churchwomen that were killed by Salvadoran death squads in the early years of the civil war. More recently, the community is recovering from the deaths of two community youth who were gunned down in April. Although violence is part of the Salvadoran national reality (average 10 murders per day), it is generally concentrated geographically. Lately, however, there has been a rise in violent crimes in previously untouched, rural areas. As these deaths are rarely investigated, there is growing sentiment, as well as evidence, that the violence is politically motivated and effectively the current manifestation of Salvador government's history of repression and indifference to human rights.

I have been blessed in the past four years to have experienced, on multiple occasions, the beauty and generosity of Salvadoran hospitality, but even my overdeveloped cynicism was overwhelmed by the gracious humility with which we were welcomed into their homes and their lives.

Sweet Belize

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August 1-6 are the Salvadoran fiestas called Agostinas. Basically, it is national vacation week. There are carnivals here, or those that can and want to travel. I took advantage to go to Belize and renew my visa.

I left last Thursday, and took a four hour Ticabus from San Salvador to Guatamala City. I met Alicia in Guatamala City and we stayed the night with nuns, then got an early start Friday morning (6:30 am). We caught a "first class" bus from Guate to Puerto Barrios (5 hours), then a boat to Punta Gorda, Belize, two hours on a public bus to Independence, then finally a ten minute water taxi to Placencia, our final destination (6:30 pm). We then spent the next few days, moving as little as possible from the beach. Recent storms in Mexico had washed trash (both natural and man-made) into the ocean and then the tides carried the trash onto Belizian beaches. However, neither the trash nor the sand fleas dissuaded us from staying an extra day. I really believe that I am a much better person when I am in regular contact with the ocean.

We laid on the beach, we scavenged for food and pantyrippers. We found that straying from the beach or the Purple Space Monkey, caused the Gods to punish us with excruciatingly long waits and discomfort. So we learned quickly and stayed put. We hung out with Keith from Canada, who is traveling by land from Panama back to Ottawa. (Much luck on your journeys both geographical and otherwise) All was not shameless self-indulgence, we also helped local residents recruit American volunteers for beach cleanup and other acts of community service. There were significant bug bites, but the warm fuzzy feeling of altruistic sacrifice more than compensated.

We started our journey back on Wednesday morning. 6:30am found us with tearful (grumpy) goodbyes as we left Placencia in a water taxi just in time to wait two hours for the bus in Independence. Two hours then to Punta Gorda and an hour boat ride to Guatemala. To say the least, this trip was not nearly as smooth as the way in. (Another example of the Gods punishing us for straying from the Purple Space Monkey?) We got absolutely soaked! We could wring out our clothes when we landed.

We caught the koosh bus back to Guatemala City, and passed the five hour journey conversing with a pair Belizian travelers. Riveting conversations that will not soon be forgotten. We arrived in Guatamala City at 9pm, headed back to the nun house and then up again early to catch the 6am bus back to San Salvador. I was ready for a nap and a sweet shower by the time I got back.

Next week, we have a delegation arriving on Wednesday so the real work begins again... you know, figuring out how to keep my tan from fading. jejejejejejejeje.....

Maiz and El Mozote

I believe I can now boast that I have survived July. July is not quite over, but I am finished with delegations for a while, well at least until August 13th.

The Youth delegation went very well. We welcomed 14 delegates from around the US. We split the delegation in half and each group spent two nights in two communities in Chalatenango, Teocinte and Ellacuria. I went with the group to Ellacuria. I was excited that the bulk of the delegation planning was conducted by the youth committee. I wanted the bulk of the exchange to be by for and about youth. It seemed to go well, and allowed me the chance to take a back seat. Grassroots Development 101: "If you are doing all the work, you're not doing your job." Granted, I'm not doing development work anymore, but I still jump at the chance to dabble in it.

While in Ellacuria, I stayed with an amazing family and was able to hone my tortilla making skills. The dad in the family, works each day in the cornfields on the surrounding hillsides. The corn that is produced is the main staple in the community's diet. The corn is cooked, then ground on a flat stone. The corn is then mixed with water to form a dough and then formed into tortillas and cooked on a flat clay griddle. In this case, the griddle is built into the top of an adobe oven and a fire is built inside it. (See pics) I have been "taught" various times to make tortillas. I am hesitant to use the word "taught" because there is not really a teaching process. Salvadoran women learn to make tortillas much the same way they learn to walk, they just get up and do it. To say the least, I started the process a little later in life. So my learning process has been trying to copy what I see the women doing and repeatedly asking them to slow down so I can figure out what it is that they are doing. I'm getting better though. Generally my tortilla making involves much laughing (with me as well as at me) and thick amoeba shaped disks of corn dough. I'm getting better though. My tortillas were all nearly round and I even think I got the "spinny" part of the process down, although the "clap and turn" technique continues to elude me. It was impossible not to notice and admire the fact that they participate in every part of the food cycle. They plant the corn, grow it, harvest it, grind it, then cook it. How many of us can say that? That we participate fully in our own nourishment? Unfortunately this way of life is being threatened by mining companies that are looking to put and open pit mine on the hillside from which the communities gets its corn as well as it's water. As a well organized and tight-knit community, they've managed to resist so far. Hopefully their luck will hold out. That evening, the daughters of the family sang songs while a neighbor played guitar. It was a moment of simple beauty and I felt honored to have been present.



I had two days off after the delegation went home which I spent staring at the wall and babbling incoherently. I got nothing done. House did not get cleaned, books not read, emails not responded to. When I described this to my coworkers they diagnosed the episode as a "delegation hang-over" makes sense to me.

I spent Thursday and Friday in the department of Morazan. We took a delegation to the war museum in Perquin and then to El Mozote. In early December, 1981 the citizens of El Mozote were gathered in the town square by US trained, government soldiers. The men and women were separated and then locked into separate buildings. The men, locked in the church, were tortured then killed. The women, as well as girls as young as twelve, were raped and then killed. Children and babies as young as two and three days old were also killed, tossed into the air and bayonetted. The justification was that the community, located in Eastern El Salvador, an area rife with insurgent activity, was composed of guerilla combatants and sympathizers. And the children? Well, they would just grow into communists so they too were killed. At the end of the day the entire population had been exterminated. Nearly 800 people were killed, their bodies buried or burned.

The entire population was killed, save for one woman. Rufina Amaya miraculously survived that day. Somehow, in the shuffle of mass executions, when Rufina was lined up alongside her friends and neighbors to be showered with machine-gun fire; somehow, they missed her. She managed to hide herself in the brush and then snuck past the armed soldiers amidst a group of escaping livestock. Her testimony of the events of that day were taken down soon after the event by Salvadoran journalists. The massacre was denied by Salvadoran and US authorities until archeological investigations, ordered by the United Nations Truth Commission, confirmed her account in 1992.

Rufina Amaya died in March 2007. Her daughter Fidelia guided our group through the town of El Mozote. The town's small public plaza holds a memorial to those that were killed. Beside the church, is a memorial garden for the hundreds of children that were systematically killed. Fidelia described her mother's escape to us, as we walked down the same narrow road her mother had followed. I wondered if there was a point; after she passed the last man dressed in green and guns; after crawling through muck and and thistle and thorns working into her hair and embedding themselves in her fleshy knees and arms; past the mounds of burning bodies, there had to have been a line between fleeing and escaped, and I wondered if she realized when she crossed it. And then I wondered if she ever felt safe again.

Star struck

I have been busy running around with delegations lately. We recently finished with two sister delegations and I am busy preparing for the youth delegation that will arrive on Wednesday. Thursday night, Danny, Danielle and I were lucky enough to have dinner with Tim and Linda Muth. That's right, THE Tim from Tim's El Salvador Blog. When he's not keeping the English Speaking world up-to-date on the happenings in El Salvador, Tim also sits on the VMM Board. It was great meeting them, wonderful conversation and, of course, any and all relationships built on a solid foundation of social justice and Khalua brownies are bound to endure. THANKS!

Dinner was followed immediately by an amazing thunder storm. The heavens opened and dumped a ton of rain. Unfortunately, the rain storm was linked to 37 deaths in the country including a bus wreck that killed 32. It is impossible to talk about El Salvador without talking about the vulnerability of its population. Living in poverty means that even the mildest natural occurrences can destroy you. It means you take nothing for granted.

I also wanted to send a shout out to my friend Andrew Kirshman. He is a Jesuit teacher at the UCA (University of Central America) and fellow sociology junkie. He is headed to Berkeley to teach Theology. I wish him the best of luck and look forward the next opportunity to drink a cup of coffee and talk shop. Happy travels!