Thursday September 21, 2006

Los tigres

What is this about a student throwing out an opening pitch later this month?  That could have been me!  Oh well, I think being here is worth more than even the opportunity to throw an opening pitch at a Tigers game.  Now that’s saying something.

There is a nice hotel in our neighborhood where foreign delegations usually stay when visiting.  They have a TV where we can watch sporting events and have a drink.   A couple of weeks ago, some of my housemates were there to watch the LSU Tigers take on the ND Fighting Irish.  The Tigers lost that one, but my housemates have assured me that they will support my Tigers when it comes to the baseball playoffs.  One of my praxis teamates, George, was born in Detroit and is wearing a Tigers shirt today, as am I.

So, here's to October and nights at the Alicante - Go Tigers!  Or "Dale los tigres" in Spanish!

The Ground Beneath the Cross

When I started this blog, I thought I would try to appeal to a variety of people by toning down my overt religiosity.  Well, that is not going to happen.  I’m not trying to write something that is so faith based that it turns people off, but I don’t know how else to write from here.  This is El Salvador, which in Spanish means: “The Savior.”  I live and work in the capital, called San Salvador.  Even if one was trying to avoid them, it is just not possible - God and Jesus are a regular part of everyday life here.  I am not trying to exclude anybody, but I can only write from my own experience.  My experience is that of an American Catholic, living in a predominately Catholic country.

So I will try my hand at explaining a prayer from St. Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises that was very influential on Ignacio Ellacuría.  The prayer, known as the colloquy, calls for the person making it to imagine themselves before Christ, crucified on the cross.  In this contemplation, we are to ask ourselves:  “What have I done for Christ?  What am I doing for Christ?  What ought I to do for Christ?” (Spiritual Exercises, 53)  This relates to Padre Ellacuría’s concept of the “crucified peoples” that I have blogged about before (see University of Life blog).  In Ellacuría’s adaptation of the colloquy, we are urged to place our “eyes and hearts upon these people who are suffering so much, some from misery and hunger, others from oppression and repression, and then, before this people thus crucified, to make the colloquy…by asking, what have I done to crucify them? What am I doing in order to uncrucify them?  What ought I to do so that this people will be raised?”  (Las Iglesias latinoamericanas interpelan a la Iglesia de España, Sal Terrae.  No. 826, 1982.  Trans. Kevin F. Burke, SJ)

As is probably evident in my writing, this colloquy has been on mind since I arrived here.  If I am honest, I can say that it has been on my mind since long before I came here.  The crucified people and my involvement in their torment is part of what drew me to El Salvador.  I thought, as a student, I was alone in my contemplation.  However, though the other students in the program may not know what the colloquy is, they are already asking the questions it poses.  I am with 23 other students who are also asking themselves the questions Ellacuría asked.

Of course, El Salvador is not the only place to find crucified peoples – they certainly exist in Detroit.  But, it is very evident to me that the people of La Chacra do not deserve to be living in the conditions which exist there.  No one should be as poor as the people I encounter here, not when I think of the extravagance of my own life and that of other Americans I know. 

In the Tuesday morning edition of La Prensa (a popular Salvadoran newspaper), the front page contains a photo of Antonio Saca and George W. Bush meeting in New York.  Saca is El Salvador’s President.  The article talks about the U.S. deporting people to El Salvador, people who are often violent criminals and are contributing to the issues of security and crime here.  The U.S. has now named a special delegate, just for deportations.  Opening to the second page, there is a second photo of Saca and Bush with U.S. and Salvadoran flags in the background.  The second page headline is that: Bush Admits “danger” in Deportations.  So we know we are endangering the people of another country by sending criminals to them, but it is better to have them out of our country.  This is in the best interest of national security, right?

The two presidents also discussed the war in Iraq, or so says the front page, but there doesn’t seem to be any articles on this subject.  Articles in previous newspapers have educated me about the level of Salvadoran involvement in Iraq.  Salvadoran soldiers are dying in Iraq, but we don’t seem to hear about this in the U.S.  What do we think about this?  Our own soldiers are dying or coming back physically and mentally scared for life, but so are the men and women of other countries – even our tiny neighbor to the South, El Salvador.  Why should El Salvador be involved in the war in Iraq?  Is this simply the price of a supposed friendship with the U.S.?  What do we really do for El Salvador that would cause them to send their soldiers to Iraq?

Most Salvadorans treat me with kindness, but there are a few who see me only as an American and a symbol of all that has contributed to the negativity and violence of their life here.  A man at Mass on Sunday shook my hand during the sign of peace, and told me to say hello to Mr. Bush for him.  To me, it was a wake-up call.  What do I expect to do here in the next three months?  I am here for such a short time and the Salvadorans know.  For them, they either choose to accept my gesture of goodwill to walk with them for a short time or they reject me with bitterness, knowing I can never truly understand what their reality is like.  I will go home to a life of extravagance in the U.S. and they will stay here.

I may choose to live simply when I return to the U.S., but the reality is that my life will never be as simple as the people I spend my days with here.  They are not completely unhappy with their lives here and I cannot judge what is to make a person happy by my American standards.  But my reality is that I have done things that have contributed to the poverty in which these people live.  Children here die of diarrhea.  Many communities have little or no water and none of it is really safe to drink.  While making sure people have access to the basic necessities of life and that children do not die of diarrhea may not be a profitable enterprise, if we, as Americans have the ability to do so, shouldn’t we?

Eyes and hearts upon these people who are suffering so much, some from misery and hunger, others from oppression and repression, and then, before this people thus crucified, to make the colloquy…by asking,

What have I done to crucify them?

What am I doing in order to uncrucify them? 

What ought I to do so that this people will be raised? 

Monday September 18, 2006

My Weekend in La Chacra

We spent the weekend at our praxis sites.  Since the school is closed on weekends, we didn’t spend any time there.  We arrived at the parish around 5 p.m. on Friday, Salvadoran Independence Day.  Padre Luis does not celebrate September 15th.  He told us on Wednesday, when we saw him last, that it was not his “Independence Day.”  His country is not independent – economically or politically… he said some other things, but these are the two I remember.  I thought that was interesting.  He is right.  El Salvador is not independent, though it may no longer be a colony of Spain.  How many Salvadorans consider themselves free or independent?

Normally, we spend Mondays at our praxis sites, but we have a day off today.  I needed the day to catch up on homework and laundry, as I’m sure my classmates did also.  This morning, I spent two and a half hours doing laundry.  Doing laundry by hand is part of our experience of trying to live in solidarity with the poor of El Salvador.  Most Salvadorans cannot afford the luxury of a washing machine.  Washing laundry, cooking and other tasks involving cleaning are how many Salvadoran women spend their days.  It is amazing to witness women raising families in the environment where I live (a rare middle class neighborhood) and in La Chacra.  The women here work very hard.  When I walk down the street past a papusaria, I wonder what the women I see have done already before coming to work.  They slave over a hot grill to make tortillas and papusas to sell.  What work awaits them when they return home?  Some of them work all day in the home and then go to work in the textile factories at night.  These women get off around 3 a.m. and then have to find their way home through dangerous streets in the dark.

Anyway, sorry for deviating from the topic – my weekend in La Chacra.  Well, we didn’t spend a lot of time in La Chacra.  We spent Friday night in the parish house and woke up early Saturday morning to drive to Padre Luis’ home in the campo.  We rode with P. Luis’ youngest sister, Patricia, whom we met the night before.  Patricia had air conditioning in her car, which we thoroughly enjoyed.  Padre drove separately, so he could drive a family from La Chacra.  Padre has only been in the parish at La Chacra for about seven months, so he is still building confianza and relationships there.  Taking this family to his home and showing them where he comes from helps him to do both.

We spent the day near the northern part of the Province of La Libertad.  From where Padre’s family lives, it is not far into Chalatenango or Santa Anna.  We went to a river and enjoyed part of our afternoon there.  On a walk that involved crossing the river on a very dodgy bridge, Padre pointed out the routes campesinos use to go to Chalate or Santa Anna.  The four children of the family with us played in the water.  So did Padre Luis.  George and I skipped stones.  Clarissa missed out, but enjoyed a siesta in a hammock back at the house.  We ate breakfast and lunch at Padre’s house, all together as compañeros.  The father of the family, Rodrigo, invited us to visit their home in La Chacra.  I look forward to doing so.  All together, it was a nice day.   We headed back to San Salvador around 3:30 p.m.

We went out into the La Chacra community after dark, around 6 p.m.  It is a place that is scary and can be very dangerous after dark.  We all know those places we would rather not go after dark, right?  Well, here we were being led by Padre Luis, into a place we would rather not go.  The past month of building confianza with Padre comes in handy here, as the three of us students look at each other and decide to trust him.  Padre says in English: “Come, we go to church.”   What church was he taking us to?

As we walk through the streets, barely able to see anything, children call out to us.  All of us encounter some of our students who run to greet us and ask us what we are doing.  When will we come to teach them English again?  We stop at Lito’s house (one of our guides our first day) and visit his Mom briefly.  Lito’s little nephew smiles up at me from the step of the house.  He interrupts a conversation Padre is having with Lito’s Mom and tells him that I teach him English.  I can’t remember the little boy’s name, but I am flattered that he remembers mine.  I am touched by the impression I have left on my students after only a short time with them.  Lito’s Mom will not let each of us get away without a hug.  When it comes my turn, she also gives me a kiss and thanks me for teaching her grandson.  It is not uncommon for Salvadorans to kiss each other and visitors on the cheek, but it is still something I am not quite used to.  I am also very tall in comparison to Salvadorans.  So when women kiss me, it is usually on the neck because they can’t reach my cheek.  We continued through the streets of La Chacra.  When some drunken men called offensive things as we walked by, I stifled a smirk as I felt the still fresh wet spot on my neck from Lito’s Mom.  It is a world of contrasts here – love and hate; deep affection and lust.  The streets at night teeter precariously between the hustle and bustle of everyday family life and the violence of gang warfare.  I know this may sound strange to hear, but experiencing life here, it is not hard to see how the young men end up in gangs or how they fall to the lure of escape promised by alcohol and drugs.  The men that whistle and say things to us on the streets are not entirely to blame for their demise.

It starts to rain as we come to a house that has been converted for use as a church.  We arrive during the homily and wait outside.  Everyone notices our presence.  At the end of Mass, the priest invites us in to introduce ourselves.  Padre Luis leads us in and introduces us as his three friends.  We then have the opportunity to address the community ourselves.  This was even more intimidating than walking here!  Of course, the community welcomed us with hugs, kisses, and kind words.  We walked back toward the parish house, this time joined by a Spanish nun who lives in the community and the celebrant of the Mass.  Padre Eduardo is a Jesuit who lives in La Chacra and works at the UCA.  He is the director of the Monseñor Romero Center.   After we cross the bridge, P. Eduardo says goodbye to us and walks to his house, alone up a hill along the river.  The nun walks with Clarissa under an umbrella and parts company with us only after she delivers Clarissa safely to the gate of the parish grounds.  She too, departs alone into the dark streets.

On Sunday, we meet yet another priest.  Padre Luis is a diocesan priest of San Salvador, but he introduces us to another one of his Jesuit friends.  Padre Ricardo Ortiz is a native Salvadoran, but now lives in Guatemala City, Guatemala.  He is almost blind.  We attend Mass at 9 a.m. and P. Ricardo gives the homily.  It is long, as are most Masses here.  The priest usually gives a homily that lasts at least 30 minutes.  My Spanish isn’t that good, so I’m usually lost within the first five minutes.  I get less out of the homilies then I receive from being with the people and taking part in the Mass with them.  I think my heightened awareness about community and solidarity (and what these two concepts mean to me); play an important role in how I view the celebration of a Mass here.

After Mass, we share breakfast with the two Padres.  Then we pile into a truck and head out to meet more people in La Chacra.  In total, there were seven of us in the cab of the truck, just as many in the bed, and a mini van packed with people.  I never did count how many people there actually were – alot.  Padre Luis told us Friday night that we would be attending a retreat for youth on Sunday afternoon, but we weren’t sure what that meant.  Now we were fueling up at a petrol station.  The guy driving the truck was topping up the oil.  We started to wonder where we were going, because we seemed to be preparing for a long journey.  Turns out that we are going to the beach along the Pacific Ocean, in the province of La Libertad.  When we went to the Costa del Sol a couple of weeks ago, that was in the province of La Paz.  So we knew we had at least an hour’s drive ahead of us.

It was a nice little break at the beach and it wasn’t just for young people.  It seemed that entire families where there.  The women prepared a fantastic meal for us: corn, tortillas, carne asada, rice and salsa.  We even had Coke and Pepsi, which are a rare treat here (though I prefer to drink Salva Cola, which does not carry the nasty baggage that the two big name American companies have).  It is fun to watch the people, who are very poor, piling food in front of Padre Luis.  Padre would accept the food graciously and then pass some of it off to someone else on the side.  The same sort of thing happened to us, but we are starting to learn the delicate balance between accepting graciously and telling the people that we are full and can eat or drink no more.

After lunch, the adults of the community sing songs and do a charismatic type of retreat.  Not really my sort of thing in English, so it was… interesting in Spanish.  I spent some of the time walking on the beach, since there was no pressure for us to stay for the retreat.  It was nice to soak up the sun and the salty sea air, but I found myself wishing Padre had better prepared us for what we would be doing this weekend.  I really wanted to dive in the water!

We arrived back at our houses around 5:45 p.m., the last group to return from our praxis site.  One of my housemates was celebrating her 21^st birthday, so I came home to ice cream and cake.  Later, we all went out for a drink and shared the stories of our weekend.

Also included in weekend details: I was delighted to learn that the Wolverines had crushed the Fighting Irish (one of my housemates comes from South Bend), but sorry to hear the Tigers had lost.  I hope Fr. Stockhausen did well with his shot at throwing the opening pitch!

Thursday September 07, 2006

One Day of Life

Wednesday, 06 Septiembre 2006

I wake up with the same anxiousness every praxis day.  I wonder what the day will bring and pray to God for the courage to undertake whatever God wants of me.  I dread going to school, where I am the “teacher of English.”  I never knew teachers could dread going to school – I thought it was only the students who could have such feelings.  I feel woefully inadequate to teach the children of the Fe y Alegria school anything.  I think it is the students who teach me.  I have four classes, but today I only teach the first two.  Preschool for four year olds, from 8:00 – 9:10 a.m.  We learn days of the week, months of the year, and several animals.  I write on the board, not because the four year olds can read, but because their teacher also sits in the class and wishes to learn English from me.  The “th” sound is very difficult for Spanish speakers, so that’s how we went into the topic of animals.  I was trying to explain making the “th” sound by placing the tongue against one’s teeth and somehow that lead into the sound that a snake makes.  It took me awhile to figure out what the children were talking about, but my trusty dictionary helped.  My two companions, George and Clarissa, had to drag me from preschool – “animales” were a hot topic and neither the children nor the teacher wanted to let me leave.  I went to my second class, a group of fourth graders, and we also covered days of the week.  With the older kids, I only have forty-five minutes per class period.  We cover less material, because they are practicing writing and I have to check their papers.  These children are very affectionate and a few of the girls make me paper hearts with “sarita” on them (Sarita is my name in Spanish).  We go to recess at 9:45 a.m., so I only had about 30 minutes with the 4^th grade this morning.  I’m at recess for about 15 minutes, when Padre Luis shows up to pick our praxis team up for a special trip to his home in the “campo” (campo is the Spanish word for countryside – basically, anything outside of the city).

As I have explained before, we are never outside of the Fe y Alegria school in La Chacra without an escort.  Sr. Mark sends us out of the school with a hug and a kiss.  Padre Luis has arranged for a truck and driver to pick us up.  We meet Ramon and his Toyota pick-up immediately outside the school.  On our way to Padre Luis’ family home, we drive through Aguilares and I am reminded that this is one of the places that Padre Rutilio Grande, SJ, ministered.  Outside of Aguilares, we turn at a fork in the road and a sign shows that we are headed toward El Paisnal.  In my mind, I was thinking: Padre Grande was traveling between Aguilares and El Paisnal when he was assassinated, is this the same road?  We stop along the road, among fields of corn, and there are three crosses.  I know immediately where we are.  Padre Luis starts with the story, a story I have heard many times before, about Padre Grande and his relationship with the poor of this area and his friendship with Monseñor Romero.  On March 12, 1977, less than a month after Romero became Archbishop of San Salvador, Padre Grande was killed.  Romero was already manifesting a deep compassion for poor people that helped him to speak out about the injustices they faced.  But Padre Grande’s murder gave Romero more courage – his homilies became more daring and radical, starting with the funeral Mass for Padre Grande and the two peasants who were killed with him (a young boy and an old man).

On the monument with the three crosses, by the roadside, is the refrain of a popular song in El Salvador.  We sing this same song everyday, before lunch and dinner.  It is a prayer with many verses that tell the story of Rutilio Grande and the Salvadoran people.  We only sing one verse and repeat the refrain twice.  I had grown tired of singing it before meals, but Wednesday night would bring new respect and insight into the singing of these words:

                        Vamos todos al banquete

                        a la mesa de la creación

                        cada cual con su taburete

                        tiene un pueste y una mission.

                        Come, let us go to the banquet,

                        to the table of creation.

                        Each one with your seat,

                        you have one place and one mission.

In El Paisnal, we pull up outside a church.  I am not surprised.  Padre Luis asks me in Spanish:  “Sarah, you know this place?”  I reply in Spanish: “Yes, Padre.  I know.”  The other students also have a feel for where we must be.  We walk inside the church, a simple place made of concrete with bright murals on the walls and several quotes from Romero.  At the front of the church, before the altar, are three graves.  A boy, an old man, and a priest between them.  Padre Luis greets his “gran amigo,” who had been praying near the front of the church.  They talk for a bit in Spanish and then Padre’s friend speaks to us in English, he is Maryknoll missionary from Ireland – a lawyer.

We leave El Paisnal and drive another half hour into the countryside, to Padre Luis’ home.  We meet his father, some of his sisters and one of his brothers.  We spend most of afternoon sleeping or eating.  We lounge in the living room, gazing at the walls and listening to Padre Luis as he points out photos of his Mom who died three years ago and a sister who died 14 years ago with Cancer.  We play with dogs and have limited conversations with one of Padre’s nephews who captures a lizard type creature, so we can have a closer look.  We eat lunch, the three of us students sitting inside with Padre Luis as he explains that this is the house where he was born, literally.  I am uncomfortable that the rest of his family sits outside, but then Padre invites Ramon (our driver) to our table.  Padre’s nephew joins us as well and then Stevie Wonder comes on the radio.  I’m feeling more relaxed and I start giggling.  Padre Luis looks at me and I look across the table at George (George is from Ohio & attends Boston College, but he was born in Detroit and has an affinity for Motown music).  I look back at Padre and say: “Es Stevie Wonder.”  Padre laughs and starts singing before the words start.  He knows the song too.  It’s “Superstition.”  It was bizarre - sitting in the campo in the home where Padre Luis grew up, eating a fine meal his sister prepared and listening to “Superstition.”

Padre has a siesta in a hammock after lunch and so do we.  At one point, he caught me falling asleep on the couch.  He walks by and hits me, saying in English: “Come, follow me.”  How could I refuse?  He takes me outside and points to several hammocks in the shade.  It was a nice siesta.  We end the afternoon with coffee, which I tried to politely refuse, but his sister brought me a cup anyway.  She also brings fresh cookies – “pan dulce.”  His family has a bakery and they make a little money by selling the goods around the area.  They have a truck to transport the orders and his brother offers us some bread to take back to our communities.  Again, we refuse because we think it the polite thing to do.  As we are leaving, his sister tells me: “Next time, no more pena.”  Pena is difficult to translate, but it is that uncomfortable awkwardness of getting to know someone.  We need to lose the pena before we can really be present and get to know one another on a personal level.

We drive back to San Salvador a different way than we came.  I enjoy the beauty of the country; the volcanoes, the fields of rice and corn, the animals grazing, and the children and dogs playing.  The sky opens up and there is a torrential downpour with much flooding.  It is the rainy season here, but no hurricanes so far.  We make it back to our houses around 5:15 p.m.  I see one of my Salvadoran housemates walking back from class.  I call to Efraín, so he can meet Padre Luis.  Then Efra and I walk up the road to Casa Ita, me chattering away about my exciting day.  Efra is patient and corrects my Spanish and asks for clarification a few times.  I can tell that he is happy because I am so happy and have completely lost my pena about speaking Spanish with him.

We come together as a community and share the experience of our praxis day in English for about an hour as we relax and warm our dinner up.  There is some Spanish too, but Efra and Neto, our Salvadoran housemates, understand that this is our free hour to speak in English, helping us to process on our praxis days.  Around 6:30 p.m., we gather around our table and slip back into Spanish.  We hold hands and pray before our supper:

Vamos todos al banquete

                        a la mesa de la creación…

I close my eyes and I am standing by the roadside, before the memorial to Rutilio and his companions.  I remember, earlier in the afternoon, giving a ride (in the bed of the pick-up) to some people who were waiting by a roadside.  We dropped them off in the next town and they asked to pay us, which Padre and Ramon refused.  This is how the old man and boy happened to be killed with Padre Grande.  They were just hitching a ride.  I open my eyes and look around the table at my housemates.  I am blessed to be here, but it is such a short time.  I wonder about Efra and Neto; they have been here and will stay here.  This is not just an “experience” for them.  But I need to stop worrying and enjoy the moment.  There is no pena in our house.

                        Come, let us go to the banquet,

                        to the table of creation…

Tuesday September 05, 2006

Comunidad

So the study abroad program here is the Casa de le Solidaridad – House of Solidarity - in case anyone missed that part.  I won’t get into what “solidarity” means, which could be a very long entry.  But the reason why students come here and choose to live in communities with others has a lot to do with how each student defines solidarity.  The way we live in our communities, Salvadorans and Americans, is also based on solidarity and our preference to share our journeys, at least for a short time.  There are four communities that are part of the Casa.  One is called Casa Rutilio and is the home of 16 Salvadoran students.  They live as a community that shares chores and maintenance of the house.  They also take time to purposely come together for a variety of activities from Catholic Mass, to sharing meals together, to a night of singing and dancing.  The point is that they are together and not alone in their rooms all the time – they serve as a support network to one another.  All of the Salvadoran students are on a scholarship that requires them to be part of this program.  They attend the National University of El Salvador or the Central American University (UCA – where the American students study).  There are some Salvadoran students who move away from Casa Rutilio for the semester and live in the other three houses of the Casa.  The American students live in these houses: Casa Romero, Casa Silvia, and Casa Ita.  Romero has 16 people, Silvia has 11 and Ita has 8.  I live in Casa Ita with four other American students, one Casa alum who now serves as a community coordinator, and two Salvadorans.  We have a house full of American women and two Salvadoran men.  I think Neto and Efraín rather like living with five gringas!

Three of the houses are fairly close together and Casa Rutilio is not too far of a walk.  We freely move about for visits in all the houses.  The UCA is about a twenty minute walk down hill.  After class, it’s about a 30 minute walk up hill.  The campus is beautiful and I like spending quite time there between classes – sometimes I need a break from community life.  The directors of the Casa program also live nearby, with their three little girls.  Sometimes we visit them and receive goodies as incentive for attending “spirituality nights.”  On these nights (Tuesdays) we talk about the faith aspects of our experience in El Salvador.  Before we go for Spirituality Night, we have the Fiesta de Limpieza – Festival of Cleaning – in which we clean the house from top to bottom.  Everyone has an assigned task for the week.  On Monday nights, we have a group meeting of all the American students to go over the activities of the week.

On Thursday nights, all of the communities come together for a meal at a Papusaria down the street from Casa Silvia and next door to the Jesuit Theologate.  (A papusa is a thick tortilla, made of either rice or corn, and stuffed with cheese and/or beans.) All of the Jesuits in formation/training live at the Theologate, so we usually sing and dance – generally making as much noise as possible – so the Jesuits know we are there.  They really appreciate this.  When we are finished at the Papusaria, we break into our smaller communities and spend the evening together.  Sometimes, we go back to the Casa and chill, but other times we might go out for coffee or some other type of beverage.  Some nights we might go to an interesting lecture on campus.  The point is that we are together. 

Community life means a lot of togetherness, but there is time for breaks and plenty of space to be alone if one wishes.  But we do make a conscious effort to share our lives with each other – sometimes it gets messy, but at other times it can be really great.  There are times when I’m ready to tear one of my housemates to shreds for leaving bread in the toaster, particularly since I live on the ground floor next to the kitchen and everyone else lives upstairs.  Rats and cockroaches are common here.  See where I’m going with this?  Then there are times when I come home from my praxis site and I need to talk to someone.  The same person that left the bread out might become my best friend. 

Despite my inadequate Spanish language skills, I like having Salvadorans living with us.  The guys never fail to greet me warmly and stop for a chat.  I’ve learned much from them already – they both have really interesting life stories.  I had a cold for a little over a week and I don’t think I would have made it through without Efra singing and playing his guitar.  He was just practicing, but when I told him it helped me to sleep despite horrible headaches, he played ballads in the garage - just outside my window.  Every morning he would ask me if I felt better and gesture to his throat and head.  When I finally did get better, Efra made me talk so much I told him I was going to lose my voice again!

Neto (National University) and Efraín (UCA) share a room.  We also have a triple, shared by Lainey (St. Louis U.), Lynn (U. of San Francisco), and Julie (Loyola – Chicago).  Amanda (Boston College) has her own room and so does Linda (Loyola – Chicago Alum).  I lucked out with my own bathroom in my single room.  But there can be disadvantages: like having to answer the door and phone whenever they ring, since I am the only one on the ground floor.  

We have a cook who prepares and eats lunch with us.  She also prepares dinner that we heat up when we get home from praxis or class.  We eat lunch and dinner together, Monday through Friday.  On weekends, we cook for ourselves or sample the local cuisine.  Since the scholarship students living with us can not afford to go out, we usually make an effort to buy groceries and prepare meals to eat with them (part of our efforts at solidarity).  All of our meals are simple and always include rice, tortillas and beans – in a variety of forms.  We also have fresh fruit and sometimes juice.  In our backyard/garden, we have lemons, limes, and oranges growing on trees. 

For everyone who hasn’t lived in a community, I just wanted to give you a sense of what it is like.  It’s not like living in the dorms, though there can be similarities.

Well, that’s all for now…

Sunday September 03, 2006

Clarification on my last entry I didn´t mean to sound like the Honduran Army were responsible for killing the peasants along the Sumpul River.  But here is what I have heard and read so far:  People were trying to run away from the violence of El Salvador in the 1980´s.  Violence from the Salvadoran Army that chased all peasants because it was impossible to distinguish who among them were guerillas of the FMLN.  The guerillas terrorized those whose allegiance was not clearly with them.  As in all situations of war, there were no clear "sides" and no party entirely right or wrong.  Peasants who managed to survive to make the border crossing at the Sumpul River were killed by someone, perhaps the Salvadoran Army.  Some made it into Honduras, only to be chased back into El Salvador and an uncertain fate.  Some just couldn´t make it across the river.  Oh, and I forgot to mention a third massacre at the the Sumpul River, in 1984. Posted by sarah ( Sep 03 2006, 06:30:12 PM CST ) Permalink Comments [0]

Thursday August 31, 2006

The University of Life

Sr. Mark, a Poor Clare Sister, is the principal of the Fe y Alegria school where I spend my mornings in La Chacra (see “Confused” blog entry).  She told our entire group of 24 Casa students to worry less about our classes this semester and allow ourselves to be immersed and touched by the reality of life in El Salvador.  She welcomed us to the University of Life.  Sounds corny, I know – but she’s on to something…  I think the Casa de la Solidaridad exists as one of the better programs, if not best, that can be offered by a Jesuit University.  Here, we integrate high standards of academic excellence with the reality of the world around us.  Not that I can’t do this in Detroit, but I’m out of my comfort zone here and the realidad is in my face.  I’m not just looking at my environment as an academic opportunity for analysis, but taking what I learn at my praxis site and working it into my classroom discussions and papers.  The books I read encourage me to think even more deeply about my experience on social, political, environmental, and spiritual levels.  My teachers are the best that the UCA has to offer and though my classroom experience will be challenging, I know that the professors are dedicated to helping me make the best of my experience here.  I have five professors who have created a classroom environment that allows them to be challenged and stretched by their students just as much as they test us.  I relate it to a fencing match: no matter previous accomplishments, each fencer has an equal opportunity of winning the match when they step onto the strip – never underestimate your opponent and always give them your utmost respect.  You might be surprised.  One fencer will win the match, but both will have learned something.  The two salute and shake hands before leaving the strip. 

Saturday August 26, 2006

Why Am I So Confused?

Perhaps my confusion has something to do with the pace of my first week in El Salvador.  We’ve visited the sites of the murders of the UCA martyrs and Romero, along with some very graphic photos and documentaries to go with each.  We’ve visited six of the eight praxis sites.  (So what is a praxis site you’re asking?  Praxis is where we can combine theory with practice.  We read some books and write reflections but, most importantly, we also spend time in a variety of communities in and around San Salvador.  How could we really learn about the people without spending time with them?  Praxis is not like work, but best described as a journey with someone.  It’s like going for a walk, sometimes following in the footsteps of others and sometimes walking alongside them.  If we are lucky, trust builds between us - “confianza” in Spanish.  When we have the confianza, then stories are shared.  The gritty reality is laid bare and we walk hand in hand).  I hope the depth and richness of life may become more apparent than if I had come and gone, never taking the time to really know people.  There is so much to take in here.  We spend time in reflection as a group and our schedule seems so packed with things to do.  It is easy to see why I’m confused when I haven’t had much time to slow down and reflect on what being in El Salvador means to me or how it is changing me. “Todo cambia” – everything changes (it’s a great song, look up the lyrics and you will not be disappointed).

Thursday was our first day of class, which was a little overwhelming.  We’ve all had that experience of an extremely intelligent professor rattling on about something and we have no idea what they are saying, right?  Well my professor is extremely intelligent, has taught at the UCA for several years (with a few years away to teach for the U.N.), and studied under the likes of Ignacio Ellacuría and Martín-Baró (two of the UCA martyrs).  Problem is, the class is in very sophisticated Spanish.  I understood only bits of what he was saying.  I’ve read Ellacuría and his theology is hard enough to grasp in its English translation.  Today, my professor weaved into his lecture, the thoughts of Ellacuría, Gilles Deleuze, Jacques Dérrida, and Michel Foucault.  The positive in all this: my Spanish will definitely improve this semester!

One of the program staff mentioned something in reflection Thursday night that stuck with me and has helped me to begin making some sense of my El Salvador experience.  The thoughts are mine, but the ideas are influenced by Tom Gill and Dean Brackley, SJ. As Americans, we are socialized toward upward mobility - always seeking to climb the social and corporate ladders.  We are competitive and constantly seeking to better our lot.  These are not bad things in themselves, but what happens to us when we try to move down the ladder?  Ignatian Spirituality and Jesuit education have an approach that seeks to immerse us in the “gritty reality” of this world.  I’m quoting from an address the Jesuit Superior General; Fr. Kolvenbach, gave at Santa Clara University in 2000.  The Casa program already existed then, but its existence was affirmed.  Fr. Kolvenbach will be in Detroit in October, the very same week that I will spend in the “campo” with the rural poor in Chaletanango, north of San Salvador.  Perhaps he will have something to say about the gritty reality in which our university exists.  I hope he does.  But beyond the reality of Detroit is the reality of Baghdad, Beirut, and San Salvador.  The area of my praxis is in one of the poorest and volatile areas of the country.  It is very different from Detroit, and yet not different.  Crime is rampant and becomes violent after dark.  Gangs are a big part of the problem.  I could be talking about any of the aforementioned cities, but I am talking about La Chacra – the area of San Salvador where I will spend Mondays and Wednesdays for the next 16 weeks.  Poor people are everywhere (certainly in big cities) and the problems they face are similar.  But it is not always easy to see the similarities, nor to find how God is present in each situation.  I think Ignatian Spirituality and my years at UDM have helped me to find the common threads though - there are ways that we are united in one human race.  We all struggle to make sense of a life that often doesn’t.

I think at least a little part of my heart will always be in Detroit and somehow that helps me to know that Detroit is not so far from San Salvador.  I’ve traveled a fair amount in my life, mostly during my years in the Air Force.  Perhaps my life experiences are connected to my ability to find a home in a country I’ve never been to before and to see the people as not so different from me or the people I know in the U.S.  But I think faith has something to do with it too.  Not sure how to explain…I’ll have to think about this some more.

Back to working down the ladder…I think the closer we come to the people further down and eventually to the poorest of the poor, the more questions we will have.  But we ask questions that we would have otherwise been ignorant of.  Maybe that is what I should be doing – asking questions and learning to live without answers.  We may work all our lives for answers.  It is important for me not to compartmentalize – my experiences of war in the Balkans relates to my life in Detroit and both of those realities become part of my experience of El Salvador.  I think it would be easier to separate them than to link them together.  Life teaches us that the easy path is often not the way we should travel, because we will miss many of the unexpected events that make our lives rich.  At least that is what I have learned thus far. 

Something is obviously wrong in the world.  How can we expect change if we do not open ourselves to radical change in our lives?  But change does not come easy.  Working down the ladder instead of up is contrary to the way I have been socialized as an American.  There is bound to be some tension as I work against the grain. 

Tuesday August 22, 2006

Monseñor Oscar A. Romero

It has been said that it is not possible to understand El Salvador or it´s people without first knowing about the assassinated Archbishop of San Salvador, Monseñor Romero.  A Salvadoran woman told me this morning that trying to do so would be like studying Christianity without Christ. 

Today we watched a film and documentary about Romero and we spoke with one of the women of our community who was a teenager during Romero´s time as Archbishop.  Oti is a humble woman and admirable in her character and wisdom.  She works with the Salvadoran scholarship students who come from very poor communities and live with us while studying at the UCA or National University.  She puts her faith and desire for justice into action. 

Oti shared with us how she used to listen to Romero´s Masses on the radio and a few times was able to attend a Mass with him.  She told the story of how she lived a few houses down from the radio station that broadcast Romero and it was bombed one night - a way to silence Romero and his presence to the people.  Romero then came to their village to visit a few days later.  He asked if everyone was okay and if they were scared.  She told him she was scared, she had been sleeping when the bomb went off shortly after midnight.  The explosion blew the door off her room.  He stayed with them for a while and celebrated Mass with them.

She also attended Romero´s funeral and told of the snipers that started shooting at the crowds gathered in the plaza outside the cathedral.  She was locked inside the cathedral with many others and was safe from the bullets oustide.  She became very emotional while telling us this story, but it was her desire to share with us.

I am confused about how I feel... the people here share so much with us, they are grateful that we have left our families and are here to accompany them for a short time. 

We also went to La Divina Providencia, the hospital for cancer patients run by Carmelite nuns.  Romero lived there in a simple room.  It is also where he was celebrating Mass when an assasin killed him on 24 March 1980.  They still have his bloodied clothes and vestments there in a small museum in rooms that used to be his.  Another woman, Eva spoke to us while visiting there.  She was a friend of Romero´s and had worked with him.  She told us she thought Romero would have liked that the young people of America are going to places like El Salvador, where they can learn about the reality that other people live in.  I keep hearing this same sentiment here. 

I hope that those of you who read this can learn from my experience.  Ask me questions and make comments.  I will try my best to communicate the reality of El Salvador - it is a normal country, most people in the world live similar lives to Salvadorans.  It is Americans who are different.  We can´t understand the reality of what we have until we see, like I am, the reality of others.  Hate to sound preachy, but something doesn´t seem quite right.

Sunday August 20, 2006

Reflections on my first few days in El Salvador

I´m finally here and it is hard to put my experience into words.  I think I should explain a little about the history of the place where I am living and the University of Central America (UCA) where I will be studying.

El Salvador experienced a violent civil war during the 1980´s and early 1990´s.  In 1989, the city of San Salvador was amidst the worst of the fighting.  In November of 1989, after peace talks had failed, the rebel forces surprised everyone by unleashing one last round of bitter fighting all across the country.  The poor were beginning to join with the rebels in greater numbers, might the capital of San Salvador actually fall to the rebels?  It was starting to look possible like never before.  The fighting became horribly violent.  The UCA was supposed to be a safe place, guarded by the military, while fighting between the government and "rebel" forces raged on the streets outside its gates.  The Jesuits who lived and taught at the UCA had long been associated with the "rebels" and were deemed to be subversive.  The UCA was supposedly the intellectual power behind the rebels.  The UCA had been bombed and some of the Jesuits received death threats.  The fighting outside the UCA gates was so bad that the Jesuits´ housekeeper and her daughter were staying with the priests for safety.

On the night of 16 November 1989, somewhere around 2 a.m. and within the course of about 45 minutes, the Salvadoran army would drag four Jesuits from their beds and assassinate them on the lawn of their residence.  Two more Jesuits would be shot in their beds.  The body of one of these men would be dragged into the room of a seventh Jesuit (Jon Sobrino) who was out of the country for a speaking engagement.  The housekeeper and her 15 year old daughter were slaughtered in their guest room.  They are collectively known as the UCA Martyrs - six men and two women who became faces for the thousands who dissapeared during the war, almost without notice.

Fr. Sobrino still lives in San Salvador and teaches at the UCA.  The husband of the housekeeper started a rose garden on the lawn were the Jesuits bodies were found.  We visited there on our first full day in country.  I cannot put my feelings into words yet.  I remember the Jesuits being killed, I was in 8th grade then and my pastor talked about it at Sunday Mass.  To arrive in a place that seemed so distant for many years and yet so much a part of the journey that has been my life... it´s hard to describe.  I´ll have to think about it more.

Tuesday August 01, 2006

Peace Camp - 2006

I find myself living at the Motherhouse for the Sisters of St. Joseph in Baden, Pennsylvania.  Why?  Because I am a Peace Camp counselor.  There are 15 of us who have come together from a variety of places to live in community for two weeks and to serve as camp counselors for five days of that time period.  The camp is for kids 4-14 years of age.  The kids also come from a variety of places and backgrounds - but all are from the Pittsburgh area. The camp was started in 2001 by the Sisters of St. Joseph, but is now supported by five different congregations of religious women - including the Sisters of Mercy.  One of our UDM professors is a Sister of St. Joseph from Baden: Sr. Sandy Yost, CSJ.  Because she dropped off a few applications for the camp in the University Ministry Office this spring, I find myself here.

The counselors arrived on July 23rd. We lived together on a floor of the Motherhouse, for a week before the kids arrived on July 31st.  In that week, we did many things together to help us build a community.  We shared and learned from each other why we thought we were here - something to do with "peace and nonviolence" and "how can we build a community that will be able to lead 85 kids through Peace Camp?"  We had to learn how we wanted to build a peaceful community with each other before we could think about leading children and teaching them about peace and nonviolent conflict resolution.

Some of the things we did brought us together spiritually - like prayer in the morning and evenings and Mass (all of the counselors happen to be Catholic, though being Catholic is not requisite to being a counselor).  Often times, we find ourselves engaged in dialog that  is intense - concerning war, faith, peace, or any of the other profound questions of life.  It is not unusual to walk down the hall where we live and find at least two people in one such conversation, whether it be Midnight or 6 a.m.  We also do fun activities together, like swimming in the Sister's pool (like everywhere else in the U.S., it's been really hot here) or learning how to climb poles and jump off of them (a high ropes course north of Pittsburgh).  Near the end of last week, we went to the home of two of the counselors, south of Pittsburgh.  The counselors are a brother and sister who attend Notre Dame - their parents graciously opened their home to us on one of our afternoons off.  There was something very special about being welcomed into the home of two members of our newly formed community.  My home is my safe place, I have to really like and trust someone before I would invite them there. 

Last weekend, we also attended a day of the National Pax Christi Convention hosted by Duquesne University.

During the camp we lead children through a variety of activities that will hopefully help them understand the themes of the five days and practice them in their everyday lives.  The themes: how to respect themselves & others, communicate better, forgive & act courageously, play creatively (violence is neither funny nor glorious & the point of playing is not always winning, but having fun with one another) and to respect nature.

I have enjoyed being here.  The community of counselors and staff I spend my days with are all wonderful and inspiring people.  The kids are challenging at times, but spending time with them has been a blessing.  It has also been an enriching opportunity to eat our meals with the elder sisters of this community and to hear their stories and words of encouragement.

Maybe next year there will be a few more students from UDM at Peace Camp 2007 in Baden, PA!

Sunday July 23, 2006

Seeing the World Through New Eyes

Have you ever looked at something you have seen hundreds of times before, only to notice something new that never seemed to be there before?  Well, that is what happened to me a couple of weeks ago as I started an eight day retreat on UDM's campus.  Hundreds of times in my three years at UDM, I made the trek from the parking lot at Calihan to Briggs (Liberal Arts College) for class.  I had stared at the clock tower to check the time.  The first night on retreat, I was walking along with the Jesuit who was my director.  He was rambling on about how tall he thought the clock face was when I looked up and noticed something very distinctive near the top of the tower (no it wasn't the falcons that live there).  I would like other people to make this discovery, so I'll just give you a hint that what I saw is only on the North and East sides of the tower.  Look at them and see what you can find.

UDM has been more of a home to me than anywhere else over the past three years, but in the eight days I spent there on retreat, I noticed many things I had never noticed before.  That's one of the great things about taking time for a  retreat, it gives us time to just breathe.

If we take time to stop and breathe deeply, what can we see in the world around us?

The day I finished my retreat last week, I took some time to meet good friends and to go to the ball park to watch the Tigers take on the White Sox.  My retreat helped me to be more aware of the importance of good friends in my life right now and how much I will miss Detroit and UDM when I go to El Salvador. 

Detroit has a certain beauty amidst brokenness.  Grief mingled with joy as I walked down the street to meet my friends before the game.  I felt sadness at the thought of leaving a place I love so much and my eyes lingered on a man sleeping in a doorway not too far from the Lafeyette Coney Island.  Sadness & grief.  Then I made it up to the Detroit Beer Co. on Broadway.  It's our usual meeting spot before games.  Soon I was surrounded by friends who all wanted to spend time together, having a bit of fun, before we parted our separate ways.  It may be a long time before I see some of those friends again - not only will I leave Detroit, so will they.  But that night, nothing mattered more than the companionship of each other.  There was laughter.  I thought of the exciting possibilities and the people I will meet in El Salvador.  Joy.

Just a walk down the street in the fine city of Detroit.  Beauty amidst brokenness.

What will I see in El Salvador?  I hope I can take time there to breathe deeply.

Saturday July 01, 2006

Preparations for the next great adventure

Why next great adventure?  Well, if you know me you'll understand.  If you don't know me, consider this your chance to learn a few things about me, our great school; UDM, and El Salvador. 

I've almost finished with work - a few things to tidy up after the 4th of July Weekend, then I'll be done with my three year stint.  I've had this particular job for three years and it was meant to help me get through school.  I planned to graduate this past May.  I could have made that graduation date, after three years of study at UDM, but I've chosen to delay graduation so that I can participate in a study abroad program in El Salvador. 

The program I've chosen allows me to study through the Consortium of Jesuit schools.  I will be taking courses at a Jesuit university in El Salvador (Universidad Centroamericana or UCA) that will apply to my degree program at UDM.  The program - the Casa de la Solidaridad - is sponsored by a third Jesuit school, Santa Clara University.  This is just one of the great things about being a UDM student, we are connected to a whole network of colleges and universities through our sponsors - the Jesuits and the Sisters of Mercy.  If we didn't have this connection, I wouldn't have had such an awesome opportunity to study in El Salvador and take part in the Casa program.

Once in El Salvador, I will live in a house with a community of students and staff members.  We are staying in the capital of the country, San Salvador.  There are approximately 24 American and 30 Salvadoran students who share accommodations in three houses.  There are certain aspects of living in a community that I will have to explain later, when I am actually in El Salvador and know a bit more about what we will be doing.  Needless to say, it won't be like living in a dorm where I could ignore people on my floor that I don't particularly care for.  I'll be living in close quarters and sharing my study, work, and spiritual life with this community.  I'm a little nervous, but looking forward to sharing and learning from others.

So, I mentioned work and study.  I'll have four classes at the UCA - two in Spanish and two in English.  I'll also be working two full days a week, but I'm not sure where or what I will be doing.

I expect my semester abroad to be intense.  I will be stretched to my limits at times - at least what I know to be my limits.  For now, I intend to enjoy what is left of my summer, before I leave on August 16.  Detroit is a great place to be in the summer.  I've already seen a few Tigers' games and there may be a few more ahead.  Then there are so many festivals Downtown...  What better way to enjoy my time left than to spend it with family and friends in the city I love!

Hopefully, I can spend some time resting and enjoying the simple pleasures of my life.  In this time, may I also come to a greater awareness of the things we have as Americans that most others in the world do not.  What do we really need?