working definitions

solidarity:

sol·i·dar·i·ty Listen to the pronunciation of solidarity
Pronunciation:
\ˌsä-lə-ˈda-rə-tē\
Function:
noun
Etymology:
French solidarité, from solidaire characterized by solidarity, from Latin solidum whole sum, from neuter of solidus solid
Date:
1841

: unity (as of a group or class) that produces or is based on community of interests, objectives, and standards

solidarity:

(s{rfa}l{shti}{sm}dær{shti}t{shti}) [ad. F. solidarité, f. solidaire solid: see SOLIDARY a.]

1. a. The fact or quality, on the part of communities, etc., of being perfectly united or at one in some respect, esp. in interests, sympathies, or aspirations; spec. with reference to the aspirations or actions of trade-union members. Also attrib. and Comb.
The French origin of the word is freq. referred to during the period of its introduction into English use. Latterly also the English rendering of Polish Solidarno{sacu}{cacu}, the name of an independent trade-union movement in Poland, registered in September 1980 and officially banned in October 1982.

b. Const. of (mankind, a race, etc.).

c. Const. between or with (others). Also transf.

2. Community or perfect coincidence of (or between) interests.

3. Civil Law. A form of obligation involving joint and several responsibilities or rights.

i'm of the opinion that both miriam-webster and the oxford english dictionary missed the mark. if solidarity were based on perfect coincidence or on common interests then it wouldn't be a very shallow term.

if webster had said
"unity (as of a group or class) that produces community of interests, objectives, and standards" and left out the "or is based on..." i would be more inclined to agree.

my working definition:

solidarity

meaning derived from experience with the spanish "solidaridad" while living working being in El Salvador

the knowledge that we are all in this together. this understanding crosses socio-economic, culutral, religious, and political differences. it is the recognition that each person is a created being with dignity, worth respect, just as we ourselves are. it is namaste.

it is the understanding that not only are we all in this (life living hardship joy struggle discovery) together, but that we couldn't do it alone. that we need each other, that we must be in it together.

this knowledge, understanding, recognition binds us together and in so doing frees us.

so for me solidarity is one of the strongest forces for the creation of peace.

but a spark, something, is needed to ignite us into the deep understanding that we are all in this together. this happens, where solidarity becomes something real and meaningful, leaps into flame not when we are surrounded by those who hold much in common with us but rather when we are with those who different from us and amidst between and maybe even because of everything that is opposite, the human-ness we all hold in common , those things that we share, are right there. and there is no way to doubt that we need one another.

Harbor by Vienna Teng

We first heard this one of the evenings with Father Mark on our Silent Retreat at the very end of our time in El Salvador.

this song all at once brings me back to peace and sometimes want to cry.

so many visuals, the beautiful landscape of the finca we were staying on. my fellow casa students. sitting in that candle lit room. looking at pictures projected from the kids book "the red tree"

i miss you guys. beyond words.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tKDXe0FP2wc

i have an idea: can we all have a dance party? in our locations (so you know some of us may be alone...but not really). we could put together a play list, starting and ending (of course!) with casa abierta? i dunno what do you think?

the dirty secret

remember forever ago when i wrote about the civil war in El Salvador and US invovlement ?

in 1932 farabundi marti led a peasant uprising against the oppressive government. this uprising was concentrated in the western departments, and primarily in the town of izalco. this uprising resulted in what is known as "La Matanza" ("The Massacre"). Decades later, during the uprisings and civil war of the late 70's and throughout the 80's, it is in this same area, the area who already knew what the government would do, that tried to keep a low profile, to stay in check. throughout the war, funded and trained by the us, the government perpetrated massacres and zone purgings throughout the tiny country. this was their main tactic against the guerrillas because it was what worked. and to dispel any illusions, us policy makers in support of funding the government were aware (of course they were) of the salvadoran's government's strategy. in fact the most cut through death squad of them all, called the Atlacatl Battalion was specially trained in the us.

because the dirty secrete is: the death squads work.

working at peace camp with elementary school students the past week, i keep thinking about this, this dirty secret. i work in one of the "specials" of camp -- the peace room. we try to teach peace and to model it. but how do you model peace when the kids are yelling, maybe pushing, not following instructions, and in general just being rowdy crazy kids -- partly because they are and partly because they want attention.

the dirty secret: they respond to yelling, to being shouted at and put down. they're used to it.

and here's what i concluded: violence (be it death squads or yelling or put downs) work to control. to keep people in line and obedient. but as far as inspiring development (for a country or a child) violence inspires the opposite effect. there is no learning curve or teaching that happens in violence, but rather a diminishment of spirit just exactly where it needs to be built up.

and something crazy too! not always, but sometimes, asking nicely works better! there was one day when the kids were being yelled at : quiet down! sit back! and they listened or ignored as they decided. but, the kids around me, if i would lean over tap them on the shoulder and say "could you sit down please sir?" he would. or just in general, the "if you can hear me clap once, if you can hear me clap twice, ok all eyes and ears on me!" works exceedingly well.

such discoveries. and they are little but somehow the seem soo big. and i'm not gonna lie i'm keeping notes in my head, and trying to figure out how to say " if you can hear me clap once" (si puedan oirme, aplaudan una vez ?) and what the spanish equivalent of "all eyes and ears on me!" would be.

i'm loving my kids at camp. and it feels really special when one of them whom i had been close to last fall comes and finds me again, remembering me now. and at the same time i can't wait to go back to el salvador. and it won't be with the same kids i was with. i'll be 2 hours away from there but. i'm counting.




and are you laughing yet God? 'cause i've got PLANS!! :D lol

1 week later.

sunday i returned from the beach with my aunt and cousin and the next day, it all started.

i was reminded of a little me in elementary school spending the weeks leading up to a new school year in tears -- terrified of the beginning of the school year. despite the fact that 1/2 of my class was always the same and i had each teacher for 2 years -- so basically i generally knew what i was getting into and once school started i enjoyed it. i liked learning. i liked my friends. but for those two weeks before... i went to be crying every night.

that's rather how sunday was. what was i getting myself into? such a busy schedule.

part of it was feeling overwhelmed with the pure amount of time i had signed myself up for (camp: about 15 hrs/wk, class: 14 hrs/week, psych lab: 10 hrs/wk, jes res: 6 hrs/wk). but more than that was thinking about camp. about the kids i would be working with. and even more the kids i wouldn't be working with.

blanca. my sweet, eager to learn, know it all
william and his sister Gabi. my impish trouble makers who i feel like are my younger siblings, or maybe cousins. my family at any rate.
roxana and bea and susana.
karina. quiet, unsure, stubborn
jeni. a happy smiler who loves hugs.
jorge. one of the little ones, quiet, angelic smile, who can't follow directions to save his life.
alber. chaos on wheels with a mischievous grin to match. and quite the little host.
ahsley. 3 yrs old. shy and sweet.
lesli. bossy and timid all at once

that's not even all of them. but they're the ones i wanted. and i felt like these other kids, these american kids, who likewise need love and attention and care, but these american kids who aren't "mine" who i don't have the history with. or not the same history at any rate. could i like them? could i let them into my heart? my heart which lately seems most at home and present in memories. being present to now takes a lot more work.

and not to terribly over romanticize el salvador: while i was there it was hard. and the kids were crazy and all over the place. and often i wanted to pull out all of my hair. i wondered what i was doing wrong and how a could do it better. but that it was hard, that those kids and i made that journey together. that they taught me about themselves. that they taught me what they needed. that they showed me me in a new light. that is was hard and we did it together, that makes me miss them all the more.

and i still haven't sent them any post cards or pictures. i still haven't called william and gabi back. i still think about them every day but struggle to do any thing else. and the best i can think is that it would be really admitting that i am not there. but i know that. i know that. so... ?

the kids at camp. well i do have a relationship with them as well. i was there every week fall semester with many of the same kids. and many of the remembered me. and one of the little girls at breakfast one day last week would run over to me and ask for a big hug. run away. and come back for another one a few minutes later. one of the big-trouble-makers, a young boy, remember me. a little girl that would often sit on my lap came to me find me one of the afternoons even though she was in a different group and asked if i could come with her to see my picture. isn't it crazy, it is often these little things, these little gesture, offered by young kids that make me most understand love, that make me feel most loved. because it is so mutual. we need each other. these kids, these american kids, and me. it's different though, as any relationship is different from any other. one of the ways this is most different is i will have a different group of kids every week.

besides camp i have a developmental psych class and a drawing class. i love them both. it's actually been such a good thing to have classes after camp. something to do with myself in the afternoons instead of lazing around, alone, in my room. and engaging -- the psych class is fascinating and the art class is focusing and grounding. at the jesuit residence on campus now and it feels really like time off.

usually fridays i will be in the psych lab but instead this friday i helped out with an extra day or camp. meaning i'm behind on my lab hours, but i can catch up in august so it should be ok.

so all in all, it's been quite the week. i'm really happy with how things have turned out. and feeling free from freaking out about the present, so i'm turning my attention to... what AM i agoing to do in the spring when i am all graduated ?

as sister helen says: Christy, you're a worry wart. and i don't say it to be mean. it's just the way it is.