15 April 2009

"¿Cristi que es eso?" pokeinthenose...



so i got my nose pierced on monday. it was really exciting, i took the bus with three of my friends (Elizabeth and Kelly whom I live with nd Carmela who is at Calle Real with me) to metro centro, a huge mall, and... i´m so excited about it. and it didn´t hurt, like a prick and then nothing and then since a little sore. and i have never had so many compliments about how good my nose looks!

i suppose maybe there is a why question here... why? some is just whimsical, some i i want el salvador to have left a physical mark on me, something i can see and touch and remember the people here (those i live with and the salvadorans). i´ll come back and everything will be the same and everything will be different and i´ll need something to hold on to. oh man...i have three weeks of classes left, 6 times in calle real with my kids, one week after and then... how did it go so fast... but to be slightly less serious, all this thought is a putting into words of something that was kind of there but the main reason: i just wanted to :D

i wondered what my class would say to me if they would notice. and yes they did. a couple of them smiled and touched their own nose and then Roxana, who´s 14 and...how to describe Roxana, outspoken maybe? bossy? blunt? and completely wonderful tells me. "Cristi (i spell my name this way cause that´s how the say it...) Cristi, no nos pidió permesion de hacer eso..." (you didn´t ask us permission to do that!)... no i didn´t. so i opened my eyes wide and said no, you´re right. raise your hand if i have permission to have this... and they all raised their hands including Roxana, who immediately then siad so no you don´t have my permission. so i put my fingers around and said oh man well i guess i have to take it out then...my thumb in my nose. and she laughs and yells "mentira mentira me gusta!" (lie! lie! i like it) and we laughed. it´s nice coming back... it was two weeks today since i had been in calle real since i was in the countryside for semana santa (holy week) and today felt like the best day of my life... to come back and just tease and play and be with my kids. they, after this suggested i get my eyebrow pierced or my lip (both top and bottom were mentioned) and the cartilage in my ear...lol!

class just went so well this morning. we are doing emtotions so we cry "i am sad" laugh "i am happy" yell "i am angry" ... and for "I am scared," i say it and they all just scream. then we drew times we had felt happy and sad and scared and angry and then class was over...and i went down stairs and read stories with the 3 and 4 year olds. i turn into a sifa and this time and as many kids as possible, alberto his brother behil, susan (roxana y bea´s little sister) hasel pamela jefferson... sit on out as close to on my as possible...and then at least three of them during the story, behil and alberto and i forget who elso, poked me hard in the nose and said what is this, not sure if this change in me was ok. i told thm and we talked a little and they said it was ok ... but man that hurt mynose!

and then i went and hung out in william and marina and ahsley´s house and jsut chatted and was so happy to be back i almost cried.

more coming tomorrow about campo and holy week :) probably tomorrow!
love

02 April 2009

my prayer

This song has been on my mind since yesterday...i sang it out loud as i was walking to the UCA this morning :)

Take Me
-Hawk Nelson

Can you hear me? Does anyone around me
Feel the way that I feel now?
Cause from the window where I sometimes cry
I just want to see Your face tonight
And I'm willing to lose everything I am

Cause I need you more than ever
I need Your help to find where I've been going wrong so far

Take me under Your wing tonight
Make me so perfect in Your eyes
Hold on cause it will be alright
You're not alone.

When You're near me, I feel like I just found me
In the traces of the boy from yesterday
But in a world that is so black and white
I will take the steps to change my life
And I won't be coming back to here again

I need Your loving hand to guide me
Through the maze of all the things inside me
Then I'll know that I'm alright

Cause I need You more than ever
I need Your help to find where I've been going wrong so far

Take me under Your wing tonight
Make me so perfect in Your eyes
Hold on cause it will be alright
You're not alone
Please help me get from worse to better
Before these tears soak through this lonely sweater
And let me know that I'm alright
I still have one strike of this match left
And I'm holding on to my last breath
And its getting a little dark around to see here

Take me under Your wing tonight
Make me so perfect in your eyes
Hold on cause it will be alright
You're not alone

Take me under Your wing tonight
Make me so perfect in your eyes
Hold on it will be alright
You're not alone

And You'll be here forever, forever You'll stay
And You promised to love me, You'll love me always
You'll love me for always, You'll love me for always
Always

01 April 2009

"let the children come to me"

i don´t know what to say today...or rather i don´t have the words. a million things are swirling through my head, they´ve been overtaking me all day, every once in a while overwhelming me so that I have to escape, get away from the people the noise the conversations...none of which i can be present to today and so being in the presence of all of these upsets me.

to love like a child. i was the recipient of this wonderful love today. i spent the hour after class before lunch first at william´s house. he has a little sister named ashley in the chicatito´s class in the morning and i gave her a hug and she just held on to me, so I carried her home, sat on the couch with her on my lap for a little while and talked with her mom and grandma. in the chicatito´s class as soon as i came down i was met with smiled and engulfed in so many little arms i couldn´t move.

we did emotions in my morning class today. we al cried "i am sad" we laughed "i am happy," growled and yelled "i am mad" yawned "i am tired" screamed "i am scared." i think it was as carthartic for me as it was for them. will do it again when i go bacl after easter. and my girls were mad at me (an they told me, let me tell you!) that i only gave one star on monday. so they all told me they were mad... in english! i am so glad for them to yell at me... how good, how healthy to be able to YELL it ... and then smile and say "la quiero cristi" ten minutes later.

so after class i went home with ahsley and then her people had things to do and i left and i went to blanca´s and karina´s home but they weren´t there but the little two year old twins were and yancy and milton (i think 5 and 9 respectively?) were there, as were there mom and i think grandma? the twins started playing tag with me, but i tag where it never counted when i got them so i was always it. milton went back behind their house and gave me a bag of mangos which then we all ate. yancey just kept calling my name and then asked me to read her a book right before i had to leave. and everyone just went on with their life and i just got to sit there with them, eating mangos, laughing with the twins, searching for mangos with milton, telling yancy how bonita y linda she looked in her uniform. a quiet love, not a monton of hugs, but just this ability to be.

and then i went to lunch. my afternoon class the past two times have adopted the tradition of coming an hour early to class "to help prepare" what this really means is the color and play while i get ready for class. the rule though is if they come in the house early they have to be quiet cause that´s peter carmela´s and mine hour to descansar (rest) and prepare. only wiliam came early today and i have never been happier to see that kid..i told him he was the light of my day, and it was true. and it made him smile. his sister marina knows how to say monkey in english and has adopted monkey as her personal animal and so today in class she was jumping and latching on to me, karla, anyoone big enough and in the same place long enough really.

these kids love me in a way that i have been loved before, but i feel like i have words to describe it today. there´s a freedom in, a wastefulness that has nothing to do with me and everything to with me. they love me because they do, they don´t need a reason, but it is intensely personal, exclusive love, different than any other that is the way it is because they are who they are and i am who i am and we love each other and walk together.

my house loves me this way too and i´ve seen it these past few days and apreciated it, the realness the genuineness and sincerity newly. what a gift to be loved, what a gift to be aware of this love.

and my room mates at home, at georgetown. emily and sarah, them too, with honesty and fierceness and this fierce love has all of a sudden connected el salvador to georgetown. i am home and i am loved and i love in both. these words don´t even begin to capture the bigness of this because a lot of the time gu and el salvador feel like they must be in different worlds, and in many ways they are... but at the same time they are right on top of each other. everything is the same and everything is different...and how can both be at once? but they are.

and so the me who is all different and all the same, who hurts and cries and screams and smiles and laughs and hopes and despairs. who gets angry, who callenges and asks questions and takes risks, whose heart has been cut... the intensity and the realness of these which have come to light in el salvador, all of these are true at georgetown (that other reality :) and even being here in el salvador world, i have felt all of these for georgetown. for georgetown, for el salvador, for colorado (really for the people i love, no matter where)my hearts is cut open and in the hurt and confusion hope and love are there, welling up. and it´s funny because i expect that here, here, here...but how good is God that pain and joy are not the sole property of el salvador.


and hope and joy, in none of these realities, make the pain and hurt go away nor justify them just as the resurrection does not make the cruifixion go away not justify it (well the pain and hurt and crucifixion are ok, maybe even good, because the hope the joy the resurrection are there). the hard is transformed but not denied nor watered down by the good. otherwise we live "in the best of all possible words" as whatshisface says..candace? candid? but pain and joy are hand in hand and so we have hope. so we learn to have faith. we learn to laugh and cry and hurt and bubble over with joy.

and the love of children, to love as children, helps the movement between it all.

31 March 2009

pictures!











The Beach




El grupo de jovenes: Youth group for peace and solidarity at Calle Real









March/Vigil for Monsenor Romero









Team Real Street!









The street outside of my house

crucified

so this is my second post today, bu tnot really cause the other one i really wrote about 4 days ago but couldn't post it until today. so hold on and get ready for the real one :)

so maybe because it's lent, rather especially because it's lent, I've been thinking of Christ: life, death, resurrection. i had my interview for exec with iv last wednesday and one of the questions was to talk about Christ (the uniqueness of Christ, but I started just by talking about him)... and for the first time this knowledge of God's gift: his love his word his son incarnate and with us, it is more than something i just know in my head. i am inspired by christ's life of radical love: love that went against norms traditions rules. love of the unlovable. love that because of evil in the world was killed, murdered. we never say that. that Christ was murdered, it's a bloody violent word that implicates us more than "killed." But he was murdered. and that great love of Christ broke the boundaries even of death.

i applied to be a retreat leader for the agape retreat and one of the questions was about something that has struck, something that is going on in my faith right now. i reflected on this exact thing: christ's life murder resurrection. i just wanted to share it with you all :)

Currently I am studying abroad in El Salvador at La Casa de la Solidaridad. The heart of this program is accompanying salvadorans, those who do not belong to the rich “14 families” upper class. Being here, walking with these people who do not have in a country where those who do not have are the majority, in a country whose people are still feeling the aftermath of a vicious 12 year civil war, my faith has been challenged, stretched, grown. Through these people, these communities I have been welcomed into with open arms, I know and I feel and I understand the death and resurrection of Christ in a new way, a more real and tangible way.
Life. Death. Resurrection. When I first got here, it was the death and resurrection that were the easiest to see. The hope of the martyrs, Romero alive in the people, the faith and the hope that shines from these people who have suffered (who have died in so many ways). But I think too how important Christ’s life before his death was. His call to love, his “Let the children come to me,” his affirming the dignity of the poor lepers woman – the outcasts. In constant contact with the death and resurrection of Christ in the people here, I am constantly called back to the life of Christ.
Twice a week I go to Calle Real, a community of 43 families all of whom relocated to Calle Real during the Civil War. I teach English, I play and I laugh and I joke with the kids. And I be. My presence there is much more about being present there, about coming back week after week, about listening than about anything that I do, that I bring such as the English class. I have seen and lived the life, death and resurrection of Christ with these people. Some stories: One of the kids in my afternoon class is named William. William is 6 years old with a smile as big the sun, and as toothy as anything: his little baby teeth are tiny, so tiny that there are gaps of gum between them. And his eyes sparkle. William is a ball of energy. The 10 or so kids in my class will be sitting, drawing or reading and William will jump up, do several wind-sprints back and forth across the room and then sit down next to me again. A few weeks ago we talked about the treasures in our lives; William said our English class was one of his treasures. We connected right away, this little six year old and I. And so last week I was very excited when we were going to go to his house for lunch. We got there while William and his sister Marina were still at school, and the woman who had cooked lunch introduced herself as Trieza and apologized for the smallness of her house and of her table. She was nervous as we set the chairs around the table and put the plates and food out. One of my class mates also at Calle Real with me asked if she was William’s mother? Aunt? No. No. And tears: Trieza started to cry. From the other end of the table I got up and held her and she told us how William’s dad was in the US, how his mom went to the market one day and never came back. “I am his mother now,” she said several times.
Maybe this story is very obviously connected to Christ, to his life death and resurrection. Maybe it is a stretch. For me the connection is so real and so elusive that it is hard to put into words why, upon writing about Christ, this story of William and his mother instantly came to mind. Maybe it is because, as Christ did in his life, Trieza has reached out to William and loved him, who would have been an outcast and an orphan, so big. Maybe it is the suffering and grief she feels for the loss of William’s mom, a loss I imagine she feels for herself and for William, and in this suffering and grief I can see and feel how Mary and the disciples must have felt at the death (the disappearance) of Christ. Maybe it is in the faith and the love Trieza shows in adopting William as her own, the faith and trust she shows in sharing her grief and life with me, maybe it is the fact that she still smiles, that she had us over for lunch, she who is already giving so much, giving more or maybe all of these things that fit themselves together like puzzle pieces to show me Christ’s resurrection. Maybe, too, it is the hugs and the smiles and the trust and the friendship I have with William, and the hugs smiles and trust shared between his mother and me that have been an invitation to me, that I, too, am a part of this story of life death and resurrection.
I am a part of this story and so contemplating now Christ’s crucifixion makes me cry. I feel it in my heart, just the horror of it. And I see Christ’s face, the pain, and I see William; I think of the martyrs here; I think of El Mozote, the site of the largest massacre during the war; I see myself; all of us on the cross. At the same time, I know that the US, my country, was financing the government, the murders of Romero, the martyrs, the people of El Mozote, the oppressors of William’s family. And I am guilty. I am on the cross and I am crucifying Christ and William and Romero and myself at the same time. Somehow, through the grace of God, the love of Christ, the faith of his people here in El Salvador, I am welcomed with open hearts. I am forgiven before I knew to ask pardon and loved before “I am sorry” has ever left my lips. In coming here, and walking with the “outcasts” of Calle Real, as Christ did in his life, I am being resurrected when I didn’t even know I was dead.
This story is what I would share in AGAPE…and I don’t know the end yet as it is still being written. The story of Christ of his life and death and resurrection and that his story continues: that it is being lived here in El Salvador, that being here, I have been picked up and rung as a bell with the realization that I too am part of this. That it is real. This realization of how real it is scary and life-giving. And it comes with a challenge: if I am a part of this story, if I know the outcasts whom Christ loves, if I am one of them, if my faith is that real, how must I live? Everything is the same but everything is different. I am learning to be me, the me God created me to be, the one who is devastated by Christ’s death, his death on the cross and his death today in the little ones. I am being resurrected and now all are questions. All are questions, questions I would rather have than any answer, because as I question and as we live I can see the live flame of Christ and of faith that I want so bad to be ignited in me. Christ is dead. Christ is risen. Christ is come again.

25 March 2009

Love and Memories

My mom and sister are here, visiting me. Take about reframing, recapturing perspective! All of a sudden I am talking, striking up conversations, making friends with people I haven't met before and I am understanding more than I ever thought I would...and I am being understood. I can speak Spanish! Who'd've guessed!

Especially with my family here (I said my family is here meeting my other family when we were in Calle Real) I am realizing and seeing just how at home I am here. How much I love the people here, how much i am loved.

I am just going to put here an excerpt from one of my reflections for my praxis class...memories :)


Roxana was angry at me this morning. The star chart must have been blown off the wall and so we had to create a new one, and I had to ask who had how many stars. Blanca and Karina both had 8 and I knew that, but for the others…When Roxana saw others had 8 and she had 5 redrawn, she refused to participate because I didn’t give her any stars. In her eyes, being treated unfairly by someone she trusted. What to do with that?
Blanca, who is about ten, is another of the girls in my morning class. The first word that comes to mind with her is lista: smart, clever, dying to learn, always ready to show what she knows, to dive headlong into the day’s lesson or activity. Log straight black hair, a small mouth, and very big eyes. Often she stays after to help me clean up. Often she is the only who has done her homework. But there is much more to her, this ten year old, than a thirst to learn, she has an energy, a desire to be recognized, a sweetness, and a little bit of a bratty know-it-all-ness which is all the more endearing. She has taken to repeating my instructions to the class in a way that is somewhat mocking and somewhat bossy.
All of them, Roxana, Bea, Blanca, Karina were making fun of Vanesa this morning, another ten year old, as she was an ARENA supporter while the other four are Mauricio aficionados. Normally quiet, normally very unsure of herself (constantly telling me “no puedo”…”no puedo escribirla” or “No puedo jugar esto”), today she retreated even more inside of herself. As class went on, I could see her shutting down more and more and more, withdrawing. At the end of class, we all talked about the need to respect each other, especially those who support a different political party. This was not received well. We talked a little more, class ended. Before Vanesa left, I asked her if I could visit her house later. She brightened up instantly, began to smile, and just relaxed.
Jorge is the youngest in my afternoon class. Usually he is kind of with us, kind of doing is own thing (whether it be coloring or running around or just day dreaming). Whenever I call him back to us, he looks at me, gives me this angelic, toothy smile, participates for five minutes and then is gone again. Today, he came up behind me, monkey-grabbed on to my legs with his arms and legs and then started giggling when I started to walk with him. I stopped and he peered around my legs, smiling, still laughing. Marina is also in my afternoon class and she, there is no other way to put it, is simply impish, sprite-like, always wanting to play, always pushing the line, but with a smile much like Jorge’s.

19 March 2009

My country? whose country.

"i´m glad to be an american where at least i know i´m free..."

in elementary school i was in choir. we met before school and practiced and learned all kinds of songs. one of them was a medley of militay songs, including this line here. that was sixth grade. that summer, my family and i went to germany, and we were walking in berlin and i started singing...singing just to be singing and i was sang that medley. after about 5 minutes my dad told it was probably better if i picked a different song. i was so embarassed.

i am so embarrassed.

in 1932 there was a rebellion here. Farabuni Marti, a self proclaimed communist, led the campesinos in an uprising in Izalco, in the department Santa Ana. The government killed them all in what is now called La Matanza, The Massacre. The political structures and social conditions present and the basis for for that uprising stayed the same...and maybe even got worse. Now, .7% of the population own 40% of the land, including the 16% of the land that is the most arable. It is these same people who have most of the wealth and the opportunity for education. And this is today after some small steps in agrarian reform.

how did this happen? well in the mid 1900s the main cash crop of el salvador was indigo, and the marked was good until all of a sudden it wasn´t when it was discovered how to make indido colored dye chemically. so the landowners (usually referred to as the 14 families...which is to imply that one family for each department has all the resources) started growing coffee. Now coffee fincas need to be located on mountain- or volcano-sides, so they relocated all of the natives and campesinos to the flat land nd hired them 3 months out of the year to help harvest the coffee. then about a decade or so later cotton and sugar were introduced as other cash crops, these which can only be grown in the flat land. so again, they took the land from the natives and campesinos.

for history, i´m reading a book by don lito, who lived in one of these communities. he says before the 70s whole towns would be desserted s people (families) left there homes in search of a finca to work on, often coming back leaner and worse looking than before, but going every year because otherwise they really would have nothing, no food. nothing. the money they made had to last them the rest of the year. currently the pay is a few dollars for 10 pounds of coffee beans. he said they lived like dogs, poor dogs.

in the 70s, there was a consciencization, largely through the church, which began to teach people how to think how to organize starting in the church but it was very applicable to the politicl situation. Jesus came for the poor. the poor are ready.

People began to die. slowly, and with no visible pattern nor connection to political idealogy. but soon it increased and the pattern became more evident

Romero became rchbishop, Father Rutilio Grande was murdered. people were scared. if they killed a priest, would the kill me too? the guerrrillas began to organize. Romero began to speak

speak speak out, a voice for the voice, harshly criticizing the governments death squad, but also any killings that happened on the left.

communists the called the guerrillas. communists. the red scare, the cold war. it was here.

and the US was scared...the soviets, in OUR backyard? NEVER.

and people are dying

and the US is throwing money at the government, which is really the gang of the wealthy and the military. get rid of the reds. we don´t want another nicaragua. anything but that. anything.

and the guerrillas received weapons from cuba.

for a year: 1980.

but with that every one´s fears were confirmed

never mind that they asked the international community for support.

never mind that they were ignored by everyone but the eastern block.

they were communist. isn´t the communist party one of the groups in the left FMLN
(nevr mind they were the smallest, the last to condone violence...)

it´s a plot. the ussr is coming.

it´s coming.

and so the death squads were killing...the army was killing...army units trained by the us. with guns given by the us. in helicoptors provided by the us.

and the guerrillas? with no outside support after 1980, captured us weapons for dead soldiers, were sold us weapons by corrupt soldiers, kidnapped the wealthy for ransom.

and monsenor romero was shot saying mass. and the people cried. and 4 us church women were tortured raped murdred buried.

and the US? said shape up on human rights el salvador...while continuing to give 2 million dollrs a day.

we will give you 2 million dollars a day to kill priests, church women, and campesinos in the name of eliminating (purging!) your country of the communists.

the communists who in one profile were women wearing jeans and sneakers...a next a pile of bodies with breasts, jeans and sneakers was found.

2 million dollars a day... plus our best military advisors, just over the border in cuba as it was illegal to have more than 50 at a time in elsalvador.

2 million dollars a day for el mozote. a hamlet in morazan, a department on the border of honduras. go to el mozote all the peasants in the region were told. there you will be safe. and the believed them and flocked to el mozote. and the army was in morazon, hamlet by hamlet, killing by lists until they ran out of lists and just started killing. everyone in el mozote. men women children. over 1000. throwing kids in the air and having them land on knives to meet there death. mothers locked in abother building on the other side of the hamlet hearing the screams of their children.

2 million dollars a day...at all costs (but shape up on your human rights el slavador!) ... anything to defeat the reds.

12 years. the civil war last 12 years from 1980 - 1992. it would have ended much earlier, been less harsh, certainly suffered less deaths but for us. but for US.

and the cold war ended. and ARENA was founded...around DAbuison...the man in charge of the death squads. and the won the election in 79 (one of those o so free elections we could point to and say see...there are elections and so there´s democracy. see the progress in el salvador!)

and people died.

and in 1992 the peace accords were signed because we were tired of 2 million dollars a day and pretended we were never that scared all along and so the war could end.

and ARENA hs won every election since then, up until 2005 when a representative from colorado said all salvadorans in the us would be deported if ARENA did not win. and a half a million people did vote in 2005 that did vote in 2009, when threats such as that were not allowed to stand.

and still there is hope in El Salvador. Great pain and great hope and open arms.

and open arms and open heart to me, the guilty, the ashamed. but i am loved and so i have hope.

and the FMLN, Funes, is president. ¡Viva!

here, in this country, there is pain and hope...forever hope and faith.

but my country?