The time has come. Time to pack our backpacks one last time, to make our way to one last airport, fill out one last immigration form, and close the chapter on this incredible journey.
To say it has changed me can hardly capture the essence of this experience. As I sit here, at one last internet cafe, I am flooded with memories from the past 3 1/2 months.
Bustling through the halls of Hospital Hipolito Unanue, bouncing between operating rooms. Comforting crying post-op babies. Listening to parents and families who saved up all year long to bring their kids to the hospital. Walking the winding streets of Cuzco. Accidentally crashing a funeral. The majestic Andes peaks. Making hostels home. Getting my bag stolen in Ecuador. Biking 26 miles through the Andes towards the Amazon. Being in an ecuadorian music video. Seeing Bridget and hanging out with the amazing Padròn family. Switchbacks. Sleeping in the airport (twice). The inspiring people we met in Guatemala. Weighing children in El Fortìn. Finding spirituality. Finding peace. Finding myself.
So what have I learned? I have learned that strength, humility, and hope are three virtues that can get you through most any tough times. I have learned that no matter where you are, if you have an open heart, you can make anywhere feel like home. I have learned that you can tell a lot about a country by how it treats it´s elderly, poor, women, children and marginalized. And I have learned never to underestimate the kindness of strangers.
I am so blessed to have been given this opportunity; a truely life changing experience. Now all that is left is to hop on that plane, hug my family, and start putting to practice all that gifts that this trip has bestowed upon me.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
And the clock ticks down...
How time flies.
We are ending our time in Latin America where it began last time: in Costa Rica, the land of breathtaking natural beauty and ¨pura vida¨(literally ¨pure life¨- the sort of national catch-phrase). Whereas Nicaragua is abundant in beauty of a different sort, Costa Rica prides itself on its natural resources, a pioneer for ecotourism, and the country with the highest standard of living in central america (and one of the highest in the hemisphere). Amazing how two countries so close in proximity can seem worlds away.
I have always felt more drawn to Nicaragua as a country than Costa Rica for several reasons. In Nicaragua I felt as though I was part of a living history- the past (indigenous heritage, dictatorship, revolution, civil war, U.S. interventionism) is all still very alive and present. While Nicaragua is afflicted with arguably some of the worst problems in the hemisphere, it also has a unique ¨we can prevail¨ optimism, due in large part to the fact that it was largely the youth that succesfully took down a dictatorship in the 1980´s. The natural beauty and resilience of the Nicaraguan people is evident no matter where you go.
Costa Rica; with its picturesque beaches, lush rainforest, and countless animal species, has been called a mini ecosystem all its own. No wonder this is such a tourist destination: it´s beautiful! We went first to Manuel Antonio, a spectacularly beautiful beach town surrounded by rainforest, and got to visit my cousin Miquela and her baby Bella, who live there.
Then, we went to Bagaces, a small town where Cory and I studied abroad two years ago. While I may have felt more at home as a country in Nicaragua, I never felt as welcomed and part of a family than with my Costa Rican host family. We stayed with our host families again, and it was so great to return to that feeling of home, and to have it extended to Katie (who my family promptly adopted as another daughter).
Now we are in Samara, the last leg of the journey, the final stop on this life-changing trip. It is a quiet beautiful beach town, and its tranquility and peace are just the right thing to aid our anxieties about returning to home responsabilities (aka, finding a job in this economy). But we are trying to live in the present, soaking up as much of this experience as we possibly can.
While it sounds clichè, I cannot convey how life-altering this trip has been. I feel as though I have grown more in the past three months than I ever thought that I could, and am becoming a woman that I think my parents would be proud of.
This life is so beautiful, and it´s never too late to go out and grab it. Again, the quote from The Curious Case of Benjamin Button rings true:
¨For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again. ¨
Samara, Costa Rica
My street in Bagaces, Costa Rica
We are ending our time in Latin America where it began last time: in Costa Rica, the land of breathtaking natural beauty and ¨pura vida¨(literally ¨pure life¨- the sort of national catch-phrase). Whereas Nicaragua is abundant in beauty of a different sort, Costa Rica prides itself on its natural resources, a pioneer for ecotourism, and the country with the highest standard of living in central america (and one of the highest in the hemisphere). Amazing how two countries so close in proximity can seem worlds away.
I have always felt more drawn to Nicaragua as a country than Costa Rica for several reasons. In Nicaragua I felt as though I was part of a living history- the past (indigenous heritage, dictatorship, revolution, civil war, U.S. interventionism) is all still very alive and present. While Nicaragua is afflicted with arguably some of the worst problems in the hemisphere, it also has a unique ¨we can prevail¨ optimism, due in large part to the fact that it was largely the youth that succesfully took down a dictatorship in the 1980´s. The natural beauty and resilience of the Nicaraguan people is evident no matter where you go.
Costa Rica; with its picturesque beaches, lush rainforest, and countless animal species, has been called a mini ecosystem all its own. No wonder this is such a tourist destination: it´s beautiful! We went first to Manuel Antonio, a spectacularly beautiful beach town surrounded by rainforest, and got to visit my cousin Miquela and her baby Bella, who live there.
Then, we went to Bagaces, a small town where Cory and I studied abroad two years ago. While I may have felt more at home as a country in Nicaragua, I never felt as welcomed and part of a family than with my Costa Rican host family. We stayed with our host families again, and it was so great to return to that feeling of home, and to have it extended to Katie (who my family promptly adopted as another daughter).
Now we are in Samara, the last leg of the journey, the final stop on this life-changing trip. It is a quiet beautiful beach town, and its tranquility and peace are just the right thing to aid our anxieties about returning to home responsabilities (aka, finding a job in this economy). But we are trying to live in the present, soaking up as much of this experience as we possibly can.
While it sounds clichè, I cannot convey how life-altering this trip has been. I feel as though I have grown more in the past three months than I ever thought that I could, and am becoming a woman that I think my parents would be proud of.
This life is so beautiful, and it´s never too late to go out and grab it. Again, the quote from The Curious Case of Benjamin Button rings true:
¨For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again. ¨
Samara, Costa Rica
My street in Bagaces, Costa Rica
Sunday, April 12, 2009
The sun sets on Nicaragua
As the sun sets on our final day in Nicaragua, I cannot help to look back on the profound experiences of the past two weeks spent in El Fortín. As I said before, we were working in public health, taking height and weight measurements of the children. This was challenging on many levels (none the least of which being the unbearable heat), but incredibly rewarding as well. We walked down the cracked dusty earth roads and went to every house in both communities in El Fortín, took measurements of 10 year olds with stunted growth due to malnutrition and screaming 9 month old babies with potbellies weighing only 8 pounds. It was an eye-opener, much more so than if this work had been done in a clinic. Actually visiting these families where they live, we could see such a bigger picture- where this malnutrition comes from, how these children get parasites, and the bigger questions: how are these families surviving? And, on a governmental health level, why are these people (a mere 10 km outside of Granada) forgotten?
On our last day in El Fortìn, we went to the beach with many of the kids from the community. We had a blast swimming in the (uh, polluted) waters of Lake Nicaragua with Estefanì, Juancito, Betito and others. The kids were having a blast too, and at one point, I looked over at 6 year old Betito grinning ear to ear, swimming with his homemade floaties- two empty 2 liter soda bottles. Sitting in the gently rocking waves, sunlight dancing off the water, my face fell as I realized that this innocent happy boy would have to fight hard not to become one of the other faces of El Fortìn: the adolecent and teen boys eyes bloodshot from huffing glue and doing drugs. However unfair, the cards are stacked against him.
There is a quote by Marcel Proust that says that ¨The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.¨ This whole trip has given me new eyes when it comes to the issue of poverty. I see it whenever I look out my window to scores of shantytowns that, while the country borders or even continents may have changed, bear an unmistakable likeness of resilience and dispair. How many people have I seen living in one room, dirt floor tin shack communities built into the sides of hills outside of town, without electricity or running water? How many elderly women have I seen on the streets, abandoned by families, begging for a peso or a few of our french fries? How many young men have I passed with bloodshot eyes and a glazed over expression, clothes hanging off of their skeletal bodies? And in every single country, how many, many street children have I seen? From the Incan girls in Peru, wandering the streets of Cuzco, posing for pictures and selling their culture in order to survive. To the 10 year old Mayan girls in Guatemala, carrying their baby brothers on their backs and taking care of their other siblings all day while their parents work. To emaciated boys in Nicaragua running barefoot through the streets, peddling ceramics, gum, or simply asking for money.
For so many of these people, they were never given a chance to realize their full potential. They were born into a system, not merely political, but social, that ignores and marginalizes the vast majority of the populace, making it incredibly difficult, if not impossible, to escape their circumstance. You are born into the slums, you die in the slums. If these children could easily go to school, if the young men and women could get jobs that pay living wages, if people of all ages were educated about health (sexual health, water and food born pathogens, and preventable diseases, for example), and if their governments could invest in their people, perhaps these people would have a better shot. I firmly believe that there are certain things that all human beings deserve: access to clean water, food, shelter, healthcare, a decent education, and employment opportunities. I hope for a better future. But in the meantime, I will work towards it, because hope alone doesn´t feed empty stomachs, and optimism doesn´t cure disease.
For so many of these people, they were never given a chance to realize their full potential. They were born into a system, not merely political, but social, that ignores and marginalizes the vast majority of the populace, making it incredibly difficult, if not impossible, to escape their circumstance. You are born into the slums, you die in the slums. If these children could easily go to school, if the young men and women could get jobs that pay living wages, if people of all ages were educated about health (sexual health, water and food born pathogens, and preventable diseases, for example), and if their governments could invest in their people, perhaps these people would have a better shot. I firmly believe that there are certain things that all human beings deserve: access to clean water, food, shelter, healthcare, a decent education, and employment opportunities. I hope for a better future. But in the meantime, I will work towards it, because hope alone doesn´t feed empty stomachs, and optimism doesn´t cure disease.
Monday, April 6, 2009
A Prayer by Archbishop Oscar Romero
While working at the mission in Guatemala, I came across this prayer that was written by Archbishop Oscar Romero. For those of you who don´t know, Archbishop Romero was the Archbishop of El Salvador during the civil war who denounced the repression and genocide of the Salvadorian people. He was assasinated on March 24th 1980 while saying mass. This prayer speaks a lot to liberation theology and really spoke to me.
It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the Church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
Friday, April 3, 2009
El Fortín
In a country that is ranked second poorest in the Western Hemisphere, on a continent with the greatest gap between rich and poor in the world, lies the community of El Fortín. It is still amazing to think that this somewhat isolated country community lies a mere 10 minutes from the hustle and bustle of Granada.
The two couldn´t be more different. Step into Granada and you are stepping into the same conundrum that plagues most tourist spots-- the beautiful architecture, horsedrawn carriages, new restaurants and bars catering to foreign clientele, all of which try, but cannot mask, the extreme poverty that actually lives and breathes beneath the surface. Elderly women begging for scraps of your food. Teenage boys huffing glue in the park. Barefoot children in ragged clothes who should be in school wandering the streets without destination or purpose.
All the while, this country is one of my very favorites. Yes, there is poverty. Yes, there are dire circumstances. However, there is something very unique to Nicaragua. Something intangible, but can be felt in the warmth and love we have (and are) experiencing in El Fortín.
We arrived on Monday with aprehensions. We hadn´t heard back from María Teresa, our contact, so we werent sure if our host stays were secure, and we still didn´t know exactly what she wanted us to do. On top of that, there were other questions. How had things changed since we began our project there two and a half years ago? Or worse, for the sake of the project, how had things remained the same?
El Fortín, as I have said, couldn´t be more different from Granada. Whereas Granada is full of the deafening sounds of microbuses, bachata music, chicken buses, and street vendors, there is an initial eerie quiet when you arrive, exacerbated by the silence of the people who live there. There isn´t a lot of talking going on at my host family´s house. The very first time I came to El Fortín, I got to my family´s house and they grabbed me a chair, invited me to sit down, and they proceeded to make a semi-circle of chairs around me and stare at me. Just stare. No questions of who I was or why I was there. Awkward silence. Being someone who, lets face it, likes to talk and has a tendency to fill silent voids with conversation, this was a shocker. But, it also made me think that perhaps this is just an environment where silence isn´t something to be avoided- you don´t talk unless you have something to say.
Our work for the time we are there is dedicated to public health. As I have said, the children in this community were tested for parasites last year, and every single one of them tested positive. To put this in perspective, there are about 400 houses in both areas of El Fortín, many of which house several families. Thats a lot of kids.
We have been going house by house taking height and weight measurements of the children. This is crucial information to determine of the kids are malnurished, underdeveloped or have intestinal parasites. It was truly eye-opening walking house by house, opening the barbed wire and wooden stake fences, approaching houses made of cinder block or wood or tin, and asking tired mothers or grandmothers if we could weigh the kids running around the house. One house that we approached had seven kids (the eldest of which was 11) and no parents.
Some kids were healthier than others. I´m no medical expert, but it didn´t take much to look at these kids, look at their measurements, and know that they are terribly malnourished. Children with skeletal arms and legs and the caracteristic potbelly, so often an indicator for parasites, or malnourishment. This information, once sent to the government health agencies, will hopefully bring more help to this community that desperately needs it.
The situation sounds dire, and perhaps when talking of health and economics, it is. But there is another side to El Fortín, and I see it everyday when I have legions of kids following us around to play with us. They look like the happiest kids in the world, and it pains me that they have so much of life stacked against them. Maybe this was our bigger mission with LASED- to give these kids a fighting chance to escape circumstance. But unlike other programs, we realize that a diversified approach is the only way to success-- families need income to afford to send their kids to school, kids need to go to school in order to succeed, but kids cannot succeed on empty stomachs. Or when they are sick.
But for now, I am enjoying life tremendously. From feeling super popular with the 7 year olds, to taking bucket showers in the sun, I remember why I love this place so much. Maybe some people here don´t talk much, but when it comes to making us feel so welcome and part of the family, they don´t need to.
The two couldn´t be more different. Step into Granada and you are stepping into the same conundrum that plagues most tourist spots-- the beautiful architecture, horsedrawn carriages, new restaurants and bars catering to foreign clientele, all of which try, but cannot mask, the extreme poverty that actually lives and breathes beneath the surface. Elderly women begging for scraps of your food. Teenage boys huffing glue in the park. Barefoot children in ragged clothes who should be in school wandering the streets without destination or purpose.
All the while, this country is one of my very favorites. Yes, there is poverty. Yes, there are dire circumstances. However, there is something very unique to Nicaragua. Something intangible, but can be felt in the warmth and love we have (and are) experiencing in El Fortín.
We arrived on Monday with aprehensions. We hadn´t heard back from María Teresa, our contact, so we werent sure if our host stays were secure, and we still didn´t know exactly what she wanted us to do. On top of that, there were other questions. How had things changed since we began our project there two and a half years ago? Or worse, for the sake of the project, how had things remained the same?
El Fortín, as I have said, couldn´t be more different from Granada. Whereas Granada is full of the deafening sounds of microbuses, bachata music, chicken buses, and street vendors, there is an initial eerie quiet when you arrive, exacerbated by the silence of the people who live there. There isn´t a lot of talking going on at my host family´s house. The very first time I came to El Fortín, I got to my family´s house and they grabbed me a chair, invited me to sit down, and they proceeded to make a semi-circle of chairs around me and stare at me. Just stare. No questions of who I was or why I was there. Awkward silence. Being someone who, lets face it, likes to talk and has a tendency to fill silent voids with conversation, this was a shocker. But, it also made me think that perhaps this is just an environment where silence isn´t something to be avoided- you don´t talk unless you have something to say.
Our work for the time we are there is dedicated to public health. As I have said, the children in this community were tested for parasites last year, and every single one of them tested positive. To put this in perspective, there are about 400 houses in both areas of El Fortín, many of which house several families. Thats a lot of kids.
We have been going house by house taking height and weight measurements of the children. This is crucial information to determine of the kids are malnurished, underdeveloped or have intestinal parasites. It was truly eye-opening walking house by house, opening the barbed wire and wooden stake fences, approaching houses made of cinder block or wood or tin, and asking tired mothers or grandmothers if we could weigh the kids running around the house. One house that we approached had seven kids (the eldest of which was 11) and no parents.
Some kids were healthier than others. I´m no medical expert, but it didn´t take much to look at these kids, look at their measurements, and know that they are terribly malnourished. Children with skeletal arms and legs and the caracteristic potbelly, so often an indicator for parasites, or malnourishment. This information, once sent to the government health agencies, will hopefully bring more help to this community that desperately needs it.
The situation sounds dire, and perhaps when talking of health and economics, it is. But there is another side to El Fortín, and I see it everyday when I have legions of kids following us around to play with us. They look like the happiest kids in the world, and it pains me that they have so much of life stacked against them. Maybe this was our bigger mission with LASED- to give these kids a fighting chance to escape circumstance. But unlike other programs, we realize that a diversified approach is the only way to success-- families need income to afford to send their kids to school, kids need to go to school in order to succeed, but kids cannot succeed on empty stomachs. Or when they are sick.
But for now, I am enjoying life tremendously. From feeling super popular with the 7 year olds, to taking bucket showers in the sun, I remember why I love this place so much. Maybe some people here don´t talk much, but when it comes to making us feel so welcome and part of the family, they don´t need to.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
So long Guatemala, Hello Nicaragua!
Wow. Where to even begin.
Our time in Guatemala is a difficult one to put into words. I can say how we spent our days or who we met, but the most profound part of the experience lies somewhere in that inexplicable corner of your soul, the deepest most profound part of you, but the most difficult to express in a way that does it justice.
In a sense, it was much less about what we did day to day, than how it made us feel. Don´t get me wrong, the day to day was great- we would wake up, go to the mission for an AMAZING breakfast with all 100ish volunteers and find out the jobs we could do that day. After breakfast we would do things like reforestation work, break rock, construction, organizing/cleaning, sorting coffee beans, or (if we were lucky) help make artisan wooden spoons. After that we would return for an equally amazing lunch, work in the afternoon and dinner again with all the volunteers (who come from all over the US but the majority are from Minnesota). We met wonderful lifelong friends; like Erin from New York, Jack from Minneapolis, Roberta from Los Angeles, Paul from Apple Valley, and Matt from Pennsylvania. We shared stories and laughs, and learned much about the history, culture, and traditions of the community. We quickly took on leadership responsabilities in the mission: I led tours, interpreting for lots of people, including interpreting for Chona´s talk. It was a wonderful glipse into the life of a long term volunteer. All this was wonderful, we were being helpful and it helped shape our trip tremendously. However, I experienced the common sentiment that I was getting more out of this experience than I could ever put in.
It's a fine mystery, trying to pinpoint the origin of the peace and tranquilty that engulf you from the moment you arrive. It's like a cool breeze off the lake that reaches through you and settles right in your soul. One huge gift that Guatemala gave me is a renewed interest in faith and spirituality. Blame it on my youth, my cynicism, or overall disdain for authority (thanks Irish blood), but prior to our time in Guatemala, I didn't feel a huge religious connection on this trip. But there was something about this place, something that touched me very deeply and gave me clarity and spoke to my own personal spiritual beliefs. This church wasn´t working for the people, they were working with the people, Catholic or not. Social justice was the name of the game, and liberation theology was the philosophy. I found myself praying for the first time in what seemed like years, and spending time reading, searching, and reflecting. Though I am far from devout, for the time it seems I am back on the journey.
We left Guatemala with mixed excitement and sadness. We couldn't wait to see what Nicaragua had in store for us (after our 2 day bus ride, of course). Three of the four of us (Cory, Jeanne and myself) studied abroad in Nicaragua and Costa Rica two years ago, and we couldn't wait to go back to see how things had changed/stayed the same. As the bus rolled into Granada however, I was overcome by the familiarity of my surroundings and the normalcy of being back. In many respects, it was as if we had never left.
We had the pleasure of the company of some of our wonderful friends who came for this past week for their spring break: Christie Cleaves and Kristin Racchini (both studied abroad in Nicaragua and Costa Rica last year and were founding members of LASED- our organization dedicated to sustainability, education and development projects in Latin America), and Gina Ploessl, Cory's sister, first time out of the country. We packed a lot in in that week; visiting the beach at San Juan del Sur, the market at Masaya, a volcanic crater lagoon at Laguna de Apoyo, and Isla Ometepe- the Island with two volcanoes in Lake Nicaragua. (Fun fact: Lake Nicaragua is the only place in the world where you can find freshwater sharks!) We had a wonderful time, and it was so great to finally share a central american experience with Christie and Kristin, as well as be there with Gina to see her experience it for the very first time.
So now here we are, gearing up for our three weeks of volunteer work in the community of El Fortín, outside of Granada. For those of you who don't know, when we studied abroad we did a service project in this community. We built a greenhouse, planted herbs to be sold at the market, planted fruit trees, and spent a lot of time with the kids. The subsequent study abroad groups have continued this effort, working on different projects from education, to health and sustainable development. The conditions for the people who live there are not the easiest- Nicaragua is the second poorest country in the hemisphere after Haiti, and making ends meet, especially in a community like El Fortín, is brutally hard. Most of the families have tough decisions to make- do they send their kids to school, spending $35 a year on uniforms and supplies, or do they send their kids to work, and maybe earn a little more for the family? We saw a need in this community, and we decided to take action.
In the spring of 2008, our two study abroad groups came together and formed LASED (Latin American Sustainability Education and Development). We have raised a few thousand dollars for educational scholarships, sustainable developement projects, healthcare and nutition programs, as well as fundraising for a bridge that is desperately needed. We held the first annual El Fortín 5K Marathon last May, Eau Claire will host another this May. If you are in the area, please take part or donate to this wonderful cause!
Okay, enough of my shameless plug. We are very excited to begin work in El Fortín. We will be mostly working as community health workers, taking census information, talking about parasite prevention and other health concerns, as well as nutrition education. This is extremely important because when the other study abroad group tested the kids in El Fortín for intestinal parasites, 100% of them tested postive. We'll also probably be doing some construction and tutoring the kids.
Life is going great, and I could not be happier. All of a sudden 3 1/2 months seems far too short.
Our time in Guatemala is a difficult one to put into words. I can say how we spent our days or who we met, but the most profound part of the experience lies somewhere in that inexplicable corner of your soul, the deepest most profound part of you, but the most difficult to express in a way that does it justice.
In a sense, it was much less about what we did day to day, than how it made us feel. Don´t get me wrong, the day to day was great- we would wake up, go to the mission for an AMAZING breakfast with all 100ish volunteers and find out the jobs we could do that day. After breakfast we would do things like reforestation work, break rock, construction, organizing/cleaning, sorting coffee beans, or (if we were lucky) help make artisan wooden spoons. After that we would return for an equally amazing lunch, work in the afternoon and dinner again with all the volunteers (who come from all over the US but the majority are from Minnesota). We met wonderful lifelong friends; like Erin from New York, Jack from Minneapolis, Roberta from Los Angeles, Paul from Apple Valley, and Matt from Pennsylvania. We shared stories and laughs, and learned much about the history, culture, and traditions of the community. We quickly took on leadership responsabilities in the mission: I led tours, interpreting for lots of people, including interpreting for Chona´s talk. It was a wonderful glipse into the life of a long term volunteer. All this was wonderful, we were being helpful and it helped shape our trip tremendously. However, I experienced the common sentiment that I was getting more out of this experience than I could ever put in.
It's a fine mystery, trying to pinpoint the origin of the peace and tranquilty that engulf you from the moment you arrive. It's like a cool breeze off the lake that reaches through you and settles right in your soul. One huge gift that Guatemala gave me is a renewed interest in faith and spirituality. Blame it on my youth, my cynicism, or overall disdain for authority (thanks Irish blood), but prior to our time in Guatemala, I didn't feel a huge religious connection on this trip. But there was something about this place, something that touched me very deeply and gave me clarity and spoke to my own personal spiritual beliefs. This church wasn´t working for the people, they were working with the people, Catholic or not. Social justice was the name of the game, and liberation theology was the philosophy. I found myself praying for the first time in what seemed like years, and spending time reading, searching, and reflecting. Though I am far from devout, for the time it seems I am back on the journey.
We left Guatemala with mixed excitement and sadness. We couldn't wait to see what Nicaragua had in store for us (after our 2 day bus ride, of course). Three of the four of us (Cory, Jeanne and myself) studied abroad in Nicaragua and Costa Rica two years ago, and we couldn't wait to go back to see how things had changed/stayed the same. As the bus rolled into Granada however, I was overcome by the familiarity of my surroundings and the normalcy of being back. In many respects, it was as if we had never left.
We had the pleasure of the company of some of our wonderful friends who came for this past week for their spring break: Christie Cleaves and Kristin Racchini (both studied abroad in Nicaragua and Costa Rica last year and were founding members of LASED- our organization dedicated to sustainability, education and development projects in Latin America), and Gina Ploessl, Cory's sister, first time out of the country. We packed a lot in in that week; visiting the beach at San Juan del Sur, the market at Masaya, a volcanic crater lagoon at Laguna de Apoyo, and Isla Ometepe- the Island with two volcanoes in Lake Nicaragua. (Fun fact: Lake Nicaragua is the only place in the world where you can find freshwater sharks!) We had a wonderful time, and it was so great to finally share a central american experience with Christie and Kristin, as well as be there with Gina to see her experience it for the very first time.
So now here we are, gearing up for our three weeks of volunteer work in the community of El Fortín, outside of Granada. For those of you who don't know, when we studied abroad we did a service project in this community. We built a greenhouse, planted herbs to be sold at the market, planted fruit trees, and spent a lot of time with the kids. The subsequent study abroad groups have continued this effort, working on different projects from education, to health and sustainable development. The conditions for the people who live there are not the easiest- Nicaragua is the second poorest country in the hemisphere after Haiti, and making ends meet, especially in a community like El Fortín, is brutally hard. Most of the families have tough decisions to make- do they send their kids to school, spending $35 a year on uniforms and supplies, or do they send their kids to work, and maybe earn a little more for the family? We saw a need in this community, and we decided to take action.
In the spring of 2008, our two study abroad groups came together and formed LASED (Latin American Sustainability Education and Development). We have raised a few thousand dollars for educational scholarships, sustainable developement projects, healthcare and nutition programs, as well as fundraising for a bridge that is desperately needed. We held the first annual El Fortín 5K Marathon last May, Eau Claire will host another this May. If you are in the area, please take part or donate to this wonderful cause!
Okay, enough of my shameless plug. We are very excited to begin work in El Fortín. We will be mostly working as community health workers, taking census information, talking about parasite prevention and other health concerns, as well as nutrition education. This is extremely important because when the other study abroad group tested the kids in El Fortín for intestinal parasites, 100% of them tested postive. We'll also probably be doing some construction and tutoring the kids.
Life is going great, and I could not be happier. All of a sudden 3 1/2 months seems far too short.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Ghosts, memories, testimonies
There are places where the past is no more past than the lingering smell of this morning´s meal. Places where things live on, perhaps not in action, perhaps not materially, but they live on nonetheless, an everpresent reminder in a people´s psyche.
Her name is Chona. She has worked at the mission for the past 42 years, primarily as a cook, though during ´La Violencia´, her role was much more. Here is her story.
The story of our life here is very hard- 1980, ´81 and ´82 were very difficult years. I am the mother of four, and during the time of ´La Violencia´, we here in the parish worked on behalf of the suffering people in our community- you see, lots of people here had problems either because of the military or because of the guerillas. The guerillas would come and offer the Mayans lots of incentives to join: more land, money, anything to get them to join. During this time, there was much violence at the hands of both, and one had to be completely neutral: if you were to help one person on one side, the other side would come after you and your family.
Only Father Greg and I knew the movements of the guerillas and the military. We could tell no one and we worked together many times to save others.
So the priest asked Father Greg to help get them and bring them to a local orphanage. All in all, there were eleven kids from two families, the youngest were one year and a year and a half.
¨How do we get them out?¨ Father Greg asked me. ¨If the military finds out, they´ll kill us all. But, if we do nothing, they´ll kill the children. How are we going to get them out?¨
I told him ¨Look for a car and a driver and I will go get them myself.¨ So we got a car and a driver and we went to Quiché. There were three military checkpoints along the way. I went with a letter for the priest from Father Greg saying that I was coming to get the kids. I was so scared and worried about what would happen if we were caught. I told the priest to tell the children that if the military asked, that I was their mother. Only, I was scared because I was only 30 at the time, and there were 11 kids. They´ll never believe me.
The priest said that he would pray for us. I told the kids- tell them I am your mother and that we were coming to visit family in Quiché, but that you are from San Lucas Tolíman. So, we left and the kids were very sad to leave their family, their home, all that they knew. It still hurts my heart to think of them. I remember the eldest child hiding the suitcases of their few belongings under the seat, so as to not upset the other children.
At the first military checkpoint, everyone was scared, shaking and crying. I told the children ¨Don´t worry, calm down, the military will want to talk to me not you, we´ll be fine. But, if they see you crying, they´ll never believe us and they´ll kill us all.¨ The officer stopped us asking what I was doing here with all these kids. I told him that I was their mother and we were coming back from visiting family in Quiché. Another officer told him to take us all out of the car to question us, but by luck, the first officer said, ´no just check around the perimeter of the car for weapons.´ And they let us go.
At the second military checkpoint, again all the children were scared and crying. I thought ahead of time to bring candy, and I gave each of them a piece of candy, so they would be distracted when we got to the checkpoint. Again, an officer asked ¨Where are you taking all these kids?¨ Again, I told him, I am their mother and we are coming back from visiting family in Quiché. I felt bad because the eldest children were holding the younger ones as I was talking to the military, because they were still scared of me because I was a stranger. And thank God, once again, they only checked the outside of the car before letting us go.
At the third military checkpoint, the kids were again scared and crying. I told them this time ¨Let´s pray together¨ so that when the military came, they would see that we were praying. Again, an officer approached the car and asked ¨Who are you? Where are you going with all these kids?¨ I told him that I was their mother and that we were from San Lucas Tolíman, just coming back from visiting family in Quiché. The officer yelled to the others ¨Take them out of the car.¨ Another officer said ¨No, they´re kids, they don´t have weapons, they´re fine, leave them.¨ By the grace of God, they let us go.
When we were finally just outside San Lucas Tolíman, I turned to the children and told them we have arrived, thank God, we are saved, we are free. You´ll have a home, Father Greg will take care of you and no one will come after you in the night. You can laugh, you can cry, because thank God, you are safe, you are free.
Three of the children stayed in town and are now married with children. For christmas every year, there is a tradition of eating tamales and bread, and they brought me these telling me ¨Thank you, you are our mother.¨
From that time, Father Greg and I helped many people with problems with the military and guerillas. We helped children, families, and the religious as well because at this time many religious were being killed. And to help all of these people, we were accused of being guerrillas by the government. We recieved a letter from the military saying that they were going to kill us for this work we were doing, so we were forced to flee to the United States for five months.
When we returned, I took up my work helping the widows, and I still help sell their weavings and crafts, to help them support their families.
This is my story. There are many others. Thank you and God bless you all.
´La Violencia´. This is what the time of the civil war is called here- ´The Violence´. A time of untold horror, a time of unspeakable cruelty, a time of countless atrocities and acts so inhumane it seems unfathomable that they could be carried out by people. Sons. Fathers. Uncles. There are many stories from this time, testimonies only now beginning to be told, only now coming into light, after so many years of forced silence. They weave together to form a tapestry of, at once, the resilience of the human condition, and of the horrors that man can commit. There are many, many stories from this time. Today I had the opportunity to hear one such story.
The story of our life here is very hard- 1980, ´81 and ´82 were very difficult years. I am the mother of four, and during the time of ´La Violencia´, we here in the parish worked on behalf of the suffering people in our community- you see, lots of people here had problems either because of the military or because of the guerillas. The guerillas would come and offer the Mayans lots of incentives to join: more land, money, anything to get them to join. During this time, there was much violence at the hands of both, and one had to be completely neutral: if you were to help one person on one side, the other side would come after you and your family.
Before the peace accords in 1996, we were not allowed to talk about ´La Violencia´; it was too dangerous. Though there was violence everywhere, we here in the highlands were hit the hardest by the military forces.
It is very hard for me to talk about this. I lost my husband to the military, and when I am telling the story I relive the moment. I know I am not the only one who suffered, there were many. I know people whose parents were killed in front of them; whose children were killed in front of them.
I didn´t see my husband murdered. He worked on a land redistribution project, so for his work, the military accused him of being a guerilla. At this time you couldn´t do anything to help the people; by helping others you were accused of being a guerilla. One day, my husband was working with some final paperwork on a project, and went to meet with some lawyers in Sololá. He never returned. We were told that he was taken by the military- dissapeared. 28 years ago this happened. We were never told any more.
Still, it feels like yesterday. The pain I remember the most is trying to take care of my children; night after night staying at different houses for fear that the military would come and kill me and my children in the night. I had to fight hard for my children and I prayed hard for the strength to help others.
In 1982 I had to help a group of children. I knew that the military was on their trail, looking for them and would certainly kill them.
One day, a priest in the Quiché region called Father Greg asking for his help, saying there was a group of children who neede to be saved. Their parents were killed right in front of them, and by the grace of God, somehow they escaped and survived. The military knew that they had witnessed the murders and so they were looking for them to kill them as well, to leave no trail, no witnesses.
So the priest asked Father Greg to help get them and bring them to a local orphanage. All in all, there were eleven kids from two families, the youngest were one year and a year and a half.
¨How do we get them out?¨ Father Greg asked me. ¨If the military finds out, they´ll kill us all. But, if we do nothing, they´ll kill the children. How are we going to get them out?¨
I told him ¨Look for a car and a driver and I will go get them myself.¨ So we got a car and a driver and we went to Quiché. There were three military checkpoints along the way. I went with a letter for the priest from Father Greg saying that I was coming to get the kids. I was so scared and worried about what would happen if we were caught. I told the priest to tell the children that if the military asked, that I was their mother. Only, I was scared because I was only 30 at the time, and there were 11 kids. They´ll never believe me.
The priest said that he would pray for us. I told the kids- tell them I am your mother and that we were coming to visit family in Quiché, but that you are from San Lucas Tolíman. So, we left and the kids were very sad to leave their family, their home, all that they knew. It still hurts my heart to think of them. I remember the eldest child hiding the suitcases of their few belongings under the seat, so as to not upset the other children.
At the first military checkpoint, everyone was scared, shaking and crying. I told the children ¨Don´t worry, calm down, the military will want to talk to me not you, we´ll be fine. But, if they see you crying, they´ll never believe us and they´ll kill us all.¨ The officer stopped us asking what I was doing here with all these kids. I told him that I was their mother and we were coming back from visiting family in Quiché. Another officer told him to take us all out of the car to question us, but by luck, the first officer said, ´no just check around the perimeter of the car for weapons.´ And they let us go.
At the second military checkpoint, again all the children were scared and crying. I thought ahead of time to bring candy, and I gave each of them a piece of candy, so they would be distracted when we got to the checkpoint. Again, an officer asked ¨Where are you taking all these kids?¨ Again, I told him, I am their mother and we are coming back from visiting family in Quiché. I felt bad because the eldest children were holding the younger ones as I was talking to the military, because they were still scared of me because I was a stranger. And thank God, once again, they only checked the outside of the car before letting us go.
At the third military checkpoint, the kids were again scared and crying. I told them this time ¨Let´s pray together¨ so that when the military came, they would see that we were praying. Again, an officer approached the car and asked ¨Who are you? Where are you going with all these kids?¨ I told him that I was their mother and that we were from San Lucas Tolíman, just coming back from visiting family in Quiché. The officer yelled to the others ¨Take them out of the car.¨ Another officer said ¨No, they´re kids, they don´t have weapons, they´re fine, leave them.¨ By the grace of God, they let us go.
When we were finally just outside San Lucas Tolíman, I turned to the children and told them we have arrived, thank God, we are saved, we are free. You´ll have a home, Father Greg will take care of you and no one will come after you in the night. You can laugh, you can cry, because thank God, you are safe, you are free.
Three of the children stayed in town and are now married with children. For christmas every year, there is a tradition of eating tamales and bread, and they brought me these telling me ¨Thank you, you are our mother.¨
From that time, Father Greg and I helped many people with problems with the military and guerillas. We helped children, families, and the religious as well because at this time many religious were being killed. And to help all of these people, we were accused of being guerrillas by the government. We recieved a letter from the military saying that they were going to kill us for this work we were doing, so we were forced to flee to the United States for five months.
When we returned, I took up my work helping the widows, and I still help sell their weavings and crafts, to help them support their families.
This is my story. There are many others. Thank you and God bless you all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
