Fond Farewells....if you can imagine it

I just realized about 20 minutes ago that this weekend will be my last time in Jayaque.

There is a dance this weekend in Jayaq-city (more specifically Los Sitios, the best city in the world as we say). And so in about 20 minutes, I will make my way on ethe 105 bus from La Seiba for the last time to Jayaque. There is a huge group of us going, about 10 people, to spend the night at Julios house and dance the night away until 2 or 3 in the morning. Then at 5, Colin, a student here, and Trena, one of the directors, will be running 16 miles up and down the huge hill that covers the municipalities of Jayaque and Talnique.

After they get back from their run, the wonderful family we have in the cooperative of about 25 youth and Niña Tere (Julios grandmother) and Fito (who can only be explained by a picture of his smile) are throwing us a Despedida (goodbye party, Im using a lot of parenthesis in this entry). We are going to go to Zapoton, this natural spring/well nearby with huge cliffs to jump 7 or 8 meters into the water, about as high as a telephone pole Salvador tells us. After a day of swimming and eating tomorrow, we will make our way walking to the river in Los Sitios to camp out for the night. Sunday, the four of us gringos (Ryan, Colin, Roe, myself) will make our way back in pickup and bus to set up for our own Despedida in Casa Romero. The 24 of us students will soon be joined by the staff, the becari@s, and about 400 other Salvadoran brothers and sistas.

Projects are pretty much done, I will be working on Roe and my documentary on the women of Jayaque when I return to the states. Its just been an insane past couple of weeks and I apologize for the lack of entries. I just want you all to know that I am coming back Wednesday to the states. We have a retreat Monday and Tuesday (although we all know were going to the beach Tuesday) to "disorient" ourselves, whatever that means, to get ready to come back. Ive found that its not about separating the worlds, however, because we all live in one world, on one planet. Its about meshing it together. Nevertheless, I will still not know exactly what to say or how to say anything about this place quite eloquently or accurately for some time, and I know that. Ideally, I would lvoe to just take a month to rest with my mind that has been working overtime for so long and enjoy the moments and find the life and explore what I need in the states that gives me this same feeling here, life. I want to look into the withinness of it all, and dive further than any surface barrier will allow me.

Thats where I am right now.


Go dance, will ya?

Everywhere is the center of the universe

The campo – an unexplicable experience that shocked my parents when I called them about it last night. How do I put 9 days into a few short words that won’t bore those who try to read it? I do not want you all to have eye problems at the end of these four months (which now is four weeks) because of reading my blog.

But honestly, I couldn’t even really capture it if I tried. It is like attempting to capture the true beauty of the Salvadoran mountains in a photo, you just can’t.

Beth and I stayed with a beautiful family of 10 last week in Las Lajitas, Chaletenango (northern, rural E.S.). The Alemans are completely self sustaining, farming tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, oranges, mangoes, cocoa, corn, beans, spinach, and other various vegetables. They have 4 cows, 2 horses, and at least 40 chickens and chicks (3 LOUD roosters that cock-a-doodle-doo all night, and it’s not that elegant of a sound). They have chamomile and aloe plants of which they make shampoo and other body ailments to sell.

Self-sustaining. In addition, Josefina (the 29 year old daughter) teaches three grades in elementary school together and they have 2 of the ten siblings (both brothers) in the states sending the little remittances they can while trying to support themselves, pay rent, and repay the $5,000-6,000 it took to get to the states with a coyote.

We learned a lot. I went out early to stay with Edith at her house on Saturday. She taught me how to cook, how to grind the masa for tortillas, and how to wake up. One night, we were talking about her uncle who left for the states and the ugliness he went through to get there and the constant fear he lives in now of losing his job and/or being sent back. I started to lose it as I realized and felt to the core that I will never know, never know, what it feels like to be a person without this piece of paper that has such opportunity attached to it, but such ugliness and injustice in its absence. Paper that could possibly even be produced here in El Salvador, one of the top most deforested nations in the world.

I swam in the Rio Sumpul, the river that ran red from the massacre over 20 years ago during the war. It was a massacre that resulted from: 1. The Honduran military forcing Salvadorans from the Honduran refugee camps back across the border and 2. The fact that someone sold out to the Salvadoran military that the same day there were hundreds of campesinos running to the hills to hide themselves from the army that would just follow them with helicopters and soldiers on foot with machetes and machine guns.

Wednesday I met the Alemans. The celebration for Semana Santa (Holy Week) was wonderful. Now, I don’t consider it a rare or strange thing to walk over an hour to a church service. Thursday I participated in the washing of the feet in Los Posos. Friday, we walked an hour and a half to Carasques for the stations of the cross – which went from 10-1 in one of the the 100 degree dry, windless, cloudless days of April here. We stayed into the afternoon for the Adoration of the Cross, which was probably one of the most beautiful religious moments I have ever seen.

People came up to kiss the cross as they kneeled to the floor and gave a nickel or dime (because we use US money here as of 2001) into the small basket to the left of the cross. I thought of the scripture (and I am not one to do this much, or to write about it at least) where one man gave a good deal of his surplus while a woman gave little of her substance. Who gave more? A nickel of a dime never seemed so much. This is their pride, this is selfless. Some brought up a dollar and asked for change.

Saturday we spent in the Rio Gualsigna, which ran alongside their house at the bottom of the hill. We jumped off this tree with our family and friends, played chicken in the water and got a bicep workout by tossing little girls into the deeper water. A bit of the uglier side of Semana Santa came out as a good sized group of drunk men looked on to the scene. Holy Week here is a time where the country completely shuts down, post offices, buses, schools, etc. Many people have a tendency to take it as a party time, which can result to the traditional tomando (drinking).

Sunday mass was in our community, Las Lajitas, seeing how the four communities shared the different days. We walked 30 minutes to get to mass – which was packed. People stood outside during mass who couldn’t get a seat and chatted. Others fell asleep in the pews. Children marched up to the altar to take a seat and look to the congregation. It was their house. The thing I love about religion here is that it is a part of who we are, who people are. It isn’t something for which we have to be on our best behavior. We bring ourselves, faults and glories and all, to this place to share and be.

This is long, again, so I will wrap it up here. Four weeks to go means many projects in the works. Roe and I are working on a mini-documentary about machismo and the cross cultural effects of it here. I have an art project for Liberation Theology, and two papers to write for Sociology (how Public Health is misrepresented and lied about really in the media) and History (taking both sides of the war). In the mix of all this we have our talent show, my parents are coming for 6 days, a visit to El Mozote (site of yet another campesino massacre during the war), we planned a Casa dance formal (simply anything but clothes, I love a creative opportunity), and two weekends in Jayaque. Still there is the usual classes to take, to give, to plan. Goodbye parties to work out, and home to pack for.

The question posed last night: Will I stay?

Yes, but my question I am trying to figure out now…

How will I stay?

So excuse my lack of correspondence I am anticipating in the coming weeks. I will still write, but know that I am a work in progress and this “progress” is coming back to the States soon. I appreciate your patience and all the support, and know that finding balance comes with challenge, and I am bringing this home with me and to you.

Happy Resurrection Week.

Hechos (facts)

I have been meaning to put these thoughts down in the blog for some time, and I encountered them again the other day.

A month ago Rick Jones from Catholic Relief Services came to talk to our praxis seminar. He’s the director in charge of services in Central America, or at least El Salvy. Here are some facts he gave off.

• 2001 earthquake left 1.8 million homeless
• 2005 volcano and floods left 75,000 displaced
• El Salvador is the second most deforested country in the world
• All rivers/groundwater is contaminated
• The biggest causes of death for children under five are diahrrea and respiratory infections, which result from the contamination of the water and other environmental problems such as air pollution
• 174 women die for every 10,000 births (in the US the stat is 3 or 4 women). Most give birth alone now since midwives were outlawed in order to get people to travel to the clinics, which can sometimes be hours away.
• 50% of the population work 14 hours a day and earn $3-5 per day. Others earn less and others don’t have work.
• The government wants these people to begin to pay taxes, when they don’t even tax the big businesses. There is no property tax or sales tax in El Salvador.
• Because of the lack of taxing, E.S.. loses $950 million a year in taxes that can be used to support the pueblo. Banco Cuscatlan alone could pay at least $25-30 million in taxes, but they don’t because the owner of the bank is a friend of the government.
• Maquila (sweat shop) and outsourcing is going downhill – China is cheaper.
• Cloth, thread and machines are all sent from the states, so the only job offered to the people is the assembly.
• Remasas (remittances) from those who immigrate to the states without documentation (who some call “illegal”, but no human is illegal) make up 18% of the GDP, giving the country $3 BILLION a year. This amount is 6x lager than the forgeign reserves sent to the country.
• Most farmers are over 45, since majority of the 18-45 year old men have left for the US.
• Salvadoran gangs (MS-13 and 18^th Street) actually started in the US, (not in El Salvador) to defend themselves against Mexican gangs. Formed from men with no sense of identity and little more than a 5^th grade education, gives them a sense of identity and power.
• E.S. has implied the Iron Fist Policy and the Super Iron Fist Policy after the first one caused a 25% jump of homicides within one year of its implication. The Super Policy caused a 35% jump. We’re looking at the wrong problems – e.g. baggy pants can get you into jail for 72 hours.
• Jails here are a grad school for gangs. Not only do you get more respect for being in jail, but you’ll come out doing drug. The jails are separated by gangs, sometimes they’ll mix the gangs just so they kill each other.
• EL SALVADOR IS THE SECOND MOST VIOLENT COUNTRY IN THE WORLD NEXT TO IRAQ. There are 57 homicides per every 100,000 people. There is a war in Colombia and we’re still ahead of them in terms of violence.
• There is no internal affairs division in the police, so you cannot imagine how corrupt it is. There were 7 cases in 6 months of extrajudiciary execution.
• Loans…oh geez.
• The country wants to take a $436 million loan from the World Bank/IMF when they could have $950 due in taxes every year if they implied it.
• 40% of the GNP goes to pay off previous loans
• 98% of the GNP goes to pay off loans and SS
• 48% of the wealth in this country is distributed between 6-8 families who make up 10% of the population.

Boda del Ciglo (Wedding of the Century)

I´m going to let the pictures tell this one. I´m still exhausted.


Adam and Amy. Praxis partners. Both crazy and loving every minute of each other. This one really shows the love that exists between all of us. Cheesy, but really true to the core.

Romero vive! Start of the procession from Salvador del Mundo to the cathedral. About a 2 hour walk of celebrating and laughing and dancing and chanting.

Amy, Adam, myself, and Roe. Capturing the moment.

Allison, my CC (community coordinator) and good friend. She´ll be at BC next year for the Graduate School of Social Work, and to hang out.

I have a bag on my head of beans and rice, all in little white mesh baggies to hand out to the guests at the wedding to throw at Gene and Lupita when they leave the church. Casamiento in El Salvador means the marraige of beans and rice. A traditional dish, and a traditional thing to do at a wedding.

Neto and Julio. And the flowers we made. Casa students were responsible for the decoratins at the wedding.

Couldn´t get the flower to balance. This is outside the church waiting for the bride and groom to come out. They were married in the same church where Romero was killed, La Divina Providencia, by Dean Brackley, SJ.

Lupita, the most beautiful bride, ever.

Gene and Lupita and their wedding cake.

The reception was held at a park close to the church. About 400 people came to celebrate with live music, food and friends. The food was prepared by the women down the street from us who own a struggling pupuseria. Here are Ryan and Jenn dancing to the music of Horizantes, good friends of Lupita and Gene and one of the more popular folk bands in El Salvador. When you have people as friendly and giving as Gene and Lupita getting married, you´re bound to have all of El Salvador there to celebrate.

Cara Angry

I lot of things have been running through my mind lately. Let me see if I can get them all to fit in a space small enough so I don´t have to open another web page just to fit them all in. That was a bad joke.

So when I came back from Costa Rica, I felt at ease. As the plane touched down on the dry, golden land of El Salvador, I got the same feeling I get when I land in Boston and in Tampa.

Home again.

After a day, I realized that I was kidding myself for feeling that "homeness" in a way. Something was different - and I discovered this at praxis yesterday. I realized that after being away from El Salvador for almost a week and a half, I had begun to build this bubble... this shelter where I wasn´t going to allow anyone in again to break me. And this "anyone" includes El Salvador. Well this defense shield was shortlived - partially because after I realized this yesterday, I refused to maintain this ridiculous idea. Why should I be defensive? It is better to feel.

I tend to do this "thing" before I leave a place and people I love - I shut myself off. I become short, quiet, and sometimes it can all even turn cruel. I do it defensively, automatically, unstoppably. I do it because I know I have to leave this place of comfort and love and I don´t want to. It happens a lot when I go home to the fam in Florida. Spring break here signified and solidified this idea in my head that this is over when really, it´s not. I still have seven weeks here.

Going to Jayaque Wednesday made me realize how ridiculous I was being in this defense mode. And I don´t want that life or way of thinking anymore. Its better to feel.

I read this book this past week - Confessions of an Economic Hit Man. I strongly recommend you all read it when (and thats not and if) you can. It´s by John Perkins, a man out of New Hampshire who enters into the corporatocracy - those coporations that are privately owned but secretly work for the government which in turn work to expand the global empire. His job, basically, was to go into developing countries, develop inflated economic plans for them to show the governments that they should invest their money (that they would borrow from the US) to hire US engineers to come in and develop their nations´electricity, streets, buildings, etc. This "development plan" comes with the ideal that the soverign would obviously be appreciated by their citizens for working to develop their nations. The coporatocracy leaves out the fact that the countries they "serve" would gain severe debt, leaving no choice but to sacrifice their canals, oil, and UN votes to the states.

So between reading that book, seeing The Last King of Scotland last night, and Jayaque yesterday - I broke my bubble of defense. I just had to sit in the movie theater last night and cry. Breakdown. A few of us from the house went together, including Edith (one of the becarias - and strongest people I know). When the first images of Uganda came on the screen, she said,

"Oh! Looks like Chalete!"

She was referring to Chaletenango, her home and a department in northern El Salvador. The first images of Uganda were simply beautiful. I know the cinematographer did this on purpose to recognize that what seems beautiful on the outside of a situation does not mean corruptness does not lie within the facade. It was a harsh movie, a true image of reality. I was jumping, shaking and afraid while watching, and Edith leaned over to me saying, "Carita, sola es una pelicula." (Its just a movie.)

But we know its not.

Hate on this planet runs so deep. So deep. Sometimes we can not always feel the love we have for another because it is so profound. Well, I feel that is the same for hate. I cannot feel the hate of the world but only sometimes because if I did, I dont think I would be able to breathe.

Now, I´m just left speechless, but I hope we all go there. Get to the point of being speechless for a moment, then act on it. I hope we all push ourselves to take off this bandaid over our world and really look into the wound that lives and breathes underneath.


Just to finish, today in praxis seminar Beth played Tracy Chapman - Telling Stories. There was a lyric that stuck out to me.

Sometimes a lie is better than the truth.

Is it?

Pura Vida

Puerto Viejo

Amy ziplining in Cahuita-Puerto Viejo

How else can you expect me to title an entry about Costa Rica?

It´s their country´s saying.

So we´re currently situated at Hostel Pangea in San Jose after three days in Puerto Viejo. Tuesday we arrived and settled at Casa Verde (I highly recommend it. $12 a night for 3 people, shared bathroom and shower.) Wednesday we started out on the beach of Playa Negra and took a surf lesson in the afternoon with Johan and Jordan, friends of Topo (aka the surfer of Puerto Viejo, the neighboorhood man...or so it seemed). Stood up my first wave...no big deal... We also met with them Salvador, who we were a fan of automatically because of his name. The three of us and Salvador has lunch, then met up later for reggae night at Johnny´s Place, a bar on the beach. It could have turned out smoothly, with a ton of fun on the side, BUT Amy and Ally both got their money and cameras stolen after all three of us left our purses on the side table while we danced a comfortable 4 ft. away...with not many people in between us. My cell phone and money wasnt touched, which blew me away. Tough night. Didn´t stop us from doing a huge canopy tour zip-lining through the rainforest the next morning. Ally and I rented bikes in the afternoon and biked up the dirt roads to Cocles.

Never a dull moment on this trip, now thinking back on it.

When we were laying on the beach at Cocles, I turned to my right and 30 feet away a man was struggling to get back up on the beach from the water - he was crawling in the sand. I ignorantly assumed he was drunk and shouldnt have been swimming in the first place, and decided not to go check on him for fear of my safety. Thinking back on it, I feel horrible. What would he have done in daylight with a ton of people around? The reason why I´m being so hard on myself is because he ended up being taken to the hospital after a young man running on the beach went up to him. After summoning Ally and I over we found out he had rip tide or even a heart attack.

I question more and more why I didn´t go over to this man in need, obviously struggling. If I want to be a doctor, why do I look away at a time like that? I should be running toward him.

It hurts.

The bus drive to San Jose tonight was 4 hours, again. During this long drive through the cloudy rainforests and little towns that remind me of Antiguo and Santa Tecla, I got to thinking about what I want to do. I need to figure out where I will be a year from now. Getting ready to graduate, obviously, but what else? I want to go to med school, yes, but I want something more than that. I want to use my Spanish. I want to be connected to El Salvador, but also to those 40 million in the US who can´t afford proper health care or insurance. So what? What does that mean?

I´m thinking I want to go back to East Boston. Find somewhere where I can either do some research in my year off about the inner city Boston, including the immigrant population, maybe tie this into health care somehow and from my future based around my ability to serve these people.

I´m really excited about this new idea. I just need to find a launch point in Boston. And if anyone reading this knows of something, I´m so open to ideas and help. Bring it on. I´m ready.

Surfing on Playa Negra with Ally, Jordan, Johan, and Salvador

Growing through Roatan

Busy. Doesn't even explain it all. Right now I'm amongst a muck of trying to upload pictures and plan my trip for Costa Rica tomorrow. Part of my wishes that I was staying here, but I know Ally, Amy and I will have fun. We just have to figure out where we're going. We're thinking snorkeling, surfing, and ziplining would be ideal. We'll see.

Wanted to include a few more pictures. Max came to visit this week, and I can't really describe how beautiful it was not only to have a visitor here - but someone who came to learn, and not to vacation. It was great to see my world that I've been adapting myself to and learning from and growing with exposed to someone from back home - the states home. I learned that the biggest struggle for my parents to come (who will be here in a month) will be the language. But it is important to remember that this weakness is something to love (and love is not a weakness), which is the biggest lesson I've learned here.

This country and the people within are not the only ones who will bring you growth.

It's all alright - as the woman in Amatapec told Amy when she was saying how she doesnt understand when people say they've had bad days. "I wish they would just open their eyes and see that it's all alright."

The house played a joke on Maxito:

Lupita and Gene are getting married, and they need 1000 beans counted for the wedding as part of a Salvadoran tradition. If its any more or any less, it's a bad omen for the marraige. He started doing groups of 5 and recounting them. He got to thirty before I couldn't take it anymore. Everyone laughed though. Wednesday night we said you had to count 1000 grains of rice. No go.




Roatan, Honduras. Island off the north coast in the Carribbean. Beautiful sunsets happen on cloudy nights.









The plane we took to get to Roatan. Looks like fun, eh ma? (Actually really great and smooth flight)