One more addition now that it is Wednesday afternoon.

Adolfo. My new friend in Jayaque. He deserves a moment of recognition. Although I have not heard his story yet, I can tell you this. He is unbelievably in touch with everything. He graduated bachillerato (high school) with a specialization in electricity. He is an electrician in a chicken incubation factory. He travels to Lourdes from Las Flores, about a 2 hour journey by bus on occasion. He works 15 days a month, many back to back. Eight hour shifts. Por ejemplo, today we met him on his way back from his 3pm - 11pm shift. He spends the night in the factory, climbs the mountain back to his house after getting off the bus, and arrives home for a couple of hours. He is a friend of Julios, and a becario in the cooperative in Jayaque. He graciously showed us his home atop the mountain, where we met his beautiful mother who was delicately made up and created an air of perfume with every sweep of her broom and movement of her body across the dirt outside her home.

So the point is - we saw Adolfo (Fito if you will) around 11am this morning, and then again at 1pm this afternoon waiting for the bus to go back to work for the night. But more importantly, he wasn´t tired, he was laughing and curious on sharing conversation with me about why we are all here.

We get that question a lot - why are you gringos in El Salvador?

My question - Why not?

I have a new name ... Face. Neto started calling me face today and Anthony from Fordham has been doing so for a while. Cara means face in spanish (or expensive, but we won´t go there for now)

Heroes in english are heroes in spanish

2:26am. Wednesday, January 31, 2007. I’m sitting here uploading tons of music my friends Beth, Roe and Patrick have given to me over the past couple of days. Making playlists is something beautiful. It’s so simple, yet time is taken care in every song selection and entices conversation with every addition.

My grandma died yesterday. This music is a form of sympathy in the name of love.

I’m coming back to the states for a few days to be with family and say goodbye to my hero – although I have felt her presence within me all day.

I told many people today stories about Grandma Tutu, known most formally as Kathleen W. Sullivan. I shared memories and quirks, laughs and consejos (advice). I never thought she would die. What a vulnerable thought. But at the same time, she lives on. She never will die - cliché, but completely comprehendible.

Tutu had a great life, and she got to see so much love and support within the family she built here on earth. She was able to see her first grandchild become a wife, to see herself reach her 90^th birthday, to see herself in all of us.

It’s late and I’m emotionally tired. I apologize.

I’ve had a few good past days here. I think about Grandma and what she would say about the beach this weekend. All of us went in the morning on Saturday, and eight of us decided to spend the night for Anthony’s birthday. Fabulous times on the hammocks next to the black sand beach ensued, along with middle school games of “truth or dare” and “never have I ever”. It’s funny to me how we all never really grow up, and amazing the love and support I feel here. It is the constant friendship and touch of a hand against your back. A smile and a direct stare into your soul. A conversation or a silence exchanged in perfect harmony.

I am at home.

All The Arms We Need

Yesterday when I came home from Jayaque after my first day I was all psyched to get to write this blog to tell everyone how UTTERLY AMAZING life is. Not just Jayaque or Los Sitios (the next town over), but life...actually love.

Yes, Cara has hit the hippie stage. Head on.

May sound like it, and even look like it (I'm taking a time off from shaving, to which my mom last night laughed with an "Oh gosh Cara" attached to it). Don't judge. You would too if you took cold showers every day...

Ok so now that I've deferred all but maybe one person from reading the rest of this, let me continue for those who wish.

So I was sick, with what ended up being 17 of the 23 other of us. My whole house ended up getting it. Tuesday was my first day "back" and what a day it was. I have Spanish and Sociology of Communication on Tuesday. In Spanish we went to the Anthropology Museum, where Cruz proceeded to give a detailed, quasi-bitter explanation of how the Salvadoran people have no true identity and to be honest I don't remember much else about it besides wishing that I could just explore in there. I feel like a little kid here. There were so many rooms we didn't get to see for that huge entrance fee of $1.50. Oh, also a 6 pack of beer here is $0.86 and a 1.75 liter handle of Bacardi is $13. And a cleaning in the dental clinic in Jayaque is $1.25.

I ate lunch (aka two pupusas, salad, two peach juice drinks) for $1.70.

Ok enough, I just want to talk about Sociology. Antonio Cañas is the professor, although I know he most likely hates to be called that. The whole class is about finding truth. Its more of a philosophy class more than anything.

Random thoughts from Antonio:

• There is an 18% illiteracy rate (officially) in El Salvador. Unofficially, the rate is 60% because it's not just about reading, but about understanding the concepts. They accept what they read as the truth and this is why the newspaper has more power here.
• How many times do you feel your name when you think about the world?
• The origin of all objectivity is contingent. His example: Pluto. Was a planet and now is not? All objectivity is dependent on something. It's something we've created.
  
• The object of discourse is thinking. We have to find what we think based on our reality, out of the context of what other sources tell us is reality. We can't know if the context of a text is true unless we look at the reality.
  

Seriously.

Those are just some of the notes I took. He also talked Tuesday about symbolic power of certain people and how we accept it without question. We don't walk into a building and question the engineering of it, or go to a doctor's office and question the pill or medicine they give us. Same with a periodista (journalist). But they are different. How does a journalist differ from a doctor? A journalist tells us how to interpret the world.

Then he goes into institutions and and systems and how they don't change unless it is a change they create or plan. He gave the example of Archbishop Oscar Romero, who wanted to change "the system" and bring the emphasis to the reality of El Salvador. Even the Pope told him, "you don't have the power to tell the government."

Just makes you think.



So Jayaque...

Started off the morning at 7:30 in the microbus with Samuel and the students who go to Las Delicias, Tepecoyo and Colon. The four of us who journey to Jayaque are the last to be dropped off at 9am. Julio (on the right with Neto) brought us to his house first thing. The whole day, I never questioned the size or the condition or anything about his home, because it felt like home. Its amazing to go for runs here in the nicer neighborhoods here. They seem something out of a So-Cal real estate magazine. When I look, I can see "the states" but not feel the same home. Then I go to Julio's house, a home the size of my parents' master bedroom. And I feel home. His nieces and nephews are beautifully mischievous.

In Julio's house, there are four children. Two belong to his brother and first wife. She still lives here without her ex-husband (who is now re-hitched). The other two belong to Julio's sister - who went to the US and now lives in Chelsea, MA. I told you her story.

We went to the school in Los Sitios, where we introduced ourselves in every classroom. Then, we went on a hike through a river valley surrounded by pure sunlight and surreal beauty. Everyone comes to this river para pensar, disfrutarse, comer, todo (to think, enjoy themselves, eat , everything). Next stop was the cooperative after lunch.

In the cooperative, we just relaxed. The day was just so relaxing and easy. There were no patients in the dental clinic, so William taught us how to make impressions of our teeth, a first step in making dentures. So we tested each others' gag reflexes and made molds.

Then I came home and went for a run with my pre-med partner, Chris, a sophomore at Marquette. We stopped to walk for a bit - to reflect on the conversation a few of us had the night before. This eventually led into a conversation about how we can bring back the message of El Salvador to the US.

This is what I came up with:

I can only start for now to think (I know it's only been two weeks). But I think that to start, we have to - I have to - think about how I was before I came here. Where I came from, what I knew, and what I think changed me. And I think that was the unconditional love and humanity of the people here. The understanding, the simple human touch with a smile or a hand held. This is the basic. Too often some in the US look with a "this is a problem, this is a solution" policy. No. It's deeper.Not only here, but everywhere. Much deeper. There are layers upon layers. Layers of tradition and culture. Of violence and war. Of love and committment. Of machismo. And these layers intertwine. Chris and I compared it to surgery. You have to know everything from the surface in and carefully pull each layer apart to get to the core, then slowly stitch it all back up. There is no band-aid. Human love and understanding is where the foundation lies. Maybe now I'm not a "hippie" - in the stigma of the word - but I don't know. What I do know, however, is where to start with everything in life.

So that was my day, how was yours?

I got sick. Both. Yeah, use your imagination.

3 out of 5 in Casa Ita
3 out of 14 in Casa Romero
8 out of 9 in Casa Silvia

Our house got hit the worst. We figured it was either from the juice in El Cedro or the salad we had that night at the house.

So I was sick all night Sunday and all day yesterday.

Just to keep you updated. Also, you don't need a Google account to leave comments on this now. I changed it for you all.

I would say that it feels like home, but that would be a lie.

It’s getting there though. I’m starting to gain some ground here – learn about where I am as I wander the streets (don’t worry madre) and venture to the Super Mercado. I’ve always been a person who is more or less (mas o menos) easily well adjusted to new places, but this whole orientation thing has kept us on a pretty tight schedule with little room to roam.

Yesterday was a pretty weird/random/fun day. Starting in the morning, we went to our second to last praxis site (El Cedro – The Cedar), where there were probably 7,289,457 children awaiting our arrival. Yes, I’m that over exaggerating girl Dane Cook talks about. Seriously, there were at least 80, maybe 100. All had their best clothes on. Winnie the Pooh is huge here. So we arrive at the comedor – or soup kitchen – where 100 children receive their food every day. There is also a kinder and a pre-kinder. We took a tour of the grounds, including a preview of the new playground they are building which just happens to overlook the foothills leading into the Pacific Ocean. A view that would cost millions in the US is the same view occupied by a simple cement comedor that just has enough money to fund this playground. We then went into a little pavilion on one side of the building where the children were anxiously awaiting to perform. The 24 of us sat among them, asking how old they were and their names while they played with our digital cameras. Yes, a seven year old Deborah takes better pictures than me.

So those in the pre-kinder and kinder sang songs to us for a few minutes, then it was time for their lunch, which somehow turned into all of us gringos performing for them. On out set list was Vamos Todos (the song we sing before dinner), Casa Abierta (our “theme song”, which most of us carry the lyrics to), and Build Me Up Buttercup, to which needs no explanation. Roe decided to step for the kids too. And we danced for 45 minutes. I had Linda on my shoulders the whole time while doing my Irish rendition of salsa and meringue. All in all, we definitely embarrassed ourselves, which is fine. Dean Brackley, SJ, made a really good point the other night when he told us that we should want to be weak; want to be vulnerable here. It is better that we are broken. It is how we humanize ourselves - not so that we are at “their level” so to speak, but rather in a place of discomfort to just be mended by the solidarity and the hope of these Salvadorans.

So that was the day. We also went to Las Delicias, where we were shown the home of Evelyn. I guess the best way to describe the homes in most of the rural communities are like something out of Swiss Family Robinson – surrounded by mango, orange, and plantain trees and orchid blossoms.

As if this isn’t long enough already, I still have the night to cover. One of the funny things about being an American student here is that you see everything and everyone. What I mean by that is that the hospitality is shown to you from all social classes, which is not a commonality between Salvadorans.

Exhibit A: My first bar. Let in by a man we encountered on the street. Invited to a table of Salvadorans – rich Salvadorans. Tool-bagness begins with a round of questioning on relationship status and phone numbers to the girls. Drinking ensues for free (none for me, on account of a promise). Juan Pablo, Pedro, y Roberto are not the greatest drunks. Mauricio, a chemistry student at the UCA, turns out to be a pretty nice and shy being – go figure, most chemistry students are tan amable (as friendly). All in all, they couldn’t get enough conversation.

So let’s just say that after the bar experience that I just don’t understand wealthy Salvadorans. Mauricio teaches in the poorer schools when he can, because he says the government here does not teach the reality in the public schools they can get a hold of.

Basically, last night left me confused and knowing that it’s not all rainbows and hope for the Salvadoran people. There are still the social distinctions. But there is progression. There is something. Praxis starts tomorrow (today by the time I post this) y tengo mucho pena (I have a lot of pena – Salvadoran for a form of social anxiety or shyness).

Sites and sights

I get really anxious everytime I sit down in the internet cafe to check e-mail and maybe post something or reply back to people. Lately, we've only had an hour of time between orientation activities to rest (aka pretend you're in the US and check e-mails)

That being said, dinner is in 20 minutes. But yet I feel that forever wouldn't even be long enough to tell you about El Salvador. It's something that you just have to see.

The past week we've been becoming oriented with all of the 9 praxis sites in order to see and understand each other when we talk about the one that we call "home". It's all quite exhausting, but who am I to talk about exhaustion?

Everyone here has a different outlook on the poverty here and what each praxis site offers. Some look with pity and - worse - compare the people and pueblos and structures here to those in the US. There is no comparison. It leaves us in a constant struggle of sorrow if we look at it this way. I feel that you cannot truly feel the esperanza (hope) of the Salvadoran people here if you look at it from a US perspective. For me, I look at it like this: these people have nothing, absolutely nothing. Everything that they have been given materially is a gift form God, as is their fe (faith) and hope. When we go to the schools of the children, we cannot look to them and think of what their education is missing, or how small the classrooms are or how many will never see beyond 9th grade. It is best to see the development of the school, the constant hope and creation of new classrooms, new grades, the desire of the children to stay in school all year long, even through the summer.

The state offers many schools between $13 and $45 dollars a year for each student. That breaks down to 4 cents a day. Many public schools in Boston offer students between 13 and 20 THOUSAND a year, which is still low in comparison to other schools; say in Weston perhaps.

But still, there is hope. There is always hope. Always a smile, always a "buenas" (Short for good morning, good afternoon, good night in spanish), always a hug. There is patience. Yesterday was the 15th anniversary of the signing of the Peace Accords. But there is no peace here. The Arena party still controls the government (the right) while the FMLN (the left) is slowly gaining seats in the legislature. There is much corruption, and much division among the people politically, which is something I am anxious to learn about.

We have visited many churches, pastoral communities that are often the resources of education. Yesterday we went to San Ramon, where there is a new Christian community that holds its bases in the beginnings of the church, what Jesus really wanted. They believe in community more than anything, in solidarity too. The new Catholic church in El Salvador came under the strict guidelines of a Spanish priest who was assigned to San Ramon after returning for Rome to receive some kind of rehabilitation after raping a young child in the community. He came to San Ramon and thought of himself as Jesus, and began imposing on the religious ideas and participation of women. Sadly, this reality is much alive in El Salvador, and many people stay with this type of "traditional" Catholic church due to the need for tradition, and for fear of the consequences of leaving the church.

In the school in La Chacra that we visited today, we heard a story of a boy who is 9 years old and in the third grade. When he was 8, his mother took a bullet for him in the shoulder after the boy had a gun held to his forehead with his assailant asking himself aloud if he should kill the boy or not. After, his mom needed rehabilitation. He went to his father and his mistress, who eventually left him to travel to the United States, after abusing him. He went to live with his mother again, and one day she left him with an aunt to watch after him and he took a knife to his chest and threatened to kill himself. Now, he is doing well in the school but there obviously lies severe emotional trauma.

There are many cases such as these. Julio, a friend of mine who is one of the coordinators of the Romero Program which gives scholarships to the becari@s, also had his life threatened. His father ran a security business in one of the Mercados in San Salvador, and a competitor felt that he was misspoken to and killed Julio's father. His mother was spared because the pistol malfunctioned. And when I say spared I mean that he was brutally beaten twice. Julio's life was in danger for quite a long time, and Kevin and Trena took him in for a while. His sister left for the US by paying a coyote $7000 for three tries and now lives in Chelsea, MA. She got to the US by taking a pill not allowing her to urinate or have bowl movements for 48 hours and she was put in the bottom luggage compartment of a bus for 2 days with others. Now the situation has cooled. Julio has one of the greatest, warmest smiles I have ever seen and an unbelievable sense of humor to match.

There are so many more stories to share, I hope that these so far have given you a glimpse of the reality of El Salvador. But know that those stories of the people I named have not stopped their lives short of being hopeful and successful. These people are learning how to have community and solidarity. Its quite beautiful, as you will soon see.

Sorry if this is long. Orientation is packed with information, they'll get shorter.

I am going to go down as the worst blog writer ever - especially after this one, the intro. There’s a lot to tell so far, so let it be and grin and bear it.

So let’s break it down. By the way this is a picture of my campus.

Casa de la Solidaridad
This is the where. Located in Antiguo Cuscatlan, just on the southwest border of San Salvador (for those completely out of the loop, I’m studying abroad in El Salvador for the next 4 months). There are actually 3 houses, Casa Ita (7 people), Casa Silvia (11 people), and Casa Romero (16 people). I live in Casa Silvia with Sabrina in a double room meant to be a triple and another 9 people.

So basically, the mission of the Casa is solidarity through community and education. The education here is everywhere, most profoundly in the community. Right now we’re amidst our week and a half orientation that will “officially” end on Saturday. It was founded by some people, mostly from Santa Clara, under Jesuit influence with the thoughts of Kevin and Trena Yonkers-Talz, who are the directors and absolutely beautiful people. They live in a house a block or so away with their three girls, and as past JVIs in Belize, they definitely have their heads straight and just definitely know what they´re doing. It started in 1998, with 5 students and has grown to 24 this semester, with 6 becari@s. The becari@s (the @ stands for –os and –as, the masculine and feminine, meaning there are becarios and becarias) are Salvadoran students from marginalized communities, and there are two who live in each house, then in March, when their school year starts – they’re in summer session right now – 10 other students will move into a house down the street. So here are some logistics on the house:

Food: DELICIOUS

There is one cook for each of the houses: Lupita, Fran, Lydia, and sometimes Sara. Tortillas here are much smaller than Mexican tortillas and about 6 times as thick, almost like a small piece of bread. No Salvadoran feels full without having at least one tortilla at the meals. We also have the typical pupusas (two tortillas together with either pork, beans, or cheese…or all three), beans, rice, corn, squash, ensalada, tamales, and on and on and on. Basically the food is amazing and different and FRESH. Yeah, there’s a lot of lard sometimes, but it’s all fresh. I’m probably eating better here than I will ever in the EE.UU (US)

Cleaning

Ok, I know this is un poco raro to mention about the bathrooms and laundry, but I had to because its so different. Cold showers, all the time, lo siento (I’m sorry). Also, when you use the toilet, you throw away your paper. When you clean your clothes, you do it by hand and hang them up outside. First you soak them then you wash them in the pila, which is a HUGE sink divided three ways, the middle section which has all fresh water and the two side sections are where you scrub and rinse. Socks are the worst because there’s no fabric softener. I did my laundry this morning. It took me a little over an hour and I did a lazy job.

Jayaque: Hi-ya-k

My praxis site, or where I will be spending all of my Mondays and Wednesdays from 8-4 for the next four months. The people there are amazing, lots of younger people. It’s 45 minutes away from San Salvador – really rural. Mainly, I’ll be in the cooperative which is a across the street from a chicken processing plant, so it’s a little smelly but whatever. Just trying to give all you all an image. So the cooperative does a lot of things: dental clinic, psychology clinic, makes natural medicine, a bakery and a sewing academy are also there. Also, up the road a little bit there’s a elementary school where we will be helping teachers in kindergarten classes and also possibly teaching English. I’ll be going with Ryan (USanFran), Roe (Fordham), and Colin (BC). Chill group of kids, who are distracting me right now and that’s why my typing and story line is horrible, but hopefully you’re getting the idea.

So sorry for the vagueness of this, but this is just to give a little background. Today is Amy’s 21^st birthday, so we’re going to get some pupusas after I get this up at the internet café down the street. No internet in the houses, and 30 people share 6 computers unless you brought your own. So here’s my first try with USB drives. More to come later, with stories – that are pretty unbelievable – about families, immigration, murder, gangs, health and safety. So sorry to be so vague and desperate to catch your attention, but there is so much more to come and I am excited to share it with you all.