Meditations on a Delegation to El Salvador
by Steve Boyer
Steve was a member of the Center for Exchange and Solidarity (CIS) Rutilio Grande Delegation. He was one of five Minnesota members of Veterans for Peace who participated. Here are his thoughts, fresh from the experience.
This is a summary of activities and whereabouts as part of the CIS delegation. To start, you could check out the CIS web site at cis-elsalvador.org. The delegation (15 people) was scheduled at this time to participate in the commemoration of the assassination of Rutilio Grande in 1977. (The reason to organize as a delegation is that as such, expenses are deductible under US tax law and thus more people might be inclined to participate. It is richly ironic that the US government pays for activities stridently anti-American.)
 Grecia Real passageway, photo Sarah Snider
CIS put us up at a guest house in San Salvador, the Grecia Real, actually a hotel, maybe 2.5 - 3 stars, but clean and the meals were more than adequate although they don't know how to make a decent cup of coffee - something seemingly incongruous. Arrived about midday on Thursday & went straight into a meeting on rules, precautions - all that. Friday morning started with an economic analysis of the country, emphasizing, of course, the impacts of CAFTA & dollarization on local economies. Lecturer was an expert from the university here, Raoul Moreno. About half the delegation fell asleep (thank the gods I wasn't one) probably due to travel fatigue from the previous day - embarrassing nevertheless.
After the lecture we visited the chapel where Romero was shot while saying mass. He lived just down the road from the chapel. One of the nuns taking care of the place related some personal anecdotes about the monsenor. If you are interested in this story, get Romero on video - an OK movie with Raul Julia.
After lunch we went to the Jesuit University where there was a massacre of 6 Jesuits, their housekeeper and her 15 year old daughter. I think the incident occurred in 1989 but I'm not sure. About 18 other people were also killed, which I did not know. Religious people always make a big deal when one of their own is the victim like it is somehow more significant than a massacre of thousands of peasants. Dietrich Bonhoffer is another prime example of this phenomenon. I think it might be so because they project the victimization to themselves and thus feel persecuted which in turn connotes saintliness - cultural arrogance if you ask me - another cynical aside from the old man. (Most of the delegation was religious, and I mean religious.)
The memorial to the housekeeper and her daughter, victims of the UCA massacre -
photo Sarah Snider
We also attended a lecture on the causes and scope of violence in El Salvador today. The country can't qualify for certain types of assistance (UN) because it can't get the murder rate down - ~150/100,000 compared to ~10/100,000 in US.
Saturday we left early for Cinquera. This was extremely interesting for me. During the war Cinquera was wiped out, all the people killed or relocated, and the town destroyed brick by brick. This, because the area was a center of FMLN guerrilla activity and dominance during the entire duration of the war. Toward the end of the war, 7 families moved back and started to rebuild - there are about 60 families there now. Needless to say the FMLN wins landslide victories in all elections since the war. They are very well organized and have a very progressive agenda for development, well laid out. The problem of course is lack of funds. The federal government in the hands of ARENA (like extreme right-wing republicans) which openly and unabashedly discriminates against FMLN controlled communities of which there are many and the number is growing with each election cycle. For example, Cinquera's annual budget is $52,000; this is a modest middle class salary in the US. ARENA won't improve the roads into and out of Cinquera or help with a waste water treatment system. Thus, the town has adopted eco-friendly latrines which they have built for each household. These latrines compost the waste which they use as fertilizer. They do have electricity and running water but it is not potable. We met with the mayor and some of the town committee. One guy and two of the women are former guerrillas. Cinquera's objective for our visit (and that of all subsequent communities we visited) was to tell us their story, describe their current situation, explain their hopes and fears for the future and to make an appeal for assistance.
Their story of course is the stuff of legend, their current situation is dire and they are skeptical and worried about the future because if ARENA wins the next election nothing will change and if the FMLN wins they fear retaliation from the US. Meanwhile, they struggle every day to survive, literally. I think I'm going into too much detail. I will desist and simply and briefly describe the communities we visited.
But to preface those descriptions, I am compelled to make some generalizations about the country as a whole. The people we met all went way out of their way to try to make us comfortable. They fed us a meal, or two or three, even when it was clear they had nothing. They had to have been preparing for our visit for weeks. In each case the community leaders, mayor, director of the citizens association, cooperative, whatever they chose to call their community organization, spoke more or less formally. He or she always introduced the other committee members present, and all members-at-large of the community who happened, or intended to be there. In every case it was clear the community organization was the sustaining force. What little they have and the progress they're able to make is possible only as a community with each person contributing and the community helping each family in turn, as they can. It became absolutely clear as the days went by that the people in these places would have no chance were it not for the "community".
This is the CIS's major focus - grass-roots community organizing. I've always downplayed community organizing as an excuse for not doing something concrete. Man, was I wrong. This too is richly ironic; ARENA's suppression, deprivation, repression and wholesale sell-out to US & multinational corporations - the whole neoliberal debacle - are forcing the people in the municipalities, towns and villages outside the capital to organize along the designs of the Cuban model just to survive, the very thing ARENA & the US swears to eradicate. Perhaps ARENA is too busy trying to ingratiate itself with the corporations, create and solidify a niche in the new economy after CAFTA and dollarization and enrich themselves by privatizing everything to notice what's going on in the small communities. ARENA will eventually feel threatened though.
There's a very real chance it could come to a head with the next national elections in 2009. There are 2.5 million Salvadorans in the US sending back remittances to family. Amazingly, the total remittances equal the annual federal budget - 3.5 billion. It's this money that fuels the consumer economy, causes inflation and relieves ARENA of any responsibility for the people. Unemployment is high and wages are low. There are maquillas all over the place surrounded by walls and barbed wire and guarded by guys with machine guns. The workers are like indentured servants making $140/month in a country where gas costs $2.85/gallon. (For more on this subject take a look at Naomi Klein’s book, No Logo.) I guess now I'm writing this as much for me as for you guys. Feel free to stop reading - I won't be offended - and I can just give you the highlights when I get home.
Back to Cinquera. I spent the night there in an unoccupied, vacant house. It was of typical construction - concrete block walls, tile floor, one large room divided into three with makeshift partitions. There was a spigot out back and one of the eco-friendly toilets. The windows had bars but no glass or screens. The door was thin steel plate and lockable. The house had electricity - a single overhead fluorescent bulb. Two fellow delegates, the translator, Raul, and the driver, Alfredo, stayed there as well. We slept on the floor on 2 in. thick foam mattresses supplied by Rosie, the owner of the house and former Guerrilla radio operator. We had our meals in Cinquera in a kind of community kitchen, comedor. Meals were tasty and more than I wanted to eat. The mandatory beans, rice and tortillas were sometimes complemented with squash or potatoes and occasionally chicken. Probably ate the chicken that provided breakfast's egg.
The second day we visited a nature preserve nearby. Cinquera is extremely proud of the preserve and deservedly so. They've built and improved 5 km of trails, built a lookout on top of the mountain and preserved a large guerrilla camp complete with artifacts. (During the war the FMLN sent people to Vietnam to learn guerrilla tactics. There are remnants of a Viet Cong style stove where they piped the smoke into the ground on an uphill slope so it would be dispersed.) They are trying to reestablish native vegetation and protect the wild life - I saw a parakeet nest but no parakeets. There is a beautiful creek running through the preserve with a couple of waterfalls. We were able to take a break from the heat with a swim in a pool below one of them.
The pool and waterfall in the nature preserve at Cinquera- photo Tim Chadwick
Cinquera has high hopes of becoming an eco-tourism destination but ARENA's lack of support for community development in FMLN areas will make it tough to build sufficient infrastructure and basic amenities to attract even the most intrepid ecotourist - ecoadventurer maybe. Their optimism in the face of all these obstacles is heart-breaking; I'm too cynical perhaps and they, after all, are realists if nothing else, who've made phenomenal progress so far.
One more thing about Cinquera. In front of the church there are two large unexploded bombs; explosives have been removed. They are marked as having been made in Baltimore. Anyway the church bells consist of a guy hitting the bomb casing with a brick. Then slowly the people start showing up for the mass. They also have the tail section of a helicopter in the back of the church. To continue, and finish…
with the "bell" in front of the church, Cinquera - Photo Sarah Snider
Monday was the memorial for Grande. There was march form Aguilares where he was pastor to El Paisnal where he was headed. He had 5 others with him – an old man and a boy of about 12 were also killed and 3 other kids that escaped but who were later found murdered. The distance from Aguilares to Al Paisnal is only about 5 km and I’d guess about 3,000 people marched – as hot as I’ve ever experienced – no shade. Aguilares is a busy, dirty town at a crossroads although it has a large, well kept central park. Didn’t really see much else of the town.
El Paisnal, on the other hand, is sort of off the beaten track, a little creek running through it, looking cleaner and quieter and quite pleasant all around. They have a fairly new municipal building on a small hill. It has a huge, shaded veranda, high enough to catch the breezes. Los baños were spotless, practically unheard of around here. I walked around the town a bit during the large, seemingly interminable religious service following the march. The further you got from the town center, the more the abject poverty became evident and visible. ARENA claims progress radiates from the center, something akin to Reagan’s trickle down economics, with about the same effects.
Monday afternoon we went back to San Salvador to the country’s largest public hospital. It was a gift from Belgium around the turn of the last century. The Belgians built it, took it apart, shipped it here and then rebuilt it, and it’s a big, big building. Made of steel panels, it is the only building in El Salvador that has withstood every hurricane, volcano and earthquake without sustaining any damage. Big open wards, only the ICU and surgery are air conditioned. In-hospital infections must be a horrendous problem. After a tour in which, amazingly, we were invited to inspect the patient wards, including the GYN ward, we met with the hospital workers union. (After the first ward, we in the delegation stayed out. Our hosts seemed a little miffed but I hope not insulted.)
The union has three main problems – the usual union stuff of wages and benefits, privatization and guest workers and death threats against the union leaders and organizers. Mayo Clinic and some Canadian company are buying up the public hospitals and clinics and will run them as for profit business, requiring Salvadorans, who don’t have water or electricity, to buy health insurance. Nice touch. The union guy wants union people from the states to come down here to show them how to organize and recruit. He obviously doesn’t know the union movement at home is all but defunct. They need people from the American labor movement of the 1920s & 1930s. (Subterranean Fire is a great book on labor history.)
The health system is obviously screwed up and Arena’s meddling only aggravates the situation. A few years ago there was a dengue fever epidemic and ARENA refused Cuba’s offer to help out. But as the death toll continued to mount, ARENA finally caved in to public and international pressure and allowed the Cubans into the country. No one died after the Cubans arrived and the epidemic was over in just a few weeks. Tuesday we went back to El Paisnal to meet with Fr. Orlando, a nephew of Grande. Orlando now has the parish in Al Paisnal after being transferred from Aguilares. He seems to be following Grande’s footsteps physically as well as socially and politically. His focus is on organizing the youth to try to counter the power and influence of the gangs. He’s also trying to figure out ways to help the young and women learn some marketable skills like sewing, woodworking and masonry. The church here is apparently controlled by Opus Dei, an extreme rightwing branch (cult) of the Catholic Church. The new fascist pope is said to have connections to Opus Dei. Anyway, Orlando was transferred out of Aguilares just as his efforts were beginning to show some promise. He figures he’ll be transferred again if he’s successful in El Paisnal. He’s also had some death threats and he became quite emotional when describing his situation. An interesting aside is that the pope last week sanctioned Jon Sobrino. Remember the six Jesuits who were murdered – Sobrino was the seventh who, had he not been out of the county at the time, would have been killed also. He is now at the Jesuit University here. The pope sanctioned him because he had been speaking and writing too much about Christ’s humanity and not enough about his divinity. The sanction means he can no longer speak publicly or write for publication without prior approval of the text from Rome. If he doesn’t desist, he’ll be defrocked and maybe excommunicated.
Tuesday afternoon we met with some expert on migration and emigration. He described in more detail the causes and effects of emigration on families and the country’s economy. His emphasis is on trying to reduce the numbers of people lost and killed on the trek through Guatemala and Mexico to the US. That seems pretty hopeless to me.
Wednesday and Thursday kind of blended into a single experience. Wednesday we went to La Libertad in the municipality of Tamanique. There we were introduced to a group of health promoters, volunteers, working in the area. It seems their biggest problem is HIV and other STD but for religious reasons they do not promote, suggest or even mention condoms. I wanted to leave at that point but hung around until a break. Two of us left and found a place on the beach with cabañas and beers. The beach was great – volcanic black sand and pretty big breakers – there were about a dozen surfers out. With the ocean breezes, the heat was bearable. There was a bunch of young or younger people around – mostly Europeans – looked like beach bums and surfers and the mandatory topless sunbathers. Actually, I was kind of surprised the Salvadorans tolerated it.
We rejoined the group for a trip up into the hills above La Libertad to a place called La Victoria. It’s a typical village with the houses spread out over several acres. We stopped at the house of Don Rutilio, the elected leader of the community organization/cooperative. They have water they pipe from a spring a little higher up but they have no electricity or sewer – not even the eco-latrines. The place they had been living in was totally destroyed by the earthquake in 2001. The survivors came to this place, settled, and eventually won title to the land. They fed us a meal they prepared over a wood fire in the “kitchen” attached to the house. The area around the house was immaculate – little flower gardens here and there and the dirt had been raked, no trash anywhere. We met under a tree for shade and after all the obligatory introductions, Don Rutilio made his speech and his pitch. They can build a permanent house for $3,000 and an eco-latrine costs $300. They have about half the families in permanent houses and are very worried about the others in temporary houses (made of tin and aluminum sheets) because the rains are coming in May and they always lose some to the wind and the rain. They subsist on corn, beans and rice, which they grow in the rainy season, and the chickens running around all over. Some of the men work in or around La Libertad and I presume their wages provide the community with fruits and some vegetables they cannot grow. They have a few mango trees and coffee plants they hope to turn into cash crops no matter how meagre. But through it all you can see their resolve and their optimism and especially their pride. (Repeating this theme seems a little trite by now but it’s true, damn it. It’s really quite remarkable.) I was really impressed by this guy Don Rutilio.
We left La Victoria and headed for San Alfonso. I was not enthusiastic about the visit to San Alfonso. San Alfonso is back down to almost sea level, a dank, dark jungle-like place in dense woods. No breeze because of the dense forest. As soon as we got there I loaded up with Deet. These folks had water, electricity and eco-latrines, but not much else. The houses are of mud and sticks with dirt floors, chickens, dogs and pigs all over the place. They cooked dinner over a wood fire also. I didn’t eat much because the place never got comfortable. They also said they sometimes don’t know where their next meal will come from although at least one family had a pickup truck. (I guess there are plenty of people living in poverty and eating from food shelves in the US who have cars too.) The meeting went late. We were supposed to have been dispersed among the families for sleeping but instead they strung up enough hammocks for all of us to sleep right there. There were about a dozen trees around two houses about twenty yards apart. Without the hammocks I think I would have stayed up all night. (I saw a dead coral snake on the Grande march a few days earlier. The colors and rings were there but I know there is another, nonvenomous snake with similar colors and rings – two of the ring colors are reversed – but I wasn’t about to debate the point with myself.) So, after redosing with Deet, I went to sleep in a hammock, under the stars in a dank jungle to the sounds of unknown creatures in the jungle, clucks of chickens, snorts of pigs and the incredible snoring of some of the delegation members. I actually slept OK, only occasionally being bumped awake by one of the larger pigs passing beneath my low-slung hammock. A couple of cows crashed the camp at one point, apparently got all upset because they couldn’t get through as usual and went off crashing through a makeshift fence. Then a horse showed up and, likewise, thrown off his usual route, went crashing through a bunch of steel drums piled up behind one of the houses waking every one up.
Catholic worker Naed does morning prayer in San Alfonso - photo Tim Chadwick
And then, the piece de resistance. If you want eggs, your brood of hens has to have a rooster. This brood was ruled by a big, colourful, strutting guy whose crow would wake you a mile away – imagine it three feet from your ears, over and over and over again beginning about 3:30 am. In the morning they gave us breakfast including the most atrocious coffee. I couldn’t get out of there soon enough.
The King Rooster of San Alfonso - photo Tim Chadwick
After San Alfonso we split into two groups. The first group stayed in San Alfonso for an hour or so and then went to the beach for the rest of the day. The second group piled into an van and went up to Comasagua. The town must be a little over 2,000 feet, cooler and breezy. FMLN won the last election here and the mayor, a really handsome and charismatic fellow – and an agronomist – was really enthusiastic about all they hope to accomplish – real revolutionary fervor. Comasagua was destroyed by the 2001 earthquake also. Somehow, a Venezuelan relief team managed to show up there the day after the quake. They rebuilt all the public buildings in town and started on the houses intending to rebuild or build a house for every family. When they were only about half done with the houses ARENA booted them out of the country. Some families are still living in lean-tos of tin and aluminum. Our purpose in Comasagua was really to transfer to two 4-wheel drive pick-ups for the trip to La Loma. It was about an hour and a half over a road that would make a logging trail in northern Minnesota seem like a city street – up, down and around, sometimes a sheer drop on one side - and the bumps – I was checking my urine for blood the next day because it felt like I bruised my kidneys – no blood though. When the road ended we still had almost another hour to walk, further up hill. Some men and boys from La Loma met us where the road ended. They had three saddled horses which were used by the less hearty among us. Two of us carried a three gallon jug of water on a pole between us. No water ahead.
The village is again typical – houses spread out over several acres. We only saw two of the houses – they were made of native materials. We crossed a large, level open area they used for soccer. Just beyond that was a huge mango tree with several homemade benches lined up beneath it and a few wooden tables. They also had about half dozen plastic yard chairs like we use at home. La Loma means the hill. This hill rises up from the end of a long ridge and drops off steeply in all directions. From the edge of one of their corn fields, which they had just sown with beans, you can see southward for miles, all the way to the Pacific. We met under the mango tree. It was hot but there was a fantastic breeze, a wind actually, that was the perfect antidote to the heat and the bugs. The benches were filled with about 8 women and 30 children of all ages, some men and boys standing around in back. Once again, the mayor (he was one who met us at the trail head) introduced everyone present. Since La Loma is in the municipality of Comasagua, the local FMLN operative was there as well. La Loma has no latrines, no electricity and no water. Yet these 40 families have been living here since 1993, gaining title to the land as part of the FMLN program after the peace accords. During the war the civilian population left because the FMLN used it as a lookout point because of its commanding views and thus it came under frequent attack and bombardment. Many people were killed or disappeared. The oldest person in the village is only 57, maybe there was one 60. But there are no old people (60 isn’t old is it?), only the stories the adults remember being told as children. The families are all large – 10-12 kids.
There is a village with a school below the hill and some of the older kids walk for an hour down to attend a few classes and the walk two hours to get back up. A few adults teach the little kids as best they can, using the space beneath the big mango tree. La Loma wants to build a school. They’ve already negotiated with the government for a teacher if they can build a school. I don’t know how the hell they’re going to do that without a big donation. They say if they can get the materials, they can build it themselves. Why the school is such a priority before water and sewer is puzzling. Maybe it’s something tangible that they think is within reach while water would be hundreds of thousands if not a million. Now they carry water by horseback from the village below. After the meeting several women appeared carrying tubs and baskets on their heads and prepared lunch. They had beans & tortillas, rice and some potatoes and about a dozen of what they called river shrimp – looked like large crayfish. None of them would eat – just served us and stood around watching. I noticed there were kids in most of the trees around but not in the big mango.
After lunch it was time for everyone to speak, at least their name if nothing else. It turns out that we were the first people from outside El Salvador to visit La Loma – EVER! It was a Stanley-Livingstone moment. All of a sudden we were representing the whole world for these folks. Other than the leadership, the rest of the people, including the adults, were incredibly shy. The adults did introduce themselves and told about their families. The teenagers and kids though hid behind each other and didn’t want to speak out. A few, you could see, were gathering their courage only to lose it at the last instant. A handful of kids did speak though – more than half girls. As things began to wind down and become less formal the local health promoter (new in the area since the FMLN victory) showed up. He came by the same route we did. (This guy was from Comasagua and so was from a different group than the one from the day before that had a problem with condoms.) The health promoter hung a fish scale from a branch of the mango, fashioned a sling out of a large piece of muslin and began weighing and recording the weights of babies under one year of age. Some mothers arrived with their babies. Either they knew he was coming or word travels fast on “the hill”.
When it was time to leave, they brought the same three horses and two more for the walk back to the pick-ups. I would say about 25 people walked with us, some dropping off along the way, until at the edge of the last corn field in that direction, the rest stopped. There were kids perched on rocks and in trees above the trail along the way back to the road. The trip to La Loma was really something and I don’t think I’m doing it justice. Then back to Comasagua and San Salvador where we had a “typical” Salvadoran meal at the CIS, prepared by CIS staff. Best guacamole I’ve ever had.
Lago de Suchitlán, view from Suchitoto - photo Tim Chadwick
Friday morning we had our self-debriefing and made some plans for follow-up. All but six of us left at noon Friday. This weekend I returned to Suchitoto and became the tourist I guess I really am. Suchitoto was the original Spanish capital in El Salvador. Now it’s a little sleepy town, high above a gigantic manmade lake. A strong wind mitigated the heat and kept the bugs at bay. Stayed in a guest house for $10. There were holes in the roof the size of footballs. The town is the cleanest I’ve seen – they even have crews picking up trash on Sundays. It is slowly becoming a kind of artist colony/cultural center. Very nice weekend after last week’s experiences. Classes start tomorrow and more political stuff. Going to the embassy tomorrow to ask the Americans to lift some of the restrictions on temporary visas for Salvadorans. We're thinking about raising some money to bring a person or two from one of the communities to Minnesota and then try to raise some more significant money for their village. We’ll see how it goes. Now I’m staying in the house of a woman I think is about 70 and her granddaughter. Spanish classes started today. If you guys get through this, I’ll be amazed. I bought a telephone card and I’m planning to call each of you on Wednesday evening. 3/28/07 Note to self – we didn’t go to the embassy until Friday of the week in question and we delivered letters to the ambassador about our impressions of El Salvador and the US role there, demanding some changes. How naïve is that? We, at least I, did not bring up the subject of visas – wish I had. |
