Home at last

Hey all -

I apologize for the delay (very sad, nearly a month) in making my last blog post. I started writing the blog below on the morning I left El Salvador a couple of weeks ago! I stayed up late writing it and was ready to post, when my internet connection failed! True story... It was nearly 5am at the time, so I opted for a few hours of sleep rather than anything else which might have rendered me insane. This comes to you relatively untouched since the time of its writing.

I hope to continue my blog since returning to Cleveland... another chapter and theme altogether! Though my posts might be sporadic, look for them from time to time. Your love and support this summer were very appreciated, much more than you may know.

Since I'm here, I might as well share what I will be up to now that I am home. I actually start my new job *tomorrow,* working with Knowledge College, Inc., a tutoring company offering tutoring services in Cleveland schools. My step-sister started the company a couple of years ago, and it's been doing great. First we're going to work on the "street team" recruiting kids to participate in the program, which should be neat. Spanish sounds like it will come in handy... then, tutoring starts in October! Our goal is to better prepare kids to take standardized tests come the Spring, and provide study skills and strategies for test-taking. A totally new venture for me, but one I'm looking forward to. I'm taking some classes in the evenings, as well -- biology and chemistry; yikes!! Wish me good luck, and much perseverance.

It has been good to come home, and just be here to reconnect with my family, enjoying the end of Cleveland summer. I've definitely had some days of feeling very lost, but I guess those too shall pass.

thanks for reading, and stay connected!

much peace to you all,
elizabeth

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This will be my last blog post from El Salvador. My flight leaves in just a few hours; so hard to believe. The summer has flown by, due mostly I think to the fact that I was really enjoying myself. I must admit that I've felt confused, and a little lost the past few days as I've been preparing to leave. I guess that is par for the course, though. I know without much of a doubt that it is time for me to return home (as in home home!) -- there is much waiting for me there -- and the mixed feelings of leaving are therefore welcomed. Whenever I go through transitions or hard discoveries, I always give myself (consciously) time to feel sad, or angry, or simply melancholy for a day or two. I actually say to myself, "This day is for you to feel sad about x, y or z." It helps so much! Of course the emotional residue can often linger much longer than that, but I've found it constructive to let myself simply be with hard feelings for a time before trying too hard to ward them off with other strategies. When children fall down, don't we give them time to cry? :)


It's not that note I want to end on, though. The reason I am anticipating these pending days of melancholy is because of how much joy I have experienced here over the last two months. After graduate school, it was needed. :) I feel like I've really reconnected with what is important to me -- namely community, God and being with people whose lives have been so different from my own. Through my time here this summer, I have watched a number of close relationships grow and change. That is very often a place that I find God, in relationship with others, in community. I feel like there has been a deepening of many of my friendships here, and that I really just want to be with people. As an introvert that is one of the last things I thought I would say, but it has come to be true. I still, of course, enjoy my alone time, but I've learned to enjoy myself much more in the company of others.


I think this may be just be beginning of my 'lessons learned'

mystic, beautiful, simple.

Sunday morning

As a child, there were three prayers that I learned:  the Our Father, the Hail Mary and the Serenity Prayer.  It is the God that inspired the latter of the three that I identify with and pray to the most.  In case you don't know it, the words of the serenity prayer are 

God grant me the serenity

To accept the things I cannot change

The courage to change the things I can

And the wisdom to know the difference.

A lot to say in just one sentence.

For some reason, this prayer came to me the other day and I've repeated it at least a dozen times to myself since then.  It really comforts me, a prayer for wisdom to differentiate between what I have control over in life, or what I am responsible for, and what I'm not.  So many fears and anxieties, I feel like, come from a lack of vision in this area.  Sometimes I know I'm getting it wrong, but am not sure how to get it right -- do I let it go?  Do I try harder?  Sometimes I spend much time just trying to figure out if I should proceed in a given area, not to mention the question of how.  And that is where the wisdom piece comes in, the wisdom to know the difference. 

I don't have a whole lot to say at this point...  The students all left yesterday.   What a whirlwind month!  Our last couple of weeks were as jam-packed as ever (hence the lack of blog entries) including a weekend-long trip out to El Mozote in the eastern part of the country, and our re-entry retreat and despedida party this weekend.  Annie and I are, without a doubt, spent...  but accepting of that as part of the process.   A friend who works with delegations here calls this period the "hangover."  Ha!  That's certainly what it feels like sometimes!

I just wanted to write and say hi..  and hopefully I will have more time over these next two weeks to return to a more regular writing pattern.  

Peace be with all of you,

love,

elizabeth

 

P.S.:  For the YouTube fans out there....I've been enjoying this song, and can't seem to get enough of it lately: I Only Ask of God.  Interestingly enough, it is by a Middle-Eastern Hip Hop group called Outlandish, and is an English version of a song by Nicaraguan artist Leon Gieco.  (I first heard the song here in El Salvador years ago, as part of the popular music repertoire.)  Outlandish has a multitude of politically-conscious songs, most about the hard realities faced by youth of the Middle East.  The three artists in the group are collectively: Pakistani, Moroccan, Honduran, Muslim and Catholic, based out of Denmark.  Just a very neat blend of languages, culture, musical influence and global realities...  Check them out on YouTube.

Flor de Piedra (Flower in the Stone)

Hi everyone!

Recently, I visited an organization called "Flor de Piedra" (Flower in the Stone) that works with female sex workers in the country.  The objectives of Flor de Piedra are not to get women out of the sex worker industry (which for a small NGO, isn't financially possible) but rather to educate and empower women to make their own choices and protect themselves while doing it.

  

Both of the women who spoke with our group were themselves former sex workers, and were willing to share parts of their own stories with us.  One of the main reasons women enter into the sex industry, the informed us, is because they are single mothers.   This was the case for both women we met.  One's partner left her with a daughter when she was 15, and another's partner left her with five small children when she was 21.  (Her eldest child had been the result of a rape.)  Both women entered into the sex industry as a way to support their families.  "It is not the glamorous life some people say it is," one woman said.  (Given our surroundings in central San Salvador, which one companera referred to as "the pits of hell," I had to wonder who could hold such a belief.)  "The life is hard -- physical, mental, verbal abuse, and little pay."  ($12-$15 is the high end of the pay scale for a sexual act; $2-$3 the low end.)  Not to mention the social discrimination, guilt and low self-esteem that accompany the work, as well.   

As we were sitting there, a group of twenty-five students from some of the best universities in the country (Boston College, Marquette, etc.), it dawned on me: this is the consequence of our lifestyle.  This is the outcome of the goods we consume in the United States, the other end of the global digestive tract.  It is quite a different picture, following capitalism and globalization all the way through to their ends.  

A friend of mine here in El Salvador, Sam, returned recently from a trip around the world.  He was able to visit the red light district of one of island of Cebu in the Philippines.  Here is a link to his blog, and another perspective on female sex workers around the world:  http://theadventurecapitalists.blogspot.com/2008/09/father-to-hundreds-of-daughters.html.

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Another friend reminded me, after my last post, that there is another side to this coin.  In response to my rather cynical entry about the complacency poverty perpetuates, he asked if living without resources immediately on hand doesn't also create resiliency and patience, and he was right.  Thank you, Jay, for saying this!

I had a growing sense that this blog was becoming a venting chamber for me, and I want to balance that.  It's only fair to share the beauty, faith and hope that I get to experience every day here (alongside all the other things) with you all.  I apologize for not doing so sooner.

Something beautiful that I saw today, maybe for the thousandth time, was the San Salvador volcano.  It's huge, right in the middle of the city.  I was traveling to the other side of the volcano with a friend and both of us just let ourselves be in awe.  The sun was just beginning to set, and it was the time of day where everything is a little more graced.  For a few miles while driving along the "falda del volcan" (skirt of the volcano) we just watched the volcano and took it in in silence; it's massive slopes looming above our windows; it's grey-blue hues that rise, roll and fall, like you might imagine the ocean floor to do; a puff of white smoke coming from a fire somewhere.  The sheer size of this land mass is amazing to me, still.  Families that live on the volcano are vulnerable to landslides, especially now in the rainy season.  I see that, too, when I look at the volcano.  It's beauty and it's hardships, all in one.  Maybe there is no need to separate it all out...maybe doing so wouldn't do justice to either one.  Flowers in the stones.

... pues, I am calling it a night for now.  thank you for reading along and sharing, and I hope to have more for you soon.  For anyone that is wondering, the recent coup d'etat in Honduras, while calling the world's attention, hasn't had much of an (immediate) effect here in El Salvador.  It seems that travel to Honduras is unadvisable at the moment -- which may mean no trip to Nicaragua in a few weeks -- but other than that the general sense is that the social and political problems resulting from the coup are isolated in Tegucigalpa.  Hopefully the military junta will not last long.  Personally, I do not see how they can being economically, socially and politically cut off from most countries in the hemisphere, but one never knows.  Actually, the entire action to me seems rather short-sighted, and ironic.  Those who took over power did so in part to protect their business interests from suffering under the current populist president.  But who will their business partners be now that the world is refusing to recognize their government's legitimacy?  It seems as if they themselves tied the knot, and if they don't concede power soon, will likely hang.  

On another note about the coup though, please keep the country of Honduras in your prayers and thoughts.  At least two demonstraters have been killed and dozens injured thus far.

love for now,

elizabeth

p.s. I tried to upload a picture of the volcano to share with you, but could not get it off my camera...  maybe next time!

Ni modo...?

Hi everyone,

I realize it's been a little while since I last wrote, and I think that has been for two reasons:  I haven't had the time to do so, and I haven't known what to write about!  The latter is not for lack of material or experiences, just my ability to make sense of them.  (This situation is made worse, of course, by lack of time to stop, think and write.)  So today, hopefully I am breaking this vicious cycle and teasing out some experiences of the past week.

The students have been in their praxis site for almost two weeks now -- half of their time here!  The time goes by really quickly; one month is just enough time to get your feet on the ground.  The hospitals I think are really challenging the students..  There is an overarching lack of respect for human dignity, and the sites they see sometimes leave them reeling.  The hospitals are seriously underfunded (1.5% of El Salvador's GDP goes for health care), which translates into a serious lack of supplies and medication for patients.  During one of our site visits, for example, we saw a patient in need of a ventilator being kept alive by hand by a medical student pumping an oxygen bag.  Simply, there was no ventilator to use.  (Or, someone did not think it worth it to bring one to the patient's side.)  Another time, a friend who is a medical student here told us of a procedure to remove glass shards from a patient that, without tweezers available, had to be taken out by hand.  Her resident in charge that night, she said, had instructed the interns to do whatever they needed with the patient; he didn't want to have to deal with it.  Tweezers?  Needless to say, without these most basic instruments available, more sophisticated technology is mostly out of the question.  "Here," she said, "you learn to diagnose with your hands and your eyes."  This student is learning to gauge liver function by comparing the color of her skin to the color of patients' skin to test for jaundice.  Students another day were called over to a patient's bedside (who was "skin and bones") to help put is adult diaper on correctly; the nurses, he said, hadn't done it right and he couldn't wear it.  

In and of themselves, these examples seem....  bearable.  So you make do without tweezers, find someone to pump the oxygen bag, adapt your diagnosis skills...  But what is it to constantly concede the ideal for the mediocre, or worse?  To always go slightly without what you need, to always compromise, to wait and have your ambitions be derailed?  I feel like in the reality of El Salvador, this is what happens at every turn.  Annie and I were talking about this a few days ago; those seemingly benign and inevitable moments of resignation that we see every day.  What sparked the conversation was a friend traveling out to see his mom; there had been two assassinations that afternoon just feet from his family's front doorstep.  The bodies of two vendors had been left for the community to see.  It's a challenge for his family (who is raising five children) to live there, because now, to see or hear a crime is a danger.  Witnesses easily become victims.  In the conversation before he left, he said "Pues, ni modo.  Asi es la vida."  (It doesn't matter anyway; such is life.")  Ni modo...  Ni modo...  the expression is too common here, a bottom line.  

I stopped to think about this, and asked Annie later, after he had left, "Can you imagine if there were two murders outside your front door?  What would your family do?  How would you deal with it?"  Undoubtedly, for many of us, it would rock our world.  We might even move.  But in my friend's community, these were the second and third assassinations this week.  His family doesn't have the resources to move.  Ni modo. 

And I feel the need to clarify here: the friend I am speaking of is not an individual inclined to resignation.  On the contrary, he is one of the most hard-fighting, committed individuals in the country that I know.   I take his statement above therefore as a reflection of the powerlessness and vulnerability that characterize the matrix of poverty, and not his own sense of fatality.  More subtle than corpses in the street - and perhaps more insidious in its own right - the frame of mind that a chronic lack of resources creates is really one of the hardest monsters to fight.  In the field of psychology  this is called learned helplessness (one of the few terms I remember -- ha!).  The keyword here is learned.  When a lack of resources forces people to concede fulfillment of basic needs and rights  -- physical and mental safety, ample medical care, food, opportunity for growth -- at every turn, material poverty teaches the notion that what is in front of you, right here, right now, is all that there is, problems without solutions.  Don't ask, the answer is no.  There are no extra funds, no tools to make the diagnosis, no extra food, no other options.   How many chances are missed to make small improvements?  I think that this is the saddest type of violence - the one against the human spirit that teaches people not to fight for themselves, and others, to secure life.

Shifting Gears

Our group of 23 students arrived this past Tuesday.  Thankfully, they were ready to hit the ground running on Wednesday morning.  Champs.  By  Thursday afternoon, we had toured three hospitals and done a full day’s worth of orientation, and by Friday it hardly seemed they had arrived only three days ago. We toured our last hospital and clinic over the weekend, and on Friday were able to spend an amazing evening with a Salvadoran family who are friends of the Casa.  The Quintanilla family (as any alum will vividly remember!) has thirteen children, and an incredible story.  Their family fled from the countryside during the civil war here (1980-1992), spent time in a refugee camp and now lives in San Salvador.  Their sons and daughters (aged 12-30ish) sang for us, played guitar, and generally shared a really great evening.  I am always grateful for Salvadoran's endless well of hospitality.  Why do we find it so hard to open our doors to strangers?  (My camera is unfortunately out of batteries, so no pictures for now!)

On another note, I remembered how much I love accompanying students while they are here.  On the whole, the group is bright, motivated and thoughtful about social justice issues.  They have thought-provoking questions (such as: How does the machista culture of El Salvador affect funding for the women’s hospital?) and insights about the reality of El Salvador.  I really appreciate the ways they challenge the status quo, and perhaps more importantly, the ways in which they are willing to challenge themselves.  They are, in many ways, a community of accountability for me, seeing always with fresh, new eyes.

It’s just started to rain here, so I think I’ll write a little more.  These past couple of days, I have been thinking about beliefs (now it’s really starting to come down) and how a belief finds its way into our heart and mind, and shapes how we think about the world.  (Dina and Joanna...thank you for sharing this!)  This has challenged me to think:  What do I believe is important?  What really matters?  What can I neglect?  Normally, I think, I am not as prone to change my beliefs so much as add new information into my current belief system in a way that builds on what is already there.  How often, really, do we change what we believe in our heart of hearts, challenge that?  My beliefs are so often taken for granted, yet they inform who I am, how I see of and make sense of the world, and what I believe to be possible.  What do I really believe about who people are, and who I am in relation to them?  Can I let people and the world change me, and teach me new, better truths?  Not just in a way that adds on to what I already believe to be true, but in a deep-down way that pushes me to grow in new directions.  I hope so.  Maybe this is part of what it means to open up and let people in.  Thankfully, I have a number of wonderful models, past and present, who have shown me how to do this… (whether or not they knew it ;)

Again changing gears... (This entry has been patched together over the past few days...)  I realized the other day though that it is here: the desire to stay.  Being here is in a way, a weight off my shoulders.  I feel like what I am doing matters; that my gifts are being put to use.  Not that I didn't find that fulfillment in bits and pieces before, but this is a more holistic sense of purpose.  Part of that is sharing El Salvador with new people, walking with them through their struggles with language, culture and self that hopefully will turn their world upside down.  I am a little farther along on that journey, and even though the beginning is rocky, I can say with confidence that it will be okay.  As Annie and I decided tonight, if they've ade it this far, they will make it through to the end.  With those initial challenges behind me, I am able to support our community in other ways like working on our home community and praxis sites and hopefully, being a friend and mentor to students who are immersed in El Salvador for the first time.  In other words, I feel like the struggles I went through as a student are not put to waste here, but rather are part of an important foundation for who I am able to be here now.  And also, hopefully, my work here is something that I am good at.  Undoubtedly, it is something I find meaningful.

I am also freed by the knowledge that I am here with Salvadorans, learning more intimately about their reality, walking with people... whatever that means.  I don't know how to describe that "work," if that's what it is, but I know that it is important.  It is important to sit and listen, to ask questions, to learn from, to validate; to help people remember, help them bear, and carry with you a bit of whatever it was that they were carrying without you at first.  To the best of my ability, I try not to be disillusioned with a "save the world" complex.  On the contrary, I am quite aware of what we can each do as individuals.  Knowing that I am doing that to the best of my abilities is freeing.

I find it freeing also to know that I am pushing myself to my limit, living comfortably with just enough discomfort.  From a variety of different angles I am invited to be less afraid here, live with more integrity, more authenticity, more faith and fewer falsehoods.  I am always walking a little bit in the dark, reaching for the light switch I believe to be just around the corner.  The give and take of stress and growth is freeing. 

Of course the exchange for freedom is the acquisition of new weights, but for some reason the weights of El Salvador are easier to bear (at the moment) than was life without their corresponding graces.  I guess that is always the balancing act we pursue :) 

At the moment, therefore, I want to imagine myself staying here beyond August, living in the newfound (or refound) freedoms of growth, security and purpose.  (Allegra - this was yours!)  For some reason, the three always seem to come together here for me.  The question then is what about my environment here leads to that ... which is another blog entry all-together.  When I let you know, I will figure it out.  (<--- that was originally a typo, but I decided not an error.)

Hopefully next time I will have some photos to share... I know I've missed some great opportunities these past few days!  Thanks for reading :)

With much love and gratitude to all of you; thank you for reading along, writing and sharing your thoughts!  The are so very valued!

goodnight for now,

love,

elizabeth

P.S. Thank you to C.J. who taught me how to drive stick shift; and gave me a deeper appreciation for the metaphor of changing gears, if not the ability to drive from North Campus to South :)

   

Glaciers

On Saturday, I was able to spend most of the day visiting with friends in a community named Mariona.  I think that it is such a grace to suddenly find yourself in a new phase of an old relationship, and realize that you, the other person, and what you share have all grown. 

Griselda, her mom and Davidsito (!)

The economic crisis has hit El Salvador (like most vulnerable countries, I imagine) pretty hard. These friends run a women's cooperative in their community, which makes and ships artisan products -- mostly to clients in the US.  Over the past year, however, they have had little to no orders which means little to no work.  I would like to look for a way to create a sustainable business partner for them, so let me know if you or anyone you know would be interested.  In the mean time, belt-tightening, despair and the search for piece-meal work have settled in in equal measures.  I really don't know how they do it..  Nonetheless, we shared a dinner together (vegetables, beans, eggs, cheese and tortillas), and I left full of gratitude for many different reasons, but also weighed down by this shift in their already hard reality.

Oti and Roberto

During the visit, we talked a little bit about immigration, and the pro's and con's to one's immigrating to the US.  Of El Salvador's 6 million citizens, approximately 20-25% currently reside in the United States.  Hundreds leave the country every day to journey north, on foot or by train, and cross the Mexican desert to enter the US and look for work.  I have yet to meet a Salvadoran family who does not have at least one family member living in the US.  Remittances (money sent back to El Salvador from the US) totaled $3.8 billion in 2008, somewhere between 10% and 15% of El Salvador's total GDP for the year (U.S. Department of State, 2009).  Yet despite the significant amount of dollars coming into the country (and they are in US dollars), the majority of individuals still live in poverty.  The need for better economic opportunities in the country is clear, but where to find them?  

When I was a student here in 2004, the family member of a close friend left suddenly for the United States.  She had to leave behind her two children, then aged 9 and 4, and as of 2009, she has yet to be able to journey back.  Without a passport, leaving the US could mean that she may never return, or have to risk another journey (costing upwards of $7,000) across the desert (an entry for another day, perhaps).  Her family depends on the remittances she sends home.  Coincidentally this woman now lives near Boston, and I was able to visit her on occasion during the last two years.  

This bright, kind and otherwise vibrant woman lives between a rock and a hard space.  Visiting her house sort of reminded me of the Anne Frank annex, where shades are constantly drawn, and most of life is lived indoors.  Sporadic immigration raids -- such as those that happened in various US communities in 2007 and 2008 -- feed a constant and underlying fear and anxiety about one's security.  I think, frankly, many of her roommates (all of whom had also immigrated to the US) were surprised that a young Anglo-Saxon woman would come to visit.  Eventually, they granted me some confianza (trust) and I learned their stories.  

Most of the people living in this house, including my friend's sister, had left their home countries of Latin America (Mexico, El Salvador, Honduras) due to economic conditions.  Simply, there was no work to be found that they could sustain a family on.  Most were women, and at least two that I know of left small children behind with other family members.  Some had papers to be working legally in the US, while others did not.  They worked in grocery stores, dry cleaners, and other generally low-paying jobs, and after rent and bills, sent any remaining money home to their families.  The little money the sent was still more than what most believed the would have been able to make at home.  One woman had left her developmentally-challenged daughter with a close neighbor, and was sending money home for her son to go to high school.  Some had started new families in the US (in which husbands/fathers were almost always conspicuously absent...as they had been in Latin America; also an entry for another day), while others were holding out to return home.   All of their situations were precarious.  (Not to mention that the last time I visited, their hot water heater had been broken for months--  a chilly component to the Boston winter!)  

La familia: Breneley, Kevin, Denis y Sarai

On the other end of the line, children in El Salvador are growing up without parents.   How much is that worth?  In the same family that I was mentioning above, it is the grandmother who is raising five grandchildren under the age of 15, doing most of the day-to-day parenting on her own.  Gang violence is now wide-spread (also an entry for another day), with major selling points being security and camaraderie.  Teen pregnancy, also abundant, may bear similar resemblance to the needs of young girls it is able to meet.  Babies in high school or grammer school though inevitably means less education for girls and women, and the cycle starts over again..  Despite the abstract phenomena, the truths themselves are very real.  

The family I mentioned above is not an exception to the rule, but much closer to the rule itself.  How does this happen? Under what conditions does leaving one's children become the best option, the most feasible approach to life?  These are questions that have been with me for a long time, the answers to which are still taking root.   

A passage I read the other day said, "Pain we feel instantly, but truth slides into the heart like a glacier."  El Salvador's many truths - unjust, hard, kind, sad, generous and hopeful - are still slowly sliding in, and they are all welcome. 

Meeting baby David!

How big to be a real jungle?

Dear family and friends:

First off, I have to say that I am like, really excited by the fact that some of you read this, and even commented at the end!  I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but it is so affirming to know that you cared enough to read and even wanted to know more.  I am grateful for your presence (albeit via cyber space) and find it very comforting to know you are there.  Thank you!  I will do my best to make reading this blog worth your time :)

Since I last wrote, I have basically been working pretty consistently with Annie (my co-coordinator, and true to her reputation, an amazing woman) on preparing for the students' arrival.  We've visited four of our five praxis sites -- excellent!  The pace and working style of El Salvador in general, I feel, suit me very much.  Their rhythm is like a breeze off the lake, or a slow, constant summer rainfall that lasts all afternoon.  People come and go, and come back again, in and out, touching base, moving on.  Internet isn't always a surefire way to get a hold of the people you need to get a hold of (though this is slowly changing), so communication generally moves at the speed of call backs and voice messages.  All of this, for right now, is just fine by me.  Compared to the hectic, high-strung communication expectations in the United States, which I completely fall into, this feels like a welcomed and healthy change.

Adaptation in other ways is not as easy, I'm afraid (which, in many instances, is exactly the problem).  Take for example the house where I am staying.  "The Peace House," as it's named, is a guest house right next door to our program Co-Directors, and is for Casa alum and guests to stay, most often free of charge.  It is a wonderful blessing and a privilege to be here.  And, I have two wonderful roommates for the time being - Salvadoran men (Julio and Neto, for those of you who know them!) that I have known for a number of years, and trust dearly.  (One of them actually accompanied me to the store tonight for an emergency purchase of feminine products, as it was too late to go alone -- so grateful!)  Basically, it's a great place to be.  Nonetheless, I live in a state of constant distress due to the fact that the house is surrounded by what I have termed "the jungle."  Now, I am not actually in the jungle, I am in the middle of urban San Salvador.  What I mean to say is that the yard that surrounds the house might as well be the jungle.  Giant trees with roots hanging down from them like veins, leaves the size of my torso, unknown nooks and crannies, and an aura of tropicalness about it.  Given the back yard is fenced in and maybe 1/2 the size of a soccer field, but I'm sure you can see what I mean. When you're afraid, what does scope matter anyway? 

To illustrate this, I live in constant fear of spiders, snakes, giant cockroaches, flying beetles and mostly the unknown crawling out of the jungle and into my bed with me in the middle of the night.  Now to be fair, this fear is not totally unfounded: I have, since arriving, killed two giant cockroaches and found two more floating in the bathroom water of our tiny house, avoided a flying beetle dive-bomb by three seconds (and later found said beetle dying in my closet) and once, two years ago, discovered a snake taking shelter from the rain in my living room.  (Casa Romero students from Spring '07 should remember the latter, vividly)  My challenge is how to coexist harmoniously with the environment of El Salvador, which I was once at least semi-adjusted to and now feel like is full of shadows and anxiety-provoking things. 

I think that this is what pushes me to grow though, always, is the need to move beyond my fear.  I am someone that is paralyzed by fear when I am afraid (which is often) and in those moments the fear just grows and grows.  I am grateful to El Salvador for that: always pushing me beyond my fear.  The fear does subside with time, I think, but only by constantly engaging the courage needed to walk through it.  It's as if there is a finite space towards any given thing, and as as the light around it grows the darkness shrinks. 

The practical application of this?  I am turning on all of the lights in the house when I go to the bathroom tonight :)

Bueno pues, as we say here in El Salvador, I think I am calling it a day for now.  Another thing I love about El Salvador?  10:00pm is late here.  There is something akin to gravity (social gravity, maybe) that pulls you down with the sun which is completely set by 7:30.  The Salvadorans are early to bed and early to rise, and my body is adjusting to the same; another welcomed change.  And plus, the rain just started to fall.  Our second tropical downpour of the day, and an invitation to perfect sleeping weather.  (And also to critters indoors, but we'll leave that in the margins of my conscience.  Remember: Lights!!)

Many blessings and welcomed moments to each of you, wherever you may be!  More soon...

with love,

elizabeth

    

Welcome

Dear family and friends,

Welcome to my blog!  For those of you I had talked with earlier about this idea (thank you, Shannon and Denise!) it has come to fruition.  While this may not seem like a huge commitment, or anything requiring serious discernment, it’s actually something I’ve been turning over for awhile.  I have a somewhat chronic aversion to journaling despite my clear and recurrent understanding of why it’s valuable.  So, making a commitment to journal not just privately but publicly is a bit of a leap!  However, since arriving in the country this past Wednesday, my desire to do so has only grown.  There are so many little moments, insights and anecdotes to be experienced here that to not share them would be a loss.  Additionally, there are always new levels of richness and texture to be discovered by writing things down, and Dios sabe (God knows) that in the jungle of El Salvador, there is no shortage of things to unearth.  I feel like I have let the opportunity to engage writing here slip by too many times before, and for some reason, have been granted another chance to try. 

For those of you who don't know, I am in ES this summer helping to run the Casa de la Solidaridad's (House of Solidarity) Summer Medical Program.  The Casa started as a study-abroad program based out of Santa Clara University, and offered students an opportunity to spend a semester learning about the reality of El Salvador.  Typically the Casa hosts around 22-24 students/semester, and now includes 31 becarios, or Salvadoran scholarship students, as well!  In a typical semester, students spend three days a week taking classes at the Jesuit Universidad Centroamericana, and two days a week in a marginalized community of San Salvador.  The latter is referred to as their praxis site, and is really meant as a segue into understanding lives and realities of most Salvadoran people.  Students aren't there to work or provide a service, though some communities do ask students to teach an English class, but really just to learn from the people who live there.  (I was a student here in the Fall of 2004, with a praxis site at the Martin-Baro Cooperative in the community of Jayaque/Los Sitios). The summer medical program I am working on now is somewhat similar to the semester program, just condensed into five weeks and focusing health issues.  Our students (who arrive in just over a week now -- yikes!) are nursing, pre-medical and pre-dentistry students from all over the United States.  Once here, they will be taking classes in Spanish and Public Health at the UCA, and attending their own praxis sites in the public hospitals and clinics of San Salvador.  Their praxis sites, as are any immersion experiences, are (hopefully) the core of their time here.  The students will be spending four mornings a week in one of five sites, then switching to a second site during the second half of the program.  Currently, the Casa works with four major public hospitals (one adult, one pediatric, one maternity and one general hospital) and one public clinic.  As these students are not yet medical professionals, their roles in the hospitals are simply as volunteers -- to spend time with patients, entertain children, and help with tasks such as feeding and bathing as needed.  For a lot of students Spanish is a major obstacle, and really calls on them to be creative communicators :)  It is an intense five weeks, but one that students really seem to get a lot out of.  

As a program coordinator for the summer med program, my role is varied, and depends mostly on what is needed in the moment.  This could range from taking in diarrhea samples to attending meetings with hospital directors ... both of which are just par for the course!  In a nutshell, the other program coordinator (also a Casa alum, and wonderful!) and myself will live with the students, arrange and visit students in their praxis sites, facilitate community living, plan health-related field trips, accompany students during their time here as listening ears and supportive shoulders, and basically try to hold tight to the big picture mission of the Casa in the little moments and decisions of our days.  I appreciate this job for the mental, physical, emotional and spiritual presence it requires.   None of this could happen of course without the great team which I am a part of, and includes our two wonderful co-directors, a Salvadoran doctor who helps coordinate the sites, five women who cook and help maintain the Casas, and a slew of other people without whom this program would not be possible.  All of these people, hopefully, I will talk about in turn as they are some of the most valued and committed individuals that I know.  

I counted while in the shower last night (something to take my mind off the buckets of water I was pouring over my head) and I have spent at least part of the year in El Salvador every year since 2003, minus 2008.  I wondered at this fact: Am I one of those strange ex-patriots that just can’t seem to move on with her life, so I stay?  There seem to be many floating around, and this is certainly one possibility.  But the last time I was here, at the end of the 2007 school year after working on staff with the Casa for the year (including that year's summer med program!), I was certain that it was time to leave.  I didn't really have any intention at that point of returning to work in El Salvador in a long-term capacity, but when this opportunity came up about a year ago, I was eager to say yes.  My reasons for coming back had changed some, which I will hopefully get to later on, but on a fundamental level it was easy to return to a place that has been so life-giving to me.  I was and continue to be overwhelmed with gratitude for the opportunity to do so.  

In conversations the past two days with other Casa students who have remained in the country, wherein they are discerning their own timelines abroad, I have quickly come to see the wisdom in knowing when your time somewhere is finished.  A supervisor of mine at the Lowell Community Health Center referred to this as “outgrowing one’s goodness” in a place.  I felt like I had outgrown my goodness the last time I left here, but am surprised to be discovering how much of that still remains, and perhaps more importantly, new ways to be good.  I think that blogging this summer is going to be one of those ways, so I hope you will check back from time to time and read along.  Any questions, comments or thoughts to share are more than welcome!  I look forward to sharing my time here with each of you in this way :)

En paz y solidaridad,

elizabeth