Day 9 Continued

Monday January 12, 2009

During our visit to El Mozote, we walked down to see where and how Rufina was able to escape, where she lived, and the massive hole made by the 500 lb bomb that was dropped on the village. As I watched, listened and learned, I saw both the suffering and the pain as well as the hope for the future. These people may be a suffering people, but they are not a sad people. Everywhere you go in El Salvador, you see beautifully painted murals of love, peace and hope. El Mozote is no exception. The beautiful paintings on the church demonstrate the hope for the future that these people maintain, while still being willing to reflect upon the death and destruction that they have been through.

These types of experiences that we have been through today can be very difficult and Rufina knew this. Whenever she would go with a group and share the story of El Mozote, she would always be sure to take them to one of her favorite places which is along a nearby river bank with waterfalls and a place to swim or at the very least to dangle your feet in the water. She would encourage people to wade or swim in the water and to be “rebaptized” in the understanding that the living need to continue living and that they need to continue to tell the stories so that those who died will never be forgotten. So, we stopped by that beautiful place and rested for a time, wading in the water, washing the dust of the village streets off our feet and remembering those who lost their lives and those who did indeed live to continue to tell their stories. We were reminded in that place of beauty, that we are now a part of the history of this place and the duty and responsibility that Rufina carried with her for the rest of her life, that duty and responsibility to tell the story, will now fall to people like us and now to you who are reading this.
We then took the long bus ride back down those narrow mountain roads to Perquin for lunch, and then we went to the place that I would call “The Rebels Strike Back.” (sorry about the Star Wars reference)

Our little town of Perquin was quite the rebel stronghold during the armed conflict, and even more, it was the home of the rebel radio station, Radio Vencerenos, which broadcast on the side of the FMLN or Guerrilla Army during the armed conflict. This was also the radio station that played such a prominent role in the movie “Innocent Voices” This radio station became the most significant target of the El Salvadorian government, a target which they would never get and one that would cost them the life of one of their most brutal officers.

The story goes like this: Lieutenant Colonel Domingo Monterrosa Barrios, who was the officer responsible for giving the orders for the massacre at El Mozote and Copapayo, desperately wanted to stop the transmission of the Guerrilla radio station. So, with that in mind, the rebels set a trap, using a military tactic which traces its history back to the Trojan War over 3000 years ago. The Guerrillas, knowing how prized the radio station was and how much of a priority that Monterrosa placed on its capture, created an elaborate ruse. They led a group of government soldiers to believe that they were chasing a group of Guerillas, and when the soldiers came upon the scene they found torn uniforms, blood everywhere, (chicken blood) tracks where it looked like the wounded had been dragged away and radio broadcasting equipment that looked to have been abandoned rapidly. Could they have been so lucky?

They immediately called in a report to headquarters, Monterrosa, tuned his radio into Radio Vencerenos and discovered that they weren’t broadcasting, and immediately ordered the soldiers to secure the area that he was on his way. A few hours later, his helicopter arrived on the scene and he examined the radio equipment, finding it all in working order he ordered that it all be loaded into his helicopter so that he could take it back to headquarters. He then picked up the prize, the transmitter, and got into his helicopter, holding the transmitter firmly on his lap. One of his bomb experts asked Monterrosa if he shouldn’t examine the components first, to which Monterrosa replied that he had already done that. The helicopter took off, and once it reached about 200 feet in the air, BOOM, The guerrillas had placed explosives inside the transmitter and once they saw that the helicopter had taken off, they pressed the button on the detonator and Monterrosa was dead. His death had a tremendously demoralizing effect on the army and was heralded with praise and adulation by the Rebels.

Today we had an opportunity to see the museum for the Guerilla Army which is very near Perquin. This was also the primary location for Radio Vencerenos during the war, although, it was very mobile and extremely difficult to track. We also saw the wreckage of Monterrosa’s helicopter which they were obviously quite proud of. Very near the radio station was a large bomb crater. The Government of El Salvador came close, but were never successful in shutting the Radio Station down.

We ended the day back at the Hotel/Cabins. Dinner will be in about 30 minutes and tonight we are having a group session. These past several days have impacted me greatly and I have been struck by what I have seen. I am especially troubled because the serene backdrops of these tremendous atrocities are those beautiful mountains which I love so much. I am not at all a poet, but last night I began to think about the carnage that I have seen and I have struggled to wrap my mind around how it is possible for humans to hate and murder their fellow people without so much as seeming to care. I also understand that each of us, no matter how much we protest that it isn’t true, each of us are capable of committing these atrocities if given the right set of circumstances. This has been shown over and over again throughout history by the Nazis, by our treatment of the Native Americans, Vietnam, Korea, China, Russia, Darfur… With all of these things buzzing around in my head, I wrote a poem that I will plan to share with the group tonight, if I get up my nerve.

If These Mountains Could Talk
Dedicated to the innocent souls who died during the armed conflict in El Salvador and who still await justice.

If these mountains could talk,
What would they say?
Under the cover of darkness,
Or naked light of day.

If these mountains could talk,
It seems so unclear,
Would they tell of great hope,
Or scream out in fear?

If these mountains could talk,
Would they speak of their pain,
Of death in the night,
Or terror in the rain?

I wish I could listen,
What stories would they tell?
Of the suffering of a people,
Of war and of Hell!

If only they could talk to me,
I wish I could hear.
How would they change me?
Is it the truth that I fear?

"Discovery News" El Mozote Massacre

I wanted to share this video with you. It was produced by "Discovery News" and describes in very good detail what I saw while in the village of El Mozote. As best I can tell this was filmed a little over a year ago, so the images are much like what I saw when I was there. I hope this helps you to understand.

Blessings

Day 9

Monday January 12, 2009

I was up and out early this morning, I think that I am beginning to get used to this not sleeping stuff. I decided to walk down to the outdoor café area of the hotel, even if they aren’t open yet, (although you can sure hear them working inside) I can still enjoy the beautiful view of the mountains. When I came out of the cabin, it was just beginning to become daylight, and as I have sat here, I have been able to watch as the Sun peeked over the top of the mountain. It is just about perfect here this morning. Probably around 70 degrees with a light breeze blowing, I would hate to think about the sub zero temperatures that they are getting back home.

Today after breakfast we are going to El Mozote, the site of the massacre that I mentioned last night. I think that if you have been following along, reading my journal, you are beginning to get a sense of the death and destruction and deep wounds that are all still very fresh in this country. One very sad aspect of today’s massacre is that none of these people were thought by the government forces to be guerrilla fighters. These people were killed simply to send a message to the other villages that they should not help the guerrillas, and that no matter what they may think, the guerrilla fighters could not protect them. It didn’t work!

On our way to Periquin yesterday, Cesar pointed out a river to us that we crossed and he told us that during the armed conflict, the government troops didn’t dare cross that river unless they were accompanied by 500-600 men. These mountain passes belonged to the Guerrillas.

We left for El Mozote right after breakfast. (they have wonderful orange juice here as well) The road that we traveled on was very difficult and treacherous, it is a good thing that we have an excellent driver. Think for a moment of the most treacherous mountain roads that you have ever been on, now imaging that it is much more narrow, and rough than you remembered and you are in a bus. That pretty much describes the feeling, except that we were never in a position where we were close to the edge of any drop offs. (thank goodness)

As we entered the town of El Mozote, the first thing that we could see is the plaza in the center of town right next to a beautifully painted church. Your eye is then drawn to a shadow image of a family holding hands, and then to a wall of names. These are the names of those who were killed during the massacre.

The story is told that on December 11th 1981, elite government forces moved into the village, and rounded up all of the people and forced them into the town plaza. For many hours they were forced to lie face down. At one point the leader of the community tried to explain that the people weren’t helping the guerrillas and that they had assurances that they weren’t to be bothered. The answer that he received was a boot in the back of his head pressing his face into the ground.

After a long while the people were allowed to get up and then divided into groups, men, women and children. The children were taken to a building next to the church, the men to another building and the women to yet another. They were told to be quiet and not to stick their noses out or they would be shot. Rufina Amaya, who would be the only survivor fought and pleaded with the soldiers not to take her children, ultimately, the soldiers took her children by force, but not until her fighting placed her at the very end of the line of women. The order then came to kill everyone. When the shooting began, Rufina was able to fall down and slide underneath some brush. As she hid, she listened as the soldiers tortured and then killed the men. She witnessed as women and young girls were raped and then murdered. She listened as the soldiers were ordered to kill the children. She described how one soldier spoke up and said that he couldn’t do this, couldn’t they just take the children to San Salvador? She then heard as the soldier was told that if he didn’t execute his orders immediately, then the next bullet would be his. She listened as the children cried and screamed for their mothers until there was complete silence.

She didn’t know what to do, after several hours it began to get dark and a large group of animals, cows, goats and dogs walked right passed her. She knew that these animals were sent by God, and she lifted up her skirt and lowered her hair and then blended in with the animals, crawling on her hands and knees down the road until she was passed the soldiers. Once a little ways down the road, the animals left her and she decided that because it was dark she would be better off crawling on the side of the road rather than out in the woods, because she would have made too much noise crawling through the woods. At one point she crawled within just a few feet of a soldier and it wasn’t until she was quite a ways away that he thought he heard something and fired a shot in her direction. When another soldier came up and asked what he was shooting at, he answered, It must have been the ghosts of the dead.

Eventually she made it to the house of someone who took her in, fed her and gave her a place to stay. They then sent word to her oldest daughter who was living in a nearby village. Since that day, Rufina has continued to tell her story over and over to anyone who would listen. She has even told her story to the US Congress and the British parliament. To this day, the El Salvadorian Government has not taken responsibility for this tragedy. Many years later, due to the insistence and persistence of Rufina’s eye witness account, independent forensic archaeologists returned and began the work of verifying the reports of the massacre. To date the bodies of 183 people have been found most of which were found near the church, 70% of them were children. In all 1000 people were thought to have been murdered in El Mozote, almost 500 of them children. Rufina, died about a year ago of complications from a stroke. Her body was returned to El Mozote where she could be buried near the people that she had spent her life seeking justice for.

As we visited the site, I was struck by the beautiful mural on the wall of the church. It was a depiction of children playing under a rainbow with lightning bugs all around. It is said that for many years following the massacre that if you came to the village at night, it would be totally deserted and the only thing that you could see would be thousands of lightning bugs which they believed to be the spirits of the children who were slain.

I have to admit that after hearing the stories and then watching as the little children who now lived in the town played around us, it became very difficult, if not totally impossible, for me to bear this emotional burden any longer. The story of the murdered children was told to us by a young girl, possible only 12 years old who came up to us and wanted to share with us the history of what had happened in her village. It now seemed impossible for me to separate myself anymore from the stories of these people and the reality of their plight.

I then looked down at the bottom of the mural and saw the list of names of the children who had been killed; row, after row, after row, literally hundreds of names of children and their ages when they died. I then saw the name Concepcion Sanchez, 3 days old, I could no longer contain my emotions. Up to this point I had been able to maintain the status of independent observer, up to this point I had been able keep in check the overwhelming sadness for these people that had been churning inside of me day after day. But now, I could no longer keep up the façade of strength and composure. In one small child, Concepcion Sanchez, my mind somehow embodied the crushing nature of the atrocities that I had experienced, and I found that I could no longer separate myself from the plight of these innocent victims. Tears flowed from my eyes and my heart was broken for these people. I wept uncontrollably. I now understand why God has sent me on this journey, I now understand that I could never have understood theses things from reading a book. I know now, that my life and ministry will never be the same.

The young girl, who had been telling us the stories, then came up to me and gave me a small, black, string bracelet with the name El Mozote weaved into it. I put it on my wrist and at that moment, vowed to wear it until it fell off as a reminder to me of what I had witnessed and felt in this land, thousands of miles from home. Whenever I look at this bracelet, I will think of the children, I will think of Concepcion Sanchez.

Day 8

Sunday January 11, 2009

Today has mostly been a travel day for us. We were allowed to sleep in a little later today, and have breakfast around 8:30, but I was up and out around 7:00 AM, I really haven’t been sleeping well since we left home. So, I decided to be productive with my time and get caught up a little bit in my journaling and writing.

Since we are traveling so far today we are taking the bus that picked us up at the airport, instead of the two vans that we had been traveling in. We met our new driver who will be with us until the end of our journey and right on schedule, we departed the little village of Suchitoto. We began this trip in the metropolis of San Salvador, a big bustling metropolitan city, and then traveled to the classic little Central American town of Suchitoto and now we are traveling four hours up into the mountains of Morazan to the little village of Perquin. We are truly on top of the mountain, as a matter of fact the last 100 yards of our journey was straight up a humongous staircase consisting of 58 steps, carrying our luggage to get to our cabins.

Soon, Dong and I were originally put in cabin #4 but because of a Bee infestation we were forced to move to Cabin #1. This of course met with great laughter and amusement from the people who worked at the lodge. (I’m glad that I don’t speak Spanish, I would hate to know what they were saying, although I had a pretty good idea.) Cesar, our guide, even said that you can’t get away from the bugs up here. I can just imagine their thoughts about the wimpy North Americans (You have to distinguish North, South, etc, they are Americans too:) But, it wasn’t’ the wimpy North American that had the problem with the Bees, it was the Koreans who hate anything to do with bugs.

After getting settled, a group of us went for a walk into the town of Perquin. Cesar told us that it was right up the road not far. What he didn’t tell us was that it was ALL up hill. I thought I would die, but once there, we sat down in the beautiful park in the center of town and watched as Soon Won became an immediate hit with the children of the village with the camera. “Photo, Photo por favor,” the little kids would ask, and of course Soon would oblige them and then show them their picture in the digital screen. After a few minutes we were surrounded by kids laughing and playing and wanting their pictures taken, Then the parents came up to see what was going on, and of course they got there pictures taken too. There was one boy that seemed to be quite a ring leader, his name was Brian Martinez, I think that I will always remember that name, not necessarily because of anything that he did, but the way that Kate took such a shine to him, and would imitate the way he said his name with great bravado. I hope that there will be some way to print these pictures and send them back to the kids so that they can have the pictures as a reminder of their time spent with the crazy gringos.

The walk back down the hill was so much better, I was glad that we didn’t have to walk uphill both ways. Well, I should say that it was all downhill, until we got to the 58 steps back up to our cabins, this is hard work on an old fat boy.

After dinner we watched a video about a woman, Rufina Amaya, who was the only survivor of a massacre at the nearby village of El Mozote. In the massacre, the village was destroyed and the people were murdered. Tomorrow we will go to this village and hear for ourselves the story of these people. I am growing weary in my soul of these stories, so many people died, men women and children and no one seems to care.

On a thankfully much lighter note, I have to mention that my Korean friends are a constant source of amusement to me. Tonight, just before we went to bed, I was treated to a very exciting hunt. As I mentioned earlier, my Korean friends don’t like bugs of any kind, and tonight they spent about 15-20 minutes going around the cabin “hunting” bugs. It was hilarious to watch as they stalked their prey, jumping with joy after a successful attack and discussing, quite animatedly, (in Korean of course) their next strategy if they failed in their attempt. The biggest prey of the night was a gigantic Wolf Spider (I have to admit that I’m glad they got rid of that one) But, instead of killing him, they decided to capture it instead and release it outdoors. Words can’t begin to describe how that all took place, you just had to be there. Ultimately, they caught it in a trash can and opened the door and let it go. Perhaps their compassion for the spider was a little bit of residual Buddha influence, personally, I would have squashed that one and left the mosquitoes alone :)

Day 7 Afternoon

Saturday January 10, 2009

After we arrived back at the boat launch area, we had lunch with the entire group. I have to comment that my meal was the most interesting yet. We were asked if we would like fish or chicken, so I decided to try the fish. When it arrived it was difficult not to notice that it was looking right at me. It still had the head and all of the fins. Well, I am an outdoors kind of guy and I have certainly done enough fishing and ate enough fish to know what they look like, so I wasn’t overly traumatized by that, but what happened next totally freaked me out, well, not to the extent that anyone else noticed, but I was just about to jump up and run. When I put my fork into the fish, I saw something inside, it was about the same size and shape of a maggot, or at least a small worm. There were a bunch of them, "oh nooooo what on earth is this," I thought. I couldn’t initially tell if it was full of worms or if they just didn’t take out the intestines, either way I was about to run, when it dawned on me that these little “maggots” looked familiar, could they be...

My fish was actually stuffed with small shrimp. So I pushed aside my initial horror and took a bite, wow this was really good. So when I am asked what the most unusual thing that I ate, I would have to say that a fish stuffed with shrimp would probably fit the bill.

After lunch we loaded into the boats and headed back across the lake, this time in a different direction. We were on our way to visit the Sitio Cenicero Community which was where the people from Copapayo were ultimately relocated after the war and the new community was resurrected.

We were greeted at the shore by a group of 5 or 6 men who seemed to be busy solving the worlds problems along the shore of the lake when we arrived. One interesting thing to note was that none of them were wearing shirts, which you might expect on a hot day, but one of them was only wearing underwear, white (well not very white) cotton briefs. I have to admit that they looked like they hadn’t been washed for weeks or maybe even months. I wonder if I could get away with that on the beach at home? (I’m sure that Karen, and everyone else would say, resist the temptation) :)

After a very long walk up a rugged road made out of cobblestone that would make the Appalachian Trail look like an Interstate Highway, we arrived at the top. I do have to say, that the community was very proud of this road. Even though I thought that it must have been built sometime in antiquity, I learned that it was just recently built within the past few years.

Once to the top, we saw a beautiful mural depicting and commemorating the massacre of Copapayo as well as the communities hope for the future. These are truly a resilient people. While we were there, we had the opportunity to go into Sister Peggy’s house that she stays in when she is visiting in the community. It was a very humble concrete block dwelling with a hammock outside, one room with a bed and a desk, a hammock chair and a cement block out house out back. It was definitely VERY humble.

As we said our goodbys, we were followed down the hill by a very short older woman with no front teeth. She wanted very badly to wish each of us well on our journey and to invite us to come back again. What truly beautiful people these were, and what devastating tragedies they have faced. Sister Peggy said that these people were a suffering people, but the were definitely not a sad people. There is a profound difference between the two. The boat ride back gave me a sincere sense of the resurrection, for these people were truly a resurrected people.

We then came back to our room, relaxed for a bit and then all attended Mass together. It was beautiful although there were only a few phrases that I understood such as, “The Lord be with you, and also with you.” I didn’t understand much of what was said, but I could very much sense the joy and celebration of worship. It was a service where I laughed at the young boy who used his binoculars to stare incessantly at the candles in front of him, a scene that could be seen in any worship service in the world where young boys are present, and I had a tear in my eye for the young woman a few rows in front of me who wept throughout the service, Only God knows this woman’s pain, and all I could do was cry with her. On a lighter note, they had two things that I wonder how they would go across in our services back home. One thing was that we had to pay for our worship bulletins, ten cents and I couldn’t even read it. The other funny thing was that at the end of the Mass, they had a drawing for a flower arrangement. I’m not sure if people were given tickets before the service or if it was a raffle, but either way they called numbers and a young girl jumped up and went forward to get the flower arrangement. I wonder what the Bishop would think about these two fundraising plans? :)

After Mass, we went to dinner and then back to the Hacienda for a time of conversation and debriefing. Tomorrow we leave our wonderful air-conditioned rooms and our beautiful view and drive 4 hours to the mountains of Morazan and the village of Perquin.

Day 7 AM

Saturday January 10, 2009

Each day of this journey seems to be more and more special, but also increasingly more and more difficult. Today, we were up and out early. I had the opportunity to see the sunrise over that beautiful view from my balcony. It was really remarkable to watch as hundreds of birds flew beneath us, through the canyon below and then out over the lake.

For breakfast we went to the haciendas restaurant for a breakfast of scrambled eggs, watermelon and refried beans. However, it was the orange juice that caught my attention. It was by far the best orange juice that I have ever had in my life. It was so sweet that it reminded me of my favorite drink, an Orange Julius, that you can get at most shopping malls.

We then loaded into our vans and headed down to the lake. The lake itself is very beautiful. It was formed around 1973 after the building of the hydroelectric dam. Many people lost their homes and perhaps most importantly their farm lands. The question that has me wondering, is if the greater good that is served by the hydro electric dam outweighs the cost the poor people had to pay by the loss of their homes and farm land, or should there have been more consideration of what these people were forced to give up such as homes, and livelihood.

Once we arrived at the lake, we got into 2 boats and started across. We had with us, our group, 2 guests, Mercedes and Rogelio, and the two boat drivers. Mercedes came to share with us what life was like in the villages and especially the village of Copapayo and Rogelio was here to share with us his story of survival when his village was attacked by the government troops.

After about a 20 minute ride we stopped at a large cross on the shore of the lake which we were told was the site of the village of Copapayo until the massacre. We then went a little bit farther, got off the boats and listened to the stories of Rogelio and Mercedes. Mercedes began by telling what life was like even before they dammed up the river. She described how difficult it was to live with the nearest town of any size with a doctor or anything else for that matter being Suchitoto which was where we had come from this morning. That would have been a very long walk indeed. Copapayo was predominantly an agricultural community, where they barely were able to grow enough to eat. They actually rented the land and when the harvest came they paid the land owners. But, it always worked out that they remained in debt to the land owner. They were essentially slave laborers on the land.

Rogelio then began to tell his story. One day, word had come to the village that government troops were on their way, so the community fled across the lake in their small boats to avoid any confrontation with the soldiers. After a couple of days, the village sent someone back to see if the troops were gone and word was sent back that it was all clear. Rogelio and his family along with about 160 other people went back across the lake, the plan was to stay back and watch to be sure that all of the soldiers had gone. Two men, however were very hungry and had brought along a chicken that they were planning on cooking, so instead of waiting, they went on ahead to the village. Seeing them go on ahead, the rest of the villagers determined that it was safe and they followed. Once the villagers were on shore, the soldiers sprung their trap and descended from the hill tops killing everyone, men women and children and even a woman who was pregnant.

Rogelio, who was only 9 years old at the time, managed to hide near by and watched as the soldiers tossed grenades into the boats as people were fleeing and systematically killed a great number of the villagers. Rogelio wasn’t able to hide long and he was ultimatly found. At the point of a gun, he was placed with a group of survivors and told that he didn’t need to worry, that he was to be taken to San Salvador and put in a school there. There was a fairly large group of survivors, but he wasn’t allowed to even look around to see who was there with him. They then ordered everyone up and began the long journey to San Salvador. After a while the soldiers stopped and one asked him if he was hungry. Since he hadn’t eaten in 2 days he of course replied yes. The soldier opened up his backpack and showed Rogelio some sweet bread and fruit and asked him if he would like some. As Rogelio reached into the pack to take a piece, the soldier grabbed it away and laughed saying that he was only joking.

After what seemed like a very long time, they arrived at a neighboring town and Rogelio was told that he and a few others could go and sleep in one of the deserted houses for the night. The younger children were allowed to go out and scrounge around for some food to bring back for the group, but once back they were told that if they so much as looked out the door or window, they would be shot.

The next day they resumed their forced march and in the afternoon the soldiers took all of the young girls, separated them from the group (including one of our boat drivers sisters) took them into the woods where they were raped and murdered. This taking place all while their families pleaded with the soldiers not to take them. It wasn’t until this moment that Rogelio realized that his aunt and sister were among the people that had survived the initial attack.

A few miles later, the soldiers stopped again, talked on the radio and then separated the remaining survivors into 3 groups and took them to three separate locations. The order then came to kill all of the survivors. Immediately the soldiers began firing, and killed the first group who had been taken to a small hut. After the villagers were all dead, the soldiers caved the roof in to cover the bodies. They next went to the second group and killed them as well. One of the villagers who was mentally handicapped was hung from a tree and raised and lowered like a piñata until he was dead.

They finally came to the group with Rogelio which also included his aunt and sister. When the soldiers opened fire, he managed to slide over into the bushes with the man standing next to him who had been shot. The man started to scream in pain but Rogelio said that the soldiers will find us. He immediately became quiet and Rogelio realized that the bullet in this man would have hit him and so in reality this man had saved his life.

The order then came to cover the bodies with branches and a soldier nearly stepped on his foot while he was cutting down branches. Rogelio believed that God had blinded the soldier so that he couldn’t see him lying at his feet. After the soldiers left the area, he waited for a very long time and then started walking all alone back down the road toward home. All along the way he could see the bodies of those who had been killed as they went. After finally reaching the village he found no one alive.

Suddenly he smelled something that smelled like ripe bananas and he realized that he really hadn’t eaten in 3 days and was incredibly hungry. He went to a neighbors house and hanging on the back of the door was an entire bunch of bananas. He thought that as hungry as he was that he could surely eat all of them. He then went down into a secret hiding place dug in one of the houses and simply waited.

The next morning he heard sounds and people talking, he looked out, not knowing who they were and fearing that they might be more soldiers coming back. He then saw one man standing by himself, and Rogelio was filled with all of the rage and anger over what he had been though and he went out and attacked the man that he thought was a soldier. Suddenly he realized that the man he had jumped on was his uncle. Rogelio told him everything that had happened, and his uncle went on to the village, but everyone was dead. Rogelio then went to live with his uncle

You could tell watching Rogelio, how painful it was to tell this story. When he was finished, we prayed together, hugged each other and then left in silence . The trip back across the water was very difficult, I was both struck by the beauty of God’s creation and anguished by our ability to hate and murder. However, as we got closer, high on the hill, I could see something large and white. It was difficult to make out at first and then as we got closer I was able to see that it was the church in the village of Suchitoto. It was amazing to think that this beacon of hope would have also been visible to young 9 year old Rogelio as he left his home in Copapayo to an unknown future. In reality this beacon of hope has stood on the top of this mountain for 300 years. I have to wonder how many thousands of people have seen it as I did today?

Day 6

January 9, 2009

Today is both an exciting and sad day. It is exciting because we are going to the small country village of Suchitoto and sad because we are leaving the friendly confines of our home away from home, Los Pinos and the city of San Salvador. One of the members of our group is a little under the weather, so we hope that she is back up and feeling well soon.

The drive to Suchitoto was about an hour long. We began by driving up the Pan American Highway and after turning off that fairly large freeway, we began to take ever smaller and smaller roads, made from asphalt then brick until we ended up on cobblestone streets similar to what we saw in the movie “Innocent Voices.” After we arrived we were very excited to see that our accommodations were much more wonderful than we could have imagined. Each room had air-conditioning, a TV that actually picked up English speaking channels (I doubt that we watch much), a large bathroom with hot water (our last one was so small and of course no hot water) beautiful decorations, and the best part of all, as you step out onto the back patio, you have one of the most beautiful views that I have ever seen.

One of our first tasks was to meet with Sister Peggy a wonderful Nun who has been living in El Salvador since the early to mid 80’s. After a wonderful meal, and a tour of the facility and school, we came back to our rooms and I decided to go sit in the pool and cool off for a little while. It was a bit gross with pine needle type things floating in it, but I found that if I sat on the side with the water jets, it forced them all over to the other side. We then washed up and walked into town to explore the markets and shops.

While I was there, I had my first experience with a Cyber Café, I was able to spend a little time on the computer and get a can of Pepsi all for around 50 cents, not a bad deal. There was a man who was obviously handicapped following me after I left the Cyber Café and it took me a little while to figure out what he wanted, actually it was Kate that figured it out, he wanted some of my Pepsi, ( am man after my own heart) so I poured some into the cup that he had and that seemed to make him happy, but he still followed us around.

We then went and had a very interesting session with Sister Peggy. She told us many stories about her work and experiences in El Salvador, but the ones that I found most fascinating were the ones that took place during the war years. She described her feelings when she first came to El Salvador, not knowing if she was going to stay or leave, but that all changed one night, she and two other women, one of which had a very small baby, had found themselves in the position of being chased by soldiers on a dark country road, and very much fearing for their lives. All of a sudden the pick-up truck they were riding in went over an embankment and they were stranded. Feeling that they were probably about as safe remaining with the truck, they decided to stay there for the night. Sometime in the middle of the night the baby got hungry and needed it’s diaper changed so as the mother beagn to take care of these duties, the other woman opened her purse and pulled out two tortillas and offered them to the mother telling her that she need to eat to keep up her strength for the baby. The mother looked at her and then at Sister Peggy took the tortillas and divided them between the other two women and said, “Tonight we all eat together, and tomorrow we all hunger together.” Sister Peggy was so moved by the graciousness, hospitality, and compassion of these women, that her words were, and I quote, “Shit, I’m staying here!” (Not exactly what I expected from a Nun, but I think that pretty well summed up her feelings)

Another story that she told really impacted me. During the conflict when someone died, the family and friends always came to the church and asked if the church would help them to claim the body. It wasn’t safe for the family to do this because once they showed up to claim the body, inevitably one or more would be detained and sometimes tortured by the soldiers. The church, however, could do it and the army wasn’t as likely to do anything about it. She described one morning that someone came to the church and said that there was a head in the town square. Sister Peggy went immediately and saw that it belonged to a young man that she knew, as well as knowing the boy’s mother. She recovered the head and went to inform his mother.

She then stopped the story there and went on talking about other things. A little while later she began talking about a picture that she had been given which showed Elizabeth (John the Baptists Mother) comforting Mary after the crucifixion of Jesus. She described how when she showed this picture to the woman who lost her son, she began to sob, “This woman knows my pain, this woman knows how I feel” She kept repeating over and over again louder and louder that Elizabeth knew what she was going through. (John the Baptist was also beheaded) The pain that these people have experienced goes far beyond what I can even begin to imagine, and I thank God for people like Sister Peggy who are on the front lines sharing the gospel story in words, images and deeds, sharing the light of Christ in a very dark world. Sister Peggy is a remarkable person doing a difficult job.

For dinner that night we had cauliflower rolled in eggs and fried with a half an avocado. Thank goodness for the bread and rice or I might have gone to bed hungry. We also found out that we were originally supposed to stay in a different location than the beautiful hacienda that we are staying in. It wouldn’t have had air-conditioning or hot water, but they were full and couldn’t accommodate us. How sad for us that we are forced to stay in such luxury :)

Tomorrow we are going on a boat ride across the lake to visit the site of yet another massacre of innocent people. However, as Sister Peggy said, both sides did things that were regrettable, both sides forced people to fight including children. But, one side felt that they had no other choice but to defend their homes and families.