If We Should Forget....

It´s been a little while since I´ve written, though much has happened. The last week, especially, was a good one of voyaging & learning. After missing class being sick last Monday, and knowing Independence Day would keep us from school on Wednesday, I decided to "approvechar" (make use of) the week to defer my school fee and see new areas of the country.

First, I made my way west along the Ruta de Las Flores, which is highlighted in all the guidebooks. I stopped and stayed the night in Juayúa, where there are famous gastronomical festivals each weekend. Being a Tuesday, my stomach sadly had no special experience there, but it was a lovely, tranquila town to explore.

Wednesday, September 15, was Independence Day for all of Central America. I went to a small pueblo named Santo Domingo de Gúzman, also in the western department of Sonsonate. My friend & MK missioner, Erica, lives there. So we watched the parades of school children & marching bands. These included the Salvadoran version of cheerleaders, "cachiporristas," whose presence will be outlawed nationwide next year because of their controversially skimpy dress contributing to sexism. There was much debate & fervor about quickly passing this law, while important reforms like the medication bill I wrote about, remain stagnant. Sensationalism playing on popular sentiment to drive politics... a cross-cultural theme?

Anyway, in the celebration that followed, I got to hear the national anthem sung in Nahuat (Erica works with a group committed to preserving the indigenous identity). I loved meeting Erica´s friends in the community, seeing the welcoming home she has found here.

On Thursday, I headed east and north, to the village of Perquín. During the war, the FMLN operated a central command from this area, and the whole department of Morazan was victim to much violence. Now, the Museo de la Revolución is there, the only permanent museum (other than the UCA, perhaps) dedicated to the violent repression leading up to the war, and to the resistance movement.

...Unfortunately Perquín is a bit hard to reach. Bus from San Salvador to San Miguel. Bus from San Miguel to San Francisco Gotera. And for the last 30km, standing-room only in a pickup truck, with a crowdedness that would rival any Haitian tap-tap. As we loaded in Gotera, my fellow passangers actually joked that we should add up our weight in kilos.

The mountainous ride up was stunning, for both natural beauty and the signs of beautifully humble, though surely difficult, life in villages we passed. I would love more than a drive-by glimpse someday.

A few Salvadorans also were visiting the museum, company which I found heartening. Cool to see how Radio Venceremos broadcast from ditches in the forest to send critical messages to the guerillas. Very hard to see the display cases of bombshells and heavy arms that killed at least 80,000 people over 12 years of terror...purchased with the $1 million a day sent by my country.

After spending the night as the only guest in a family-owned hostel (where I think my back & side became a fleshy meal for fleas? any dermatologist readers?), I went back to the highway fork in the road early Friday morning where I expected to be able to find public transport to El Mozote. No luck. Fortunately, a big truck passed by on it´s way to Mozote on a trip for wood. He offered me a ride, so I got to see the infamous town...

There, a woman gave me a little tour of the humble memorial--silhouette of a family representing all those killed--and the reflection garden cultivated in a space where bodies of children had been found. She told me she´d been in another department that day in December 1981, but her six brothers were tortured & killed. Along with at least 1,000 people, the entire town... an atrocious massacre committed by the Atlacatl battallion, a counterinsurgency force created at the School of the Americas and subsequently closely advised by the US military. Atlacatl also was responsible for the murder of the Jesuits in 1989. There are obviously books written about the subject, and I don´t even pretend to know much beyond the most clear & obvious history that I present here.

Collective memory is so important. One of the best parts of the week was being back home Sunday and attending a memorial service in San Ramon, for the last "deslave" or deadly mudslide from the volcano directly above us. Though held outside at the site where 500-some people went missing under the mud 28 years ago, the communidad offered the same style of group sharing that I have enjoyed in past weeks. Many spoke of our need to personally be accountable for ways to reduce soil erosion & subsequent risk. While being thoughtful about this memory, I also remembered Haiti and its long history of centralization forced by bourgeois & occupying Marines, and the subsequent decades of structural violence that kept so many lives on a precarious tilt, long before the seismic tremor destroyed them. So many UN-natural disasters.

One young woman summed everything up simply, "If we should forget, we will just have to repeat."

(On a related note, I realize my post yesterday may have come across a bit strong. Not at all intended to be condemning or fanatical. Only to not forget...)

Sak Vid Pa Kanpe

An empty sack doesn´t stand

You could pass on every other blog post I ever write, but please read the article linked below, by Deborah Sontag from the September 19 NYT.
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/20/world/americas/20haiti.html?_r=1&th&emc=th



Couldn´t describe how this makes me feel, though it doesn´t come as surprise. Despite inattentiveness, we at least intellectually have known this to be the reality in Haiti. A ceaseless hell.

Sometimes I wonder whether our ability to see this slow, suffering death and then walk on to our usual business...makes us a little less than human.

Déjà vu & a new experience

I don´t know if a Spanish equivalent to that expression exists...

Was taking scattered buses on Saturday (20-cents per exploration) and saw a Marcha Blanca in formation, a demonstration for passage of the much-needed & long-awaited Ley de Medicamientos. Healthcare reform. From bits of newspaper articles and class discussions, I´ve learned just a little about the healthcare system here. Even for people with access to the "seguro social" insurance, the prescribed medications are often not available in public health centers and must be purchased privately, for a lot of dinero. A pharmaceutical industry exists here, allied under the name Industria Químico Farmacéutica (Inquifar); yet, the production of generics (or compulsory-liscenced patent drugs) within the country apparently does not translate to improved access for the population. Surprising? Not in such a lucrative industry as Pharma, surely.

Anyway, the current government is pushing a bill to control prices and improve access. As I joined the spirited procession on Saturday--more than 1,000 citizens of all ages, dressed in white--I remembered a similar march precisely a year ago. Labor Day weekend on the Boston Common, my med classmates and I in our new white coats joined a coalition to call for own healthcare reform. I think the Salvadorans beat us by numbers, so here´s to hoping their long struggle ends with some victory. And that our reform, too, is implemented with integrity & justice.

The organizers played the Latin American (originally Chilean) activism anthem, and since we sang the song a couple weeks ago in class (to practice the future tense), I knew the words!: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jkYoHxzaKs4

At the Pueblo de Dios en el Camino base community service the next day, people talked about the march. One woman commented during the homily, "I see it as light that so many people would come together. That enough is reason for hope." And later, we made plans for a group collection to help support cancer treatment for the mother of a community member. I doubt it will be enough... but if only we could all count on such insurance of compassionate neighbors.

Other highlights of the last week include participating in a femininity workshop with 15 Salvadoran women and a couple Maryknollers. A full day of sharing, drawing, and dancing. As I heard testimonies of abuse, in so many forms, I could be nothing but amazed, humbled. The greatest courage from within the small, anonymous ´casa´.

School is going well. Though I know I´m learning, I keep wishing I could absorb more quickly. I´m trying to force the "auto-pilot" / thinking in Spanish stage. Not there yet. So I probably should get off this computer...

Before I close, a small new experience: was enjoying myself listening at the Marcha, on nice grass, when attacked by a small swarm of fire ants (new word: hormigas). I then had my first major allergic reaction, ever. Immediate tight-chest & hives & all. Was fine by the next day. If I hadn´t left school, I would by now understand the IgE´s & mastcell/basophil degranulation pathways that can lead to anaphylaxis. But I don´t. Something to anticipate for the coming year...