Canciones: Padres y hijas

On June 17, El Salvador celebrated Father’s Day. The center and schools were closed so families could spend time celebrating together. It felt like an eternity since I had been able to see some of my students, since the week before I had to leave unexpectedly to Costa Rica to renew my immigration visa.

One of my students the following week came for her piano lesson and we talked about songs she could potentially learn to play for the concert. She named a few and as I wrote them down my attention was grabbed by one Princesas Magicas by Jesus Adrian Romero. Later when I listened to it, I realized that it was a love letter from a father to his daughters and I thought about how my student shared she spent Father’s Day. She shared how thankfully she was able to Skype and letter to her dad, because he lives in Houston, TX.

Then I began to contemplate about the book I have been reading Las Hijas de Juan: Daughters Betrayed by Josie Mendez-Negrete. This book is an autobiography about Josie and focuses on her relationship to her father. He was physically, sexually, and psychologically abusive to her mother, sisters, and herself. I was reminded of one of her reflections about how one of her sister’s would cope with the sexual abuse of her father. She would think of specific songs trying to escape from the devastating reality of what her father was doing to her. Her sister longed for the words of her songs to be more real than the nightmare she found herself in.

The words of this song deepened my appreciation for all the ways my father has been there for me in my life. How much he has loved me and continued to be present. I realized more profoundly how blessed I am to have a father like him. At the same time my heart broke for my student, because I knew she did not have this same dynamic in her life and neither did Josie or her family. And so I kept wondering why my student was so interested in learning this song. Perhaps it is because she wishes that the words of a father expressing such a close and loving relationship were a part of her every reality, or learn it to console herself when she is missing him.

Music has the power to move our hearts and in my time here at Centro Arte para la Paz I have found the greater sacredness of how it moves through us and is shared. It is more than words, it is more than melodies. The gift of music allows for a special kind of solidarity to exist. I hope that with this song my student can feel closer to her father even though thousands of miles and many other complex barriers separate them, Josie and women and children like her can continue to heal and find reconciliation, and for all those who are so blessed to have a good father in their life that they will grow more in their relationship. 

To hear the song click the following link: Princesas Magicas

With my Dad at Lago Suchitlan 

With my Dad at the Monsenor Romero Vigil 

La madre tierra

Cada noche la lluvia viene como los pájaros en la mañana
Cantando con un ritmo
Bien distinto
Y esta mañana las nubes estaban  tocando las montañas con misterio

Abrazos
De cariño
Yo puedo a ver la realidad de
Amor y verdad besando

Estoy
Mirando la tierra
Colorado
Rojo
Con el fuego
La fuerza de la vida
Con plantas verdes
Árboles
Maíz
El cielo celeste
Madre tierra
Esta embarazada y dando fruta cada día

Mi conexión con madre tierra
Es bien profunda
Cuando estaba pequeña
Tocando el suelo de polvo
En la casa de mi abuela
Ella dio un bendición a mi

Yo conozco mi historia
Mi identidad es un ciclo de dolor y alegría
Mirando realidad
Belleza
Pobreza
Con familiaridad

Mi corazón se rompió un millón veces
Enamorarse con la vida
Pero decepcionada con sufrimiento
Hambre
Pocos opciones
Diciendo cuídate de mi amiga con catorce años para los Estados Unidos
Con la opresión
Marginación de mi gente

Sí mi piel es morena
Mi lengua puede decir palabras románticos en español
Expresando mis sentimientos
Con más autenticidad
La frontera cambió
Yo vivió en dos mundos
Sin una lugar que puedo llamar mío
Pero yo buscarme  ademas
En las manos de viejitas
Cocinando tortillas
En el silencio de sus testimonios

Con la madrugada es un nuevo día
Oportunidades interminable de esperanza
Mi deseo es un niño o niña puede comer ahora
Una madre no necesita decidir a salir su país
Un hombre puede tener trabajo
Familias estarán llenas de amor
Amistades pueden buscar confianza
Nuestro mundo puede descubrir paz

Porque la mar estando diciendo secretos
Con cada ola
Compartiendo las historias de nuestros ancestros
Necesitamos escucharla
Y descubrir la verdad de quien somos

Abiertos sus ojos
Toca la tierra con sus pies
Sentí cosas difíciles
Y sigue la llama de su corazón
Debe hacerlo
Madre tierra está esperando
Con paciencia

Que le vaya bien compa
Te creo en vos
Gracias a Dios
Para la
Pura vida

Cuídate: Crossing Worlds

Suchitoto is truly an oasis of El Salvador. The pueblo is simple and beautiful. My life is very different here then what it was before in the capital. Although I am teaching music and art, my students continue to teach me things that cause me to reflect upon my life and my passions.

This week a student shared with me she will be leaving for the US. I met her about three weeks ago when I went to her school and introduced the class that Centro is offering. She came the following day with a group of her friends to sign up for piano. The following week she was so excited to start with lessons she came an hour early. I was teaching my art class so I invited her to paint with us. She really liked the class and so she signed up to continue with art too.

Last week she invited me and the other volunteers to come to their school for a fundraiser, where the teachers sold typical Salvadoran platos of pan de pollo and enchiladas. I saw my group from piano and girls from my other classes. As we said hello to all the girls, she came up to me and said, “I am so happy you came. I didn’t think you all would come.” I responded, “But of course, we would love to support you and your school.” Her beautiful smile then came as it normally does, then we chatted for a while longer while we waited for our food.

Today she came to classes and like most of my students these past few weeks started asking me lots of questions about where I am from, what countries have I been to, what I am studying and so forth. When I shared with the girls in my art class that I am studying Peace and Justice, she responded like most people, “So you’re going to be a lawyer?” I chuckled and said, “No, not exactly. My major focuses on injustice that people experience and promoting their human rights and dignity. For example, I work a lot with the Immigration Movement in the states, because migrants do not have laws in my country to ensure their human rights are respected.” Later she shared with me that later this week, she would be leaving for the US. My heart broke in that moment. Here was this beautiful fourteen year old girl drawing with me in art class, who after today I would not see again. Even in moments when she would share her grand smile, I could see a sadness and pain in her eyes to say goodbye to her life here. Her friends in art and piano all told her how they didn’t want her to go, and yet this sort of despidida for them felt all too familiar.

In Suchitoto, a large number of families have family member who has left for the states. In the canton El Sitio, I go to teach music at in the school Fridays, only one out of about a hundred families does not have family member in the US. It is very common here when children are about 14- 16 their parents will send them to the states. Another one of my students shared with me during our first piano lesson together her friend had recently left for the US, he is only 15.

There are many reasons for migration: war, violence, poverty, hunger are a few of the major factors. The poverty of El Salvador has continued to cause many people to migrate to the US in hopes of a way to support their families. El Salvador struggles with a mixture of these complexities poverty and violence being the strongest forces. The poverty of El Salvador effects many people and is manifested in various realities, and as I said, “Cuidate” to my student today she reminded me of this immense complexity.

My time here constantly leaves me reflecting about my involvement with Immigration back in the US. I understand this subject is highly controversial and political, but my hope in sharing this story with you is to provoke a deeper contemplation as to why people would ever leave their country, especially children-like this girl at 14 years old. Immigration is more than a political discussion or proposal for reform; it is a daily reality for people all over the world.

I feel extremely blessed to have known my student leaving now, and many Salvadorans in their sufferings with migration. To walk with them in this painful reality, where families are separated by miles and fronteras because the lack of options create only one to survive- to leave everything you know and love of your own country for another. I know when I return to the US and continue to fight for the dignity and rights of migrants; I will not just be walking with those present in the US but holding their families in my heart. Forever I will carry their stories, memories of their faces and smiles, and this is something that no amount of migrant oppression or lack of political reform can eliminate. Love is greater than boarders. Solidarity does not have boundaries. And I will never forget her, because every time I say cuidate she will be presente. 

El Centro Arte para la Paz

Now that I have finished by Study Abroad program, I am volunteering at El Centro Arte para la Paz in Suchitoto, El Salvador. El Centro Arte para la Paz was created ten years ago from a dream of Sr. Peggy O’Neill.  This space serves as a place where youth and community members can participate in various classes and activities, but most are of music and art. After the Civil War from 1980-1992 the lasting effects of trauma have continued to affect the lives of many Salvadorans and the current struggle with gang violence throughout El Salvador. El Centro Arte para la Paz is a space in response to these larger issues, promoting peace and self-expression.   

During my time here I will teach piano, choral, guitar, and art classes to kids from the community. I will be at El Centro Arte para la Paz until the end of July. I feel very blessed to have this time to work with Sr. Peggy and continue to live with the Salvadoran people. My hope is to share my talents and knowledge with them as generously as they continue to open their lives to me. 

My Praxis Final Reflection Video

This video is a summary of my experience accompanying families in Mariona during my time with Casa de la Solidaridad. Please see the link below:

Praxis Site Reflection

Refleciones de Semana Santa

“This is the night. At this time of the early Church it was not a time of joy as we celebrate today. It was (a night) a time of crisis. The kid of crisis we felt the night Monseñor Romero was killed. The kinds of night we have lived after members of our families disappeared and were assonated.”

The night the world has known from the darkness of war, the violence of hatred, the actions of imperialism, colonialism, capitalism, patriarchy. The world has waited in silence of destruction, natural disasters, and trauma. We are always waiting in hope for peace and justice to Reign. The splendor of the Glory that rises each morning with the sun comes with an opportunity to live once more.
Our lives are a constant cycle of life, death, and resurrection. We are born with each dawn of the morning and continue onward like the constant waves of the ocean. We are connected to everything, especially in suffering. We have the lives of the saints to illuminate our struggle with sincere hope in the truth and existence of peace and justice. The sacrifice of the martyrs, lives of saints, those who have given their whole lives for the greater good of humanity give us hope that love conquers all things. In fact that one day the great night of crisis will end.

Women will not weep at the death of their children from malnutrition, violent massacres by armies or gangs marking territories. Children will not be separated from their parents by thousands of miles and boarders of other countries or be put to rest each night with the sound of bullets and bombs exploding as common as the sound of rain drops. Men will not be tormented by the scars of war, memories of darkness consuming their existence into fatal addictions.
We know and believe that this can be transformed because of the sacrif
ice of Jesus Christ and the life of the Virgin Mary. Death does not conquer our existence. Rather we are liberated because of love. For this we have the cross, with the arms of Christ wide open willing to receive us and the eyes of the Virgin Mary looking upon us with care.

We have hope with every moment of laughter and joy in breaking bread together. We have hope because we are walking in this journey together in all our struggles. We share the pains of our crucifixion, the anticipation of our nights waiting. Like John the Beloved Disciple and the Virgin Mary at the foot of the cross, the fidelity of hope is present for the strength of love cannot be broken by fear. The whole-hearted reality in which we live comes with vulnerability, baring ourselves to one another in authenticity. We are transformed. Each day is a revelation of our interconnectedness and experience of solidarity. Together we live; together we die, and together we rise. This is the eternal mystery in which we believe to be true. We are rooted in the tree that became the cross and upon eternal love sacrificed. Let us hope!

Via Cruses en Chaletanango


Campesino en la via cruses


San Ramon Vigilia

Vamos Tod@s

Vamos todos al banquete,
a la mesa de la creación,
cada cual con su taburete,
tiene un puesto y una misión.

Standing in front of three crosses
With words written from
A simple homily once spoken
By Monsenor Romero
About a man from the campo
Who became a priest
And saw the suffering of the poor
Calling forth for justice
His name was Padre Rutillo Grande

Padre Rutillo came to Auguilares
Preaching the Gospel with his life
Teaching campesinos how to read
How to think from themselves
Speak
Finding the Word of God
In their suffering
Realizing the will of God was never to be
In misery
Never to be hungry
But to work for the Kingdom
To fight for justice and truth

The Reign of God
Where everyone can come
To the banquet
At the table of creation
With their own stool or seat
Knowing that we of course
Share this mission of life

Hoy me levanto muy temprano,
ya me espera la comunidad,
voy subiendo alegre la cuesta,
voy en busca de tu amistad.

I stood their reflecting
On the lives of the old man
And young boy
Who were killed with Padre Rutillo Grande
Contemplating the reality
They probably woke up early that morning
As they did each day
With their community
To work in fields tending corn and sugar cane
Finding the joys in the way of life
And walking in friendship
With Padre Rutillo down the road that night

Vamos todos al banquete,
a la mesa de la creación,
cada cual con su taburete,
tiene un puesto y una misión.

And here I am
Before the tombas
Of these three
Martyrs
Who laid down their lives
In love of their country
Love of their Savior
Suffered persecution
Oppression
From a military
Funded and trained by my own nation

I kneel here
With my soul deeply rooted
And my heart bleeding
Realizing the weight of my US
Privilege and responsibility
In the midst of this time of accompaniment

Listening to the stories
Of Oti
Share about her father
And how he once knew Padre Rutillo
How we came all this way
Just to sit and be present in the presence
Of his body
And how that meant so much

Contemplating the reality
Padre Rutillo was Monsenor Romero’s
Mejor amigo
And how Salvador changed
With the call of unica misa
To reflect upon the lives of these three martyrs
Who may have died
On March 12, 1977
But are resurrected
In the memory an commemoration
With every Eucharistic celebration

For we are all called to this eternal banquet
At this table of creation
Bringing our own seat and stool if need be
To be together breaking bread
In unity
Welcoming all of humanity
Especially those who condemn me
For we are called to be
Family
Una familia humana
Vamos tod@s
4.15.14

Memorial of Padre Rutillo, Nelson, and Manuel


Tomba de Padre Rutillo Grande


Tombas en La Ingelsia Paisnal

Masacre en El Mozote

The Massacre of El Mozote took place on 12-13 December of 1981. This massacre included the killing of men, women, and children. One of the only survivors was Rufina Amaya, whose testimony has been preserved by various historians. Her witness provides the accounts and details as to how people were executed including her own husband and children by the Salvadoran Army-with US training.

The account of the US is very different than the personal witness of Rufina Amaya and the stance of the Salvadoran Army; however, the reality remains that this massacre did in fact happen and the lives of over 900 people were lost in this single event. Mark Danner has written, “This massacre is perhaps the greatest of Modern Latin American history.”

For further reading consider
The Massacre at El Mozote by Mark Danner
The Promised Land by Scott Wright

With all of that being said, I would like to share with you my reflections on traveling to the site of the massacre at El Mozote.

This past November I had the opportunity to participate in a Protest and Demonstration to Close the School of the Americas (SOA) in Fort Benning, GA. SOA is now called WHINSEC. For more information on this this institution and how it is used as a means of US foreign policy as well as connected to human rights violations please see the link below:

My intention of going there was a long discerned decision from academic study and a spiritual calling in my heart. Part of my preparation in coming to El Salvador was in connection with attending this specific event. From the history of El Salvador and Guatemala that I had studied throughout my first two years at Regis, I knew that being present at the gates in Fort Benning was an important action to be in solidarity with the Salvadoran people I would be accompanying. Therefore, my intention was to hold in my heart and mind all the Salvadoran people I would encounter and grow in love with.

Committed to nonviolence and speaking out against social injustice, myself and a group from Regis University, dedicated our time to participating in this annual demonstration.

When I went to the site of the Massacre of El Mozote, I was reminded of a specific reflection from this experience. At the protest there was a road that led up to the main stage with booths on various social justice issues. In the middle of the street at one point were clothes laid out with different ages on top. This was intentionally created to remember the people who were massacred at El Mozote. There was an invitation to anyone who would like to reflect on these lives to put on a piece of clothing and lay in memory of that person. Two of my friends participated and later shared their experience. When I was standing in front of the memorial, reading the names of families massacred in El Mozote I thought of my friend Liam’s words. He said, “The most powerful thing for me was laying there and watching people walk past you. I kept thinking if I were really dead the world would just keep going, everything would just keep happening. That is why I think this is so important, because we are taking the time to stop and remember the lives that have been lost.”

My friend Liam’s words are very true and very much led me into my major reflection of the day. Often enough we do not take time to remember. We do not take time to grieve. The structure of our society allows for tragic events to be so impersonal that hearing about a Massacre like El Mozote can easily be overlooked because it happened years ago in a small Central American country. The reality is we are connected to this great tragedy and we cannot close our eyes to the fact the US was involved and we have responsibility. However, the structure of US culture constantly allows us to be distracted and removed from the reality of the poor and the actual accounts of their sufferings.

For instance, consider what you learned in your primary and high school education about US history. What do you remember? Perhaps some dates, significant events, brief overviews of wars or how the battles took place. But what do you remember of US Southwest history? What do you remember about the Trail of Tears? Or battles between Europeans and Native Americans? How do Native Americans live now? What do you know about the Chicano Latino Movement in the US?

Perhaps you are able to answer these questions, because of the gift of your education. But my major reflection was on this, the fact that I had to take a class on Chicana activists in Denver, CO in my third year of college to learn about a Mexican American woman from San Antonio, TX named Emma Tenayuca. If I did not take that class, I would still not know her story and she is from the very city I grew up in for eleven years of my life.

This in itself is a great injustice. The fact that our country is not telling the truth of our Latino history and with each generation more and more becomes lost and silenced. This is not only a problem within the US. Even here in El Salvador, the becarios who I live with only know Salvadoran history from participating in the Romero Program. For many of the Salvadoran students I went to Mozote with, it was their first time learning about this part of their history. And to see the deep impact of what this experience meant for each of them and listening to their reflection, reminded me of the countless times after my Chicana class my friends and I would be deeply moved by what we had just learned about.

This very dynamic demonstrated the power that the influence of assimilation and globalization is having on the world. The practices of the US are standards, which in many places are continuously trying to be emulated. Our indifference and mentality to sweep things under the rug, needs to be changed. Injustice, suffering, struggle are all real realities not only of our history but daily lives.

Therefore, from this we need to learn from the Salvadoran people, who at least have created memorials to remember. My Latino herman@s we need to listen to the stories of our abuelos and ask questions about where we come from. We need to seek the history that is slowly being lost by the forces of assimilation and sigue adelante con la lucha. Morning our sufferings and never forgetting, crying out presente because we carry this with us in the very blood of our veins. Nuestros raices son profundas! We must cry out for JUSTICA Y VERDAD!!!

Memorial at Mozote


Becaria- Ana Maria leading reflection


Becaria- Lucy sharing Salvadoran History

Lasso en mi corazon

This past week I had the blessing of my dad coming to visit and sharing my life here in El Salvador with him. When I first saw him on Monday after a very full day at Praxi he told me, "It is very evident that you are deeply invested here. Why are so invested?" I tried to explain but I knew as the week progressed he would see and understand why I have such a fuerte lasso en mi corazon (strong pull on my heart).

Wednesday we went to praxi in Mariona. The families we accompany were so excite to meet our parents and embraced them with such immense love in the same way they embrace us. It is hard to describe but truly an example of agape if I ever knew one. We shared many stories and with one another as well as coffee and meditation. It was beautiful to see the deep confianza that was created between our families.

As we talked after lunch about the war, Lolo opened up in away that myself and my praxis partner had never seen him before. I could see a suffering in his eyes before he began to share his story. These are his words:

We share our experiences with you because it helps us heal from the very difficult things we have experienced. Sometimes people say, you must like to suffer because you talk about the war so much. That is not true. We do not share because we like to suffer. We share because it is important to remember and we cannot carry these sufferings by ourselves. And I want to share this story with you. I come from Sumpul in Chaletango. I am one of about 30 to 25 people who survived a massacre there. All of my friends who I played with when I was a boy were killed. All of them are gone. My pueblo is gone. Nothing exists there any more. No one lives there any more. I don't know why I wasn't killed. I believe it is the plan of God that I am here. Gracias a Dios I have my life, because I am able to be here today with all of you. In all my pain and suffering, God has been with me and I feel God's presence in you all here with me now.

Before I came here I learned about El Salvador mostly through Romero House at Regis, but also from the stories of my friends. One of my best friends at Regis Mahalah has been to El Salvador twice in high school and in her room she always has a picture of a particular mural from here. I remember especially during our first year how she would share with me about her experiences with Salvadorans and how deeply they impacted her life. She also shared with me about this particular mural and how it has helped her understand peace and justice.

This is a mural at the Monument of Memory and Truth called "Justicia y Paz" This memorial has all the names of innocence who were killed and disappeared during the war. This memorial has over 30,000 names. These were people who were not involved in the army or the guerilla. In the final section it has listed all of the massacres happened during the war.

I did not know the name of this mural when I came here. I just knew I really wanted to see it and share that first experience with my dad. I asked different people if they knew the mural and where it was and thankfully one of my housemates knew where it was. So I decided to take my dad with me on Thursday afternoon, to share this experience.

When we arrived I shared with him the story of what the different symbols and parts represented in the history of El Salvador from what Mahalah had shared with me our freshman year at Regis. We then spent time reading the names of the killed and disappeared. And at the end we stood in front of the names of the massacres. I shared with my dad the names of which Oti had shared she had been present at and which occurred in the communities she worked with. Then I showed him the name of the massacre of the pueblo of Lolo from the story he shared with us from the day before. We both stood in silence and I began to cry. I could feel the lasso en mi corazon in solidarity with the pain I saw in Lolo's eyes. I felt the loss he shared with us. I felt the loss because of the love and care I have for him, Oti, and their family. My heart is lassoed here and to have this opportunity to share this experience with my dad allowed for my many worlds to come together in such a profound way.

Mariona Praxi Semana de Familia


Con mi papi en La Vigilia de Romero


"Justicia y Paz"


Memorial of Massacares

La Puerta

We can look out the same door and see completely different things, as I contemplate her future and my own.


This is a painting I created of a little girl Jasmin from Mariona. She is seven years old. One afternoon I was eating lunch at her house and talking with her mother Kenny. Kenny was asking me questions about how my classes were going at the UCA and more questions about my studies. I was telling her about how I have one year left and will be working on my thesis next year. She was asking me what the topic of my thesis was and as I started to respond, David her three year old called for her as he often does and she went to check on him.

This day was particularly hot, so the front window and door was open. However, because of the gang violence present in Mariona most people have iron doors in front of their regular one. When Kenny left to get David, I found myself looking out the door at the street in Mariona and contemplating things of my future. How will I carry this experience with me? Thinking of the different possibilities of what I could do and how I could work. Then Jasmin came in front of the door and started playing. At first she was climbing the door trying to see farther out, but later started to play with some of her little plastic dolls. At one point she even got one of the dolls stuck by the latch and I helped her get it out. We both laughed a little and shared with Kenny what happened. Then Jasmin sat down in front of the door and started to play with her dolls on the iron moldings. As I watched her, I realized something very profound. I realized the kind of poverty that we accompany in Mariona. I realized that Jasmin, in first grade at the public school, might not have the chance to go to college. I realized that the art classes we have are her only time for creative expression. I started to question, what will she remember when she is older from the English classes we share on Wednesdays? I began to realize we were looking out the same door, looking at the same street, coming from completely different realities.

The image of her looking out the door marked my mind and heart. I began to think so much of my family, especially my cousins. I began to realize in a new light the dynamic of my privilege in relation to my family and the families I accompany in Mariona. I realized in a new light the struggle of my parents to work so hard to receive their education and allow me to have this opportunity to attend University and even Study Abroad. I could see the inequality in my opportunities to have things in a way some of my cousin have not. I began to think about how I would play with my cousins when I was little and how we all come from the same family, but now have ended up in various realities.

I think that the iron door way expresses the struggle we share to overcome certain obstacles. I don't know what either mine or Jasmin's future holds. I feel so blessed to be here for many reasons, but especially for that moment. I know I will carry it with me forever in my heart, because it grounds me in away that expresses the dynamic of my discernment here.

Elecciones Presidenciales en El Salvador 2014

The official announcement has been made that the FMLN has won the Salvadoran Presidential Election by 6,000 votes. The second round of elections were 50.12% FMLN and 49.88% Arena, which took place on Sunday, March 9. The Arena party had challenged the electoral process because of how close the votes were. This then delayed the official declaration of the FLMN as the winner of the election. International observers expressed that this election, including the voting and counting process, were the most transparent in Salvadoran political history. The United States also made a statement that process was transparent and would respect the democratic process of El Salvador the week prior. The democratic process of El Salvador elects the presidential candidate by popular vote, and the law states that even if there is a one vote difference the party with the majority has won the election. This election has been a profoundly historical moment for El Salvador. The statement has been made that this is the greatest historical event since the Peace Accords of 1992. Today the US government through Secretary of Defense, John Kerry made an official statement of congratulations and recognition of the newly elected Salvadoran President Sanchez.

Estoy aqui

This past week I spent the week in Mariona at my praxi site. I lived with Oti, her husband Roberto, and their son Oscarsito (Oscar). This week was truly filled with many blessings and reaffirmed that I am meant to be here in El Salvador and nowhere else in the world at this time of my life.
This was an experience in a word of “confinanza.” Confinaza translates to trust, but I feel that trust doesn’t truly express the meaning. Confinaza is a deep spirit of trust, which is rooted in solidarity, a sharing of souls. As Oti and I continued to share our stories with one another, we found our souls meeting in great moments of suffering but also of great joy. This was the dynamic of our time together sharing of gifts, dreams, sufferings, and happiness. At times in silence respira profundamente in meditation or washing the dishes, we were fully present to one another. I found myself constantly reflecting on, “Estoy aqui,” (I am here).

One very critical part of this week was the presence and spirit of Monsenor Romero. Oti, Lolo, and their families have a strong connection of Monsenor Romero. For them Romero is a companero en su camino con Dios, esta aqui.

Since my first year at Regis, Monsenor Romero for me has continued to be a companero in my studies. I remember when I went to my first Hospitality Night at Romero House and learned about the life of Romero and the suffering of the Salvadoran people, my heart felt deeply called to come to El Salvador. Three weeks into my first semester at Regis, I had no idea what this feeling meant. However, this calling in my heart continued to remain very present. I remember in the Fall of my sophomore year in Dr. Plumley’s Foundations of Peace & Justice class during our unit of Latin America, I found myself questioning, “Why am I not there with the people? Why don’t I just go already?” But all of these experiences of learning were necessary as a means of formation, which allows me now to be fully present here. Contemplating the complex structures of oppression that I have studied in theory and walking with the Salvadoran people in their daily reality, creating the connections allows me to have a new perspective in every dimension of myself. And in this moment there are so many things which I do not understand or don’t have words for in English or Spanish, but I see them and know what they are. Estoy aqui.

This past Thursday we went to the Hospitalio de Divina Providencia, where Romero’s House is and the chapel where he was assinated on March 24, 1980. The whole exprience felt surreal, because I had heard so much about this place from Romero House students at Regis. I could not believe I was present in the place where Romero lived and died. Later we went to the parish of Oti, Lolo and their families San Francisco de Asisi in Mejicanos (a barrio close to Mariona). In this parish there are the tombas (place of burial) of Padre Octavio and Catechist Alfonso behind the altar. These two men where martyred during the Civil War, because of how they proclaimed the message of the Gospel with their lives. As I stood before their tombas and knelt and prayed in the chapel of Divina Providencia, I kept thinking about the infinite love of God.

Whatever your feelings or opinions are of Liberation Theology are I ask you to consider this. Liberation Theology, as all spiritualties are, is a way of life to express one’s love for God. Monsenor Romero, Padre Octavio, Alfonso, and all the martyrs of El Salvador are not recognized martyrs of the institutional Church but when you hear to the testimony of their lives they are martyrs, who laid down their lives out of their love for Christ and their community. God is love. Expressions of His love can be found in many different ways, and here in El Salvador it is through the spirituality of Liberation Theology for many people.

“Beloved, let us love one another, because love is of God; everyone who loves is begotten by God and knows God. Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love. In this way the love of God was revealed to us: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might have life through him. In this is love: not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as expiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also must love one another. No one has ever seen God. Yet, if we love one another, God remains in us, and his love is brought to perfection in us.
This is how we know that we remain in him and he in us, that he has given us of his Spirit. Moreover, we have seen and testify that the Father sent his Son as savior of the world. Whoever acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God remains in him and he in God. We have come to know and to believe in the love God has for us.
God is love, and whoever remains in love remains in God and God in him. In this is love brought to perfection among us, that we have confidence on the day of judgment because as he is, so are we in this world. There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear because fear has to do with punishment, and so one who fears is not yet perfect in love. We love because he first loved us. If anyone says, “I love God,” but hates his brother, he is a liar; for whoever does not love a brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. This is the commandment we have from him: whoever loves God must also love his brother.” -1 John 4:7-21

In this experience I was reminded deeply of my discernment to a religious vocation from the last years of high school into my first year of college. During this time of my life I truly grew in deep love and relationship with God; however, I lost myself in trying to live up to standards of something that I was not. My perception of love then became confused, and I believed love had limitations. The world was black and white full of rules and expectations for everything. However, when I went to college I realized that this was not true. That my belief in love was corrupted by my broken experiences and through the questioning of my close friends and time of prayer, my eyes where opened to the reality that I was not free or authentically who I am.
The topic of liberation theology played a critical role in this time of my life. I could not understand why liberation theology was not an accepted theology by the Institutional Church, or why my spiritual director at the time continued to say it was dangerous and contradictory to the teachings of the Church. However, the more I learned about liberation theology I realized that it is an authentic expression of the Gospel and Church teaching but the language which makes it controversial. What separates our understanding in the United States of Liberation Theology is often rooted in a fear and ignorance of understanding of what we do not know.

As I stood there presente, with Oti and Lolo listening to their personal testimony with these martyrs and recollecting the many stories I have heard since my arrival, the truth is the love is God is infinite. Reflecting upon the many experiences of this week, I think it can be expressed in words Oti shared with me later that Thursday. “Celesté, the love of God extends beyond all limitations. And I will always hold your story with the strength I receive from the love of God, because we were made to live in the infinite love of God. I am so blessed to have shared this time with you. Estamos aqui. Presente.”

Familia de Lolo en Sonsonate

Oscarsito and the mural I painted in his room


Chapel of Divina Providencia


Tombas of Padre Octavio and Catechist Alfonso

Defining Solidarity

The weekend of February 15 I left to Chiltupan, La Libertad to spend time with Zaidy and her family. Zaidy is a becaria, student currently participating in the Romero Program, who is one of the six Salvadoran students we live with. My friendships with the barcarios have continued to be a huge blessing and deeply impactful experience, so going into this weekend I was very excited to know more of Zaidy and her family.

The weekend was truly a beautiful experience. Whether it was making tortillas, going to the river, playing guitar with her younger siblings and sobrinos (nieces and nephews) or answering their questions about how to say different things in English, to listening to the stories of her and her mother Julia, I felt so at home. My heart was so full of peace and happiness with this family, and I feel so blessed to spend this time with them.

During this experience I realized in greater depth the importance of living in Accompaniment and Solidarity with the Salvadoran people, from two contrasting meetings. After Mass Sunday we went to a meeting with a group of students who are sponsored by a wealthy gringo family from Cincinnati, Ohio. The family sponsors about 35 students from Chiltupan by paying their fees to attend university. Without this support these students would not have the opportunity to study otherwise. The experience for me was rather strange and uncomfortable. I didn’t feel like I fit anywhere. In this experience I was reminded of the poem by Gloria Anzaldua “Borderlands” because truly her words reflected my currently reality. This can best be explained as Zaidy introduced herself, her mother, and then me and the reaction of the gringo family when I spoke to them in English. They were shocked, because they thought I was another student they were sponsoring. And really there reaction made me think of other times when traveling through the States, often with my family, how people would be shocked at our ability to speak perfect English. How discrimination is real part of my life because it is alive and well in the United States, and in my experiences here I find deep similarities because of the oppression of mi familia in South Texas to the Salvadoran people I accompany. Truly as expressed by Gloria, I live in the borderlands.

However, this meeting left me contemplating how the US defines solidarity. As I listened to the students and their parents sharing their deep gratitude for the support of these gringos, I saw how much was lost in translation. How in a way these Salvadoran people although in the same physical space with this gringo family was so far away from them. The gringo family could not see the tears of immense gratitude and suffering of the mothers and connect it to the testimony of their own grandmother like I was. I realized that solidarity in the US is defined by money. That solidarity and charity had an inseparable definition.

“I will give you this support so you can make a better life for yourself as long as I can see the return of my investment. Then I will make a trip to ensure what I am paying for meets my standards.”

I continued to see this kind of measuring up to something in this meeting, which broke my heart. But it wasn’t until after another meeting with becario alumni I understood why. Later that evening we met with two becarios, who were part of the Romero Program about 4-5 years earlier. As they recollected memories, they continued to speak of Fr. Dean Brackley. Fr. Dean was a Jesuit, who after the death of the six Jesuit Martyrs and their concinera and her daughter was assonated by the military in 1989, offered his whole life to the Salvadoran people. He passed away two years ago from cancer. Part of his work was creating Casa de la Solidaridad and the Romero Program. During the meeting Julio, a member of the equipo continued to say, “People would always ask Fr. Dean, why don’t we invest in more students? Six per year is a small number and we could do so much more. But Fr. Dean would always reply it is not a matter of numbers, it is about the person and helping them have a holistic experience.” This is truly solidaridad. Empowering another to embrace their most authentic self, to realize the sacredness of their story, hold the weight of their suffering and greatness of their joy. Knowing that everything in en camino con Dios y cominidad, because solidarity has no measurement or boundaires. Solidaridad is truly sin fronteras.



“Borderlands” –Gloria Anzaldua
To live in the Borderlands you are
are neither hispana india negra española
ni gabacha, eres mestiza, mulata, half-breed
caught in the crossfire between camps
while carrying all five races on your back
not knowing which side to turn to, run from;

To live in the Borderlands means knowing
that the india in you, betrayed for 500 years,
is no longer speaking to you,
that mexicanas call you rajetas,
that denying the Anglo inside you
is as bad as having denied the Indian or Black;

Cuando vives in la frontera
people walk through you, the wind steals your voice,
you’re a burra, buey, scapegoat,
forerunner of a new race,
half and half—both woman and man, neither—
a new gender;

To live in the Borderlands means to
put chile in the borscht,
eat whole wheat tortillas,
speak Tex-Mex with a Brooklyn accent;
be stopped by la migra at the border checkpoints;

Living in the Borderlands means you fight hard to
resist the gold elixir beckoning from the bottle,
the pull of the gun barrel,
the rope crushing the hollow of your throat;

In the Borderlands
you are the battleground
where enemies are kin to each other;
you are at home, a stranger,
the border disputes have been settled
the volley of shots have shattered the truce
you are wounded, lost in action
dead, fighting back;

To live in the Borderlands means
the mill with the razor white teeth wants to shred off
your olive-red skin, crush out the kernel, your heart
pound you pinch you roll you out
smelling like white bread but dead;

To survive the Borderlands
you must live sin fronteras
be a crossroads.

gabacha: a Chicano term for a white woman
rajetas: literally, “split,” that is, having betrayed your word
burra: donkey
buey: oxen
sin fronteras: without borders

Adelante

“We all have to become microphones for the God of peace and nonviolence.” –Oscar Romero

If there is one virtue that is unceasing in the hearts of Salvadorans I have encountered it is hope, esperanza. It's difficult to explain, but I find myself constantly encountering an abundance of hope. From personal testimonies to the Salvadoran Presidential Elections, there is a hope of transformation.

This past Sunday, Feb. 2, 2014 El Salvador held their presidential elections. This long anticipated process has continued to be a moment of uncertain even twenty years after the Peace Accords for the Salvadoran people because of a long history of political corruption. In this time of the elections many people are seeking answers to the challenges they face day to day from poverty to violence to education. The Salvadoran people I have encountered continued to express their great concern with the future president of their country. Over the past few weeks, I could feel the weight of tension and anticipation in the air of what is to come. The uncertainty lingered in the air.

My intention of sharing the elections with you is because I know the media coverage of this has been sporadic and limited with many opinions fostering a false conception of how the government is currently running in El Salvador. Also I feel that sharing this with you is really one of the best ways to express how the pillars of accompaniment, academics, community, and spirituality come together. It is precisely in this moment that the knowledge, I have gained over the years studying this country, in these first weeks of listening to personal historias, doing reading for my classes and translating articles in the local papers, this is my small contribution in allowing you to also accompany the Salvadoran people with a greater consciousness of their reality.

The results of El Salvador’s elections will continue to a second round, because the law of this country is that a political party must receive 51% of the total populations vote as a demonstration of an authentic democratic process. In this election there were three major parties participating: the FMLN, Arena, and Unidad. (If you would like more information of the parties you can email me and I will share that information with you). A little over 2 million people participated, slightly less than half the country’s total population. 13 out of 14 departments (provinces) elected the FMLN candidates. This was the first election to include Salvadorans who live outside the country, since about 2 million Salvadorans live in the United States. About 10,000 Salvadorans in the US participated in the election and the statistics of their votes also concluded the election of the FMLN candidate. In total the results came to 49% FMLN, 38% Arena, and 11% Unidad. Since not party received 51% of the votes, this results in a second round of presidential elections where the top two parties, FMLN and Arena, will be voted on again on March 9. The cost of having a second round is a little more than $20 million.

For a country suffering from poverty, the cost of the second elections is extremely difficult. As one person shared with me, “How can we spend $20 million on another election when people, children, are going to bed hungry at night?” But despite this complex emotion the Salvadoran people continue to express this sincere hope for the future of their country. A hope because Romero is interceding for them. Hope because the day of the elections was clam within their communities and did not bring to life horrific memories of the past. Hope because today is a new day. Adelante!

New Places with Familiar Feelings

I cannot believe a week has already gone by since I arrived in El Salvador! There have been so many things happening since my arrival. This past week we have been busy with orientation, which included visiting all the praxi sites Casa students accompany the people of El Salvador at and really getting to know more of the country.

My praxi site this semester is at Mariona, a community north of San Salvador where a large number of people relocated to during the years of the civil war. In response to la lucha and current experience with violence the directors of my site Lolo and Oti have responded to these difficult realities by embracing traditional artisan practices, meditation, and message therapy. At my site I get to spend time learning more of the historical artisan traditions and visiting communities around El Salvador to share meditation and message practices. I feel so blessed to have the opportunity to work with Lolo and Oti, who demonstrate so much in their work and testimony how suffering can be transformed by the power of reconciliation.

This past week words of wisdom from my grandma Noela continued to arise in my heart, “Think of me.” Throughout my life my grandmother has shared with me stories of how she grew up with her parents. Stories of having to work and quit school to support her family, getting married at a young age to my grandpa, working so hard later in life to receive her GED, many moments of suffering but also ones of great joy from her life. Before I left she told me to think of her when I would meet other people and do daily chores like washing my clothes by hand. And I am constantly thinking of her and my family. Even though I am Mexican American and not Salvadoran, from the communities I have encountered to attending mass in the Crypta de Romero at the Cathedral I am constantly reminded of who am I and where I come from. So even though this is my first time in El Salvador, it feels in a way that I have been a part of this place my whole life.
Estoy muy emocionada para todo! Paz y bendiciones!

Hola de San Salvador!

Just wanted to post a quick note to let everyone know I have made it safely to El Salvador! If you would like to see some pictures of my housemates and learn more about my program check out our Facebook page by searching Casa de la Solidaridad!

My Semester at Casa de la Solidaridad in El Salvador

This semester I will be studying abroad in El Salvador and participating in a program called Casa de la Solidaridad. Casa is an intentional community of students from around the U.S. who live together based upon four pillars: Accompaniment, Academics, Community, and Spirituality. Hence, the name of this blog. Each one of these pillar serve as a foundation for our experience in El Salvador and are lived out in our daily experiences. On Mondays and Wednesday I will be at a praxi site focused on living in accompaniment with members of a local community. The classes I are focused upon the history, development, and current realities of El Salvador,and compliment the work I will be doing at my praxi site. In the community, we have community meals and spirituality nights.

Since I started attending college at Regis University, the people of El Salvador have continually been on my heart. The more I learned about what it means to attend a Jesuit university, the greater call I felt deepen my personal vocation to service and solidarity. Studying Philosophy and Peace & Justice with minors in Music and Sociology, I have had various classes that continued to challenge my understanding of justice, peace, and war. I have read books, attended lectures, watched various documentaries, and spent many nights at Regis University's Romero House learning about the people of El Salvador. Over the years I have had the privilege to attending the Ignatian Family Teach-in and the School of the Americas Protest and Demonstration. From the moment I first learned of the people of El Salvador a part of my heart rested with them in their suffering and joy.

I am so excited for this opportunity and cannot believe the time to embark on this adventure has arrived. My hope over the months while I am in El Salvador is to blog about every two weeks. I would love for you to accompany me in my journey!

I will leave with you with this prayer by Archbishop Oscar Romero:

No statement says all
that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the Church’s mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about:
We plant seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations
that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces effects beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything,
and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning,
a step along the way,
an opportunity for God’s grace to enter
and do the rest.
We may never see the end results,
but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders, ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own. Amen.