16 November 2009
My parents visited us last week. They arrived on a Friday afternoon, and as soon as they arrived in the city we started touring around in the rain. We went to the Museo del Arte Moderno, and had pizza at a little neighborhood restaurant close to the hotel where we stayed. On Saturday we woke up early and took two buses and a pickup truck to a town called Perquin on the Honduran border. We stayed there all weekend, and on Monday we traveled to Estancia.
It was so wonderful to have my parents here for a little while. They were able to meet the staff members of CDH, the NGO for whom we volunteer, and go on home visits with me. My mom toured some community members’ gardens, and my dad hung out with me in the clinic. The night before they left Estancia, Ramiro and Lucia took us all to eat pupusas in a town called Corinto. I think that it will be easier for me to go home at the end of this year after having had them here. I will be able to talk about the people that I miss, and they will know who those people are. I remember that coming home from Ecuador was so much easier than it might have been, because my family had visited me in the town where I lived. I was able to reminisce about people and places, and they understood a little bit about what I was saying in a way that wouldn’t have been possible if they had not visited.
During the morning of the following Friday we began the trip back to the capitol. Griselda, one of our neighbors, accompanied us to Cacaopera, one of the towns along the way, as she had to run some errands related to the next school year. When we arrived in the capitol we went to see the Archeology Museum, and went on some long walks. We ate a delicious dinner that night, and woke up early the next morning to walk some more before my parents left for the airport.
* * * *
As Bela and I were already in the capitol, we decided to go to an event held at the campus of the Universidad de Centro-America. Twenty years ago, during the civil war, six Jesuit priests, the cook, and the cook’s daughter were murdered at night on the campus by the army. The four priests were very active in speaking out against the conditions that led to the civil war in the first place, and were seen as a threat by the right-wing government in control.
The event was beautiful. We arrived at the campus in the afternoon. Students at the university had spent the morning creating murals to commemorate the lives of the priests, the cook, and the daughter out of colored sand. Students worked as volunteer guides at the small museum on campus dedicated to the lives of the priests killed during the war. The university choir sang. After the sun set, a candlelight march took place on the road that runs through the university.
When Bela and I returned to Estancia, I talked with Etelvina, the health promotor, about the event. She explained that one of the priests, Segundo Monte, had visited the refugee camp in Honduras where she lived with her family during most of the war. He gave mass to the people living in the camp, and spoke about the injustices that the El Salvadorian people had suffered, and gave them hope that things would be better in the future. The people in the camp where she lived returned to El Salvador shortly after the murder of the priests, the cook, and the cook’s daughter. Most settled in an area close to Estancia, and as homage to the priest who had given them hope during the war, named the town Segundo Monte. Etelvina also explained that when she fled El Salvador for Honduras, her family traveled in the night, hiding in the woods during the day. They had to cross the river that divides Honduras and El Salvador at a town called Mozote. A few years before, in Mozote, over 1000 people were massacred by the El Salvadorian and Honduran armies while trying to cross the river. She told me that the river still stunk of dead bodies when she crossed, and that the smell is something that she will never forget. However, the return trip was different. After the murders at the University, the people of her camp walked on the roads, during the day, to return. She told me that there was a feeling of strength and unity in the people. The work of the priests, their words, and their violent deaths is still very present in the memory of the people. They are remembered as martyrs.
--Calla
My parents visited us last week. They arrived on a Friday afternoon, and as soon as they arrived in the city we started touring around in the rain. We went to the Museo del Arte Moderno, and had pizza at a little neighborhood restaurant close to the hotel where we stayed. On Saturday we woke up early and took two buses and a pickup truck to a town called Perquin on the Honduran border. We stayed there all weekend, and on Monday we traveled to Estancia.
It was so wonderful to have my parents here for a little while. They were able to meet the staff members of CDH, the NGO for whom we volunteer, and go on home visits with me. My mom toured some community members’ gardens, and my dad hung out with me in the clinic. The night before they left Estancia, Ramiro and Lucia took us all to eat pupusas in a town called Corinto. I think that it will be easier for me to go home at the end of this year after having had them here. I will be able to talk about the people that I miss, and they will know who those people are. I remember that coming home from Ecuador was so much easier than it might have been, because my family had visited me in the town where I lived. I was able to reminisce about people and places, and they understood a little bit about what I was saying in a way that wouldn’t have been possible if they had not visited.
During the morning of the following Friday we began the trip back to the capitol. Griselda, one of our neighbors, accompanied us to Cacaopera, one of the towns along the way, as she had to run some errands related to the next school year. When we arrived in the capitol we went to see the Archeology Museum, and went on some long walks. We ate a delicious dinner that night, and woke up early the next morning to walk some more before my parents left for the airport.
* * * *
As Bela and I were already in the capitol, we decided to go to an event held at the campus of the Universidad de Centro-America. Twenty years ago, during the civil war, six Jesuit priests, the cook, and the cook’s daughter were murdered at night on the campus by the army. The four priests were very active in speaking out against the conditions that led to the civil war in the first place, and were seen as a threat by the right-wing government in control.
The event was beautiful. We arrived at the campus in the afternoon. Students at the university had spent the morning creating murals to commemorate the lives of the priests, the cook, and the daughter out of colored sand. Students worked as volunteer guides at the small museum on campus dedicated to the lives of the priests killed during the war. The university choir sang. After the sun set, a candlelight march took place on the road that runs through the university.
When Bela and I returned to Estancia, I talked with Etelvina, the health promotor, about the event. She explained that one of the priests, Segundo Monte, had visited the refugee camp in Honduras where she lived with her family during most of the war. He gave mass to the people living in the camp, and spoke about the injustices that the El Salvadorian people had suffered, and gave them hope that things would be better in the future. The people in the camp where she lived returned to El Salvador shortly after the murder of the priests, the cook, and the cook’s daughter. Most settled in an area close to Estancia, and as homage to the priest who had given them hope during the war, named the town Segundo Monte. Etelvina also explained that when she fled El Salvador for Honduras, her family traveled in the night, hiding in the woods during the day. They had to cross the river that divides Honduras and El Salvador at a town called Mozote. A few years before, in Mozote, over 1000 people were massacred by the El Salvadorian and Honduran armies while trying to cross the river. She told me that the river still stunk of dead bodies when she crossed, and that the smell is something that she will never forget. However, the return trip was different. After the murders at the University, the people of her camp walked on the roads, during the day, to return. She told me that there was a feeling of strength and unity in the people. The work of the priests, their words, and their violent deaths is still very present in the memory of the people. They are remembered as martyrs.
--Calla
We had a great time visiting.
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