Even though it is now March and lots of things have happened in the past 3 months (which I will eventually write about!), I do want to share these thoughts that I wrote in early January, but haven't had time to put up until now...
It was hard saying goodbye to may parents when they dropped me off around 5am at the Asheville airport. Once again I questioned whether I was doing the right thing... but within a few hours I was back, getting rid of my scarf and jacket (very necessary back in NC) as quickly as possible and welcoming the sticky Salvadoran sun and receiving welcome back hugs from my friends. And so I was able to push those doubts back. However, it was weird when when people back home (??) in NC asked what i was up to. At first I didn't know whether to say I was visiting El Salvador, working there for a while, living there, or something else! Eventually I did start to reply with some confidence and say I was living and working in El Salvador, even though I didn't really feel like I lived there. With this in mind, coming back after Christmas I realized that I am living here and thus has started to feel more like home.
My new year's welcome back was both joyful and tearful. The first night back some friends took me and my friend Julia out for some "pupusas," my favorite local dish, which are fried tortillas stuffed with beans and cheese. Then my first night back in the community, Marielos, my adopted little sister came and sat on my lap and sad, "Angel, I am very glad you are back." I almost cried. I too was glad to be back. Unfortunately, that was not the only time that tears came to my eyes in those first days back. Upon arriving in El Salvador, I was greeted with the news that my friend Francisco, a 29 year-old youth coordinator from Las Mesas (a community right next to Los Naranjos that I am involved with), had died on the 27th of December. When I heard the news, I thought about the last time I saw Francisco... I was in Las Mesas on Dec 17th for a youth meeting, and Francisco was there despite being very sick. People told me that him coming to the meeting was the first time he had left his home in two weeks. While home in NC, I told my Mom about Francisco and that I didn't think he would live too much longer... but I was thinking more like 6 months or a year. Francisco was an inspiration. He had been the youth coordinator for close to 10 years and though he was strict, they loved him and he had truly created a beautiful group of active and aware kids ready to work for a more just and peaceful future. A few days before Christmas he had planned for all the youth to go and visit the sick and elderly in their community and other closeby communities. I wonder if they ever went since Francisco was so sick?
What hurts the most is to think of how he died. He died from kidney failure, which from what I have heard is quite painful and slow. The doctors prescribed him medication to clean his kidneys, but it cost around $50/week. I doubt he made much more than $100/month, making it impossible to pay for the medication that may have saved his life. Friends have also told me that he is the 3rd or 4th in the community to die of kidney failure in the past few years. We are starting to wonder if the water is contaminated? But even if it is, there are few resources available to clean it up...
Close to two-thirds of the world's population lives without access to clean water. Before coming to live in El Salvador, I had no idea of what that truly meant.
The tradition here when someone dies is to do 9 days of prayers, with the 9th day being the biggest and almost a celebration. I went to the 9th day of prayers for Francisco, where I also had to bring some more bad news to the community. My close friend, Beatrice, who is the new youth coordinator, had applied for a scholarship from FUNDAHMER to help pay for her to go to college. She had been calling me every few days for the last month asking about the scholarship. Few (if any) kids from Las Mesas have gone on to college, and Beatrice's desire to study impressed and motivated me. But I know that in reality it is economically impossible for her to go to college without a lot of outside help. I want so badly for her to be able to study, but I had to tell her that night, at the funeral, that there were no funds for her scholarship. It almost brought me to tears when she told me (after the news) that she was going to apply for a job at a nearby factory - a factory that we would call a sweatshop.
Despite the night being emotionally draining, it was a beautiful experience... from being there to share in the prayers, the songs, hearing how much Francisco meant to the youth, being able to just hug Beatrice to ending the night with a fun walk back to Los Naranjos at midnight under the moon and stars. And finally being able to share the night with my friend Julia, a close friend from the States that had come to visit me for a short time.
To bring things to a close, I think I am realizing how much I took my education for granted. Just the opportunity to go to high school here (and in most of the world) is a huge opportunity. Only 1% of the world's population receives a college education. Just because I went to college I am automatically set apart from 99% of the world's population. When I think of this, I ask myself what am I going to give back? So much has been given to me. It is true that I have worked hard to go to school, but no harder than some of my friends here who will never see the inside of a college classroom. I owe it to the rest, to give back at least a little something.
I am convinced that those with an education must work for and be the voice for those who are ignored, oppressed, impoverished and unable to fight for themselves.
