Personal Thoughts / Comments from participants and
their journals
The Experience: general thoughts about the experience as a whole
I can not say that this trip/experience has begun to sink in yet...
the truth is that it is more surreal than ever. Riding the bus from the
airport was the first time that I actually realized that I’m not on
vacation. When you’re on vacation, you only see the upscale parts of
town... and here we were driving past homes that were nothing more than
aluminum and stick (or even less). I have seen poverty on tv before- but
the people were never real to me. Today I looked at barefoot children
working on the side of the mountain; women with ill-fitting and dirty
clothes making lunch; and cows randomly weaving between homes and roads.
Today I looked into the eyes of human beings living in conditions that
are still difficult for my brain to grasp.... but the people and the
situation of true poverty are finally tangible to me.
Kelli, 2005
The landscape flying over El Salvador was striking because it is so
different from what you see when flying over the States. In the U.S. the
fields are uniform, squares separated by straight rows of houses and
streets. In contrast, El Salvador curves and twines its way around
rocks. Fields are shaped by their surroundings rather than uniformity.
Nothing is forced. This is what I hoped El Salvador would be like, I
wanted El Salvador to take after its earth; bending and shaping,
surrounding the roots in its way.
On many levels I found this to be true. On the surface, rock cliffs have
been carved to make way for roads, and fields really do form multiple
shapes in order to co-exist. The people, however, are where this
adaptability is most evident. Despite poverty, persecution, torture and
other horrors; the people that I encountered today still manage to
display more hope and trust in the inherent goodness of people that most
of us in the States…perhaps it was an expression, or admittance of one’s
responsibility to their community…maybe joy or gratitude for the
opportunity to fulfill that responsibility…to sacrifice.
Erin, 2005
As we stepped off the plane the heat was like a wall. I think it was
more than we expected, or we were less. The bus ride into San Salvador
was full of contradictions. Flowering trees and lush foliage smattered
with corrugated metal homes. Women carried buckets on their heads
balancing them with seemingly little effort. Beautiful and grotesque are
words that came to mind, although I’m not sure that the things I might
at one moment describe as grotesque, are not equally as beautiful.
Erin, 2005
I can now say for sure two things: I love Salvadoran food, and I’m
not going to starve.
Kelli, 2005
I emailed my partner today. He is incredibly informed and interested
in social issues at home and abroad... but I already feel forming a ga
between our knowledge and understanding about what I’m learning and
experiencing. I don’t miss him so much as I miss being able to share
this experience with him. I know that we’ll be fine in our relationship,
but I’m not sure that he will ever really understand my experience here.
Kelli, 2005
In particular, Sisters Peggy and Pat gave us all a reminder that our
most important obligation, in social work as in life, is to be the
believers in and guardians of hope- for ourselves, our clients and for
the world. If we lose sight of hope, the bleak situation only becomes
more desperate.
Kelli 2005
I have learned that I will never again take TP for granted.
Kelli 2005
Later we had lunch at Beatriz’s home. She is relatively poor with a
mud and stick house. On this trip, I kept wondering why we continue to
inconvenience people that are not well off by eating lunch or dinner in
their homes. Today, I understood. In addition to the money these
individuals receive for feeding us, which is likely more than fair, they
have the opportunity to sell their crafts to gringas that are more than
willing to buy them... thus fulfilling needs and wants of both parties
and increasing the quality of life for an individual or family. So when
I was feeling guilty, I should have been feeling glad that we were able
to help in some way.
Kelli, 2005
On the bus ride home, Tulsi and I began to discuss human rights. He
was simply inquiring and I was being openly critical of the US and their
human rights policies (lack thereof), violations, and implementation (or
lack thereof). I have to believe that Tulsi rarely hears US citizens so
critical of US policy... so he asked me how it feels to have these
beliefs and to be “an American”. He was then dropped off for dinner...
but it really made me think- and I’m not sure that there is a correct
response or that my answer will ever stop evolving.
I suppose that I should consider more deeply this question... and to try
to learn how others might respond. Personally, I do not buy into many of
the “American Myths”: “if you just work hard enough / pull yourself up
by the bootstraps, you’ll be successful and wealthy”; “we are the freest
people in the world”; “we have it better than anyone, anywhere in the
world”; “we have equal opportunity across races, religions, genders,
ability, social classes”. These are some of the “myths” that lead to
pride in country without critical thought; lack of participation in
government; stratification of populations; xenophobia/ethnocentrism;
human rights violations; and a whole host of value judgements based on a
false sense of reality. The myths about the United States dissolve in
the face of fact. Statistics about infant mortality rates, prison
populations, access to health care, literacy, human rights violations,
access to opportunity and education, measures of freedom of the press,
socio-economic and health disparities by race and gender all stand in
glaring contrast to what the US jingoism. For me, where I am in my life,
my answer to Tulsi’s question would have to be mixed. I am proud of
where I am from, but I am also ashamed. I take pride in creating
progressive change. I appreciate the goods, services, and freedoms we do
have, but I believe that we can further these causes... especially with
regard to human rights. Do I love my country, of course! But I do not
believe that it is the “biggest, best, most”. No matter what the
country, the culture, the people, we can always work harder, participate
and criticize more, and simply be better citizens of the world. We are
all, above all else, human beings... we must share this planet and its
resources- including the knowledge and understanding of, the compassion
and love for others.
Kelli, 2005
At this time, I was confronted with the realities, and challenges of
translating. I felt stuck somewhere between not participating caused by
making sure that everyone’s voices and thoughts were expressed... and
participating fully, forgetting that Tulsi required translation in order
to participate. It is one thing to simply translate as a job- it is
another to also participate while translating. I just wanted everyone to
get the full experience.... and don’t want anyone to miss out due to my
personal challenge.
Kelli, 2005
Then I had my first compost toilet experience. For the most part, I
understood the concept. However, still having a “fast stomach”, I knew
that I wouldn’t have much control over what came when. Upon sitting
down, post-spider check, I noticed that the “opening” in the toilet was
not very generous. In fact, I was not confident that my orifi could be
sufficiently within range at the same time, should the need occur.
However, after a few seconds of pondering, my body decided to proceed
without me. I closed my eyes and just hoped I didn’t miss and sh** all
over myself. (I use the work sh**, since no “poop” ever came from a
“fast stomach”). In the end, everything went well, though I made every
effort to avoid going #1 and #2 at the same time- just in case.
Anonymous, 2005
And then... it rained. It was the wettest, warmest, coolest rain that
I think I’ve ever experienced. We got up from our chairs, went out, and
just stood in it.... for a half hour, soaking up ever drop. I don’t
think that rain has ever felt so refreshing. A little water went a long
way today... even for the US citizens.
Anonymous, 2005
Just as we were about to start dinner, Sandy started to freak out.
When I looked up to see what it was, I froze. It was a spider whose body
and legs were about the size of an open, adult, palm and fingers. My
body tensed up tight and shook. Dr. Guevara came and tried to get me to
relax, but my brain was not connected to my body which was reacting.
Aida knocked it down and stepped on it - crunch. She made some joke
about the fact that when it rains, all the bugs come out and down from
the trees. If I could have forced my mouth to move, I would have pointed
out the difference between spiders and all other bugs (at least as far
as I’m concerned).
Kelli, 2005
If anyone ever wants to appreciate what they have, go to the
countryside in ES for a while- you will automatically return a better
person. Arriving back at Casa Oasis, to Damien and Catalina, was... a
relief. It was a palace! It had electricity, running water, non-dirt
floors, no giant spiders, indoor toilets, individual showers and
everything! I nearly kissed the floor... though I didn’t feel too
terrible while we were in Santa Marta (it felt a lot like camping...
with some extra perks like community pilas) but arriving back, I felt as
though I had missed these luxuries all along.
Kelli, 2005
I want to forever remember what oppression begets and to remind
myself of the real cost of freedom. I hope these images stay with me as
a reminder... so I can always remember the cost of oppression and to
never stop fighting it, no matter the personal cost.
Kelli, 2005
I think the entire group was mentally and emotionally exhausted. In
fact, I spoke first and explained my own exhaustion. I feel as though it
is interfering with my own participation in this experience... which
makes me feel guilty, though I am not sure how to avoid it. My brain and
my heart are saturated... I’m just completely overwhelmed at this point
and it’s frustrating. It seemed as though much fo the group expressed
similar feelings... at least it’s not just me, though this fact gives me
no solace.
Kelli, 2005
We were asked what we were leaving of ourselves in El Salvador and
what we would be taking back with us. For me... I’m leaving a large part
of myself- it’s been just 2 weeks and I’ve never felt more connected to
a people and their culture... Solidaridad is the aspect of this culture
that I most cherish and hope to always keep as part of myself. I hope
that I left a more accurate view of the US and our culture (for better
or worse) to balance our sweet dreams of immigration. I hope that our
visit has shown Salvadorans that they are not alone. I am taking with me
the humility, the generosity, the warmth, and the affection of these
people. I want my life to incorporate these traits and values. I need to
be more humble, more generous, more warm, and more affectionate.
Surrounded by people who embody those traits made me feel like a whole
person... which I do not wish to leave here. I am taking with me an
incredible sense of hope and empowerment from people that have so little
and have such high hopes. It encourages me to know that I, a single
individual, can affect change... can make progress, little by little. I
needed this recharge/re-energization of my ambition and belief in myself
and my work. I am also taking a greater appreciation of social work- it
allows me every opportunity. I can work at any level (micro, mezzo,
macro) with any population. It is all encompassing and limitless. I am
so glad that social work found me... it is me.
Kelli, 2005
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La Gente: (The People) some of the characters we met along the way
We went to the house of Cristina, our translator. It was as plain and
unassuming as the next house. Inside was a vibrant, spacious home that
was as alive, as inviting, and as representative of its owner as any
home I’ve ever been to. There were bright dishes and pains and paint
everywhere... plants and flowers graced every free space... and the
assortment of tea mugs made me feel so at home and at peace. It was here
that Damien told us his story.
Kelli, 2005
Damien is... this seemingly shy, actually humble, man who owns and
runs the Oasis guesthouse. He shared the experience of he and his wife
through decades of war and strife... through massacres, mass rapes, and
multiple acts of imprisonment and brutal torture. And, though horrific,
unnecessary, and brutal at times, his story gave me the most incredible
sense of hope. This tale of perseverance and success despite persecution
and torture (physical, mental, and emotional) reminded what I love most
about social work: advocacy and the constant struggle for social change
and progress. His story reminded me that one individual can make a
difference; that our work is never done; and to never give up. Damien
has continued to inspire me by founding the Oasis guesthouse with his
wife. Their goal is to provide a place for individuals that care about
social justice and human rights to come to learn about their causes and
how to create change. I could never have considered that this man, who
has put me close to the civil war here and made it real and recent for
me, could have turned something as negative as war and torture into a
lifelong goal of education and advocacy... I am so grateful that he
shared with us this painful tale.
Kelli, 2005
These people have so very little... yet they want to please, feed,
entertain us. The house for several people is smaller than my “small”
apartment for 2... and yet they are grateful and full of pride and
grace. The family and community are valued rather than material goods.
Kelli 2005
Elena, which is apparently Beatriz’s elderly neighbor, was washing
dishes when Danielle initiated a conversation with her. She turned
around and poured her heart out to a group of complete strangers, few of
which even understood what she was saying. With a smile and tears
streaming down her face, Elena described her life to us. She has worked
7 days a week for 10-12 hours a day for the same family... keep in mind
that this woman is elderly and her physical condition is deteriorating.
I asked her if it was difficult, which she never did admit to, and she
told me only that she is grateful to have a job at her age... that she
can’t afford to not work. She told us how she thanks god for everything:
for each day, for each breath, for the air and the sky, for her feet and
eyes that don’t work well but work none-the-less. She reminded us to
never forget to be grateful since “he” gives us everything great. Being
an Atheist, I likely had a different perspective. Contrary to popular
belief, however, I am not against faith and religion. In this case, I
was simply in awe... to see such unconditional belief in good, in a god
and his/her answers... a belief that persists despite all her hardships
and life’s difficulties... it does not matter who you are or what you
believe, that is a beautiful thing to witness. Even those who could not
understand a work she said were both captivated and moved to tears. What
an amazing encounter.
Kelli, 2005
Today we visited with Maria Julia Hernandez, whom is a legal aid for
the archdiocese of El Salvador in the area of human rights. She offered
a basic over-view of human rights in El Salvador with particular
focus/attention on the recent civil war/”armed conflict”. It was an
introduction that barely scratched the surface of what human rights are
and why they are significant, but it was appropriate for the group. I
don’t believe that you can have social work without human rights- yet in
literature and even the most progressive social work programs, it is a
scarce concept. I know that Maria’s time was precious and I truly am
grateful to have had any time with her. However, I thought we were just
beginning to make progress when she had to leave. We had learned that
85% of human rights violations during the war were committed by the army
and US funded death squads; 5% by the FMLN; and 10% were unknown. Maria
also pointed out that the judiciary also participate(d) in these human
rights violations by making conscious decisions not to prosecute, often
protecting, known human rights violators. I just feel like we could have
accomplished so much more (in this meeting as well as in present life)
if human rights was a requirement of the social work curriculum.
Kelli, 2005
We were assigned our roommates and house assignments. It was
especially necessary to divide up those of us who could speak Spanish.
Tulsi was my roommate, so we were guaranteed separate beds. We dropped
our stuff off at the house then met a mountain of family members. It
took the better part of the next hour to start to figure it all out.
Mainly Erundina Velis was the mother, followed by Karen, Ever, Manuelito,
and Daniel (four of her six children- the other two had grown up and
moved out). We also met cousins, aunts/uncles, nieces/nephews, etc...
but we didn’t see them after that first day.
Kelli, 2005
I noticed that though the host family did not open the gifts in front
of us, out of pride and respect, everyone there had some item we brought
as gifts. Daniel had the soccer ball inflated already, Karen was playing
with her brush and hair ties, Ever was drawing on the sketch pad,
Manuelito was brushing his teeth with the new toothbrush, and Erundina
was using one of the bars of soap. Even the other relatives had some of
the gifts- which is likely why they had been visiting that first night.
Anyway, it was nice to see people enjoying and appreciating everything
we brought. I couldn’t help but think of how ungrateful people in the US
would have been for the same gifts.
Kelli, 2005
This morning, Aida told us her story, and the story of Santa Marta.
It was especially informative since we never had the “history lesson”
prior to our trip. She told us about Santa Marta during the war. She
recalled the flight to Honduras after several massacres in and around
Santa Marta. Aida recounted their time in refugee camps where they
learned to rely on each other, thus creating a sense of community and
solidarity. She told us that the group decided when to comeback and in
what size of groups... then of the reformation of the community
physically and ideologically, through repopulation and community
programs. I didn’t not want to pressure her, but I wondered silently
about her personal connections, to the war story- how had it affected
her. It was difficult to connect to this story without the human aspect
of it. It was obvious that she had suffered greatly.... I wondered how
she made it through that experience.
Kelli, 2005
Erundina and I share partial job descriptions as we both deal with
reproductive health and rights. We shared concerns over a culture that
allows men to dictate that their female partner not use birth control...
meanwhile many are not supporting, or participating in their family
life. She added that church influence is strongest, but that men are
easily able to justify sleeping around.
Anonymous, 2005
Then Mayra became more curious about US culture, the social system,
and immigration. As I explained to her the perils of illegal
immigration, I realized that she had never heard the negative aspects of
worker mutilation, lack of fair payment, and lack of workers’ rights. I
also explained US mentality toward “undocumented” immigrants- US
citizens won’t do that job for that pay, but they perceive to be losing
jobs... which has led to racism and ethnocentrism. I told her how
hypocritical it is since everyone in the US that is not 100% Native
American immigrated from somewhere... and how European-American
immigration is looked at differently. It takes me back to the question
of how it is for me to be American and so critical of my own country. I
have since decided that I am a citizen of the world- I do not belong to
one country or culture. I need not love everything about my
country/culture as a world citizen sees the positive in every culture
and is able to criticize every country. Before getting off the bus,
Mayra gave me her bracelet to remember all that we had learned from each
other.... it means a lot to me that she felt she had learned so much
from me.
Kelli, 2005
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Workers’ Day March: an inspiring day of community organization and
political activism
The Workers’ Day March.... What an incredible day of solidarity! May
1st will forever be Workers’ Day for me... it was instantly part of me
from the moment we arrived. Never have I witnessed or participated in
such a positive, community-run/based, event. This was not simply a
parade to watch or a protest to participate in. It was the mutual
exchange of similar ideas in a way that allows everyone the express
his/her voice... it was passionate, political, and it permeated and
saturated me. I could not stop reading the signs, cheering and chanting,
interacting with participants, or wanting to join. The notion of true
social revolution via solidarity and community seems so much the
solution to so many problems.... Even the “unruly adolescents” were
spray-painting political messages: revolution or death (revolucion o
muerte); when there is poverty, there can be no independence (cuando hay
pobreza, no puede ser independencia). What US citizen would voice their
opinion, would march in solidarity, would invite foreigners to join the
cause? What US adolescent would know enough about history/politics to
write such messages or even to be motivated to learn/act on such
information? What is it that El Salvador and its people get, that we in
the US do not, can not understand?
Kelli 2005
At the Workers Day March today there was such a feeling of joy and
celebration, mixed with mourning and something like anger…but healing.
Even though most of the time I didn’t know what was being said, or what
was written on banners, it still felt like I was in the presence of
truths being told.
Erin, 2005
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Institute for the Protection of Minors: the government run orphanage
To see first-hand what an orphanage is, to see what that life is like
for the children... was truly an eyeopener and a heartbreaker. I am not
sure that I can live with the knowledge of these children, whose only
desire was human touch and love, live such... hard lives.
Kelli 2005
Maria Madre de Los Pobres: (Mary Mother of the Poor) this is one
social service agency that does it all for an impoverished, marginalized
community
Today at Los Pobres (Maria Madre de Los Pobres) was... overwhelming.
At first, the social worker’s story sounded bleak but too familiar.
Lorena Morales is the only social worker for a community of 51,000
people... the need is increasing every day and the resources are
eternally decreasing. This agency (parish) offers everything from health
care to child care, from night school to a community bank, and from
working with the elderly to a godparent program. All these services are
offered with no government money and little international aid. It is a
depressing, though common, situation for social workers everywhere....
though, as with most things, is dramatically worse when considering
marginalized communities.
Kelli 2005
Later we took a walk through part of this impoverished community. I’m
not sure that I have many words for this experience. I can not say that
I have ever been so close to such poverty and devastation... I am glad
to have taken photos and video- I must never forget this reality. The
most profound aspect of this visit was the people. As dirty, barefoot,
overworked and poor as these people are, I felt welcome in their
community. Greetings were everywhere, children came running to have
their pictures taken, and every person smiled as we went by. Us, the out
of place gringos, who have more “wealth” than these people will likely
ever see, were welcomed into their community and allowed to record our
experience. All I felt was exploitative and intrusive... and that if I
were them, I would be so angry and resentful of the presumptuous
gringos. I hope that I am able to use the information (mental and video)
to communicate the needs and situation of this community... only then,
when the exploitation becomes informed conscience will it be worth this
intrusion.
Kelli 2005
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Instituto de Arte por La
Peace: (Institute of Art for Peace) this agency is in its
infancy though has huge aspirations and is already making great social
progress
The most amazing... encounter happened for me today. At the Instituto
de Arte por La Paz, I met Peggy and Pat. These two women, Catholic nuns
even, reminded me what social work must be about: passion and hope.
Although the Peace Center is not yet nearly complete, its mission and
values are what inspires people like me. Eventually the Institute will
incorporate a broad concept of initiating, developing, and maintaining
peace with the arts as a means for healing, processing, learning, and
progressing after the trauma caused by war, It will then work to
globalize peace in a way that seeks o solve the problem of war, rather
than to treat the after-effects. Having groups and individuals come to
the institute for classes, community space, an interactive historical
memory museum, skills development, conflict resolution, human rights
training is the foundation necessary for initiating and maintaining
peace. Sisters Peggy and
Pat have at heart the very best ideals of “the
church” and practice religion in the way it ought to be applied. Even my
atheist self was drawn into their commitment to the best ideals of
religion: living one’s neighbor, seeking and creating peace, respecting
individuals, ministering through example rather than words, and so on. I
was taken aback by these two righteous women (double-entendre intended).
These old-school nuns embody feminism, social work, and the best
characteristics of Catholicism and Christianity. They play by the rules
that matter and let their hearts do the rest. The passion for their work
is visible from miles away. At the end, I went to thank Peggy and Pat. I
told them that they reminded us that hope is the foundation for
progress... that after seeing so many other agencies with too many
obligations and not enough resources, that the institute and these women
were the first glimpse of hope that we’ve had... that I was grateful to
be reminded how critical hope is and that Peggy and Oat literally embody
what it is to have hope.
Kelli 2005
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Flor de Piedra (Flower of Stone) a non-governmental, human rights,
organization run by and for sex workers
After the discussion, we walked through the barrio of the sex
workers. That experience forced me to connect to their situation. Our
group had to be escorted by Tulsi- it reminded me about the power
differential between males and females in the culture. This differential
always strikes me since I have never felt disadvantaged by being female-
I have never, for some mysterious reason, felt that I could not do
something difficult or challenging or sport related at least as well, if
not better than, men. It is easy to forget the privilege of having this
feeling. I was not too shocked by the stares and whistles due to prior
experience in other countries, but was aware that it had not happened
since we arrived in El Salvador, until this moment.
Kelli, 2005
I was also surprised by how blatant the sex industry is here. The women
literally stand in windows and doors, nearly naked. I suppose that some
degree of safety is implied since they have their own rooms to work in,
at least in this area this is my illusion. However, I don’t actually
believe it is safer since a woman was recently murdered in a room right
next to one from which a woman spoke to us.
This woman, a sex worker for years, showed us physical scars from men
beating her and trying to kill her. She had a vertical scar about six
inches long on her neck and several scars on her chest from stabbings as
well as several scars on her back. Her shame was obvious and yet she
forced herself to show us. Perhaps it is part of the great hope, that so
many Salvadorans seem to have, that somehow this group of kids from the
Us can help them save themselves. It is part of this tremendous
responsibility that I have felt ever since I arrived. I only hope that
we don’t let these people down.
Door after door women of different ages, shapes, and sizes were on
display waiting for the opportunity to make one more dollar to keep her
room, to feed herself and to feed her family. Every trick strips away at
her dignity and self-worth as well as allowing her to survive. As an
organization, Flor de Piedra empowers these women. Abstinence from sex
work is neither a demand or a mandated goal for the agency. The
objective is to inform and empower women; to teach and to learn from
them; to nurture and to respect them. Flor de Piedra does nothing better
than to give these women back their dignity and humanity.
Kelli, 2005
I had returned back here with one other student for our
mini-internship. We caught a couple of buses, for a 2 hour ride to Santa
Ana, for a workshop that lasted 1.5 hours. The workshop focused on the
social constructionism of gender. The topic was much more complex than I
had anticipated. They began with a visual aid that explained self-esteem
as self-love and self-respect which translates to using condoms and
knowing one’s rights. (See photo of visual aid.) Next, the women
attending the workshop were asked to draw on a man “what makes him a
man”. They drew a moustache, a penis, and other, primarily biological
traits. When asked to complete the female drawing, by stating “what
makes us women”, the result was different. Although there were some
biological aspects, such as ovaries and breasts, most of the features
were superficial or socially imposed: makeup, high heels, a dress, and
so on. Before my eyes, these undereducated, prostituted women, were
defining social constructionism. The women of Flor asked problem posing
questions: “Is this something we were born with.... is this something we
can change”? The women’s eyes were lighting up. “No... society decides
these things for us, they define us as women.... and as sex workers” one
woman shouted with excitement. What I watched unfold was something that
expanded my own perceptions of these women, who happen to be sex
workers, something that made them so much more human and real to me. I
was... in awe of this realization that intelligence, intuition, and
social savvy can come in the most unsuspecting packages. I felt
tremendous pride on behalf of these women for their awareness of their
own lives and situations.
Kelli, 2005
Today we went to San Miguelito, a barrio of San Salvador. Here,
instead of a street lined with cast iron doors and little rooms, there
were “salons”. They look like bars in the front, then there is a long
hallway, indoors, with many rooms. We learned that some women also live
in these rooms with their kids, sometimes the man pays for the room then
pays the woman; sometimes he only pays her then she pays the salon
owner... there are many “configurations” of payment. When we were
inside, doing the workshops in the salons, we discovered that the men
have no shame in soliciting sex. While casually walking by the salon, a
man saw a woman he liked, backed up, followed her in, and came out
tightening his belt with a smile on his face. He had walked right
through our workshop, and even had a beer while listening to the
workshop. One man even parked the company van (logo and all) out front
while seeking sex services. I inferred that there should be shame not
from the legal aspect, which it comes from in the US, but in the “I know
you have a family at home and are spending your money here” shame...
there was no such emotion!
Kelli, 2005
Today there were 3 women from Flor with us: one gave the workshop on
the female condom, another gave a workshop on self-esteem, and the their
walked the streets selling condoms and talking to sex workers and
patrons about HIV/AIDS.
Kelli, 2005
In the self-esteem workshop, Laura and I actually participated. There
were some visual aids explaining that self-esteem is how we feel about
and treat ourselves... that we must know what we like and dislike about
ourselves as well as what we need to grow as individuals. Our first
exercises translates as “To grow my flower” wherein the flower
represents “me” as an individual and what I need to grow as a person.
After we each wrote what we needed, we shared them with each other. It
was notable that every single woman there, except Laura and myself, had
health as their first need... it was low on my list and not even on
Laura’s list. I couldn’t help considering the fact that Laura and I
assume good health, these women are aware that without health, there is
nothing. (Please refer to the drawing/list.)
The next exercise is a “getting to know yourself” exercise. Again the
flower is a metaphor: you fill in the petals with everything you like
about yourself and the underground dirt is what you dislike about
yourself. As “different” as we are from these women, our answers were so
similar. It make me feel connected to these women to know that we value
similar traits and want to change or are insecure about the same traits.
(Please refer to the drawing.)
The final exercise was simply to draw a woman. We were asked to give her
an age. We were then asked what we liked and disliked about the woman we
drew. After a short discussion, we were told that the woman represents
ourselves... and asked how we felt about that. As I looked at my drawing
of “me”it made sense: long, curly hair; a smile; breasts are
emphasized.... except for the age and the nudity. The nudity was amusing
at first, but I wondered what it meant since everyone else’s had
clothes, makeup, etc. I think I understand or at least have come up with
an explanation that I like. She is naked because being a woman is
independent of clothing, makeup, and accessories. It is not necessarily
who she is or what she does or doesn’t fo as a career or even socially.
Being a woman, for me, does not equal a specific role or identity: it is
a certain body, with specific and non-specific features, and a mint that
can do, be, think, or feel anything.... none of which must be tied to
having the body of a woman. At first, I was embarrassed by “naked” me...
but now I feel strengthened and empowered by it.... it is me as I had
never seen myself before. (Please refer to
the drawing.)
Kelli, 2005
On our walk to the next salon, one of the women from Flor mentioned
her night job. Apparently all of the women, except one, worked at Flor
during the day and were sex workers at night! It definitely caught me
off guard. It opened the door for further discussion, but since I was so
shocked, I wonder if I would have treated them differently had I known
from the beginning... it makes me sad to think that I may have. And
well... they don’t look, dress, act, like my “idea” of what sex workers
are. I am admitting to some serious stereotypes that I must have in
order to have been so shocked. I’m not even sure that I had an idea of
“how sex workers act or what they do”.... just “not like that” I guess.
Hmmmm... at least I’m aware now- I just wish it hadn’t surprised me so
much- I feel judgmental.
Kelli, 2005
In the end, I was so... awestruck by the openness of all the women...
by their simple desire to tell us their story and to be heard... by
their interest in our country, our culture, and our profession. They
wanted us to learn from them in order to help sex workers in the US-
wholly unselfish. I saw children running around in the brothel, cared
for by all the women as if in a commune where everyone takes care of
each other. Today I learned something much deeper about this country and
these women. I learned that even in the patriarchal culture, even women
who sell their bodies to men, even women who work for human rights in
the daytime, while selling themselves by night... women and human rights
are advancing, inch by inch. I now understand the phrase “flor de piedra”
and the individuals and cultural progress it represents.
Kelli, 2005
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Maquila (Sweatshop): the only unionized
sweatshop, or sweat-free shop, in Central America
The first thing we visited today was the only unionized maquila in
Central America. I was impressed by the tale of the workers’ struggles-
their successes and fall backs in their fight to become unionized. In
particular I appreciated the working environment it afforded. It gave me
great hope for the power of the people and community organization. I
wish that we could have visited a non-union maquila to better compare
the environments. I realize that politically this is not an option, nor
would it be in the best interest of such a maquila. I was also grateful
to become better informed about the conditions in maquilas and to know
that I can do, even in a small way, to support unionized maquilas. I
don’t think that I will ever buy another shirt without at least looking
at the tag. I would like to say that I will never buy another sweat-shop
garment again... but that it unlikely, due to practicality. I hope that
by being aware and spreading the word, I can make some change. I also am
going to look, as deeply as is possibly, into where companies that I
patronize get their clothing (including GVSU)... change happens one step
at a time.
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Photo Café: a fair-trade gourmet coffee shop
that emphasizes and encourages political advocacy and activism
Our next stop was the Photo Café, a fair trade coffee shop that works
with high quality coffee co-ops in El Salvador. We learned that 3 or 4
major companies mix coffee qualities in order to artificially control
the market, which mostly harms the workers. With coffee, as with other
goods (think fruits and veggies), there is a small sector of fair trade
co-ops. These groups pay fair wages and work with fixed prices (which,
barring unforseen disasters, is changed just once a year) which are
always set higher than the prices/wages of the artificial market since
it is viewed as inherently exploitative of the workers. It was great to
learn about this exploitation and to know that there are changes I can
make in my own life to help support these groups fighting on behalf of
workers and to improve their environment. It was also just a cool place
to be- very empowering. I even ordered 10 bags of coffee, which is only
a lot since I really dislike coffee. Even as gifts, though, I can use it
to teach others what I now know.
Kelli, 2005
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Santa Marta (Saint Martha): the
small village in the countryside where the students spend a long weekend
On the ride to Santa Marta, I was reminded time and time again of the
excesses of US culture. A grinding mill had an entire field full of
sprinklers, meanwhile people in the countryside must drink from cement
boxes that collect rainwater, or from the filthy rivers. It was
definitely an anachronism in what I’ve seen of El Salvador. Then I
thought about the US and all the water we waste farming grass....
everyone with a house, even my apartment building, everywhere you look
in the US someone is using clean, drinkable water to farm grass that
will never actually serve a purpose. What a brilliant metaphor for our
culture: wasting resources for the sakes of commercialism, materialism,
and even for the sake of wasting.
Kelli, 2005
We then left Radio Victoria for the “walk” to Santa Marta. The walk
became a hike- which I love but had left the sun screen in the “luggage
truck”, an error I would soon regret. It was a rocky, hilly, hike that
took out several group members- though none were seriously hurt. Earlier
one classmate had called herself clumsy and joked about needing a first
aid kit since she “falls a lot”. Damn, she was not joking! I really
began to worry as her falls were rarely in the “difficult” parts. I did
what I could to walk with her and support her- I suppose it was likely
exhaustion. After so many falls, I began to think about the fact that in
the US we, as a general population, rarely hike on earthy terrain. In
the US it’s either paved, or we drive. I was further reminded of this as
Tulsi leapt around like a mountain goat... and I couldn’t avoid
reconsidering the fact that Tulsi (who is from Nepal) often walked for
days (yes, days) to meet with families for social work practice in his
home country. First, no one in the would ever consider such a thing...
at least they would be considered a bit strange if they desired to do
such. Secondly, these aren’t walks on paved sidewalks- they were hikes
through rugged terrain. And here we were, stumbling on some pebbles,
unable to look up to enjoy the view due to fear of a misstep. None the
less, it was a great hike that I hope continues to be part of the trip.
Kelli, 2005
After the 1.5 hour “walk”, covered in dirt and sweat, we arrived at
Brenda’s house- to Anita and Erin sleeping in hammocks. (They took a
truck ride instead of the hike). We kicked them out, had in incredible
spaghetti lunch, and all took naps. It was a beautiful, tranquil
place... and it was great to take a little rest before jumping right
into Santa Marta countryside. Brenda taught us about etiquette for the
pilas (water supply) and compost toilets. The pila is basically a giant,
above ground, cement hold full of rainwater, which has a flat space with
a drain on one side. You can not touch the water with anything but a
bucket so as to not contaminate it... thought it was full of
water-striders and minnows. Later I learned that this is used for
drinking water as well as washing-up water. I was very glad to be
drinking bottled water. The compost bathrooms (think cement outhouses)
have 2 toilets- each gets used 6 months out of the year. Inside the
toilet itself is a divider which sends the pee down a tube and into a
drainage field and the poo into the compost. If one poos, you have to
dump some ash (conveniently located in a bucket inside the bathroom)
into it to absorb the moisture. Then, after 6 months of use, it sits for
6 months and... voila... fertile compost. The idea is great and noble-
but it honestly does nothing for comfort. So we were now at least
somewhat prepared and somewhat rested for the coming weekend in the
countryside.
Kelli, 2005
Later, we had a tranquil dinner at Aida’s house. It was nice to come
back together before getting overwhelmed. After dinner, Dr. Guevara
invited me to join her, Cristina, and Aida to “shower” since Tulsi was
my roommate- though I wasn’t sure how that made a difference. Though I
hadn’t brought a towel or planned on showering for the weekend, I
agreed, since sweat and dirt aren’t very refreshing. Little did I know
that I was about to have an amazing/frightening/memorable/unique
experience.
The four of us (Dr. Guevara, Aida, Cristina, and I) marched through the
pueblo with towels and soap in hand. Though it was only about 7pm, it
was already dark. We walked down the street, past the home Tulsi and I
were staying in, to the yard of Evanito (Erundina’s brother who is not
often at home due to police work). Before us was a giant pila- no walls,
no space between houses. It occurred to me that we would be getting
naked, all together, in full view of Evanito and his family. I....
was.... terrified. Full nudity, in the company of several women I barely
knew, in front of a house full of strangers... it is everything that
causes fear when you grow-up in a culture where sex and nudity (which
inevitably leads to sex) is a private, naughty thing. Yet I had already
committed- and I am technically an adult... but mostly I knew it would
be an unforgettable experience- so I dove in. I had never stripped so
fast in my life... all I could think about was my body and everyone that
could see it. I timidly bent down with my bucket into the water hole...
then I poured it over my head. As the water cascaded over my curves,
nothing else mattered. It felt so damn good that a stadium full of
lights and people couldn’t have made me stop. At that moment it was as
though I never had a doubt or fear. It was an incredibly invigorating
experience that made me feel so completely.... alive. Yes, I was
naked... yes, others were present and naked... yes people were probably
watching. From the moment the water hit my body, however, it all melted
away. Afterwards, while considering what had just happened, I suddenly
stumbled onto the beauty of it all. Here were four adult women, of
different cultures and generations, basking in the glory of nudity in
complete... solidarity and acceptance with and of each other. It was the
community spirit of El Salvador... and now I have an idea how that
feels. I will never forget my first, public, pila shower.
Kelli, 2005
I was again reminded of privacy and personal space issues after
returning “home”. In short, neither concept seems to exist here. Perhaps
this is the downside of solidarity... or just my US citizen self hasn’t
been here long enough to understand it. However, with a male roommate
that I barely know, an entire room full of a family I know even less,
and not a single door on the house, changing my clothes gave me a lesson
in humility and made me aware of my need for “personal space”- whether
learned or inherent. It didn’t take too long to maneuver around it, but
it made me consider what personal space is and why we think we need
it... especially since it seems to eliminate any sense of intimacy in
relationships.
Kelli, 2005
I have long believed, and known to be fact, that I can sleep through
anything. This seemed to be re-enforced on this night- neither
dive-bombing beetles that sound like airplanes nor a barnyard symphony
could deter me from sleeping. Then, at exactly 3:47am, I was jolted
awake by the rooster (in his tree, directly adjacent to the window-hole
in our bedroom). After over 2 hours of crowing every few seconds, I felt
surely crazy.... it took every bone in my body and every ounce of will
power not to burst through the cinder block wall, grab the rooster
around the neck, tie his thumbs together (a-la death squad style), and
bash his head against the remaining wall... several times. Then again,
I’m always grumpy when I’m woken up.
Kelli, 2005
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Las Dignas (Dignified Women): the women’s
bakery
What an incredible symbol of empowerment for the women of Santa
Marta! It is entirely run, owned, and worked by the women... despite the
preferences of the greater community. Women who had survived the deaths
and murders of spouses, friends, families and children took advantage of
some of the new gender equity that was offered after the victory of the
FMLN. They created a shop, despite the value judgements and resistance
of men and other community members who believed that the group was
“against men”. The women used the profits to help support women who’s
children and husbands died throughout the war as well as after the
conflict ended. The women believe that it is important to show young
girls and women that a “woman’s hand is the same as a man’s”; to
demonstrate to the culture and to the girls that women can be capable
and independent without being a threat to men. All the goods are made
with products from Santa Marta and consumed entirely by the population
of Santa Marta. This group of women have been working together,
officially, since 1989.
Kelli, 2005
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Radio Victoria: a radio station run
entirely by the youth
We arrived at Radio Victoria, a community radio that is primarily run
by area youth. The radio has an interesting history, or rather
evolution. It has survived post-civil war politics, police raids and
confiscations, and Supreme Court battles. It has developed an NGO called
the Social, Economic, Development Forum for advocacy on their behalf.
The radio is based on community interests and relevance. It has also
been used as a way for family in the US to get messages to their
families in Victoria and Santa Marta as there are very few telephones in
the area, it is simply easier to do radio broadcast messages. One of the
programs run by the youth En Voz Alta (Outloud) takes on divisive and
relevant political topics as well as other news. By far the most
impressive aspect of the radio were the youth. I can not marvel enough
at the efforts and commitment to Radio Victoria... the amount of pride
they feel in their accomplishments coupled with taking such great
responsibility was inspiring and evident in the great work done at the
radio. I can only compare it to the evident lack of ambition that seems
to saturate US youth. I realize that this view is pessimistic- and I
admit at least the possibility or potential for ambition in youth (aside
from the minority of youth that are already active, informed and
interested). However, from personal experience and news coverage, this
is my perception of youth. Then I consider the words, often repeated,
that “it is not the fault of the youth, rather of the society that leads
to delinquency”. Therein lies the confound: what must come first, the
youth taking responsibility or the culture valuing the youth enough to
invest time and energy?
Kelli, 2005
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UCA (University of Central America) site of the
massacre of 6 Jesuit priests, and the beginning of the end of the civil
war
The UCA is a privately owned university, primarily promoting
religious study, that is best known for being the site where 6 Jesuit
priests were killed on 11/16/89 (along with 2 female employees). The
Jesuits were scholars who studied the causes and effects of the civil
war as well as human rights violations that were taking place. They
spoke out against the atrocities not as a political issue, rather as a
human rights issue. We toured the museum and the infamous rose garden
that was planted by the gardener (husband and father to the 2 women that
were murdered) who worked for the Jesuits.... on the very spot that they
had been dragged to and murdered with exploding bullets. He planted 2
yellow rose bushes (to represent his wife and daughter), 6 red rose
bushes to represent the Jesuits, and several multi-colored bushes
framing the scene to represent the entire world watching the tragedy.
Kelli, 2005
Rodolfo Hernandez, coordinator of the pastoral center at the UCA was
eloquent, direct, and very informative. He spoke about what makes a
martyr, about why the Jesuits and others were so brutally murdered. He
said that martyrs not only love the poor and marginalized communities,
but advocate and fight for them... and given them a voice. He gave the
example of Mother Teresa- she loved the poor, but she did not defend
them. On the other hand, Jesus, the Jesuits, Monsenor Romero, and Martin
Luther King Jr. both loved and defended the poor. To give the poor a
voice is to give them power; power is a threat; and threats must be
eliminated. Martyrs live o inspire and defend: hope, peace, solidarity,
generosity, and justice. For these threats, martyrs are eliminated,
often in brutal manners.
Kelli, 2005
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La Pinal Coffee Co-op: the
coffee plantation that is run as a cooperative, with fair wages and
workers’ rights
We went into the mountains to visit La Pinal. It was an amazing bus
ride with views of the city, of volcanos, and of the ocean. When we
arrived, the executive board gave us a history lesson as well as a
description of how a co-op works. It was a refreshing change of pace
from US exploitation whose supreme objective is profit. The co-op works
for the good of its members and their families as well as for the good
of the community. They took us on a mini-tour of the plantation. It was
difficult to grasp the size of the land since it is grown down the side
of a mountain. All I could think of was how physically challenging it
would be to work on a mountain side for so long... day after day.
Kelli, 2005
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General
My name is Laura, and I'm a 30 year old, married, undergrad, social
work student. Growing up I was always helping animals and people. After
years of working as a nurse’s aide, caring for the elderly, I became
aware of the social work profession. I started college in my later 20’s,
knowing where my passions lie. I hope to work in gerontology with an
emphasis on Alzheimer’s and dementia related issues. My goals are to
work using pet therapy, family support group services, and alternative
therapies. Since starting college I have also gained an interest in
international politics. Having now studied abroad in China and El
Salvador I have developed an understanding of immigration, poverty, and
human rights. These are all issues that I hope to continue learning
about.
In reflecting back on the El Salvador trip, it is very difficult to
summarize the experience. It was defiantly life changing and emotionally
difficult. Those sound like negative things, and in some sense they are,
however sometimes in order to grow, we must go through some
uncomfortable feelings.
My whole life has been fairly uneventful and peaceful. I had a happy
childhood and I have never gone hungry. Studying social work and
sociology I intellectually understand many problems people face. Going
to El Salvador though, I felt, smelled, and heard what real suffering is
like. I sat and listened to women in Santa Marta tell of losing all of
their children during the war. I listened to how the government opened
the dam just as they were crossing the river to the safety of Honduras,
causing many to drown to death.
In San Salvador we listened to a woman explain the scars that went up
one side and down the other side of a sex worker. Her throat had been
slit, she still had a bullet in her back, and each of her arms had
numerous scars. Her eyes were sad, hauntingly sad. And yet, still she
works. Men violate her body day after day, because that is the only work
she has.
At the site of the Jesuit Priest’s murders, we walked the path of their
killers. Men of God who spoke for the people, died for speaking for
those people. I stood where the gardener stood when he found the priest
bodies, and then where he found his dead wife and daughter, who also
were shot. At the parish of Monsenor Romero I sat in the pew where his
congregation sat the afternoon he was shot in the heart. Also, because
he spoke for the people.
The last day of our trip we sat as a group and talked about our
experiences. We were asked by our professor 1) what are we leaving in El
Salvador 2) what are we taking home with us? One person in the group
said they were leaving a part of their childhood behind and emerging
more as an adult. This has stayed with me as very accurate to my own
feelings. I don’t feel as though I am a child, but sometimes our eyes
are still not fully opened to the world around us, even though we are
adults. Traveling forces us to open our eyes. Once our eyes are open we
cannot pretend we don’t know of these things.
So, for myself I struggle with the fact that everyday more people in the
world experience life far removed from the life I am accustomed to. More
people than not, don’t have clean drinking water, health care is a
luxury reserved for the rich, a working car to get to a job, a job that
pays a fair wage, and access to education. There are many things that
people in the United States taken for granted.
More than anything, though, I walked away from the trip fired up for
social work, social change, peace, and human rights. I speak up for
people more often. And I think about things more. I remember the people
of El Salvador and their generosity. I think about how my actions here
also affect them. How I vote, how I spend my money, how I use water, and
how I use my education, these things all matter. More than one person
who spoke with us told us that we have a responsibility to use our
education wisely because most of the people will never have access to
college. I plan on doing just that.
"If we all did the things we are capable of, we would astound
ourselves." - Thomas Edison
"You must do the thing you think you cannot do." - Eleanor
Roosevelt
“If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot
save the few who are rich.” JFK
“To be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in
a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” Mandela
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Coming Home
It’s been about a week since we got back... I’m not apathetic about
the trip, but I’m sick of people pretending to care, sick of trying to
explain, the experience or that I wasn’t on vacation... and I’m still
overwhelmed.
Everywhere I look, all I see is waste and excess... too much junk, not
enough appreciation. I haven’t even looked at my pictures of video yet-
I don’t feel “ready” to deal with all that yet. I’m in more culture
shock here than in El Salvador- the people, the waste... the ignorance,
all make me crazy.
I also think that there is a lot left for me to process.... and I still
don’t feel prepared or energized enough to do it. Even more daunting are
the lists of promises I’ve made to myself and the Salvadorans... on top
of work, class, new internship, and a new house. I’m just generally
maxed out right now and not convinced that I will feel “normal” or
“balanced” for a while. I think it’s good to feel so... confused. It
will force me to process more and to keep the experience fresh longer. I
think it means that I’m still being affected... I feel like I’m getting
new info/input daily. I wish I had a mini-vacation after the trip.
Jumping right back into life feels wrong and impossible.
Kelli, 2005
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