Wednesday October 19, 2011
The rain keeps falling. The tears are too. For more than a week now, there hasn’t been a dry moment. The ones we have come to love after living with them for the past two months are telling us, “We are hungry, we are cold, we are wet, we are tired, we have run out of water and are boiling the rain to survive.”
But we cannot join them. Our communities are out of reach, if not physically, “programmatically” (a term frequently used to justify the limits and rules of the Casa program). A major bridge collapsed this weekend, cutting off access to the western provinces from San Salvador. Tepecoyo, the home of my praxis site is on the other side of this bridge.
If you have read my blog before, heard me talk, or seen my pictures I am sure you are familiar with Angelica, the coordinator of my praxis site, and her family. Angelica lives in a small tin-roofed, stone-walled house in a region called Tepecoyo with her husband, her father, her daughter, son-in-law, granddaughter, son, daughter-in-law, and grandson. Angelica is an amazing woman; she inspires me each and every day to make something of myself, to be a better person for the world. Angelica runs a comedor (community kitchen) out of her home for many of the children in the community. Without Angelica many of these children would be hungry and they would not be getting the proper nutrition to succeed in school or to grow into healthy adults. It has always seemed that nothing can stop Angelica. Despite setbacks and hardships she has always fought to move forward. In recent days though something has come that even Angelica cannot defeat. The rain has put Angelica in a very bad place. Angelica and her family have been without food, water, electricity, and dry clothes for several days. They are hungry, cold, wet, and sick. They cannot leave their rain filled house. Aid has not yet reached the area. The roads are filled with debris from mudslides. Angelica, the woman who will never accept defeat, has admitted that she is not okay. Conditions are bad. Angelica has no solution. I have spent the past three days crying on the phone with Angelica, hoping and praying for the rain to stop.
The situation here is not good. We are in a State of Emergency. We have entered into the highest level of disaster relief. More than 1,250mm (over 4 feet) of rain have accumulated in the past week. The earth has been totally saturated, leaving every drop as runoff. The news resembles Katrina-era New Orleans: men wading through chest-high waters, hundreds waiting in lines in the wind and the rain for a food and water, the shelters shutting down from lack of funding and thousands pouring into the national football stadium. The death toll yesterday was 36 people. Twenty-two roads and highways were washed out or collapsed. The borders with Guatemala were destroyed. Over thirty thousand people have been displaced. They need food, water, hygiene products, sheet plastic. Here, we are trying to do the most we can, but there feels like there is so much more we could do. We are bringing food and dry clothes and blankets to those who need it in the communities nearby, but there is so much need. Over 30,000 people have been evacuated, more than two thirds now seeking refuge in makeshift shelters.
Yesterday, at noon on Tuesday, the sun broke through the clouds; I saw blue skies, the mountains in the distance, people emerging from their homes for the first time in what seems like forever. Finalmente, finally, I said and heard in the hearts of those surrounding me. But now it is Wednesday and the rain has come back, falling harder than it was before. We were not able to go to praxis on Monday. I thought today would be different, but that is not the case. I woke up this morning to the pounding of rain on my roof; I got dressed, ate some breakfast, and headed out to the van that we typically take to Angelica’s. But as soon as I got in the car I looked at Julio, our driver. I saw the fear in his eyes, the tears this grown man was fighting to hold back. “It’s not safe”, he said, “there are too many risks.” I calmly got out of the van; for once I did not break down. I knew this was going to happen the moment I woke up this morning; it’s becoming very difficult to maintain the hope, the faith that I once had.
Along with the state of emergency on Sunday, the Casa de la Solidaridad, the UCA (my current school), and the country as a whole suffered even more. Father Dean Brackleythe Jesuit from Fordham University who came to El Salvador over twenty years ago to help fill the responsibilities left behind by the six martyred Jesuits, both academically and spiritually—passed away after a courageous battle with cancer. As a dear friend, Lupita, told me his life was a lemon that he squeezed until there was nothing left, and when it seemed like there couldn’t possibly be more to give, he gave zest. Some of us students have just returned from the funeral of a man we have never known. But now I feel like I was a good friend of Father Dean. Father Brackley started the Casa; without him I would not be here. I would never have met the amazing people that I now rely on for so much love and support. As I sat, surrounded by Salvadorans in a crowded room, listening to a recorded message from Father Dean I couldn’t help but cry once again. This time though they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of joy, of gratitude, for the life I have given. Father Dean devoted his whole life to the poor of El Salvador, the people who have been ignored by most for their whole lives. I am here for a reason. I am here to carry on the mission of Father Dean.
I have been so frustrated these past few days. I have so much anger. So much sadness. I am having a hard time accepting a lot of thing. But I have been trying to make the most out of these emotions. I have been organizing with a few of my friends to raise awareness, create a plan, and raise funds to help El Salvador get back on its feet. But this organization and action is also scaring me. I have found myself doing (or at least trying to do) what I want to do with the rest of my life. It’s not easy. It’s wearing me down. But were trying, moving forward poco a poco. We have been able to bring together all of the students to discuss the current situation. We have organized one vigil and plan on organizing more in order to bring everyone together, to share what is on our minds. Most importantly though, since I began writing this blog yesterday morning we have been able to reach Angelica. I was not able to make the trip, something that is still eating away at my heart, but Maria and Ella were able to. They were able to bring rice, beans, oil, and warm clothes to Angelica and her family. We have been fighting for this since we found out that Angelica had nothing. We’ve been very persistent, perhaps a little too persistent. But if that’s what it takes I am willing to fight all day and all night to do what I think is right. I’m trying my hardest to live out the mission of Father Dean Brackley.
All of this being said, I would like to ask your help. Little international help or attention is coming in. There is an immeasurable amount of work to be done. I ask for your support. Love, thoughts, prayers if that is all you can provide. But if you, or your place of work or study can give financially, it would be so greatly appreciated. Donations can be made via Voices on the Border ON BEHALF OF ANADES (a Salvadoran NGO working with the most affected communities and trusted by the Casa de la Solidaridad.)The organizations website is http://www.votb.org/ and there is a button that says DONATE NOW.
Sending money directly to El Salvador is very difficult but if you would prefer to send directly to me, we can work with my mom by putting money in my bank account that I can withdraw here. I do not like asking for money but I’m realizing that the people here need our help.
I have one other favour to ask as well. I don’t know how many people are reading my blog or how many people this will reach but if anyone who reads this can take what I have said and pass it on to anyone else they know that might be interested in helping I would also greatly appreciate that.
If you have any questions about donations, the situation in El Salvador, or anything else feel free to email me (lweston@slu.edu) or send me a message on facebook. We don’t have a lot of time right now; there are a million and one other things I would rather be doing than sitting on a computer but I will be doing my best to stay in touch with everyone back home.
With love from El Salvador,
Lindsey
