The following notes have been edited to correct errors and to add explanations and updates. Parenthetical notes and remarks from the original are enclosed in parentheses. Present day [2022] updates are italicized and enclosed in square brackets.
2 October 1990 - Morning in the village in San Miguel
We settle for sleep overnight in the common house, the eight women on four reed-mat beds in an inner room, and the men on mats on the porch. The room is damp and colder than outside; I think that I am the only one not wishing for a heavier covering than our flannel sheet. Gail and I share a bed against the far wall. I must have slept for a few hours; she claims that she has slept not at all. By quarter after four my need to use the bathroom has grown greater than any concern for disturbing the others. I whisper to Gail that I am getting up, and she decides that she will, also. We draw on the skirts and shoes which had been the only garments removed for the night, and I pin up my hair as best I can, tucking it under the Totes hat which serves as my protection from both sun and storm. Then with hands covering flashlights we make our way around the prone bodies of our comrades and out into the pre-dawn air.
The room had been utterly black, with no perceptible difference between eyes closed and eyes open. Outside we are greeted by a sky brilliant with more stars than I can remember ever having seen before in my life, and a nearly full moon making its way toward the western horizon. The "facilities" are across the clearing, around the bus, and into the woods – left turn for the men and straight ahead for the women, then pick your tree. A concrete latrine in this village will be a major improvement, once they get it built.
Sleep has fled, and dawn is less than an hour away, so rather than returning to our night's lodging, we sit on a log talking quietly until the others begin to stir. Sue Ellen starts playing with Juan Carlos, a hyper-active five year old who has adopted our delegation as his special project, and one of his buddies, kicking around a disintegrating rubber ball which belongs to the village. As more delegates and villagers congregate, Chris organizes a "formal" soccer game, producing one of the balls which Sally had brought along. Sticks are driven into the ground to define the goals, and teams are chosen – six "gringos" against the bus drivers and several villagers. Despite the unevenness of experience (a couple of our players had never even seen a soccer match), our team manages to make a creditable showing, only losing three to two.
Then it is time to hear some of the stories of the villagers, and to make our presentations. Leaders from several of the nearby communities have gathered to talk with us. One man from this community makes an opening statement.
"Medardo (Gomez, Lutheran bishop of El Salvador) is an important person who has listened to the difficulties we have in our communities. Because of the conflict, many have fled. The few who have stayed make do as best they can to stay afloat.
"We are representatives from the communities who communicate with the delegations who come into the conflictive zones. We want you to take the truth back to the U.S. President Cristiani has told President Bush that El Salvador is a democracy and that there are no problems. (His tone and manner tell us that he does not think that this is the truth.)"
Other of the leaders are introduced to us: J., the vice president of a neighboring community, and O., secretary of all the cooperatives.
They organize into cooperatives to better solve the problems that they have in the country. They have no sanitary facilities, no clinic, not enough work, not enough to eat. There is a problem with the water supply. They have a gravity feed system with small pipes. The pipes are bound together with string and vines. These joints are not very efficient and need to be checked frequently to stop bad leaks. There are no funds available for them to set up a more reliable system of water distribution. Water is one of their most important issues. They are also concerned about the lack of health services, and the shortage of homes. In some instances two families are sharing one house because there are not enough sound buildings for everyone.
As a community they have been able to buy a few musical instruments so that they can dance and enjoy themselves. Their music group numbers ten or eleven, but only five can play at any one time, because there are not enough instruments to go around. As a cooperative they ask for more instruments: a Concertina, two violins, conga drums, a cymbal on a stand. It is obvious that music making is very important for community building and morale. The spirit needs to be nourished as much as the body, and they recognize that fact.
We are introduced to a female representative of the community. "We must be united to face our problems. One of the realities is that each community has its needs. The directive coordinates taking care of our needs. The hen house is one project we have. But there is no real work there. It does not take many people to feed the chickens and gather the eggs. The directive is trying to work on getting a clinic for the area."
Community leader: "There is a Lutheran clinic in a neighboring town. We can take a sick person there, but it is so far to go, about seven or eight miles."
Female representative: "We are not in our own houses, we are just here. Army bombing has destroyed many of the houses. But we are not going to faint."
An elderly man: "I am the son of a good mother. I belong here. What is happening is a great tragedy."
From here on this man interrupts the conversation repeatedly, making vehement statements which Chris does not try to translate, but summarizes as being generalized denunciations of what is happening in the country. The community leaders appear to be embarrassed by his repeated outbursts, but do nothing to try to calm him. Eventually he wanders off.
An elderly woman: "I have two sons. One is away working. There are lots of children at my house. I am basically mother to my own grandchildren, and I have to find food to feed them all. I look to you for help; it is the only way that we can get help to live."
A widow: "My husband was killed in the war. With no husband, my economic situation is very difficult. I have one daughter, but no funds to send her to school."
Question: Where is the school?
"The school is eight kilometers from here. Travel on the bus costs three colones per day. Then there is no money left for lunch. But we feel that it is often better to go without food than without education. We choose to send our children to school when that is possible. Food goes into the body and passes out again, but education goes into the head and stays there."
Another male leader, aged 30: "We are here to help you to understand the problem. Remember the story last night about the young man who was captured by the army, which then broadcast that he was kidnapped by the FMLN? We want you to tell your people that this sort of thing is a lie, not the truth. The army comes suddenly, takes over your house, and you find yourself disappeared." This speaker turns out to be the uncle of the young man who was captured.
Question: What is your contact with and relationship to the FMLN?
"The government knows that we live in a conflictive zone and that there are FMLN here, so the government assumes that anyone who lives here is in contact with the FMLN.
"There is the contact of collaboration, in giving the FMLN food and water. We don't sit down, plan meals, and invite the FMLN to come, or give them supplies. But if the FMLN happen to walk by and ask for a drink of water, or a tortilla, we give it to them. It is the same thing that we do with the army.
"Here is another problem that we have. In the negotiations between the FMLN and the government, a document has been signed saying that they will respect human rights. But the government is not following it. The roadblocks are very strong.
"Young people are prisoners in the villages. They will get captured if they go out, and forced into the army. The troops at the roadblock have census lists for the area. There is a fear that if you are on the list, and are stopped by the roadblock, they will keep you."
Female rep: "If women organize, the army says that we are guerrillas."
Question: Does the delegation's visit cause problems for the communities?
"Yes, because the army knows that when delegations are here, we sit around and talk, and the delegations get an earful! The army tells us to beware of delegations because they are nothing but FMLN." (There is general laughter at the idea that this bunch of gringos could be guerrillas.)
A young woman brings in several children for us to see. She tells us that the army broadcast on the radio that these children had been captured by the FMLN, while in fact they had never been away from their homes. This is the kind of harassment which they receive from the army.
Question: Have you had any harassment from the FMLN?
"NO!" (This is said emphatically, with no elaboration.)
Question: Do you feel caught between two armies, feel protected by the FMLN, or do you just want both armies to go away?
"We have help from the popular organizations and cooperatives. We fear the army because they view the popular organizations as helping the FMLN. Face it, we have more confidence in the armed forces of the poor, because they don't come around lording it over the people. They come out of their conscience, from their commitment to help the people. The army won't let us bring food into the communities because they say it is for feeding the FMLN."
We are truly a dirty dozen when we arrive back at the guest house that evening. The trip home from the village took longer than anticipated because three rear tires on the bus went bad. We stopped at the same major intersection where we had had lunch the day before, and everyone piled into the roadside restaurant - Chalet el Triangulo - for drinks and snacks while the three drivers were seeing to the repair or replacement of the tires.
Everyone hits the showers immediately. Washing my hair in cold water isn't as bad as I thought it would be. Oh, how good it feels! One is humbly grateful for the luxuries of life which we usually take for granted. The decision on supper is an easy one; we send out for pizza and just about inhale it when it is delivered to the house.
The evening brings a very good sharing time and reflection. We talk about signs of hope in the people, and the role of violence in the revolution. It is easy to romanticize the guerrillas. Can we justify their use of violence? Can we at least condone it? Understand and forgive it? Are there different levels or kinds of violence? We go to our rooms with much to occupy our thoughts.
Copyright ©2022 Marian L. Shatto
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