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.
1 October 1990 - late afternoon, a small community in San Miguel
[After a substantial breakfast at the guest house, we loaded luggage and supplies into the bus and set out for our first visit, a mountain village in the Department of San Miguel.]
When we arrive at the village in mid-afternoon, after several delays on the road, we are met by a small instrumental group which has obviously been waiting for us for quite a long time. There are two guitars, a fiddle, a three-stringed bass, and maracas. Their repertoire consists entirely of lively dance tunes, most in a strong 4/4 tempo which reminds me of some of our kolos. [Balkan folk dances. “Kolo means “circle.”] Our group stands around the square listening and clapping along as the group entertains us. Then Chris comes over to me and asks me if I want to play the fiddle. After a moment's hesitation, during which Chris assures me that they would love it, and it would be a good way to help our groups relate to each other, I say sure, I'll give it a try.
Chris explains to the musicians what is proposed, and the next thing I know, I am at the center of a circle with the fiddle in hand. I ask Chris to tell them that what I will play is a song by a young girl to her boyfriend, telling him that she wants to dance and party. Then I begin "Ajde Jano." After the first chorus, the accompaniment joins me, a bit tentatively at first, then more firmly, pulling the rhythm from 7/8 into 4/4. The strings are all gut, the D and A in tune with each other, though somewhat lower than 440. The G is definitely not a fifth below the D; I never do figure out how it is tuned. After five or six times through I end the song, thank the fiddler for the use of his instrument, and return it to its proper owner.
Later Linda remarks how quickly our "airport story" has been made true. (We had agreed that if challenged as to why we were visiting El Salvador, we would say that I wanted to study the folk music, and she came along because she speaks Spanish and knows her way around, having been here before visiting family friends.) It was a joyous experience for me, a good way to begin to relate to the people whom I have come to visit, and it sets the tone for much of the rest of my time in El Salvador. "Music is the universal language, touching the hearts of all humankind." Repeatedly during the week I am struck by the great joy in living that I find in the people I meet. I was intellectually aware of the suffering, the terror, the atrocities, and I expected to find an atmosphere of oppressiveness permeating everything. Instead I find joy, determination, pride in what can be accomplished despite the hardships. There is a realistic assessment of what they are up against, but there is also a lot of hope for the future. I am ashamed and furious at my government's role in the oppression, but I cannot feel depressed and overwhelmed with guilt. These are paralyzing emotions, which have no place here. There is too much work to be done. Instead I feel energized, inspired to engage ever more fully in the struggle. I am being taught about working faith, and I want to be an eager student.
We are introduced to a young man, 19 years old, who had recently been captured by the armed forces. They shaved his head and tried to get him to join the army. They told him that he had to pay to avoid military service, so his mother managed to raise 100 colones [about $13.35 USD at the time; roughly a week’s wages, for those who had work] to free him. Meanwhile, the army broadcast on the radio that the FMLN had kidnapped him. Three were captured at the time he was taken. One was released after a few days; he was held nine days before he was ransomed; and one is still being held. He had just been released earlier today. He lives in a near-by community. They had taken him to Usulutan after his capture. What upsets him most about the whole incident is that the radio news of the armed forces is what goes out of the country, making it appear that the FMLN is responsible for captures when it is really the army.
He was very lucky to get away by paying money to get out. The army only "recruits" the poor this way, never the rich, and often it is impossible for the families to raise the amount demanded. His parents found out what had happened because his sister witnessed the capture. Otherwise they probably would not have known what had become of him. Often when children are captured, parents go to the army quarters to try to find their sons, but the army denies having them. The armed forces also deny information to parents who know that their sons are in the army. For example, after the November offensive, some local parents went to the army to find out how their son was doing. They were told that he had deserted. Actually, he had been killed in battle, but because he had had a small life insurance policy and the army didn't want to have to pay out on it, they lied to his parents. The parents later found out what had really happened from another young man who had served with their son.
These villagers can think of twelve young men from their communities who are in the army right now, but there are probably more; they keep coming up with more names even as the discussion continues. If teen-aged boys and young men go into the city for work, they are captured off of the buses. Every four days the army "recruits" in this manner in the cities. The people have ways of finding out when these days will be and keep their young people away from the cities on those days. This makes the young people captives in the villages, unable to hold steady jobs.
One campesino offers the opinion that the one man most responsible for keeping the war going is George Bush. [George H. W. Bush, U.S. President 1989-1993] They want another U.S. president like John F. Kennedy or Abraham Lincoln. There is some comment around our table that JFK's Central American policy was nothing to be proud of, and that a lot of the current abuses stem from his time, but no one translates these remarks.
This used to be a big plantation, with a rich landowner and many peasants. It included a large coffee growing operation, fruit trees, and hen houses to produce eggs for wholesale. The plantation was built on their sweat, but they were paid in misery. The landowner was so mean that the well water on the land was to be used only to clean coffee beans. The peasants had to carry water for their own needs from wherever they could find it. Finally in 1978 he drilled a new well with an electric pump for the coffee cleaning, and the peasants were allowed to use the water from the old well. The FMLN destroyed the operation in 1980 because of the gross inequity in the way it was run.
They have a small hen house now, and plans to return the fruit trees and coffee operation to production as a cooperative, but the war needs to stop first. For now they are just holding on. This is a very conflictive area, with frequent clashes between the army and the FMLN. How do they manage to live here now? Because God is great, and because internationals come to visit. Their presence has lessened the war. Internationals are living here with them, risking their lives for the villagers.
Copyright © 2022 Marian L. Shatto
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