Day 9 - El Maizal - Church in a Bathing Suit

This is going to be a beach day in the west of the country near El Maizal, the fourth and last Anglican village built by ERD. Two of us worked at this site four years ago when it was a field marked out by stakes where the houses would be. The beach nearby is call Playa Metalio, a small resort about 3 miles away. Afterwards, we will celebrate the Eucharist at the church in the community of El Maizal, Divina Providencia.

We drive again by Lago Coatepeque and down to the coast, where it is 20 degrees hotter and wiltingly humid. It is astonishing to see the changes in the vegetation alone here after four years. When we pull into El Maizal, the lay reader, Virginia, and her husband, Antonio, greet us warmly. Don Antonio was the agricultural engineer who worked with ERD on the project four years ago. Educated in California, he and Virginia have moved here from San Salvador to support the development of the community. We also see Don Mauricio, caretaker of the grounds, who was our work foreman during the project.

One of the first things that we are shown is the new swimming pool. It looks cool and refreshing and overlooks the wide playing field below, used by the community as well as by church groups for soccer matches. We strike out across the field for a tour.

As we go up through the vegetation, Don Antonio points out the stand of Teca trees. The trees are at least twenty five feet high. In fact, they are pretty much a forest. We can't believe it. We helped to plant these trees, and they were about two to three feet tall. These are very special trees, which Antonio calls "green treasure", or money in the bank for the church. They are rapidly-growing, straight-grained trees used for fine furniture and artisanry. They can be sold for a very good price in about four or five years. When each one is cut and sold, they will plant a new one to sell in another ten years. Each year they have planted a stand of them until last year when they ran out of room.

Next we see the fruit and nut orchard where there are mangos, avocados, canela, cashews and other fruits that we don't recognize. The mangos have already borne fruit for several years.

This is what they looked like four years ago.
Don Antonio rattles off their names in both Spanish and English. He does not speak much English, but understands more than he lets on.

Beyond the orchard are acres and acres of corn. Each family has its own area to farm. There is also a women's agricultural school to train women from around the diocese in agricultural techniques that they can bring back to their families and villages. Each of these individual women also has a plot planted in corn, beans and peppers among other things. We are told that the seed is donated to the people of El Salvador by the Millenium Challenge Account, a US aid organization started by the Bush administration. In the case of this church community, Episcopal Relief and Developent purchases the seed and fertilizer.

Cutting through the cornfield, we enter the new village. All thirty houses are completed and inhabited. Most people have started their door gardens. The community appears to be thriving. There is a school just beyond the houses for Pre-Kinder through 2nd grade with two teachers. The place is hopping. There are plans to make a playground and community center across from the school when the resources are available.

We walk back down the road to the guesthouse and have a quick lunch on the veranda. Virginia gives us a tour of the kitchen, showing us the water filter and the sanitary conditions. She is instructing the community members in safe food preparation, artisan workshops and computer skills, as well as mentoring students, providing pastoral care and celebrating services at the church next door. One of her special concerns is for the older girls in the community who tend to drop out of school due to the cost of transportation, often becoming single mothers. She manages all of these tasks in a competent, motherly way, and it is evident the great compassion that she has for the people here.

After changing into our suits, we head to the nearby beach resort at Metalio. There are shady cabanas and a wide beach with pounding surf. Mindful of the strong undertow, several of us play in the waves while others stay in the cool shade. Coconut vendors and waitresses come by selling refreshments.

Don Antonio, who has come with us, suddenly remembers to tell us that there has been a coup this morning in Honduras and that the president has been removed. We ponder that for a while in the context of leading mission trips. One apparently should be prepared for the possibility that the government could fall - not sure how we would have handled that!

We have a delightful hour at this beautiful beach, then head back in our sandy suits to go to the afternoon service at the community chapel, Divina Providencia. There is a good crowd there by the time we arrive. Father Geoffrey celebrates the Eucharist; a small choir sings and plays guitar during the service; Virginia gives a short, but stirring homily about building each other up in Christ and giving of our time, treasure and talent. After the service we show them our pictures from the past trip, before the houses and school were built. They enjoy identifying people from the pictures. They also invite us back to the veranda for coffee.

This has been a very uplifting end to our trip. It has been especially eye-opening to see the tangible results of the ERD community development projects such as this one. We can see hope and improvement in the quality of people's lives due in small part to our efforts and those of our church. We can also observe the importance of the Episcopal church to the people whom we have met. Working together with these communities we have all made a difference and done something that we could not have done without each other.

Arriving back at the guesthouse in San Salvador, Mercedes and Blanquita are preparing their most special pupusas of pork, cheese and beans with tomato sauce to put over them and a coleslaw-type salad. It is heaven on a plate! When we can eat no more, we drift back to our rooms to pack. This trip has gone so quickly; it is hard to believe that we are leaving tomorrow.

Day 8 - History and Shopping Day

Today is another touring day, but this time we will stay around San Salvador. Setting off a little later, we go to an enormous downtown mall with an underground garage, and a marble building actually embedded inside it that used to be an embassy. Our mission is to buy postcards, surprisingly hard to find, and mail them at the post office here.

As an editorial note, here is precisely where we can start to appreciate the nearly unbridgeable gap between the "haves" and the "have-nots" in El Salvador. This mall would be perfectly at home in New York, London or Paris and is doing a very brisk business, full of shoppers with high disposable incomes. Contrast this with the situation in the rural areas of the country, where the majority of the population scrapes along in grinding poverty on a few hundred dollars a year, and we start to glimpse the profound inequities that drive most of the problems here (or on the entire planet, for that matter). It is perfectly possible in any modern city, in a mall like this, to convince oneself that the poor either do not exist, or do not have it that bad. After all, life is good here.

Next we make our way through the central market to the Cathedral. This street market is a fixture in the city and for decades was frequently a site of protests, violent crime and street riots. Today things are busy and colorful.

Passing the Palacio Nacional, in view of the Cathedral, we see the area where several notorious massacres took place. Arcelio tells us of the demonstration in 1979 during which his father was killed on the steps of the Cathedral along with 1500 people. The military brought tanks and opened fire on the crowd from the roof of the Palacio Nacional, killing people as they fled for refuge in the Cathedral.

Arcelio was two; his father died the day after his second birthday. His mother's house, used by the guerilla, was later burned along with all of the family pictures. He has never seen a picture of his father.

By chance the lower level of the Cathedral, where Archbishop Romero is entombed, is open to the public for a little while. This is where the common people celebrated the mass and where, we are told, the Archbishop insisted on celebrating as well, endearing himself forever to the common people, but not to the upper classes. There are scraps of paper with prayers on them left around the tomb and addressed to Archbishop Romero, considered a saint by many. A number of people stop at his resting place in silent prayer.

Upstairs in the ornate main sanctuary completed after the war, there are breathtaking frescos and a vaulted, domed ceiling. We can see that here, in this church, some of the same inequities continue to exist. It is undeniably beautiful, however.

Our next stop is a pretty park across town to visit the Wall of the Disappeared. This is a very moving granite monument, not unlike the Vietnam Wall in Washington. It lists the names of those who were killed or disappeared from the seventies until shortly after the end of the war. Arcelio shows us his father's name and that of his two cousins. Only about 30,000 names appear; the rest of the 70 to 80,000 believed to have been killed are unknown and have their own panel dedicated to their memory. One entire section lists just the massacres alone: several hundred. The names are arranged by year and by whether they were found killed or reported disappeared. There is an unimaginable loss of life commemorated here.

After lunch at around 2:00, we visit the chapel of Divina Providencia, where Monsignor Romero was assassinated at the altar by a single bullet through the heart. We see where he fell and the doors through which the assassin fired. We are shown where the car pulled up right out front. Romero was the only witness to the identity of his killer, since the congregation was facing him. He is said to have paused silently so that no one else would turn and possibly be killed.

Unfortunately, we are unable to visit Romero's house, a few hundred feet away, where his personal effects are kept, along with photographs and the clothing that he was wearing that day. The nuns who oversee the building are short-handed and cannot open it for us today. We also find that the University of Central America, where the Jesuit martyrs are commemorated is closed today as well. We will try to return on Monday.

Our last stop for the day is at the artisan market. This is pure pleasure as we browse the colorful handcrafts and are invited "adelante" into each stall. We bargain happily for trinkets and gifts, keepsakes and souvenirs, spreading our business around.

We head back for a nice dinner, cooked by Doñas Mercedes and Blanquita, and find ourselves getting very silly. Yet, at the same time we are trying to process some of the difficult things that we have seen and are feeling. It helps to talk about these things and get them out where we can deal with them. Some of us find that we are falling in love with this country, yet it also breaks our hearts.

Day 7 - Swimming In A Volcano

Today is a day for touring. We plan to go to two Mayan sites and also to Lago Coatepeque. Arcelio reminds us to take our bathing suits since we hope to swim there. Padre Alex also joins us for the day, and we head out at about 8:30.

First we visit Joya de Ceren, a site that, like Pompeii, was abandoned and covered suddenly by volcanic ash. This is unique among Mayan sites in that it has allowed archaeologists to study their daily life, culture, and even food. El Salvador has put some money into this park, and it is landscaped, clean, has a museum and knowledgeable guides. We patronize a small souvenir vender there, buying some inexpensive gifts and mementos.

Nearby is a pyramid ruin known as San Andres, another fascinating and beautiful site, covered with expanses of green grass. We walk around on the pelota fields and look into an excavation of the tunnels underneath the complex. There is also a colonial indigo factory on the grounds, one of the biggest producers of indigo in the Americas during its time.

Since it's getting close to lunch time, we drive into Santa Ana to a food court in a big mall. There are the usual American fast food chains plus a number of comida tipica places. The longest lines turn out to be at Papa Gino's.

We drive back to El Congo, where Arcelio and his family live. This is the third of four Anglican villages built by Episcopal Relief and Development. Arcelio's was the first house to be built here. The road looks better, the trees and gardens have matured, and there is a playing field across the street now. Arce shows us the expansion that he has made to his house, which is roomy and comfortable.

The school, however, is closed. It can be difficult for the private schools in some of these areas to compete with the public schools, since they are free. The government has also just announced that it will pay for uniforms, shoes, and books for public school students.

As we walk up the street, Arce tells us that there are 30 houses and a total of 34 families here. Each family seems to have a small garden, plus the church has a manzana planted in coffee. Apparently this property was formerly part of a coffee finca. Arce also notes that, gracias a Dios, so far none of the village youth are involved with the gangs.

Arcelio's wife and two children come with us for the afternoon at Lago Coatepeque. This is a gorgeous volcanic lake with spectacular views. Apparently the top blew off this volcano long, long ago, and the caldera filled with water. It is a cool and refreshing day trip from most parts of the country.

After a long ride down to the shoreline, we park on the grass at a beach area and walk over to a pier men and boys are hand-lining some sort of freshwater fish.

Most of us venture into the water and swim for about an hour. It is also wonderful to sit in the cool shade and just drink in the beauty of this spot. All too soon, it's time to head back. We drop off Arce's family and make our way through heavy traffic back to San Salvador for a savory beef stew at the guest house, saying our goodbyes to Padre Alex with the hope that we'll see him again before we leave.

Day 6 - Visiting El Oriente

Today we are headed out to the eastern part of the country: Usulutan and Bajo Lempa, on the Lempa River. Getting started at about 8:45, we take Cain Hidalgo with us, an impressive lay missioner with a quiet, dedicated manner. We also pick up Eric, another young lay missioner who works with Cain. Big kid, quiet.

Every time that we have mentioned our plan to go to this area, someone has remarked ominously: "Oh... hopefully the rains haven't started..." As we cross the large bridge over the magnificent Rio Lempa and turn abruptly to go up into the hills on a muddy, bad road, we start to see why. This area is completely inaccessible when it rains, with the added danger that one could get trapped by a rising river. As a matter of fact, while we drive in, we hear thunder in the distance. We ask Cain how much time we have - he estimates two hours. For this reason, we are visiting the area in the morning, since it rains pretty much every afternoon.

The road is increasingly steep and muddy. We drive through a river and continue amidst endless hilly fields until we reach a deep muddy point beyond which Arcelio wisely decides not to take the van. We get out and walk about half a mile to the El Carmen bridge. Asking how long it takes for the river to go down after it rains, we hear varying answers from several hours to two days...

The bridge that we are going to see was built by hand using volunteer labor from the community of El Carmen, teams from North America, and local churches as far away as the Bajo Lempa. Previously, the community of El Carmen, further up this road, was reachable only by a treacherous river crossing and then on a private road that was closed to the public. If anyone were sick during the rainy season, it was impossible to get medical attention for them. The community itself worked six mornings a week for three months to build this bridge and have the new road cut.

Unfortunately, we don't have time to walk up into El Carmen and meet what must be a very special community. We turn and walk back to the van, then drive to a second river crossing and up into the small town of San Juan de Letran, stopping at a lively school housing Kinder through 4th level. Fifth and up must walk miles into town on deep, muddy cart tracks. We pop into several classrooms, again disrupting the students and teachers, but no one seems to mind.

Eric, who is probably in his twenties, tells us the story of how his parents met. His father was in the guerilla during the war and a bomb exploded near him, taking off his leg, one eye and leaving shrapnel in his arm and chest. He was left for dead and lay for five days in agony with maggots eating his flesh before some soldiers found him. He told them that they could shoot them if they wanted, because he didn't care - he was ready to die. Instead they took him, cleaned up his wounds, and nursed him back to health. For the remainder of the war, he was a radio operator and fell in love with Eric's mother, who was also a guerilla radio operator, after talking with her a lot on the radio.

We walk down the road through the town and Cain points out his mother's house. The town has many houses and lots of chickens, goats, horses and other livestock running around.

He bends down, picks up a Mayan artifact from the road, and gives it to us saying that it is common to find them after a rain.

As we walk, there is a view of the distant fields.He remarks that the site of one of the war's notorious massacres is nearby in that direction. This town is quiet now, however, and praise God, this area does not suffer so much from the crime and violence that is found elsewhere. The majority of the people here are ex-guerilla who were given land in the agrarian reform after the war.

The sun is beating down as we approach the church, San Pablo, which is fairly new and sits in a field with a cistern near it.

When we enter, we see another beautiful mosaic done by Padre Luis Serrano. They show us the altar, the pews, and two other tables in the church, all made from a single monolithic tree over 250 years old that fell nearby.

Just as we complete our second river crossing and head back down out of the area, the skies open up and a pelting rain begins.

We make our way down to a place called the Coordinadora. This seems to be a sort of unique, grassroots, regional liaison and facilitation organization, funded by and working with NGOs to deliver services and projects in the area. They have an office, a radio station, which does public service broadcasts, a cashew processing plant, and an art gallery of truly impressive art done by local students housed along with grain, corn, seed and agricultural soil amendments in a storage building. We glimpse foreign nationals running around for meetings, we step into the radio station as they broadcast a live interview with a public health expert, and we pop into the cashew processing plant, emerging with heavenly bags of fresh, roasted, locally-grown cashews at $1 a piece. As one of our guides remarks, "...we all need a Coordinadora...". Unfortunately, there is just this one, here in Usulutan.

Dodging rainshowers, we go up the street to a good-sized, noisy, and heavily patronized restaurant nearby, where we choose from a large assortment of meats, vegetables, rice, beans and salads - none of us sure until we receive the food what we had actually ordered. We put together some tables and have a nice meal. Some of us accidentally order but try anyway the coconut water (agua de coco), a truly odd-tasting clear drink reported to have miraculous rehydrating properties (to the extent that it is occasionally used intravenously, so we are told).

Next we drive south, paralleling the Lempo River through low, abundantly fertile farmland. This is the delta region of the Lower Lempa (Bajo Lempa). There seems to be only one road into this area and everyone uses it. At high speed, we dodge bicycles, dogs, mothers with children, chickens, ox carts, goats, cattle, and farmers walking to and from their fields. As we go, we hear stories of repeated devastation of this area by Hurricane Mitch in 1998, two earthquakes, 7.6 and 6.6 respectively, that hit within a month of each other in 2001, and serious flooding in 2005 as well. The region has received a fair amount of development attention aimed at reducing the flood risk and decreasing economic vulnerability in the population.

We are told that when the region floods, the water is meters high and the crops (primarily corn), livestock and homes are lost. There is now a levee (although incomplete) between them and the river, as well as an early evacuation system when the upstream dams plan to release water. Some of the people we meet tell us that they were evacuated by helicopter during past sudden flooding but now are theoretically given more ample time to get out. Still, they worry with good reason about the sick, the elderly, and pregnant women. We stop to look at the levee and the wide, muddy river.

Next we drive to what Alvaro describes as the most beautiful Anglican church in El Salvador: Cristo Rey in La Canoa. Cain is the celebrant for this church.

As we pull up in a field, we see a stick and grass structure with handmade benches and a palm roof. Inside, the shady coolness is dappled with sunlight coming through the palm fronds. There is a small altar and handmade wooden cross at the front, decorated with flowers. We're utterly charmed.

A number of people materialize, especially a very bright-eyed neighbor and her daughter. They are friendly and delightful, each introducing themselves in turn, as do we in halting Spanish. They tell us about their dream of building a real church on this lot, since this church cannot be used in the rains. They also hope to build a raised flood shelter here on the adjacent lot, especially for those who cannot be evacuated. One man says that this is their dream, and heartbreakingly adds "...but dreams are really just what happens when someone eats bad food or gets too much sleep..." One of the problems, it is pointed out to us later, is that this church is so unique and quaint that North American groups always seem to feel that it should be kept as it is rather than be replaced.

On the road back, we weave through cow jams and dodge chickens. We ask Cain how much he thinks it would cost to build a church there. He estimates $50K.

As we return in torrents of rain, we feel a bit down that we can't help everyone who needs even such modest yet important things as food, churches, education and school libraries. There are so many needs here - it is heartbreaking. After supper, we discuss this with Alvaro, who also aspires to be a priest. He tells us that he feels this way every single day and that all we can really do is to be with them and to pray for them. This is good for us to hear.