Cinquera

Last weekend I hopped a bus with Raquel and her mom and headed an hour outside Suchitoto to Cinquera.  This village was another guerrilla strong-hold during the war.  We hiked through the forest that engulfs the little town.

This small church is the center of town.  The two bomb shells in front are two of many found in that area as the Salvadoran and US Governments dropped them from the air almost daily during the war.  These bomb shells are now church bells.

A few years ago, the right wing party came into power and decided to whitewash the mural on the church wall that remembers those who fought for the rights of the poor during the war.  The town's people rang the bells and met at the church the hour the government came to whitewash the walls.  They rang these church bells and stood in front of the wall until the people left.  Then, the village contacted El Salvador's Ministry of Culture and they proposed reasons why the mural must remain in place.  The village people ultimately won the fight.

I love how people just paint the exterior walls of their houses here.  Some paint advertisements for food or cell phone companies others paint pictures for fun and others make statements.  This house painted Che Guevara and Oscar Romero.

This is a typical house in Cinquera, surrounded by greenery, set in the hills.

We spent the afternoon walking the well-maintained trails and retracing guerrilla steps.

I love the greenery here.  It is like the Jungle Book!

We stopped in an area where the guerrillas cooked.  When the war first began, people died every time soldiers would try to cook food because the planes would see the smoke and drop bombs directly on point.  They then adopted a cooking style that American soldiers used in Vietnam.  They created stoves with pipes that sent smoke into the side of a hill.  This way, the airplanes could not see the smoke and the soldiers could enjoy cooked food.

This is a pila the guerrillas used to collect water and to wash.  Every house here in El Salvador has a pila.  

Our pila in Rosa's house is not overgrown like this one and it is bigger.  When standing next to ours, it reaches my belly.  Ours has a faucet and a flat, horizontal part beside the water where we can scrub our clothing and cut our vegetables.  But the structure is basically the same, a huge rectangular concrete area for water.


We use our pila daily to wash:

• Clothing
• Food
• Dishes
• Our Teeth
• Hands
• Many other things

Pila negatives:

• Sometimes insect eggs hatch inside.  We just add a little bleach until we have time to wash the whole pila...
• Mosquito's love the water as much as we do
• Sometimes we accidentally drop things in it but we can't fetch them because we want to keep the water as clean as possible.
• If something dirty drops in, we need to drain the whole pila and spend the afternoon inside it scrubbing.

Pila positive:

•  When the water goes off (fairly often), we still have water in the pila!

¡Es la Época de Mangos!

¡Es la Época de Mangos!

A few weeks ago when walking up a dirt path that weaves through village homes, I heard screeching voices exclaiming, “¡Buenos dias, Molly!”  I turned to witness half-dressed Paola and Andrea sprinting with two plastic bags dangling from their open arms.  We embraced energetically, and then Andrea bubbled with, “¡Es la época de mangos!” (It’s mango season!)

Seven-year old Paola impatiently untied her bag and pushed it towards my face to suggest I try one.  Meanwhile, younger Andrea had already torn her bag open and sunk her teeth in a juicy mango.  I accepted Paola’s offer and carefully selected the plumpest mango of the bunch while she blindly shoved her tiny hand in the plastic bag indiscriminately selecting an equally delicious one.  The three of us stood in the middle of the uneven, dusty path devouring our mangos while giggling at our delicious disasters. 

There is no elegant way to consume a fresh mango.   So we dove in.   We dragged our teeth across the oblong pits that clench the sour part!  We gave way to juice dribbling from our lips and cheeks.  The juice even ran across our chin lines and drizzled on our shirts.  Andrea had not yet dressed fully so the juice was drizzling down her belly. Our hands busily struggled to wipe our faces, trying to maintain some sense of a civilized façade.  Eventually, our hands gave into the Id’s craving to dive deeper into the delicious mess.   The mango strings flossed our teeth for longer than desired.  A mango’s sweetness is perfectly delightful.

We finished our mangos and I glanced at my watch, acknowledging that I was late for class.  The girls charmingly gave me their bags of fruit and scurried back into their one-room shack to continue preparing for school. 

Throughout the day, I received bags of mangos from individuals in each of my classes and even acquaintances on the path.  I left almost every conversation with an additional bag of mangos.  Some were big, orange and ripe.  Others were small, hard and green.  Salvadorans boast that no two mangos taste exactly alike. 

There are about three weeks each year that the mangos are in season here and are everywhere.  Mango pits litter walkways.  Street dogs, chickens, goats, and people enjoy them the same.  There is just too much fruit to consume before it spoils.  Everyone was giving, giving, giving and laughed at me when I revealed that sometimes one mango costs two dollars in the United States.  I felt like a child in Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.

On my boat ride back to town, I reflected on my day that began with Paola and Andrea.  I was oddly perplexed.  My arms were overflowing with delicious mangos, more than I could ever eat.  I wanted to hold on to every one of them, to hide them away and to devour them one by one, an impossible action, as they would all spoil in a couple days.  As I departed on the boat, heavy with treasures, I felt oddly alone and empty.  How could I feel alone after a day full of wonderful sharing and beautiful conversations?  My arms were full of mangos, but my heart felt empty.

Fecund emptiness is a term my friend Sister Peggy O’Neill uses when speaking to visiting delegations.  It suggests that empty feelings can bear fruit.  That it did.  Upon reflection, I noticed that I had all I ever wanted in my arms.  Each person with whom I spoke throughout the day had blessed me with uniquely delicious and valuable gifts.

The Salvadorans have taught me crucial lessons in the way they live, love, share, and overcome.   Each person here has gradually reshaped my life perspective.  As I peer at my last three months here with their fruit in my hands, I must decide what to do with it in good time.  How will I creatively regift that which I have been given, the lessons I have learned?  How will the sum of my blessed interactions bear new fruit?  After all, “¡Es la época de mangos!”

Marist, the high school I attended in Eugene recently asked me to write something for their Spring Magazine.  I'm thankful for the encouragement to reflect in a more formal way.

Another 90 Days?

 I can't believe it!  It was time to update my Central American Visa again!  I have been here almost six months already.  Damian flew down to meet me in Nicaragua and we spent a quick week enjoying the country's highlights. 

Granada by Night

In Granada, we stayed at Hotel con Corazon.  It was beautiful and 100% of their profit goes to educating Nicaraguans.  Check it out!  http://www.hotelconcorazon.com/

I love Central America's bright walls!

Damian and I spent three nights in Granada.  We delighted in the colonial city's delicious cuisine and fascinating art scene.  They close the pictured street both day and night.  It was a blast!

The Dixie Chick song "Wide Open Spaces" describes Nicaragua quite well.  There is a lot of land occupied by very few people.  In contrast, El Salvador is the smallest country and has the biggest population of the Central American countries.

Our view of Isla Ometepe's Volcánes Concepción y Maderas from the fishing boat we hopped to cross Lago Nicaragua. 

We spent a day exploring the island on our bikes.  We found hot springs but spent more time on our guest house's beach.  What a life?

After two nights on Isla Ometepe we were ready for more civilization and food variety.  On our way to the Pacific Ocean, I crossed the Costa Rican boarder and re-entered Nicaragua so quickly that Damian wasn't able to finish his bottle of 600 mL bottle of Gatorade while waiting for me.

We the headed to the small surf village, San Juan del Sur.  The town itself felt like one in Southern California as most people were speaking English.  Above is Playa Maderas (surf heaven) about 10K outside town.  Our family-friend Chaz Jordan pointed us in that direction as he owns a house out there.  The beach was beautiful with big waves and few people.

While Damian graded papers on the beach, I explored the land.  Love it!

I'm thankful for my time in Nicaragua and with Damian.  We shared valuable conversations and belly laughs, as always.

Palm Sunday in Suchitoto

Palm Sunday in Suchitoto is quite lively!  Before mass, we met at a park near the town entrance, processed through the cobblestone streets and ultimately arrived at the only Catholic church in town.  A life-size statue of Jesus on a real donkey lead the procession!  We sang the whole way and with fireworks accompanying.

Go big or go home...No one carried a single, wimpy palm like we receive on Palm Sunday in the states.  Everyone carried bouquets of palms, many decorated with flowers.

I just love old people here!

Eva, Rosa (my roommate), and Currin.  Currin's face is a testament to Rosa's direct and comical personality.

Our destination, Santa Lucia is the focal point of town.  This photo captures part of our Plaza Central.

People packed the church.  We stood shoulder to shoulder.  Needing air, I weaved to this side door where I sat with the people in this picture.

This man was sitting across the street from me.  He needed a breather too.