Let Your Heart Be Open (cont.)

     I come from a sheltered background. Growing up, I had never known gang violence, heard of friends being threatened and murdered, or experienced poverty. My upper-middle class suburban neighborhood has neither metal gates nor razor sharp barbed wire surrounding homes for security. I had many reasons not to go to El Salvador. I am an engineering major with career plans in the U.S. and with limited Spanish speaking abilities. This trip would mean leaving the familiarity of America and confronting a poor, non-English speaking region of the world for the first time. It meant rejecting my parents’ advice to stay in the safety and comfort of the U.S. and my friends’ appeals to go to a usual spring break locale.

     I left for El Salvador with an open heart, an open mind, and trust for my safety with God. When we ventured to the rural region for a home stay, I had an experience unlike anything I had ever felt before. Cold showers from San Salvador, the capital, became cold buckets of water for washing. Limited toilets became no toilets; instead the people used cockroach-infested outhouses. I could not hide the shock and revulsion on my face from my host family upon walking into the structure. When I woke up the next morning, they had cleaned the bathroom. These people did everything possible for me as a guest. The family, which included a mom, two 17-year old brothers, and three younger children, slept in a room about the same size as the one I was given. I will remember that poverty is not misery. The twins take turns attending school each year, which I realized was because the family cannot afford to send both children to school every year. The two hour bus to school leaves at 4am, returns at 7pm, and is subject to armed robberies. And I did not hear a single word of complaint. I couldn’t help but reflect on the contrast to Stanford, where some people skip class if it is raining. 

     This place is not the peaceful suburbs of America that I know. The state of militarization persists despite the civil war ending 20 years ago. This was evidenced by ‘private security’; men on the street in public places toting shotguns. This is a place where we saw an entire bus of 15 year old schoolchildren taken off the bus, lined up with their hands on their heads, and patted down. I learned throughout the week that this place is little changed from pre-war El Salvador. The political corruption, machismo (a type of male-dominated, female denigrating culture), and the causes of inequality persist. I gained an appreciation for the life of Archbishop Oscar Romero, who was assassinated in 1980 for proclaiming the injustices of the poor, injustices which have not disappeared. This trip has given me a newfound sense of gratitude for my own situation as well as a realization of the mighty struggles that other people in this world encounter on a daily basis. 

~Bill Carson, MA 2012

     Because my mother was born in El Salvador and lived through the civil war, I grew up with a small knowledge of the war in El Salvador. While the concept of the war was familiar to me, I never sat down with any of my relatives to ask them about what it felt to live through the turmoil that went on in El Salvador for so many years. My interest in the war increased as I grew older; I decided to go on this trip to move my knowledge and experience beyond a high school paper and a couple questions answered by my mother. I wanted to truly understand the motivations behind the war and get insight into how it really impacted the people of El Salvador.

     The one talk that truly stood out to me is the one by Guadalupe, who lived in a small village that was greatly impacted during the war. Hearing her speak so vividly on the impact of the war on her family completely opened my eyes on the war; her storytelling brought the war to life in a way that no textbook ever could. I inevitably thought back on my own family each time she described the events she went through; when she described finding her uncle killed in his own house, taking turns with her siblings in hugging their father to try and shield him from being assassinated, and the death of the kind neighbor after being dragged away and beaten in front of his children, it was difficult and horrible to try and imagine myself in the same situation. Guadalupe’s words illustrated the horrors of war, and it also gave me a glimpse of the fear and sadness experienced during the twelve years of conflict.

     Coming back from my experience in El Salvador, I return with a deeper knowledge of the toll the war took on so many lives; I also return with questions – questions for my family on what they experienced as well as their thoughts on the war. I realized the importance of hearing people’s stories and of being informed; the civil war is an integral part of Salvadoran history, and many of the issues continue today.

~Jessica Rivas, 2014