She Responded

SPECIAL: Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in His Own Words

2012-01-16T19:29:00.000-08:00

SPECIAL: Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in His Own Words

I encourage you to take some time for yourself, whenever you get a moment, a listen to Dr. King's speech. There is still so much relevancy and urgency in his words. Take a moment, let yourself rest in his words, be energized by his words.

(link to full text)

Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn't matter with me now, because I've been to the mountaintop.
And I don't mind.
Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!

practicing gratitude, part 2

2011-12-06T20:09:00.000-08:00

This Saturday, the Centro Hogar Alfonos Acevedo class of 2011 proudly graduated from preparatoria. (This means that next year, having completed a full 7 years of age, they will go on to first grade, already knowing how to read, write, count really high, respect their compañeros and compañeras, be self-confident, tell stories about Monseñor Romero, put on plays in front on big crowds, and a variety of other great achievements).

Each child was asked to think of one thing they were grateful for during their time at Centro Hogar. As they stood proudly on stage holding their diplomas, they each spoke into the microphone, for all to hear, their gratitudes. This is the list of things they came up with (all by themselves!):

Claudia: I am grateful for my grandma.
Brenda: I am grateful for the trees.
Michael: I am grateful for my Señorita (the teacher).
Marco: I am grateful for learning about Monseñor Romero.
Juan Carlos: I am grateful for the food.
Daniela: I am grateful for the help of my mom and dad.
Rocio: I am grateful for my mom.
Marilyn: I am grateful for the storybooks.
Antonio: I am grateful for Programa Velasco.
German: I am grateful for a clean environment.
Ernesto: I am grateful for the playground.
Douglas: I am grateful for my friends.
Krissia: I am grateful for all the lessons.

I will miss you, prepa!

practicing gratitude

2011-11-25T17:47:00.000-08:00

I have learned, especially amongst the poor, that gratitude is a fundamental human attitude. If we don't want to live our lives as resentful people, we must live our lives as grateful people. - Dean Brackley, SJ 1946 - 2011

I am grateful for:
watermelon, orange and banana smoothies after a great bike ride up and down the hills of this city
kids who scream my name (SENORITA OLIIIVIIAAA) as I walk by their classroom
the view of the volcano (during the day) and the stars (at night) from my roof
friends who drop by at any hour for a cup of coffee
delicious coffee from ANADES's organic farm and vanilla soymilk from the soy project in San Ramon
leaving work at 5:00 sharp, when all the moms and dads wave hello and goodbye
flowers blooming in November
the bark of my neighbors dog, welcoming me home
hugs from Abner, a really special kid
one cent limes
"te quiero"
the tears from that mother two days ago
the noise and life in the centro, downtown
systems of support
friendship
love
laughter
music.

What are you grateful for?

Programa Velasco and the Bajo Lempa - Update

2011-11-15T16:50:00.000-08:00

The Sun is shining once again over El Salvador after October’s devastating rains. The land is beginning to dry, and people have returned to their communities to begin the clean-up effort. President Mauricio Funes reported this week that the storm caused about $840 million worth of damages, the most highly affected sector being the agricultural sector at $300 worth of losses (link)

In San Ramon, where Centro Hogar is located, there was extreme risk of landslide. In 1986, an enormous landslide completely demolished the area. There was only one home left standing. This year, however, Civil Protection and the Police were on high alert in the area. Families who lived in unstable homes or in areas of the volcano that were at risk of landslide, according to the experts, were evacuated to San Salvador’s main shelter. Several Programa Velasco families and one teacher from Centro Hogar spent the week in the shelter. Thanks to the generosity of donations from the Salvadoran people, the government, and local and international NGOs, the thousands of people at this shelter were well taken-care of. They ate three meals a day, received donations of clothing, shoes, and hygiene products, and slept on dry mattresses. Two little girls in Programa Velasco glowed when they told me how much fun they had playing with new friends they met at the shelter. Thankfully, San Ramon was for the most part unaffected by the rains, and the people were able to return to their homes safely.

In the Bajo Lempa, the low-lying farming area near the Lempa River, the communities were completely flooded, destroying most crops. Because most people have lived through floods before – something more and more common due to climate change – they have learned how to protect the personal possessions from damage; one teacher from the pre-school in Amando Lopez described how the people hang their mattresses from the roof with heavy rope and place clothes and other possessions up high, out of the water’s reach.

There were heavy floods in the three communities where our partner organization ANADES has pre-schools, Amando Lopez, Presidio Liberado, and La Canoa. Thankfully, the three schools are structurally very sound and did not receive any devastating damage during the rains. One school even served as a shelter for dozens of families as they waited to be rescued by boat. After the waters subsided, the communities got together in a joint clean-up effort to make the schools safe and ready to receive children again!

Thanks to your solidarity and generous donations, ANADES was able to make several trips out to the Bajo Lempa during and after the rains. We brought food, clothing and mattresses to the shelters, and have sent several medical brigades to the communities. The ANADES doctor, natural medicine expert, medical students, and a handful of volunteers have spent three days in various communities doing medical checkups and providing patients with free medicine, when we had what was needed. Many of the children and even many adults were very underweight, some severely malnourished. ANADES was able to give some food to each family that came through, and to the children with the most serious malnourishment, we gave a bag of powdered nutritional supplement.

Now that the rains have subsided, the situation may look like it has gone back to normal, but the loss of the crops in the area means that the majority of families have lost their main source of income for the year. In an already poor region where the people stretch each dollar they earn to provide for their families, the coming weeks, months, and years will be that much more difficult. ANADES and Programa Velasco are seeking to reinvest in the future of these communities – both by supporting immediate needs like food, clean water, medicine, cleaning supplies and hygiene products and long-term needs like reinforcing the levee (which broke during the floods) and the replanting of the crops, so that the people can begin to generate income again. We also believe that education is the most powerful tool of empowerment that can be offered, and we would like to expand our scholarship program next year to the rural communities in the Bajo Lempa and in Morazan, where the economic situation is extremely difficult, now more than ever.

Please join us in support of this work – make a one-time donation to purchase immediate needs like food and medicine; Become a Compañero/a to support long-term projects in San Ramon and in the rural communities, or Sponsor a Child for the 2012 school year. Learn more at Support Us.

In gratitude and hope,

Olivia Amadon
Programa Velasco, In-Country Director

Devastating Rains

2011-10-23T12:43:00.000-07:00

Dearest friends,

As you may (or may not) have heard, all of Central America is suffering one of the its worst natural disasters in history. Unfortunately, it is not getting much coverage on English-speaking news, but the situation here in El Salvador is overwhelming. For 8 days, we received rain day and night, non-stop. More rain was poured onto this fragile country than in 1998's devastating hurricane Mitch. We received almost the equivalent amount of rain as what we normally get in an entire year. As you know, the poor suffer more greatly in catastrophes like this. In one area of the country near the Lempa River, the Bajo Lempa, hundreds of communities were flooded up to the roofs of homes and businesses. This area is a principle crop-growing region for El Salvador, and everything was lost. The loss of crops means that the price of food will increase soon, and a lot. There are 34 people dead, and over 30,000 in shelters indefinitely. What do the poor do when they lose everything, in a country with little to no safety net? There is no flood insurance. There are no homeless shelters. People must lean on each other; solidarity must carry people forward.

I know some of you have been worried about me. I want to let you know I am fine, mostly. I am high and dry in my middle class neighborhood. But San Ramon, where I work, is at extreme risk of landslides, as it is at the base of the San Salvador volcano. My heart breaks for the people in the Bajo Lempa, including many co-workers and friends. ANADES, Programa Velasco's Salvadoran partner organization, has 3 pre-schools in the Bajo Lempa, and those communities are very close to my heart. I have been visiting some of the shelters, completely overwhelmed by the scale of loss and suffering. Amidst it all, I also have had bronchitis for 2 weeks now (stress-related?), but I am thankful to be home, on medication, and resting. Please pray for those that do not have food, medical care, or even a dry bed to sleep on.

The situation in the shelters is overwhelming. People have nothing, not even blankets or a change of clothes. Some federal and international aid is beginning to arrive - food, hygiene items, medicines. But what is uncertain is the long-term rebuilding process. There are thousands of people - the country's poorest - that have lost everything: their homes, their possessions, their crops, their animals. What will they do? Unfortunately, in poor countries like El Salvador, there is not much to fall back on.

Programa Velasco would like to help the three communities where we work in the Bajo Lempa rebuild the three pre-schools run by ANADES, and send donations of basic necessities to the families in those communities. We would also like to contract a psychologist to tend to mental health needs in the area. If you can, please consider donating to help with relief efforts. Learn more at www.programavelasco.org.

I have included some photos from the catastrophe and ANADES's work in the past 2 weeks.

During this time of catastrophe, we also learned the beloved father Dean Brackley, a North American Jesuit priest who has lived in El Salvador since the 6 Jesuits were murdered here in 1989, recently died of cancer. He was an inspiration in my life personally, and taught me so much about the meaning of suffering and solidarity. He taught me about vocation, and downward mobility - the direction my life has taken toward solidarity with the poor, toward self-gift, simplicity, and love. Please pray that his spirit would not die with him, but be made greater in each of us.

in love and gratitude,

Olivia

feels like coming home

2011-08-24T20:48:00.000-07:00

I have stopped trying to distinguish between my homes. Have you ever caught yourself, maybe the first time you moved out of your parents house, or after getting settled in college or a new city, referring to your new house as "home"? It feels almost scandalizing to refer to a messy dorm room with a word so intimate - "home" - that surely there can only ever be one real home in my life.... Right? Like, it's almost a sin to refer to this strange Northern city with bland food as "home," but maybe it's okay.

Well, I have decided to be done with all the confusion and just accept that I have three homes. So when I left El Salvador this month headed to Boston to visit some of my best friends in the world and the city where I became a lot of who I am, I went home. Being home was biking around the city with my roommate (once a roommate, you will always be "my roommate," no matter how long it has been since we have lived together); being home was eating mac and cheese for dinner and sharing joy with my friends, the sound of the T rolling along its tracks and the sight of the sunset over the Charles.

Then, when I went to New Orleans to be with my family, to be in the house that I have lived in since I was ten, I went home again. Being home was my own New Orleans accent coming back overnight (Is it Southern? Is it Cajun? Is is New York? Or somewhere in between...?) Being home was Dad closing the house up each night before bed - dishes washed, kitchen clean, trash taken out, doors and windows locked, air conditioning set to the perfect setting. Being home was family, and resting, and letting myself be taken care of.

And then, when I went back to El Salvador, and went through that customs line for the sixth time (this time with a residency card!!), I went home, too. I have come home again and again. The smells, they smell like home here, and it sounds like home too. The Salvadoran phrases, the white little ring painted around every manicured tree, it all makes me feel at home.

And getting so many hugs, everywhere I went, Homes A and B and C, all with people saying "We missed you sooooo much!", "I have felt an Olivia-shaped hole in my life...", "Don't be a stranger, ya hear?", or "Olliiiiiiiii, me hiciste MUCHA FALTA!" it all just reminds me that my heart is torn in three, in a million, and I am so over trying to decide which one is the real home, because that just doesn't exist. I am always home from now on, ya hear?!

wake up, raimundo, wake up

2011-06-21T11:03:00.000-07:00

I have gotten pretty accustomed to living in El Salvador that most things that once seemed shocking to me now seem quite normal. Having water only a few hours during the day? Normal. Eating tortillas with every meal? Normal. Seeing kids beg for money on the streets? Heart-breaking, but not shocking. But I will never, never get used to the machismo, the culture of sexism and objectification of women. I see it every day, multiple times a day, and I hope I never get used to it.

On my walk to work this morning, for example, I received catcalls on five different occasions, sometimes by entire groups of men. They vary from the somewhat polite “que le vaya bien, mi amor preciosa” (I am NOT your precious love) to the lewd “mmm que rica mamacita” to the gross kissy noises that make me want to punch someone in the face. I’m fascinated by the culture of street harassment. The men know that almost every woman will simply ignore them and keep walking by. But whether these men know it or not, it’s not about getting women to talk to them. It’s about power. It’s about demonstrating that women’s bodies are objects to be gawked at, not respected as they walk by.

This weekend, the social worker Veronica and I led a workshop with the parents on gender equality. There were seven men present, and sixty-two women.

It was a beautiful conversation about the roles of women, what kinds of things women and men can do, how women are objectified in this social, political, and economic spheres of society, and what kinds of things women are doing to take opportunities for ourselves when they are not handed to us. I was just so honored and proud of all the mothers I have grown to love speaking up. After the workshop, so many women came up to me to tell me they had learned new things and thought it was such an interesting, worthwhile meeting.

In the end, though, it was mostly a conversation about gender equality with women whose partners will continue to treat them with the same sexist attitude and expectations as always. One mother came up to me and thanked me for the workshop. “It was so interesting! Que bonito!” she said with a huge smile. “I only wish my husband were here. He is… well… he is a little bit machista.”

We closed the meeting with a short video called Despierta, Raimundo, Despierta, (Wake Up, Raimundo, Wake Up) in which a husband is portrayed as the submissive, oppressed partner who is verbally and emotionally accosted by his wife, the bread-winner, because that is just how society is. He cooks, he irons his wife’s clothes every morning. He takes care of the children, he cleans, and he watches his wife spend all the money she earns at the bar getting drunk with her friends, only to come home and beat her husband when he asks how they are going to feed their children.

The parents laughed through the whole video – it was hilarious to see the reality that they see every day in their own homes inverted, the women the one with the power to treat her husband and she saw fit. At the end of the video, Raimundo wakes up to find that it was only a dream. His submissive, loving wife makes his coffee and irons his clothes for work, and he is relieved to know that everything will continue as it always had.

The parents enjoyed cake and coffee, stayed around to chat a little while, then went home. They’ve been working all week, most of them in minimum wage jobs or in the informal sector, earning less than $200 a month, which will barely cover the basic cost of living. Saturday is their day to go to the market, clean the house, wash the family’s clothes, and get ready for another week of doing it all over again.

the rights of children

2011-05-30T11:40:00.000-07:00

This article was recently published in the May issue of Bridges, the VMM newsletter. If you did not receive the May edition via email and would like one, let me know and I can make sure you get one. Learn more about VMM (and see past newsletters) at www.vmmusa.org.

One morning as I accompanied the preparatoria class (6-7 year old children preparing to enter first grade), I sat down at one table to help the kids use finger paint to stamp images of their own hands on the poster we were creating.

“Who can tell me what a ‘right’ is?,” I ask, for the activity this morning had to do with the rights of the child.

“I know!” shouted Marco, a bright, energetic little six-year-old. “It means you have one on this side,” he said as he signaled to his right hand, “and one on this side,” as he signaled to his left.

“Of course!” I assured him, “But I was thinking of a different type of right. The kind of right I am thinking of is something that you deserve, something you deserve simply because you are a human being!”

As we went deeper into the topic, their teacher Senorita Reina encouraged them to think about what their own rights are. The children came up with lots of different answers, everything from a house and food and a bed to sleep in, to parents to bring them to school, notebooks to draw in, good health and medicine when they are sick, and even love, respect, and freedom.

Children are smarter than we think. I am constantly surprised by the things they say and the way they truly express themselves. They are loving, and somehow know how to love easily, unconditionally, and without restraint, a quality that I think most adults have lost somewhere along the way. Unfortunately, in El Salvador and around the world there are many children whose rights are continually violated – they have little access to education, health care, adequate nutrition and clean drinking water; they are abused, beaten, and spoken to as if they were less than human.

In El Salvador, the average level of education is through 6^th grade. The economic structures that have waged war against the poor have created a poverty of opportunity for those on the margins of society. There are extremely high levels of unemployment, and for the majority of families, life is a daily struggle to make ends meet. Often, children leave school in order to help their family find a way to survive, by working or staying at home to cook, clean, and care for younger siblings. There is even less importance placed on early-childhood education. It is a quite common sight to see young children and even toddlers and infants accompanying their mothers as they work – selling produce in the market, at juice stands on the street, or riding around with their taxi driver fathers all day.

Here at Centro Hogar, the preschool where I work on the outskirts of San Salvador, we believe that all children deserve a place of their own to learn, make friends, and grow and develop in health and safe environment. We are run by ANADES (New Dawn Association of El Salvador), an NGO that was born during the war in the spirit of the martyrs of El Salvador with a special desire to care for children whose parents disappeared during the war. Here, the teachers educate in a creative, stimulating way, allowing the children to learn through questioning and through play – the way children learn best. They enjoy coming here because they have fun, but they also learn how to think for themselves about their own identity and the world around them. We encourage creativity through daily artistic and hands-on activities in the classroom, weekly assemblies where the children perform dances or tell stories, and foster the growth of their own imaginations.

In addition to the education they receive here, the children deserve integral care, proper nutrition, a safe home, love, good health, and freedom from violence and fear. Over the years, we have learned that in order to care for children in this kind of integral way, it takes much more than just a good teacher or two in the classroom. Here at Centro Hogar, the children receive a nutritious breakfast, lunch, and snack every day; many children here would not have access to such a nutritious diet at home. At least twice a year, they have medical check-ups at ANADES’s natural medicine clinic, and are treated for parasites and amoebas which are commonly found in San Salvador’s drinking water. Programa Velasco, the scholarship and empowerment program I coordinate, connected 36 of Centro Hogar’s poorest families with child sponsors who provide scholarships so they can stay enrolled in school this year.

No matter how much time and energy we may put into reinforcing all of the rights that these children deserve from Monday to Friday while they are here with us, the truth is that families are integral to a child’s growth and development in love and safety. Unfortunately, many poor families carry heavy burdens and have few spaces to share their frustrations, relieve their stress, or think about their own spiritual or emotional well-being. And when parents have no support, it is difficult to support their children in the way they deserve.

At Centro Hogar, we accompany families – we want to be a support for them in the way they need so that they may better care for their children. Once a month we hold meetings with all the parents where we discuss themes that may range from discipline methods without the use of violence to gender equality to self-care. The social worker and I also accompany many families through home visits and regular meetings with the families who need the most support, especially the families of those children who demonstrate violence and aggression at school.

For me, working with these children and families here in San Ramon is such a joy. After a long day of office work or some tough home visits, I will walk into the playground area and the kids know exactly how to give me the joy and life I need. Or, while feeling let down or disillusioned, I will run into a friend, the mother of a child here, and I will remember the connections I have made and the way I am being sewn into the fabric of this community. I think it takes a whole community to raise a child, and I am so grateful to be part of this community. I am growing into my vocation and each day learning how to better be an advocate for children, and a support for their families, teachers, and care-givers.

sing, even if you hate your voice and have a cold

2011-05-16T20:51:00.000-07:00

This morning, I started my Monday off right. I brought my beautiful guitar to Centro Hogar, recently painted by an artist friend. Every Monday morning, the kids put on the weekly assembly, where one of the classes gets to put on some kind of folkloric dance, or a play, or something else special and creative. This week, one of my coworkers suggested I participate, because the kids aren't exposed to live music very often, and it just so happens that I play guitar.

So I spent Sunday learning "Sombrero Azul," a song about the beauty and strength of the Salvadoran people, and this morning in the assembly I told the babies, listen, I have a cold, so if you know this song you can help me sing okay? Everyone can sing - did you know?

Everyone can sing. Even me, even me who hates my singing voice, and even when I'm too shy or too quiet to even be heard, everyone can sing! Even when I hate my voice, and even when I have a cold and sound like I've just smoked a pack of cigarettes. The beautiful thing about trying to teach self-confidence to kids is that we adults have to believe it too.

So, Señorita Lucy held the microphone for me and we all sang, and I played my little guitar, and it was just a beautiful moment.

Dear El Salvador, thanks for always leading me towards liberation and away from fear.

love,
liv

Mom and Dad visit El Salvador

2011-05-11T08:42:00.000-07:00

Mama and Papa Amadon recently braved airport terminals, security checks, and customs officials to make their way to El Salvador. It was Mama Amadon's very first time out of the United States, so she gets bonus points. They were both troopers, sleeping in my tiny little cement block house (sometimes lovingly referred to as "the bunker"), sleeping on my sofa, washing dishes and clothes by hand, taking public buses, meeting my wonderful friends and coworkers here, and they didn't even get sick, not even once! Good job, guys.

Thanks for coming and for experiencing my life here. Sometimes parents just want to come to El Salvador to sit on the beach with a margarita in hand for a week, but I'm really glad you both wanted to be here for me, to meet the people who are family for me here, to visit Salvadorans' homes and play with the kids at Centro Hogar, to hang out with my friends at restaurants and night clubs. You're real cool. Promise I'll come home for a visit soon.

Mom at the pila, the stone cistern where we store water for washing clothes and dishes (and sometimes bodies when it's super hot outside).

Mom, Dad, and me at the ANADES finca, on our hike to the amate tree and all the way down to the river.

Me and Dad in the back of the ANADES pickup truck, on our way to the finca in Sonsonate.

In the main square of Suchitoto, a great colonial town up in the mountains. There are great restaurants and hotels, and we found lots of great artisan products here.

Mom and me hanging out with the babies in Materno II.

a tour of the historic San Salvador downtown.

bougainvillas growing wild in Suchitoto, overlooking the Lake Suchitlan.

The kids at Centro Hogar were just charmers, as always.

El Salvador's national reality

2011-04-07T14:28:00.000-07:00

I recently wrote this article for Programa Velasco's new website (to be unveiled in the near future, so keep your eyes open!) on the national reality of El Salvador, for those interested in a brief overview of the social and economic situation here.

El Salvador’s Current National Reality

El Salvador is a country of extremes. In this small country, extravagant wealth exists alongside abject poverty. There is incredible natural beauty and incredible destruction of the country’s natural resources; great faith and hope, but also great despair and disillusionment.

Poverty

The economic situation is difficult for the majority. While El Salvador has embraced the international market, signed a free trade agreement with the United States, and even adopted the US dollar as the national currency in 2001; the poor have seen few benefits. Exports and international investment have not sparked real economic growth, especially for the poor. The minimum wage is about $200 per month, but the cost of living is so high that many who work full time still struggle to make ends meet – and the situation is that much more difficult when supporting a family. Unemployment is so high that people are grateful for any job that can be found, and often bear long work hours, difficult working conditions, and exploitation. Even the minimum wage is sometimes not respected, as the government does not oversee the treatment of workers in many businesses.

In a recent article for the National Catholic Reporter, Dean Brackley, Jesuit professor at the University of Central America, writes, “The U.N. Development Program recently reported that only one in five economically active Salvadorans has a decent, stable job. Even before the recent crises –a great spike in fuel and grain prices, followed by the fallout from the financial crisis--, things were getting worse in Central America. For example, while chronic malnutrition declined from 13 percent to 10 percent from 1990 to 2003 in Latin America and the Caribbean overall, it increased in Central America from 17 to 20 percent.”

Salvadorans do what they can to respond to this reality. When stable employment cannot be found, they turn to the informal sector, which may mean selling bread around one’s neighborhood every day to washing windows of passing cars to selling hand-made jewelry or clothing. This work may provide a small income, but the reality is that life for the poor is a daily struggle to survive.

Violence

One manner of responding to this situation of poverty and disenfranchisement is to take power by any means possible – and many Salvadorans have resorted to violence and crime as a manner of taking control over their own lives and the lives of others. With an average of 11 violent deaths per day, El Salvador has become the one of most violent countries in the Western Hemisphere, and one of the 10 most violent countries in the world.

While some of this crime is a result of random violence and delinquency, much of it is highly organized. El Salvador is a war zone between the two main gangs – La Mara Salvatrucha (MS-13) and the 18th Street gang. There are somewhere between 10,000 to 39,000 gang members in El Salvador, and they gain control over the population through fear tactics, extortion, and intimidation. Gangs charge “rent” on many sectors of the formal commercial sector - from street vendors to private homes to local business to the bus routes. They maintain their power through fear of violence, which they will not hesitate to use.

For example, in June 2010 two buses in Mejicanos, on the outskirts of San Salvador, were attacked by gang members. During the first incident, gang members intercepted the bus, doused it with gasoline, set fire to it and closed the doors so no one could escape. When passengers tried to flee by climbing out of the windows, they were shot. Eleven people died on the scene, seven were badly hurt, six of whom later died. Roughly ten minutes later, other gang members attacked another bus on the same route, killing the driver, a passenger and a 11-year-old girl. Many claim that these attacks were acts of revenge on the bus company because they were unwilling to pay "rent" to the 18 Street gang because they were already paying rent to MS 13. Most acts of violence exist between rival gangs. However, there has been a recent change in the culture of violence were as now, just like in these bus incidents, the civilians are being targeted in an attempt to instill fear in the population. President Mauricio Funes calls these particular events pure terrorism. In early January 2011, three family members who belong to the 18 Street gang were sentenced to 12 years and 6 months in prison for the terrorist attack on the burning bus which took the lives of 17 people.

Voices on the Border, a grassroots organization in El Salvador, wrote in the blog the following about the level of violence recently: “in the first 36 days of 2010, there were 440 murders reported in El Salvador. The victims range from political activists, presumably killed for their opinions and public pronouncements, to bus drivers, robbed and murdered by groups locally called delincuentes. If this pattern of violence continues consistently, the country could expect to experience near 5,000 homicides this year. In comparison, New York City, whose population size is similar to El Salvador’s, reports only 412 homicides for the entirety of 2009.”

The motives for this kind of violence is hard to know, but the results are clear: the Salvadoran population lives in increasing fear and insecurity, with violence reaching levels that were not seen even during El Salvador’s civil war. Given, this insecurity and poverty of opportunity, many people flee.

Migration

A few years ago the U.S. embassy estimated that an average of 740 Salvadorans were abandoning their country every day, mostly bound for the U.S. Today's estimates run between 400 and 500 a day. If all were leaving for good, El Salvador, with a population of six million, would lose one percent of its population every five months and half the population in twenty years.

This phenomenon is not so much about what the US has to offer as it is about what El Salvador does not have to offer. According to Dean Brackley, these migrants flee because of a lack of economic opportunities. There are simply not enough jobs to support the people, and not enough resources put into the education system and social services to care for the population. El Salvador, simply put, would not function without remittances, the money sent to Salvadorans from family and friends who live in the US.

More than 2.5 million Salvadorans live in the United States - more than a third of the population of El Salvador itself. The country’s principle export is, in fact, the Salvadoran people; El Salvador's principal import are remittances from Salvadorans in the U.S., estimated at $2.5 billion annually, 17.1% of the GDP. The reality revolves around the fact that the Salvadoran economy simply would not function without the flow of people from South to North and the flow of money back again.

The result of such migration on a society is huge. Families are torn apart, while one or two parents leave in search of a way to care for their children, leaving them to be raised by others. Sometimes, people leave and never come back – they leave behind the life they had in El Salvador and find a new beginning in El Norte. Those who stay are often put under even more stress, raising grandchildren, nieces, and nephews. The emotional and economic stress is often overwhelming.

Programa Velasco’s Response

Programa Velasco seeks to respond to the reality here in the way that we can – by taking small steps, planting seeds that will one day grow. We cannot combat the violence and fear in which people live, but we can create safe spaces for children to learn, laugh and grow, and spaces for parents to start to let go of the fear and stress they live with in the daily struggle to stay afloat. We cannot change the economic structures that keep the poor impoverished, but we can offer small opportunities for women to invest in their small businesses here, to gain technical and leadership skills to keep moving forward. Child sponsors and other donors offer their friendship, support, and solidarity, and together we all seek to move forward and create pockets of hope in the midst of this harsh reality.

To learn more about how you can support Programa Velasco, check out http://www.programavelasco.org

he lives in our hearts

2011-03-28T17:54:00.000-07:00

Señorita Reina holds up a black and white drawing of a bespectacled man with a red bishop's hat. "Who knows who this is?"

"MONSENOR ROMEEEEROOO!!!" cries a chorus of children.

"And who is Monseñor Romero?" she asks the crowd at Monday's morning assembly.

One by one the braver kids run up to the microphone, excited to be able to talk (or scream) into it for a moment.

"HE WAS A PROPHET!!"
"...hee.. he... um... they killed him because he told the truth!"
"A PRIEST!"
"he walked with the poor!"
"he was a man who liked to visit the communities!!"
"...they shot him with a bullet in his heart..."

"And where does Monseñor Romero live now? In our..."

"HEARTS!!"

In public schools in El Salvador, Archbishop Oscar Romero's story is quite silenced. The schools here do not actually teach about El Salvador's recent history - because it's still too current, still too relevant to the national reality. And that's no coincidence. Those who have been in power have intentionally silenced that story, but in small ways the people keep it alive. Like at Centro Hogar. We are not a public school, so we pretty much do what we want. This entire week in celebration of the 31st anniversary of his assassination on March 24th, each morning a different class section did their own artistic interpretation of his story. In the classrooms all week, the teachers taught about who he was, how he spoke for the poor, and why he died. And how he stills lives. (In our...? Hearts!!)

Materno II, the kids from about 2 and and half to three and a half years, put on a little play. Now, keep in mind, these are LITTLE kids, most of whom can barely speak audibly. But even three-year-olds can understand what it means to share with the poor, to bring clothes and medicine and food to poor people, to tell the truth.

Edrian Ely, one of my favorites (don't tell the others) does not speak. He has a physical disability that has delayed his speech development, but he is an extremely bright, loving, energetic little boy. He was Romero in Materno II's play on Wednesday morning. He carried a giant basket about as big as him around the stage, filled with clothes and toy food and medicine. He went to the communities. And as Señorita Lucy narrated ("Monseñor Romero loved to visit the communities... he loved to share the word of God... and he always listened to what the poor told him...), Ely acted out her words, visiting the groups of kids on the stage, giving them what he carried in his basket, sitting on the floor and flipping through a Bible.

And what was the word of God that Romero preached, according to Materno II?

We should always share what we have, even if we only have a little, and we should always tell the truth, even when we are scared.

It's really that simple. Thanks, babies. Thanks, Romero.

retreat.

2011-03-20T18:25:00.000-07:00

I hate reading blog posts that start with "sorry I've been gone for so long...." So instead, I'll just say that life has been moving faster than I can keep up with, and as this place becomes my home more and more, there are fewer stories I feel I can share with you. It's not that nothing is happening; there is a lot happening. It's just, sometimes the new wears off and it becomes harder to recognize the extraordinary in my ordinary life. But I need to take the time to reflect, process, and share stories. It's good for me. And I know there are stories worth sharing. It is just a matter of paying attention.

This past week, I joined the other members of the Volunteer Missionary Movement (VMM) for our annual retreat. There are volunteers serving in El Salvador, Nicaragua, and Guatemala, and this retreat is the only time of the year when we are all together. We come together to share stories and just be community for one another. I am lucky to be a part of this beautiful community, surrounded by a lot of wisdom and compassion.

The retreat was at the top of a mountain overlooking Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, which is actually the most beautiful place I have ever been in my life. The lake is enormous, and surrounded by ancient volcanoes and little towns and villages. I wish I could share with you the deep peace that comes with being in that place. There is some kind of ancient wisdom there but I just couldn't wrap my head around it. The stars feel really close. And there is something about being in BIG nature - nature that makes you feel small and humble - that is so good for my soul. It reminds that all my problems and worries and really nothing at all.

I want to share stories from my life, but it is hard. Some things are really heavy. There is a lot of suffering in the world. And some of it touches me. The thing that brings me hope in the midst of the harsh reality, though, is beauty. There is so much beauty.

More later. For now, I am reflecting on the VMM Spirit and Lifestyle. Read it. I connect with this mission on a deep level, but I just don't have the words to say any more right now.

an advent reflection.

2010-12-16T18:01:00.000-08:00

It just doesn't feel like Christmas to me. Aside from the fact that it is hot enough to make me sweat every single day here, there are so many things that just don’t feel right. Friends and family send me e-cards for Christmas with pictures of dancing snowmen and pictures of their trees all decorated with flashy lights and winter-related ornaments. Right now, to me, that all seems like another world.

So, without all the "normal" Christmas stuff to make me feel like it's "Christmas time!", I have not found myself falling into my normal Christmas feeling of excitement for hot chocolate and Christmas parties with red and green cocktails and presents under the tree and Christmas songs on the radio 24/7 and did I mention hot chocolate? With the tiny marshmallows.

Yeah, there's none of that here. Instead, for me, this time gets to truly be Advent. I have been thinking a lot about what advent means, and as always, life in El Salvador sheds light on so many things I thought I already understood.

Everyone knows advent is about waiting.We are waiting for the day when we celebrate the first coming of Jesus - Christmas. We prepare for God's coming into the world, God made flesh. God was born as a little child on this earth in a stable one day, and we get to celebrate the beauty of that sign and celebrate too what it means to be human because of that.

I have been thinking about what that truth means. First, I think, God's humbling of Godself tells us all a lot about what kind of Savior God wants to be: a human one. God is Everything, and could come into this world and cast out demons and bring the poor to a land of milk and honey and free the oppressed. I often find myself wishing God would do that. There is just so much suffering here, so much need, so much despair. Doesn't God want to lead these people to a better place? But imperialism and unemployment and destruction of our natural resources and the earth has made El Salvador a miserable place for a lot of people. Oh God, won't you come save us from what we have done to one another? But the answer that God gave in the Incarnation was this: don't blame me, you've got two hands, don't you?!

Because part of the "waiting" in advent means we wait not only for Christ's coming as a child 2000 years ago; we wait for Christ's second coming. We wait for the land where there will be no more tears. We hope it's true. We really, really hope.

But do you know what else I am noticing these days? I am thinking about not so much what God's coming says about God, but what God's coming says about me. God could, as Annie Dillard writes, "catch time in it's free fall and stick a nickel's worth of sense into our days." But God chose what kind of Savior God would be - a human one. One like me. One who gets tired and needs nourishment and needs clean air to breathe and is subject to this world just as much as we seek to change it. God's becoming human says to humanity, hey, wake up, you are HOLY, damnit! I am capable of bringing light and hope into this world too. And that just makes me feel really grateful. Really grateful for what I can do with my two holy hands, instead of sitting around waiting God to come.

So now, these days, I am waiting for what we might call the "third coming" of Christ. That is, the coming of Christ into the world today, right now. The coming of Christ to me in the poor, in the eyes of the beggars I pass every day, in the family that digs through the garbage at the end of my street, in the laugh of the little boy I pushed high on the swing, in the kindness of a neighbor who shares a cup of coffee with me, in the sound of Lucy's broom as she sweeps the floor like she does every day even though it will just get dirty again. It's in my work, in my daily work, in the ways I try and try to bring little lights to dark places. In my life, Christ's third coming is in me, in the opening of my heart, in the ways Christ comes to me and nourishes me so I can keep living here with joy and hope despite all the many reasons I should not.

The notion that advent is a "waiting" for Christ to come could suggest that Christ is not already here. It could suggest separation. But separation is not the truth of advent. The truth of advent is in humanity's intimacy with God. It's in our daily hopes and struggles and all the ways Christ is miraculously here among us, for us, in us, Emmanuel! Dear friends, we are the ones we have been waiting for.

A culture of violence.

2010-11-29T14:23:00.000-08:00

All of the windows in my house have iron bars on them. At the end of my street, and at the end of every street in my neighborhood, there is always a 24-hour guard on duty. Each time I leave my house, I double lock the door and I prepare myself in the event I should be robbed: I make sure I am carrying some cash but not too much. (If I am going on the bus I have my quarter in my hand so I don’t have to dig through my wallet).

El Salvador is a violent place – one of the most violent countries in the world, actually. The civil war is over, but there are probably more guns floating around here now than there were in the 1980s. During the civil war, Salvadorans who fled to Los Angeles to flee the violence found themselves in the midst of L.A. gang conflicts, and in order to protect themselves from the other gangs, the Salvadorans formed their own gang: the Mara Salvatrucha, MS-13. Violence begets more violence. After the war was over, many of these Salvadorans were deported back here. One war was over, but another began. The 18^th Street gang and MS-13 fight for control of this country, and in some places, they have won. Even the police don’t go there. The violence here is a combination of turf wars and random violence which keeps the general population in fear and the government with their hands tied, unable to protect its people.

I am lucky. I live in a middle class neighborhood where I feel very safe. I, unlike many of my Salvadoran friends, can afford to live in a neighborhood where the kids play soccer and ride their bikes outside on the streets, and neighbors trust one another and share soda and gossip and live in community. There are no gangs here, and I suspect that there won’t be anytime soon. You see, since the kids from my neighborhood are mostly middle class, they don’t go to bed hungry and they don’t worry about how to afford books for school or how to pay the hospital bills. And since they aren’t so desperate, they don’t have to do desperate things.

How does this “culture of violence,” as it is called, manifest itself in my life, then?

Like this:

On a field trip to the beach with families from Centro Hogar, the pre-school where I work, a grandmother takes off her shoe and uses it to beat her grandson Mario. Hard. She yells and chastises him for not listening to her and he screams and cries in anger and pain and terror. Annie and I stand in shock, watching, wanting her to stop but not really knowing what to do. Everyone else just walks by, as if it were normal and maybe we should just stop staring and pretend it were not happening. Do I have the right to tell her to stop chastising her grandson with violence? Do I have the right to lecture her about how violence does not work as a discipline method? Suddenly, I am aware of the fact that I am a foreigner. Is this one of those “cultural differences”? Are all these Salvadorans just used to seeing this kind of violence? Has it become so normalized that it takes an outsider to be shocked by it? If Mario grows up being beaten, won’t he also learn to use violence to discipline his children, or his wife, or the gang from across the barrio?

Life, in moments.

2010-10-26T19:34:00.000-07:00

Moment one:
The day before my birthday I spent the night in Mariona, the community I accompanied as a Casa student. The family there feels very much like my extended family. When I am there, I feel completely at ease and relaxed and supported. And joyful. This moment captures a little bit of that. These two beautiful girls are Maria Jose, five years old, and Jasmin, four. They were blowing up birthday balloons for me, and it turned into a competition to see who could blow up the balloon the biggest. Only problem is, it's hard to blow balloons that big with such tiny lungs, especially when the air keeps escaping. You'll have to watch the video to see who wins.

Moment two:
I am in the back of a pickup truck, surrounded by the staff of Centro Hogar - my wonderful coworkers - as we return from an overnight trip to the finca. It was just a convivio, a bonding trip, a PJ party, if you will. It was one of the most fun times I have ever had here. And I grew even more deeply in love with them and the work we all do.

Moment three:
Same trip to the finca with the staff of Centro Hogar, teaching them about the wonder of s'mores.

Moment four:
I am in Parque Cuscatlan in downtown San Salvador at a fair of sorts, a sort of rally for NGOs working in San Salvador. We are there representing ANADES (I am showing off my sweet new anades "share love, not HIV" tshirt), but Emilia and I escape the booth we are working to enjoy this moment as we sing along to one of our favorite songs from the Revolution, "no basta rezar."

again.

2010-10-08T07:53:00.000-07:00

We always have coffee at work - a big, huge coffee-maker full of extra black coffee. And we always have a big container full of sugar next to the coffee. Well, yesterday, as I prepared my 2:00 pm cup of coffee, I noticed the sugar bucket wasn't there. But there was a plastic bag with what I presumed was one of those 1-lb. bags of sugar for the coffee until we got more sugar. (Can you see where this is going?) Yes, friends, it was salt. So for the second time since my return to El Salvador, I have taken a big swallow of really salty coffee. Oooops. (Seriously, who just leaves a bag of salt next to the coffee?!) Lucy, the lady who cleans up the office and makes sure there is always hot coffee, comes around the corner just as I am taking a big gulp, with the bucket of sugar in hand (she had refilled it). She thinks it's hilarious. I think I am going to be famous for doing stuff like this.

speak.

2010-09-26T18:30:00.001-07:00

From Eduardo Galeano's "Celebration of the Human Voice" -

"The Uruguayan dictatorship wanted everyone to stand alone. everyone to be no one: in prisons and barracks, and throughout the country, communication was a crime.

Some prisoners spent more than ten years buried in solitary cells the size of coffins, hearing nothing but clanging bars or footsteps in the corridors. . . [They] survived because they could talk to each other by tapping on the wall. In that way they told of dreams and memories, fallings in and out of love; they discussed, embraced, fought; they shared beliefs and beauties, doubts and guilts, and those questions that have no answers.

When it is genuine, when it is born of the need to speak, no one can stop the human voice. When denied a mouth, it speaks with the hands or the eyes, or the pores, or anything at all. Because every single one of us has something to say to the others, something that deserves to be celebrated or forgiven by others."

Recently, we held a workshop for parents involved in Programa Velasco. These monthly meetings are a requirement for families involved in the scholarship program, but it is my hope that these workshops are a space where parents can enjoy themselves, feel themselves part of a community, and just let their stresses and anxieties go for a few hours. The workshops focus on personal formation and development; they get to think about who they are, what dreams they have for themselves and their families, their strengths, and the things they struggle with. I think it's so important that people have those kinds of spaces - especially the poor, who are too-often dehumanized or exploited in their work, or mistreated and abused at home. I think there is something really humanizing about simply being able to speak your truth.

This month, the theme for our personal formation and development workshop was a tough one: what are the things in your life that bind you? what chains you down? what silences you?

It all just felt really heavy. The reality that people live in. Violence all around. Fear, above all else. Not knowing how you'll find a job. Violence in the home. Rape. Things that they cannot talk about, mostly because they do not have the spaces to talk or the people who will listen.

So, while it felt really heavy to hear story after story of being chained down by the reality, it also felt a little bit like this:

In simply being able to share their stories, there is a little bit of liberation. If not from the violence, the poverty, the exploitation, at least there is liberation from one thing: the silence.

"When it is genuine, when it is born of the need to speak, no one can stop the human voice. When denied a mouth, it speaks with the hands or the eyes, or the pores, or anything at all. Because everyone of us has something to say to the others, something that deserves to be celebrated or forgiven by others."

check it out

2010-09-24T09:25:00.000-07:00

Look, friends, I am VMM's mission of the season, featured on VMM's homepage!

If you are able, I still really need your support to stay in El Salvador. You can support me and my work here by donating on VMM's Missioner/Project Support Page.

Me and the new missioners are also featured in the latest issue of VMM's newsletter, Bridges. You can check out the latest one here!

At a time in the
history of the Church
when passive obedience and
reception of the sacraments
was generally accepted
by the laity
as what being Church
was all about,
the VMM emerged as a
new and challenging movement
calling Christian men and women
to respond to Vatican II's call
for full and active involvement
in the Church's life and mission.

This involvement has a
double thrust:
to witness to God's action
through Jesus Christ
in our world today,
to respond to the
material and human needs of
the marginalized and the
dispossessed of our world.

We are first called and
moved by the very Love that
lives within us:
"The love of Christ overwhelms us..."
(2 Cor. 5:14)

- exerpt from the VMM Spirit & Lifestyle, Edwina Gately

they make my day

2010-09-13T20:49:00.000-07:00

because they love so easily.

finca.

2010-09-09T18:29:00.000-07:00

Spanish lesson for the day:
finca - farm.
reverdecer - to grow green again.

ANADES has this amazing finca in Sonsonate, a few hours outside of San Salvador, way up in the mountains where the weather is cooler, the clouds feel lower, and the people live a different type of poverty than in the city. Here, people struggle with gang violence, delinquency, unemployment, pollution, and the locura that is this city. (Take, for example, the chaos that has been the past few days as gang threats have led to a bus strike, leaving the city at a standstill). In the countryside, though, the poverty looks a little different. There is still machismo, of course, but there, at least, people aren´t afraid to talk to their neighbor. Kids aren´t afraid to run around outside and play. But the opportunities are few - there are virtually no jobs to be found, outside of the agricultural sector, and if you want to make it to high school, you´ll have to find a way to travel for hours on a bus every day. Forget about university, unless you can somehow find a scholarship that will pay for tuition, transportation costs, books, and maybe even living costs in the city. The mountains protect the people, perhaps, from the chaos and violence of the city, but they also entrap, as the isolated communities are starving for economic development, hospitals, running water and opportunity.

I digress.

ANADES has this awesome finca in Sonsonate, Finca San Jorge. It supplies each of their five education centers around the country with organic food for the kids, and what is leftover is sold. There, everything from coffee to corn, beans, fruits, lots of veggies, and herbs are grown. Livestock are raised, and a couple of huge henhouses provide tons of eggs. The money ANADES makes from the sale of food from the finca (especially the delicious coffee) and the ecotourism project there (there are some cabins, a cafeteria, and some amazing waterfalls and trails to explore) almost pays for the operating budget for the whole NGO every year. It´s an amazing lesson in sustainability, not only for the environment (yay organic agriculture!) but also in the operation of a self-sustaining NGO.

For me, the finca is literally the most beautiful place on earth. Not only are the mountain views and waterfalls and hiking paths beautiful, but the people who live and work there are super welcoming and friendly. For me, it´s also very spiritual. Last year, as a student at the Casa, we made a silent retreat there, and I remember finding such healing and redemption there, watching the rain roll in over the mountains and meditating in the maizales, or corn fields. I think corn, especially in El Salvador, is a powerful symbol of resurrection. Only when the old crops are burned to dust can the new crops grow again. ¨Pues, cuando ardió la pérdida, reverdecieron sus maizales.¨ That´s what El Salvador is for me. Sometimes there is so much suffering and injustice I feel like the whole world is burning. But then, miraculously, beauty springs forth from the ashes. A child goes to school. Two people in love get married. An old lady gives me directions on the bus.

There is also this tree. This seriously sacred tree. It´s an amate tree. It is huge and ancient, and you have to hike up and down mountainous, rocky, muddy paths and through the corn fields, eventually crossing a makeshift bridge before you finally arrive. But when you get there, you get it. The pilgrimage was totally worth it. Her roots do not dig deeper into the ground, but grow out, covering everything around, wrapping around this huge boulder. Sitting under the immense shade, being sheltered by the tree, supported by her roots, I feel held, protected. And there is this unbelievable view. The tree watches over this expansive valley in between two mountain ranges, river running through the valley below, and on a clear day you can see all the way to the sea. The sky is expansive. The ocean meets the sky and the land and me and there is grace, grace, grace.

starting.

2010-09-03T09:39:00.000-07:00

I've been working now for 2 weeks, and am starting to find my place at Centro Hogar. It has been a whirlwind orientation, meeting my coworkers, traveling to other ANADES projects in different parts of the country (including the beloved finca), meeting parents, meeting kids, trying to remember names, drinking a lot of coffee, visiting homes, learning my way around the office, learning my way around the files. But, poco a poco. Here I go. I feel very grateful to be here, and I feel that there is really no other job I want to be doing right now.

This past week, Anita and I have had the pleasure to welcome Juan Velasco to El Salvador and reconnect him with the families in Programa Velasco. Three years ago, Anita and Juan were both on staff at the Casa, and Anita was working part time as a social worker at Centro Hogar. She came home one day, overwhelmed, and told Juan that they didn't know what they would do, but there were about 30 families who might have to drop out because they can't afford to pay the $30 tuition every month. And Juan said, well, can I sponsor a child? Can I pay for one child? And Anita said, I think so. Let's figure out how that might work.

They spread the word to their families and friends, and slowly, organically, Programa Velasco began. It was just a group of people responding to a need. I like that.

Now, three years later, we are growing. And I get to be part of that.

It was great to have Juan here this week. Anita, Juan, and I got lots of time to connect and reflect about where we are, how we got here, and our dreams for the future. When Anita goes to the States in a few months, I will be the person on the ground here in El Salvador, directing the program at Centro Hogar, but they will be integral parts of Programa Velasco in the States - raising funds, spreading the word, and helping me feel connected and supported.

Juan and the kids from Centro Hogar at the Monday morning assembly

confianza.

2010-08-23T18:04:00.000-07:00

Confianza. It is a little Spanish word that is hard to translate. Roughly speaking, it means ¨trust.¨ But that does not quite cut it. As a student at the Casa de la Solidaridad, we used to talk about confianza as ¨a willingness to share yourself with someone.¨ The Salvadorans with whom I have confianza are those who have shared their life stories - their joys and their struggles - and with whom I feel safe. So, trust doesn´t quite cut it. I trust my dentist, but would I sit with him, sharing a coffee and a piece of pan dulce as he tells me about how proud he is of his daughter, about his sick father, about his difficulties finding a job? That´s confianza, and that is what so many Salvadorans give so easily.

For the past week I have been living with a homestay family in Mejicanos, an urban neighborhood in San Salvador, not far from San Ramon, where I work. They are great. I live with Ana Miriam, the executive director of ANADES (it´s kind of a big deal), and her husband, Miguel, who works as Hospital Rosales. Her mother Ilda also lives with the family, and she has been great - taking care of me like any abuelita should. She shows me where the buses are and tells me where I shouldn´t go, and makes sure I am well fed and always leave the house with an umbrella (because, fijate bien, we are in the rainy season). There is also Karla, a university student my age who speaks English very well and enjoys watching all my favorite shows. (We also bonded over Twilight. She said she´d lend me Breaking Dawn in Spanish. Meg, you´d be so proud). And then there are two six year old twins, Ana Belen and Miguel, who are both a handful, but very sweet and loving. Ana Belen loves her food, and she is very creative, making up stories to tell me before I go to bed and coloring some beautiful pictures from my Disney Princesses coloring book. (Don´t worry, roomies, I wouldn´t let her rip out the ones you´ve colored for me). And Miguel, though much smaller than Belen, doesn´t let anyone push him around. He has so much energy, which somtimes manifests iteself in tantrums, but they pass quickly, and when he goes around calling everyone ¨mi amor¨and pretending to be a little kitten licking my toes, it´s hard to be angry with him. They both remind me so much of my nephews, it makes me miss them like crazy. They too fight over who is going to take a bath first, and they go to McDonalds just for the toys. This week, Bakugan. SCORE!

It still feels a little awkward living in someone else´s home, using their bathroom, having them insist on serving me my meals and even cleaning my dishes. But poco a poco, I have been trying to develop a little confianza with the family, so we can all feel a little more at home.

This is how it goes:

Ilda, will you take me to mass with you Sunday? Can you show me how you make those pupusas? Karla, does this skirt looks good on me? Miguelito, do you want to play catch? Want to see photos of my family? Can I help you tie those shoes, Belencita linda?

basics

2010-08-19T09:05:00.000-07:00

I made it!

I'm currently getting settled in and spending this first week getting to know the area where I'm living, visiting friends, and getting to know my host family.

If you want to send me goodies, such as letters, photos, coloring books or other fun things, mail to

Asociacion Nuevo Amanecer de El Salvador
Col. El Triunfo Final Pasaje Molina #14, San Ramon
Mejicanos, Apartado Postal 567
Departamento de San Salvador
El Salvador, Central America.

Also, fun fact: I clearly have not learned my way around the kitchen yet, and on my first day with my new family I put salt in my coffee instead of sugar. Ooooops.

Real update soon.

love,
liv

please help me get to el salvador

2010-07-28T13:29:00.000-07:00

Dear friends,

Welcome.

This is the place where you can keep up with me during my time in El Salvador over the next two years. I'll periodically write reflections, news, updates, and share pictures about my life and work.

But first, I need to ask for a little help.

As you may already know, in August I will begin my work in San Ramon, an urban community on the outskirts of San Salvador. I will be working for an organization called Asociacion Nuevo Amanecer El Salvador (ANADES), or New Dawn Association. They are a certified 501(c)3 non-profit, formed during the Salvadoran civil war to provide services for children who had become orphans. Now, they have services across the country ranging from mental health clinics to an organic farm, but I will be working for their kindergarten program in San Ramon - Centro Hogar, or the Home Center. I will be the director of a scholarship program, Programa Velasco, which connects sponsors in the US and Europe with kids whose families cannot afford the school's tuition. In addition to raising money and coordinating the scholarships, I will also work closely with the families in the community through Programa Velasco's personal formation and development program, as well as a new micro-loan program for women to start small businesses.

Click on any of the links above if you want to learn more about ANADES, Programa Velasco, and the people I will be working with!

When I go to El Salvador on August 17th (start your countdowns!), I will be joining several other lay missioners as part of the Volunteer Missionary Movement (VMM). VMM is an international lay mission organization, with missioners from Europe and the United States serving in Africa, Asia, and Latin America. Its roots are in the Catholic social justice tradition, but VMM is a truly ecumenical organization. There are already several VMM missioners working and living in El Salvador, so I will have a lot of support from them as well as the whole VMM community.

In addition to the spiritual, emotional, and personal support I receive from the VMM community, VMM supports me financially - for everything from health insurance to the cost of my personal expenses like rent, food, and transportation. On average, VMM spends $18,000/year for each missioner. I am asked to raise $5000 to help defray some of those costs.

If you would be willing to donate, I would certainly appreciate every cent. Even small donations add up!

You can donate online by going to VMM's Donate Now page and pay with a credit card or PayPal account. *Just please make sure to include a note that your donation is to be contributed toward my total! If you don't know how to do that or donated without mentioning my name, just shoot me an email (olivia.amadon@gmail.com) and I can make sure your donation is counted toward my goal.*

You can also send VMM a check. Just download VMM's donor form, make sure that you've written my name in the "in honor of" line, and send everything to

Volunteer Missionary Movement (VMM)
Attn: Development Office
5980 W. Loomis Road
Greendale, WI 53129

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Even if you cannot donate, thanks for the joy you all bring to my life! Please send prayers and emails while I'm gone, and come visit if you can.

love,
liv

about the title

2010-07-28T13:02:00.000-07:00

The birds' favorite songs
You do not hear,

For their most flamboyant music takes place
When their wings are stretched
Above the trees

And they are smoking the opium
Of pure freedom.

It is healthy for the prisoner
To have faith

The one day she will again move about
Wherever she wants,
Feel the wondrous grit of life-
Less structured,

Find all wounds, debt, stamped canceled,
Paid.

I once asked a bird,
"How is it that you fly in this gravity
Of darkness?"

She responded,
"Love lifts
Me."

- Hafiz
from The Gift, translated by Daniel Ladinsky