There were roughly 30,000 civilian deaths during the Salvadoran civil war. 30,000 is a lot of brothers and sisters, moms and dads, friends and neighbors, but it's still just a number. What does it really mean? In a country of 6 million, how big a deal was this? What does it compare to? I wanted to find a point of reference that would make this number seem real. Since a lot of us are familiar with the history of the Jewish holocaust during WWII, I decided to use this event for comparison. And then if that doesn't make it clear enough, I also compared it to the devastation of 9/11 in the U.S.
El Salvador is a very small country. As I mentioned above, in the 1980's, it had a population of about 6 million. A conservative estimate of civilian casualties in El Salvador is 30,000. In comparison, at the start of WWII Germany had a population of 80 million. We all know that an unbearable number of Jews were killed during this war- nearly 6 million in all of Europe. In Germany alone about 192,000 German Jews were murdered according to About.com, published by the New York Times. Another source, the US Holocaust Memorial Museum, says up to 180,000 German Jews were murdered. We know that this genocide was enormous, that huge numbers of people were murdered. That huge number amounts to .24% of the total German population. One out of every 400.
So keeping in mind the enormity of the impact of the Jewish holocaust, let's look again at El Salvador. Compared to 192,000 Jews killed in Germany, 30,000 deaths doesn't sound like a big number. But this number amounts to .5% of the total Salvadoran population. This is twice the number of German Jews killed in the holocaust, in relative terms. Or, one in every 200 people murdered- bombed, shot, burned, beheaded, tortured to death, disappeared. The United Nations Truth Commission puts the blame for the vast majority of these deaths squarely on the shoulders of the Salvadoran government.
OK, if this hasn't made the situation clear, let's think about 9/11. If you're a U.S. citizen, you know the number of people killed on the 9/11; nearly 3000 in a country of 285 million (in 2001). 9/11 was a pivotal moment in our history, there's no denying it. Now consider this- 47.5 times as many Salvadorans died, percentage wise, during their civil war.
Can we imagine if 9/11 happened 47.5, ok let's just say 48 times over the course of 12 years? 48 times. 48 9/11's.
What would the United States be like right now if we had endured 48 attacks the magnitude of 9/11? Here's the next staggering thing to consider- my government funded most of this war, this death, destruction, and lasting trauma.
What can we do about this now? When I was feeling helpless in the face of the atrocities and impunity committed in El Salvador, a friend there told me to just be an ant. Each little ant carries a few grains of sand, a few morsels of food. No one ant builds a whole colony, but look at the marvelous intricacies of their homes. Just do my part, whether that's small or large. So I'm helping Co-Madres tell their story, so their testimony is not lost from Salvadoran memory. I also have a profound wish for the U.S. government to get out of the business of war. What ever our goals were, all these lives, all this trauma on a whole society cannot justify the means. There are many good resources available about ending war. Try starting with Friends Committee on National Legislation. Be an ant. Take a small action. See what happens, in your life and others' lives.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Saturday, August 11, 2012
[Inez] Two years
On this day two years ago, my family was at Mt. Rushmore as part of an extended camping trip to celebrate Ruby's 50th birthday. For much of the trip I didn't have cell reception, but I had reception at Mt. Rushmore. I was surprised when my phone rang and it was our friend Raul who lives in El Salvador, and has never before called me.
He was calling to tell us that Madre Alicia, co-founder and director of Co-Madres had died.
We had learned only a month or two earlier that Madre Alicia and Patricia both had uterine cancer and were undergoing extreme treatments. We had been planning Ruby's camping trip for months, but considered postponing it to make an emergency trip to El Salvador. We understood that they were both struggling and suffering a great deal from the cancer and the treatments. However, we convinced ourselves that surely they would both get through it and would hold on for at least another couple years if not more. We went on the trip anyway.
That's how I came to receive the news of Madre Alicia's death at Mt. Rushmore. When Raul told me I sank down onto the stairs I was descending in shock and sadness. What quickly followed was fury. When they had told us that Alicia and Patty were both sick with uterine cancer, they mentioned that it seemed to be fairly common among women who had undergone the types of sexual torture they had endured during the war and as a result of their work with Co-Madres. I don't know if this has been studied at all, but just based on the anecdotal evidence, it seems that perhaps uterine cancer is similar to cervical cancer in that it can be passed through a sexually transmitted infection. So when I learned that Madre Alicia had died from complications of this disease, I felt outrage that now, 20 years later, she had been assassinated due to her human rights work. I felt the deep injustice of the general amnesty granted to the perpetrators of abuse, threats, torture, rape, and killings. How could it be that Alicia, one of the shining stars of goodness in the world, could die when the men who did this to her suffered no [external] consequences for their actions?
I'm not sure how to conclude this post. I started writing it thinking it would be a reflection on the wonderful life of Madre Alicia, but that's not what came out. Perhaps in a week or two I will do that. For now, I'm reliving the anger and sorrow of two years ago, when a woman's life was taken before her time.
He was calling to tell us that Madre Alicia, co-founder and director of Co-Madres had died.
We had learned only a month or two earlier that Madre Alicia and Patricia both had uterine cancer and were undergoing extreme treatments. We had been planning Ruby's camping trip for months, but considered postponing it to make an emergency trip to El Salvador. We understood that they were both struggling and suffering a great deal from the cancer and the treatments. However, we convinced ourselves that surely they would both get through it and would hold on for at least another couple years if not more. We went on the trip anyway.
That's how I came to receive the news of Madre Alicia's death at Mt. Rushmore. When Raul told me I sank down onto the stairs I was descending in shock and sadness. What quickly followed was fury. When they had told us that Alicia and Patty were both sick with uterine cancer, they mentioned that it seemed to be fairly common among women who had undergone the types of sexual torture they had endured during the war and as a result of their work with Co-Madres. I don't know if this has been studied at all, but just based on the anecdotal evidence, it seems that perhaps uterine cancer is similar to cervical cancer in that it can be passed through a sexually transmitted infection. So when I learned that Madre Alicia had died from complications of this disease, I felt outrage that now, 20 years later, she had been assassinated due to her human rights work. I felt the deep injustice of the general amnesty granted to the perpetrators of abuse, threats, torture, rape, and killings. How could it be that Alicia, one of the shining stars of goodness in the world, could die when the men who did this to her suffered no [external] consequences for their actions?
I'm not sure how to conclude this post. I started writing it thinking it would be a reflection on the wonderful life of Madre Alicia, but that's not what came out. Perhaps in a week or two I will do that. For now, I'm reliving the anger and sorrow of two years ago, when a woman's life was taken before her time.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
[Inez] Getting famous!
I follow a few El Salvador-related blogs. I'm more likely keep up with blogs than one of the Salvadoran newspapers, so it's a good way for me to keep in touch with Salvador news and daily life when I'm not there.
One of the blogs I follow is El Salvador from the Inside. It's written by a woman from the US who married a Salvadoran man and moved to El Salvador. She shares stories about her experiences as a "gringa in El Salvador" and like any transplant, is struck by things that may seem commonplace for a native. I appreciate this perspective, since of course I'm a "gringa in El Salvador" every time I go. We, perhaps, share a similar lens through which we view El Salvador and categorize our experiences.
I've never met Jenny in person, but today she was kind enough to share our CoMadres project with her readers. I encourage you to check out her blog (El Salvador from the Inside)! It's a great way to learn about some of the ins and outs of Salvadoran daily life.
One of the blogs I follow is El Salvador from the Inside. It's written by a woman from the US who married a Salvadoran man and moved to El Salvador. She shares stories about her experiences as a "gringa in El Salvador" and like any transplant, is struck by things that may seem commonplace for a native. I appreciate this perspective, since of course I'm a "gringa in El Salvador" every time I go. We, perhaps, share a similar lens through which we view El Salvador and categorize our experiences.
I've never met Jenny in person, but today she was kind enough to share our CoMadres project with her readers. I encourage you to check out her blog (El Salvador from the Inside)! It's a great way to learn about some of the ins and outs of Salvadoran daily life.
[Inez] From 2008 (excerpt)
When I was in college I had the good fortune to receive a grant to support going to El Salvador to work with CoMadres. Part of the deal was that the program asked grant recipients to keep a blog about their trips or internships. Today I read through all my posts from that blog, written in 2008, for the first time since that year. Here is an excerpt from one of the posts about the day-to-day work we did:
Today we finally had a meeting with all the women to tell them what we wanted to do, and figure out a rough schedule. This is coming with 5 working days before Ruby leaves, but that’s how it is. By the way, I want to say something before I continue. I know I said I would put pictures up, but I think that probably won’t happen until I get home in a week and a half. I keep forgetting to bring my flash drive to the cyber cafe.Since this time they have completed the wall! CoMadres is a member of the Comisión de Trabajo en Derechos Humanos Pro Memoria Histórica de El Salvador (Commission of Work for Human Rights Pro-Historic Memory of El Salvador), the group that worked to make the monument become a reality. A large portion of the names represented on the monument are known due to the work that CoMadres did to collect and record denuncios (denouncements) of captures and assassinations.
Anyway, we got a fair amount done today. I scanned about 15 pictures, and Ruby spent some time asking Alicia about them. I don’t know what Alicia told her because I was listening to Cloud Cult, but Ruby took a lot of notes, so we’re set. We also finished asking clarifying questions on the last transcription we have down here, so we’ve done as much as we can on that front. The next step is to reprint them (not sure where that will happen) and then go over what is okay to publish and what isn’t. For example, regarding one woman’s capture, they’ve told us that it’s okay to publish that the military was looking for a relative of hers, and when they couldn’t find that relative they took her instead; however, even though they told us the specifics of this incident, we’re not supposed to go into more detail in the book. I think we should spend some time talking to them about the situation today and how to protect them, because that’s the kind of thing that wouldn’t have occurred to me if Alicia hadn’t said, “But you’re not going to put that in the book, right?”
In other words, progress is slow, but existent. Tomorrow we’re doing an interview and making pupusas, and Thursday I think we’re going to a church that housed a refuge during the war with hopes that someone will still be there who was there in those days. We’re also going to go to the monument for the disappeared and assasinated. We visited it 2 years ago, but they’ve come much closer to completing it since then. Money is always a hang up.
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| The monument in 2006. They were raising money to complete the inscriptions. |
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| Ruby and Madre Alicia (then Director of CoMadres; deceased 2010) |
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
[Inez] Transcribing: Day ?
Do any of you like to sew? Have you ever tried to thread a needle that is just a little bit too small, or where the thread is just a little bit frayed? You keep poking at it and poking at it, trying to get the thread through the needle, perhaps stubbornly refusing to go find your scissors to cut the frayed end, or the beeswax to bring the micro-threads together. You keep poking at it, squinting to try to see the tiny hole of the needle, trying not to drop the millimeter of thread that finally pokes through before you can grab it and pull it all the way.
Transcribing is like this. Sometimes a sentence -- even a paragraph! comes easily. Sometimes the madre enunciates, no trucks drive by, and the neighbor's dog does not bark. Sometimes you thread the needle on the first try.
But sometimes she speaks quickly, her napkin over her mouth, and the neighbor's dog barks twice, loudly, in the middle of the phrase. Sometimes you have to poke the same thread through the needle for minutes and minutes, trying to capture that word. Before we digitized our recordings, when I was transcribing from cassette, I sometimes wore the tape thin from listening to the same 3 second segment over and over and over.
Sometimes as you stare at that tiny needle hole, trying to fit the thread through, there's a tiny hopeful image on the other side. Something went well, someone was released from their capture, someone successfully escaped the country. Something went well.
More often, though, the napkin to the mouth muffles the words being recorded because they are the most painful words. Sometimes the tiny picture just visible through the needle hole is a woman whose teeth were knocked out as she was hit repeatedly while being asked who paid her to become a guerrillera. How is she supposed to answer that question satisfactorily when she is not, in fact, a guerrillera? When everyone in the room knows the gun she was arrested with was planted on her?
Sometimes the tiny picture is a woman whose breast was slowly cut off, one cut to punctuate each question. One cut to punctuate each demand. Each one added up until today, she has no breast. It's gone. It went missing before she escaped, and she escaped without it.
Update: I was looking through my old blog about the project, from when I got a grant through my college for this work. It turns out I've been describing transcribing pretty much the same way for 5 years! Here's what I wrote in 2007:
Transcribing is so hard.
There are the obvious reasons– it’s in Spanish, it’s such a slow and tedious process, it takes so much concentration… I mean really, I don’t think I’ve ever concentrated on anything so hard for such a long period of time. It’s like when you’re trying to thread a needle, and there’s that one little bitty strand that’s [messing] it up and you keep trying and keep trying and it’s not working and you have to squint and get your face up all close because the needle is so small and the thread is so small and if anyone says anything to you you want to scream ’cause you were about to get it but they ruined your concentration and now you have to start all over… are you feeling sufficiently fidgety and drained? Okay, well it’s like threading the impossibly small needle, for hours and hours, every day.
Of course the other reason is that it’s just so damn depressing. Not only are you threading an impossibly small needle, you’re threading an impossibly small needle with a picture of someone being raped or tortured– and you have to keep looking at that little picture because if you take your eyes off the [freaking] needle, well then, how are you going to thread it?
Transcribing is like this. Sometimes a sentence -- even a paragraph! comes easily. Sometimes the madre enunciates, no trucks drive by, and the neighbor's dog does not bark. Sometimes you thread the needle on the first try.
But sometimes she speaks quickly, her napkin over her mouth, and the neighbor's dog barks twice, loudly, in the middle of the phrase. Sometimes you have to poke the same thread through the needle for minutes and minutes, trying to capture that word. Before we digitized our recordings, when I was transcribing from cassette, I sometimes wore the tape thin from listening to the same 3 second segment over and over and over.
Sometimes as you stare at that tiny needle hole, trying to fit the thread through, there's a tiny hopeful image on the other side. Something went well, someone was released from their capture, someone successfully escaped the country. Something went well.
More often, though, the napkin to the mouth muffles the words being recorded because they are the most painful words. Sometimes the tiny picture just visible through the needle hole is a woman whose teeth were knocked out as she was hit repeatedly while being asked who paid her to become a guerrillera. How is she supposed to answer that question satisfactorily when she is not, in fact, a guerrillera? When everyone in the room knows the gun she was arrested with was planted on her?
Sometimes the tiny picture is a woman whose breast was slowly cut off, one cut to punctuate each question. One cut to punctuate each demand. Each one added up until today, she has no breast. It's gone. It went missing before she escaped, and she escaped without it.
Update: I was looking through my old blog about the project, from when I got a grant through my college for this work. It turns out I've been describing transcribing pretty much the same way for 5 years! Here's what I wrote in 2007:
Transcribing is so hard.
There are the obvious reasons– it’s in Spanish, it’s such a slow and tedious process, it takes so much concentration… I mean really, I don’t think I’ve ever concentrated on anything so hard for such a long period of time. It’s like when you’re trying to thread a needle, and there’s that one little bitty strand that’s [messing] it up and you keep trying and keep trying and it’s not working and you have to squint and get your face up all close because the needle is so small and the thread is so small and if anyone says anything to you you want to scream ’cause you were about to get it but they ruined your concentration and now you have to start all over… are you feeling sufficiently fidgety and drained? Okay, well it’s like threading the impossibly small needle, for hours and hours, every day.
Of course the other reason is that it’s just so damn depressing. Not only are you threading an impossibly small needle, you’re threading an impossibly small needle with a picture of someone being raped or tortured– and you have to keep looking at that little picture because if you take your eyes off the [freaking] needle, well then, how are you going to thread it?
Monday, June 25, 2012
(Ruby) Union suppression, US vs. El Salvador
Ever since the recall election in Wisconsin, my neighbor state, I've been thinking about Scott Walker and the state of unions in this country in general. As a public school teacher, I'm proud to be union member. While my union isn't perfect, I'm still grateful to have a union and to be part of it. It's sad and just plain crazy that unions are under attack, that our power of collective bargaining is being limited. People are being mislead to believe that we, as union members, are somehow the cause of the economic problems we're in today. As someone said on Facebook,
Remember when teachers, public employees, unions, NPR, PBS and Planned parenthood
crashed the stock market, took trillions in TARP money, spilled a crapload of oil in the Gulf of Mexico, wiped out half of our 401ks, gave their selves billions in bonuses and payed no taxes? Yeah...me neither.
I can get pretty worked up about the injustice of it, but our troubles are small in comparison to what happened in El Salvador in the 1970's and 80's. Not that we shouldn't be concerned, not that we don't need to act to prevent the further erosion of unions' power. We do. But in El Salvador, union leaders were imprisoned, tortured and killed for advocating for safer, more humane working conditions and livable wages. Here's an excerpt from an interview with Alicia, the former head of CoMadres. Alicia died in August, 2010.
I'm writing this not to diminish our problems, but to try to understand how bad it would be if I had lived in El Salvador during the Civil War. And it's still bad there today, with unions being suppressed by the government and by multi-national corporations doing business there, including US corporations. I wish I had a positive note to end on. I'm not sure what that is, except to say that Marta survived and was helped to escape El Salvador.
Remember when teachers, public employees, unions, NPR, PBS and Planned parenthood
crashed the stock market, took trillions in TARP money, spilled a crapload of oil in the Gulf of Mexico, wiped out half of our 401ks, gave their selves billions in bonuses and payed no taxes? Yeah...me neither.
I can get pretty worked up about the injustice of it, but our troubles are small in comparison to what happened in El Salvador in the 1970's and 80's. Not that we shouldn't be concerned, not that we don't need to act to prevent the further erosion of unions' power. We do. But in El Salvador, union leaders were imprisoned, tortured and killed for advocating for safer, more humane working conditions and livable wages. Here's an excerpt from an interview with Alicia, the former head of CoMadres. Alicia died in August, 2010.
In those days, in 1978, my oldest daughter, Marta Alicia, started to work in a factory that made men’s shirts. They sent the clothes up to the U.S. She was studying at the university, but started to work to help me out so I would have money for all the busses I needed in my searches. (Searching for missing family members.) So there in that factory, a union began. Because she was very active she was made to be a spokesperson for the union, part of the leadership team.
When she was already involed in the union, the National Guard came to the factory. The boss had called the Guard because the women were meeting there. He didn’t want them to lose work time. He wanted them working, so he called the Guard. Well this day they just came to see what was happening. But three days later they returned and took all the women in the leadership team.
When we knew that the National Guard had captured Marta, we went there, but no. They told us that they didn’t have anyone. They hadn’t captured anyone. That surely it was another branch, like the Police of the Hacienda or the National Police had done it, but they, the National Guard, had not. So we went again to the different quarters. It was the same thing all over again. They all said they hadn’t captured the union organizers.
Fifteen days later, five of the young women appeared assassinated in a little town called Ilopango, close to Lake Apulu. But not my daughter. When they were found, these women had been tortured, murdered, they were without fingernails, without teeth, beaten. Their mothers retrieved them and buried them.
At eighteen days, my daughter appeared, three days after the other young women. They left her, they thought she was dead, you know? They left her there just lying on the pavement. Just her. Just Marta. Naked. Some people saw her body. Vultures were coming, the ones that eat dead bodies were moving in. But she woke up and moved, and some people saw her. A taxi driver moved closer and he said, “This girl is alive!”
I'm writing this not to diminish our problems, but to try to understand how bad it would be if I had lived in El Salvador during the Civil War. And it's still bad there today, with unions being suppressed by the government and by multi-national corporations doing business there, including US corporations. I wish I had a positive note to end on. I'm not sure what that is, except to say that Marta survived and was helped to escape El Salvador.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
[Inez] Fundraising
As you know, Ruby and I have been fundraising on the website indiegogo.com to try to raise enough money to fund two trips to El Salvador this year. In addition to the price of the plane tickets, there is also food, lodgings, and daily transportation to consider. We are also asking for some money to help with transcription because that is the next step that needs to be completed in order for us to move forward towards completing the book. In total, we're trying to raise $3720.
So far we've raised $1525. It's an incredible amount of money. Most of this money has come in the form of $25 donations from people we know directly. Some has come in $10 donations, and we're incredible thankful for this level of support as well. a surprising amount has come in $100 donations which is absolutely thrilling every time it happens! I am mostly writing this to express how thankful I am for the support (emotional and financial) from these incredible people, including those who weren't able to give but spread the word among their friends who may be interested in our work.
I'm also writing the post to talk a bit about giving. If you're reading this blog, chances are you know Ruby and I personally. But just in case, let me give a bit of background information. Ruby and I are both Quakers (What's a Quaker?). Our Yearly Meeting (an organization that conducts business once a year with representatives from many regional Monthly Meetings) has a long-standing relationship with the Yearly Meeting of El Salvador, which means that we have several Quaker friends in El Salvador. One year when we were in El Salvador we went to a f/Friend's house to participate in their ministry to distribute food around the city to homeless folks.
Our friend gathered with several family members and a few other members of his Meeting and together they cooked up a few giant pots of food. They also made a large amount of coffee and a large amount of hot chocolate. They they loaded it all up in the back of a pickup, everyone piled in (three of us up front and the rest riding in the back with the food) and we set out into the dark streets of San Salvador. We drove around for a few hours, handing out food, coffee, and hot chocolate to people who were homeless -- some of them mentally ill, some of them business men who simply couldn't afford a place to sleep, some of them drug addicts. All of them grateful that someone took the time to bring them something hot to eat or drink.
This ministry isn't financially supported by their Monthly Meeting. We asked them later how much money they spent on the food each week, from their own pockets. It was an incredible sum of money, considering that none of them makes very much. Yet they feel honored to be able to do such work, not burdened.
So here's how I like to think about it when I'm trying to figure out how much money to give away: What don't I need? I don't really need to buy a $10 lunch out; a little foresight and I can prepare a lunch at home for a fraction of the cost.
I don't really need another $40 pair of shoes when I already have half a dozen. Instead, I could give $40 to a cause I believe in.
Or even longer term -- can I go two weeks without buying lunches out? If I had been buying lunch every day at an average of $8 per day, that's $80 saved over two weeks. Maybe I could give that money away.
If you're reading this, I would encourage you to take a couple minutes and think of something you want but don't really need. Maybe it's a new dress. Maybe it's dinner from a local restaurant you enjoy. Maybe its a six-pack of beer -- or a six-pack of ginger beer. How much does that thing cost? Consider donating it to our Indiegogo campaign instead, to help us write this history of an incredible human rights organization.
So far we've raised $1525. It's an incredible amount of money. Most of this money has come in the form of $25 donations from people we know directly. Some has come in $10 donations, and we're incredible thankful for this level of support as well. a surprising amount has come in $100 donations which is absolutely thrilling every time it happens! I am mostly writing this to express how thankful I am for the support (emotional and financial) from these incredible people, including those who weren't able to give but spread the word among their friends who may be interested in our work.
I'm also writing the post to talk a bit about giving. If you're reading this blog, chances are you know Ruby and I personally. But just in case, let me give a bit of background information. Ruby and I are both Quakers (What's a Quaker?). Our Yearly Meeting (an organization that conducts business once a year with representatives from many regional Monthly Meetings) has a long-standing relationship with the Yearly Meeting of El Salvador, which means that we have several Quaker friends in El Salvador. One year when we were in El Salvador we went to a f/Friend's house to participate in their ministry to distribute food around the city to homeless folks.
Our friend gathered with several family members and a few other members of his Meeting and together they cooked up a few giant pots of food. They also made a large amount of coffee and a large amount of hot chocolate. They they loaded it all up in the back of a pickup, everyone piled in (three of us up front and the rest riding in the back with the food) and we set out into the dark streets of San Salvador. We drove around for a few hours, handing out food, coffee, and hot chocolate to people who were homeless -- some of them mentally ill, some of them business men who simply couldn't afford a place to sleep, some of them drug addicts. All of them grateful that someone took the time to bring them something hot to eat or drink.
This ministry isn't financially supported by their Monthly Meeting. We asked them later how much money they spent on the food each week, from their own pockets. It was an incredible sum of money, considering that none of them makes very much. Yet they feel honored to be able to do such work, not burdened.
So here's how I like to think about it when I'm trying to figure out how much money to give away: What don't I need? I don't really need to buy a $10 lunch out; a little foresight and I can prepare a lunch at home for a fraction of the cost.
I don't really need another $40 pair of shoes when I already have half a dozen. Instead, I could give $40 to a cause I believe in.
Or even longer term -- can I go two weeks without buying lunches out? If I had been buying lunch every day at an average of $8 per day, that's $80 saved over two weeks. Maybe I could give that money away.
If you're reading this, I would encourage you to take a couple minutes and think of something you want but don't really need. Maybe it's a new dress. Maybe it's dinner from a local restaurant you enjoy. Maybe its a six-pack of beer -- or a six-pack of ginger beer. How much does that thing cost? Consider donating it to our Indiegogo campaign instead, to help us write this history of an incredible human rights organization.
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