Director of CoMadres visits the east coast

Here's a story from the Journal of International Affairs at The New School,  about Patty, the director of CoMadres, who visited New York, Boston, and Washington DC last month. Patricia Garcia, director of CoMadres, talks about the work of the committee and her experiences during the civil war.

Slow progress

I'm getting very anxious because I go back to work (knock on wood) in late August and the book is not coming together. I'm nearing the sheer panic stage, but trying hard to not let this feeling spiral out of control.
Inez and I made a new and improved outline. It feels simpler, but maybe it's just because I broke the book up into more chapters. One concern we have is that the book be readable to folks who don't have a college education, and for that reason we want each chapter to be fairly short and to have a clearly identifiable focus. Also I just couldn't seem to make it work using the previous outline. So far this one is working better.

Yesterday Heider, my transcriber/editor/Spanish tutor extraordinaire helped me write an intro to chapter 3. It  is just a simple straight-forward paragraph that lays out what's in the chapter and it's very satisfying to have that done.

Now I'm editing chapter 4, which is a compilation of stories of how various women came to be involved with CoMadres. I am reading the testimony of Transito. She talks about how happy she was to join the comité, that once she put on the black dress that was their uniform she wasn't afraid any more. How she was homeless, but found a piece of vacant land and built a champa or shack on it of cardboard and plastic sheeting for the roof, and how happy she was because during the day she would work in the CoMadres office and at night she had her little champita to go to.

Here's part of Transito's story:    They (the mothers) had gone out in a large march because some people had been captured and they were demanding their release. So I said to myself, "Here comes some activity." I was standing on the corner and I joined in. I saw that they were all in black. "Oh so this is the Committee of Mothers!" I said. So I went and talked to them. The compañeras greeted me because I told them I wanted to join. They told me, "Yes, join us." Well, I was happy because I had joined the committee. Later we went out, everyone giving out flyers where we asked for the liberty of those who had been taken prisoner. That's when I felt happy. "This is my place," I said, "here is where I'll stay."

Transito: from an interview in 2007) Ellas habían salido en una gran marcha porque habían capturado gente y ellas andaban reclamando. Entonces dije yo, “Viene una actividad,” y yo estaba así en una esquina, y me incorporé. Vi que iban todas de negro, “Ah pues, esto es el Comité de Madres,” dije yo. Bueno  yo llegué y platiqué. Las compañeras me recibieron bien porque yo les dije que yo me quería incorporar. Mi dijeron, “Sí. Incorpore.” Bueno, yo feliz porque me había incorporado con ellas. Vaya luego salimos, todos andábamos reyando volantes, donde se pedía libertad de los que estaban presos. Ahí yo me sentía feliz. “Este es mi lugar,” dije yo, “aquí me voy a quedar.” 

I had a fantastic visit with Patty, Blanca, Sofia, Trini, and other members of CoMadres at the end of November, 2012. Didn't find a publisher, but I learned a lot about the process and left feeling hopeful. One of the cool things I got to see was that, with the help of college students and others, the madres are converting their office into a monument to their history, as well as a place where they conduct their ongoing work for human rights. Here are a few photos of the murals, paintings and photos in the office. 

Mural of Romero with the people whose rights he defended, and Madre Alicia.

Gallery of photos of torture and murder victims-
a gruesome reminder of why CoMadres exists. .

Portrait of Romero. 

This is a small part of a large mural being painted of a typical march , with the Madres in their uniforms.  See the paint cans at the bottom? It's still in progress.

Painting of peasant woman and child. 

Here's the translation of the first page of chapter 2 of our book, which as of yet has no title. Please see the previous blog post for an explanation of this. It's just the first page, and so ends abruptly. .

Chapter 2:  Memories of Mother Alicia. These are her words, but they could be from any of a multitude of other mothers who experienced the same events in their lives over the years that led to war.

 I remember that Archbishop Romero said,

                "It is up to you to make road where there is no path. It is up to you to open gap between hills and brambles. You will encounter many obstacles along the way. You will stumble over many stones. But you will overcome, because the work we have started is very worthy. It is the defense of life. "

             Back in '74 is they started disappearing persons. I was 32, and people began to disappear. And at protest marches they began beating people, peasants. When campesinos came to the place for the march, and when they returned from the march, the Hacienda Police and the National Guard would capture and beat them, and then they’d leave them there in the road. So that people would see, and wouldn’t go to the marches. That was an order by the landowners.

            At that time, the army was quite independent. They considered the defense minister to be their boss. The president had no control over the army. No, no. The office of the Minister of Defense was in charge of the military-all of it. The Hacienda Police, National Police, National Guard ... he had power to command all the branches. And still does.

            The Hacienda Police used to guard the estates. But later they became a very repressive body, very criminal. The National Guard became criminal as well. At that time the National Guard received visitors  from other countries like the United States... and Europe. People said that U.S. military advisers came to help the authorities here. After the arrival of foreigners the National Guard began their criminal practices.

           Well, the thing is that there were people who were quite unhappy. And that discontent motivated people to organize. Unions increased organizing in the workplace; workers organized. Many cooperatives appeared; cooperatives were organized.

            After that came the repression of the march of July 30, 1975. In 1975, university students held a march where they demanded better conditions for education in college. They called for improved curriculum. And they wanted the classrooms to be improved. Because, [for example,] some of the chairs were ruined. Then wanted general improvements, to teaching and to the places where they had classes. That was the protest, the demand of the government. [1]

                But the government had prepared a large ... a group of soldiers. And there they was like ... a lack of control of everything. There was uncontrolled slaughter all because with this massacre, there was…

[1] The army took over the campus of Santa Ana of the University of El Salvador on July 25, 1975. The July 30, 1975 protest demanded that the military leave the University. 

Writing a chapter and looking for a publisher

We are making progress on the book. It's slow but it's definitely progress. At the end of November I'm going to El Salvador to see if I can find a publisher. (??!!!!) Yet another task in a long list of tasks for which I have absolutely no experience. But, since every step of the way has been like that, I'm starting to get used to it. For some reason I'm not too worried. Maybe it's because the history of el Comite de Madres is so important, and the work of these women so influential, that it speaks for itself.

But in order for the work to be able to speak for itself, we had to have something to show any potential publishers. So.....we have a chapter written! It's still in the rough draft form, but it's something. Something very exciting, in fact.

Here's the first page,(which ends rather abruptly) in Spanish. I'll post the English version soon.

Capitulo 2  Recuerdos de Madre Alicia.Estos son sus palabras, pero pueden ser de muchas otras madres que experimentaron eventos iguales en sus vidas durante estos años que llevaron a la guerra.

 Yo recuerdo que Mons. Romero dijo, “A ustedes les toca hacer camino donde no hay camino. A ustedes les toca abrir brecha entre montes y zarzales. Se van a encontrar con muchos obstáculos en el camino. Van a tropezar con muchas piedras. Pero ustedes van a lograr vencer, porque el trabajo que han iniciado es un trabajo muy digno. Es la defensa de la vida.”

             Ya en el ’74 es que empezaron las personas desaparecidas. Yo tenía 32 años. Empezaron a desaparecer personas. Y con marchas de los campesinos empezaron a golpear a la gente, a los campesinos. Cuando venían a la marcha y cuando llegaron de regreso, la Policía de Hacienda y la Guardia los capturaban y los golpeaban, y los dejaban ahí. Para que no se pudiera meter a la marcha. Ese era una orden ya de los dueños de la tierra. 

            En ese tiempo, el ejército era bastante independiente. Ellos solo veían como su jefe principal el Ministro de la Defensa. El presidente no tenía control sobre el ejército. No, no. El Ministro de la Defensa era él que mandaba a los militares—a todos. La Policía de Hacienda, la Policía Nacional, la Guardia Nacional… ellos tenían poder de mandar todos los cuarteles. Y todavía lo hacen. 

            La Policia de Hacienda antes era para que quidar a las haciendas. Pero después se volvió una policía bien represiva, bien criminal. También la Guardia Nacional se hizo un cuerpo militar bien criminal. La Guardia Nacional en ese tiempo había recibido gente que venía a visitarlos de otros países como… Estados Unidos y Europa. Y decían la gente que de Estados Unidos venían asesores militares a ayudar a las autoridades de aquí. Después de la llegada de los extranjeros  la Guardia Nacional empezó esa práctica.  

           Bueno, la cosa es que había bastante descontento de la gente. Y ese descontento llegó a que la gente se organizara. Los sindicatos aumentaron la organización de los centros de trabajo, organizaron los trabajadores. Aparecieron muchas cooperativas, se organizaron las cooperativas.

          Después de eso vino la represión a la marcha del 30 de julio, 1975. En este año 1975, los estudiantes de la universidad realizaron una marcha donde ellos pedían mejores condiciones para la educación en la universidad. Pedían que se mejorara el plan de enseñanza. Y querían que se mejoraran las aulas de la universidad. Porque,  [por ejemplo,] habían muchas sillas destruidas. Entonces ellos querían mejor para todo. Para la enseñanza y para los lugares donde ellos recibían clases. Esa era la protesta, la exigencia al gobierno.[1]  

          Pero ya el gobierno tenía preparado un buen… un grupo de militares. Y ahí sí hubo como… un descontrol de todo. Ahí se descontroló todo porque con esa masacre, ya sí había


[1] El ejército se hizo cargo del campus de Santa Ana, de la Universidad de El Salvador en el 25 de julio, 1975. La protesta exigió que los cuerpos militares saliera de la Universidad. Por eso se realizó la marcha de 30 de julio, 1975.

I don't know if I'll be able to find a publisher in this one trip, but we've got to start somewhere. I'm making some contacts before I leave Minneapolis. Our transcriber, Heider, says that in Latin America connections count for everything. We are certainly thin in the connection department, but I'm working on it and we'll see how it goes.

Now if only we could figure out a title for the book.

[Ruby] Putting 30,000 civilian deaths into perspective, or be an ant

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.

[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.