This past week I went to El Salvador for a little break.
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| The church in Suchitoto |
I stayed in Suchitoto at the Centro Arte para la Paz, an amazing
place with classes (for free) in art, music, drama, English, and more for the
youth of Suchitoto. It is an effort sustained by donations and by the zeal of
Sister of Charity Peggy O’Neill, a friend from decades ago. She was not there since
she was in the US.
It was a joy to see the center which regularly has
expositions on the history of the area. They are also restoring the former
chapel of San José, which was in ruins when they bought the land and buildings
(which were a former convent and school for girls, run by Dominican sisters who
fled in 1980 due to threats.)
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| Restoration of the chapel in the Centro Arte para la Paz |
I went to San Salvador twice, to see friends, to buy books,
and to visit the tombs of Monseñor Romero and the Jesuit martyrs.
I spent some time at the tomb of Saint Oscar Romero, the
martyred archbishop of San Salvador. There I recalled how I had dedicated my
diaconate to Monseñor Romero, recalling his commitment to the poor and
oppressed. I also prayed for friends. It was a time of renewal.
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| Romero's tomb |
When I visited the Jesuit University, I spent a few minutes
before the tombs of the Jesuits killed there in 1979. I stayed for the noon
Mass and was surprised when the young Jesuit priest noted that he was leaving the next
day to serve in Honduras, in Progreso.
In San Salvador I usually take taxis, for security reasons.
I got into one taxi near a shopping mall to go visit a priest friend of mine in
a poor neighborhood. As I looked over at the driver, I noticed a contraption
near the gear shift. All of a sudden I realized that his legs had been amputated
and he used the contraption in place of brake and gas pedals. I was amazed; he
did not let his “disability” disable him. I still marvel at how he drove in the
awful city traffic with such acumen. But even ore I am amazed at his dignity. I
will remember him for some time.
A highlight of my visit was my visit to Haciendita II, about
12 kilometers from Suchitoto, where I lived and worked in 1992. I saw many
friends there, including many from the family I stayed with (sleeping in a
hammock so that I wouldn’t take over anyone’s bed.) I got to see the youngest
son, now in his twenties, with his wife and two kids. His son was a little shy,
but at least he didn’t scream when he saw me, as his father did way back in
1992 when he was about three years old. This son, Esteban, is now an
extraordinary minister of communion in the parish and I was able to bring him a
pyx I had.
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| The church (of Saint Michael) in Haciendita II |
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| Esteban with his wife and kids |
I also met one of his cousins, in his early twenties, who
has a vegetable garden in the land around the house where he’s living. I was
delighted to see a young man (with a high school education) growing vegetables
for himself and others.
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| José Aurelio in his garden |
I also saw several of his sisters, two of whom are teachers
(with college degrees) and another is a health promoted. Their parents, Esteban
(who died of the consequences of dengue about 8 years ago) and Rosa Elbia,
deserve a lot of praise for encouraging their children to study and to serve
the community. It is also interesting that only two children are in the US,
having gone there more than ten years ago.
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| Rosa Elbia with two daughters |
I spent some time in another village with Lucía, a leader in
the faith community. She has shared much with me about the church in the parish
(for a book I hope to finish one of these days.) It was good to see her – but a
little sad to see that she seemed weaker. She explained how she had headaches and
couldn’t hear as well as before – perhaps remnants of the time during the war when
a bomb went off near her and damaged her ear. But that didn’t keep her from
sharing a mea with me – including some large thick Salvadoran tortillas.
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| Lucía |
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| Salvadoran tortillas are huge |
I visited another community, El Barillo, and visited briefly
with three women I had worked with in 1992. I dropped into the church where
they were preparing for a holy hour and happened to talk with a young woman
whose three brothers had been killed in a massacre of the seminarian Othmaro Cáceres
and about twelve young people in July 1980 in a nearby church under
construction in the hamlet of Los Leones. I sensed that the pain is still there as she spoke of the massacre. I hope they
have a celebration next year; I’d like to get there.
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| Church in El Barillo |
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| Memorial in El Barillo to the martyrs of the massacre of Los Leones, |
I left early on Friday to get home in the afternoon. The
journey went well, but…
I stopped near the turn off to San Marcos Ocotepeque for a
break and some snacks. As I left the parking area, I saw a man asking for a
ride. I asked where he was going - Santa Rosa. Then he went to the shade of a
nearby truck and his wife and two kids joined him in the back of the truck. I
stopped for a pineapple and a papaya and got them some cut-up fruit. I asked
where they were going - Colón, in the extreme northeast.
I stopped in Santa Rosa to get some supplies at a
supermarket and let them off. They were still walking when I left the
supermarket and so I offered them a ride to the turn off to Dulce Nombre. OK,
they said.
When I let them off, I asked where they had come from.
As I was beginning to suspect, they had been deported from
the US and had been travelling through Mexico and Guatemala - with nothing but
two small backpacks.
I gave them a pittance that might help.
I nearly cried as I drove home after leaving them off.
These four people are the victims of an unjust society here
in Honduras and of an unjust migration policy in the US.
Lord, have mercy. Señor, ten piedad. Kyrie, eleison.
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| In the church in Suchitoto |
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