Que te vaya bien

I am emotionally at sea. I found out yesterday morning that one of my former students left for the US. I had seen her in school on Monday afternoon, but didn't know she was leaving - didn't get to say goodbye.

She is a pillar in her community, a young woman of such strength and commitment that she inspires me every day. And her children - three of them - are some of the most wonderful, loving kids I know. Now they live with an aunt they hardly know in a different community, where I won't see them. I want so badly to visit them, to let them know that, in the midst of so much upheaval in their lives this week, there are constants, and one of those is that I love them.

There are so many worries swimming around in my head and heart that I don't even know where to begin. For one thing, dear heaven the journey is dangerous - often deadly. We are heading into the hottest part of the year, where dehydration claims probably (and this is just my guess) dozens of migrants' lives each day. On top of this, Central Americans face an especially long and arduous path, as Mexico is not known for being terribly welcoming of the people passing through. (And I say this, of course, not as any word against Mexico - it's simply the truth that things are especially dangerous for Central Americans migrating north.) There are more borders to cross, more unfamiliar territory, more opportunities to be attacked.

Traveling as a woman makes this exponentially more dangerous. She is traveling with a male relative, which I think played into the timing of her going, but still women are targeted infinitely more than men for sexually based attacks.

Then there is the question of her children. She has three kids between three and ten years old. They are all three wonderful, but her oldest is particularly special to me. We've gone on walks a couple of times and he taught me about all of the types of birds that are native in the area - with particular attention to how good a mama the torrogoz is. Púchica. The community they live in is not far away - it's actually between Suchi and El Barío on the bus line. But I'm not sure if my visiting them is appropriate. I have to figure that out, because this is killing me.

Just as the story of my teacher's sister and nephew was, this is one story of thousands. About 750 Salvadorans (Salvadorans alone) leave the country each DAY for the US. They are women and men with families and roots, just like the ones I described having myself a couple posts back. They have kids, lives, passions, and dreams. We have to ask ourselves WHY, what could possibly compel someone to leave those they love and undertake a journey and then a life of such danger? And you know what? All I can say is that I hate, I hate, I HATE the policies and trade agreements and big-bank-greed-based economic crises and gang violence that make leaving not only an option but a necessity.

At this moment, that hate is not quite all, but almost all that I have. I am wearing that hate, trying not to act out of it, but mostly I am filled with it. I think my love for her and her kids is what is keeping this from enveloping me more fully. And the love of my compañeros here. And the fact that I still have 50 other students that I love and need to teach well. So - surprise of surprises - I find that love is the only thing that can face off against and overcome hate.

Because she is one of the countless humans who will leave their homes this week to risk their lives in this way and for this end, please, please take a moment today, and tomorrow, and the next day to hold up their safety and well being - and that of their loved ones whom they leave at home or the loved ones who await their arrival. And in this situation in which no news is decidedly good news, pray for no news.

New photos - Salcaja

These are the photos from Wednesday's trip to the town of Salcaja, about half an hour from Xela. We visited a "campo de textiles" (literally a textile field). The folks in Salcaja weave a very specific kind of cloth that does now pertain to any specific ethnic group in Guatemala - something of a national semi-indigenous (though based on some Spanish methods) weaving tradition. Very interesting. The gentleman in the first photos took time off from his day to show us a bit of the process. The woman in purple and I interpreted (ha!) for him. Daunting, but doable. (And no, my Spanish is not anywhere near the point where I should be interpreting things.) The field is the only place in town long enough to set up the process, so they weave outside in a community setting rather than in individual houses.

We then visited the oldest church in Central America, La Ermite de la Virgen de la Concepcion la Conquistadora (the Hermitage of the Virgin of the Conception the Conqueror). It was built in 1524 and the altar is original. (The kind of freaky Virgin doll is decidedly not, in my estimation.) It was incredibly interesting being there after having spent the last four years partly in a program looking at colonization and the last five weeks immersing myself in a highly colonized atmosphere (though not so much more than our own - perhaps less in some ways). There's a lot to repent, that's for sure.

Finally, we went to a home brew place where a very local drink called Caldo de Fruitas (Fruit Soup) is made. Not my favorite drink - very sweet and fruity, shocker. But the family is also involved in the weaving process, so the man in the later photos demonstrated for us for a couple minutes.

Yesterday, we had an incredible conference on migration and globalization. The presenter in an incredibly astute, savvy ex-immigrant who "deported himself" back to Guatemala a couple years ago in order to work with youth here who "think that the US is the best place in the world" - so that they know the full reality of what they take on if they leave. And more importantly, to try to develop programs for deportees and a form of alternative economy that could prevent so many people from having to leave in the first place. One of the communities he works with here is a place we visited when I was here with CGE and is well worth a plug: the community of Santa Anita la Union, made up of 36 families in which the parents are ex-guerrilla combatants. It is a truly special community and it was really a privilege to hear our presenter's story. I don't have my notes right this second and I want my post on the conference to do it justice, so it will have to wait, but it is coming.

I am going to be studying in PLQ another week as well, which I'm thrilled about.

CAFTA

I am in the midst of writing an exam on trade, particularly trade liberalization in Central America. Obviously, one of our main foci is CAFTA, the Central American Free Trade Agreement. It is an agreement between the US and Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica which largely openned borders between the countries. It has had (and will continue to have) troubling impacts particularly in the agricultural sectors of the Central American countries.

When we drive around town, there is a lot of graffiti. One of the most common phrases is CAFTA NOS MATARA (CAFTA will kill us).

So I would like to recommend an article to folks about the process by which CAFTA was negotiated. It is by a man we met with earlier this week and was published in Revista Envío, a journal published by the Nicaraguan campus of the Central American University.

¨CAFTA will be like a brand-name Hurricane Mitch¨

Related to CAFTA (and a throwback to our last country), one indication of the desired relationship between El Salvador´s political establishment and the US: the Salvadoran negotiating team signed CAFTA sight unseen. A document of more than 3000 pages and they didn´t even bother to look at it first. (The relationship is often described as one where Salvador is the step-child trying to gain the love of the US.)