Lorna's Reflections on the People of Puente Azul

It was Monday. We had been in El Salvador since Thursday just hanging out, learning about the culture and just being well tourists. But now it was time to start what we came here to do, work. None of us knew where we were going or what exactly we would be doing. When we got there we were all filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness. When the hot bus finally came to a stop we all sat up and looked out the windows, only to see the worst poverty that anyone had ever experienced. As we stepped off the bus and into the hot humid air we were greeted by a group of kids (most of which weren’t fully dressed). None of us new what to say we just kind of stood there. Marco went up to one of the men and started talking to him. He was an older gentleman but was obviously the one who would be guiding us. We had brought bags of toys for the children but weren’t really sure at first how to give them or even introduce ourselves to them. We decided to just get them out and see how it went from there. Chris with the crayons, jacks and a matching game successfully attracted and occupied the younger kids. I decided that since Uno was such a big hit at the Synod that it couldn’t go wrong here. Me and about 5 other older children sat down. Using my newly learned Spanish numbers I tried really hard to explain it. But the language barrier got in the way yet again. They were looking at me like I was dumb, yes me dumb, I know it’s hard to believe but they were. I passed out the cards and they had no idea what to do. I realized that maybe a ball would be a better idea, and it was. I don’t remember exactly when the little wide-eyed, smiling girl, named Christina took my hand and led me inside the church. They had set up the plastic chairs in a circle. Christina was so desperately trying to tell me they wanted me to play duck, duck, goose. Finally I understood that Pato, Pato, Gonzo meant duck, duck, goose. So I sat down not really knowing how this was going to work, but before I knew it, I was running around the circle trying not to step on Nappo and catch them! The little boy who had picked me...this was fun...finally a game we can play. It was probably the 20th time I had run around the circle, I was soaked with sweat and tired, that I realized that I hated pato, pato, gonzo. Then I saw their little smiles, I mean everybody was laughing and screaming in joy. I knew I couldn’t go take a water break by the bus or even work outside for a little bit because that moment was way too precious. Who would have thought that I would go to El Salvador to play Pato, Pato, and Gonzo? IT was at the end of our stay, Friday. We had bought these two HUGE piñata’s one chicken little and the other was a yellow dinosaur. We stuffed them with the McDonalds toys that my little sisters still have noticed were missing, and candy. There were a ton of kids all gathered around, but before we could have fun and let them play with them we had a worship service to attend. The small concrete church was packed! (most of them being children) After the almost blind man sang, the preacher talked for a little while, and I struggled through the presentation of the gifts we had bought for pastor Luis (a bed, portable shower, pillows, blankets and a few lanterns). It was time to line the many kinds up so they could hit the piñatas. It was a huge success, as soon as the piñata broke it was like seagulls on a piece of bread. I was crazy. For the second piñata Dale broke it. And again it was a frenzy. It was finally time to leave. As we all said our tearful goodbyes to the children and the people of Puente Azul and made sure that everybody was on the bus we pulled away from the village. All of the children were waving as we left. While we were sitting on the bus I think that we all felt an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction and sadness. We watched the sudden poverty change back into the city as the bus rocked over the terrible roads. We were finally going home probably never to return again. Or were we? Was this goodbye forever? Probably not, definitely not?! Maybe we should have been saying see ya later.

Reflecting on the City of San Salvador

Psalm 119:156-157

Your compassion is great, O LORD; in accord with your edicts give me life.
Though my persecutors and foes are many I do not turn from your decrees.

San Salvador is the capital of El Salvador, and it is home to about half a million people. It's the fourth largest city in Central America. It's in the center of the country at several thousand feet in elevation. Weather was hot but comfortable. The city was vibrant and busy, with nice views of the surrounding hills and volcanoes. There is lots of chaotic traffic.

Like all big cities, San Salvador has poverty and wealth. We saw corrugated-tin shanties along the river banks, poor neighborhoods near where we stayed, and on our way to church a youth passed out, sprawled in the middle of a major road. Marco said that he was probably unconscious from huffing chemicals. We also saw nice restaurants, a university, good neighborhoods, upscale shopping districts, malls, modern grocery stores, and super-walmart-style retail. One thing that stood out right away is the security and defenses. Most buildings had metal bars and concertina or barbed wire around the roof. Most stores had armed security with pistols, shotguns, or machetes, including the grocery stores and hardware stores. The souvenir market where we shopped was completely enclosed by a concrete wall and security fence, along with armed guards.

Another set of experiences we had in San Salvador related to the events of the civil war. One of our first visits outside the Synod was to the chapel at a university. The chapel was fairly typical, until we noticed the very large chalk drawings on the back wall, which depicted mutilated, naked, tortured bodies. From the Internet I found this explanation:

The Stations of the Cross in the chapel at the University of Central America, a Jesuit college in San Salvador, El Salvador, are especially graphic. They portray in unflinching detail, the torture visited upon Salvadorans by right wing death squads and the U. S. backed government during that country's civil war in the 1980s. These stations serve as a reminder that many people walk the way of the cross every day, denied justice and dignity as Christ was, by powerful political forces.

The university was home to six Jesuits who spoke out on behalf of the Salvadoran poor, and advocated a negotiated settlement to the war. On November 16, 1989, these men were dragged from their beds by Salvadoran soldiers and shot in the head with high-powered rifles. The Jesuits' housekeeper and her 15-year-old daughter were also shot to death.

While at the University, we saw the memorial museum and rose garden for these victims, which was at the place where they lived and died. We also viewed photo albums of the scenes of their murders. The skulls and brains and blood were a terrible assault on my senses, made worse by the fact that these people were slain for speaking out for justice and peace. One impression that has stuck with me was a diagram in the museum showing the location of the military troops as they took up positions around the priests' residence. They were evenly spread out in what I'm sure was the proper tactics for attacking a building and preventing escape. It stuck with me because it showed the cold and efficient result of society that had become a culture of death, in which someone decided it was a good idea to send a squad of soldiers to kill a house of priests and others.

We visited the church and home of Oscar Romero. Romero is the most famous martyr from the war, and also preached the message of peace and justice. For this he was eventually shot to death during mass in his church.

While in San Salvador we saw the Archibishop Gomez and his wife several times. Marco taught me that we could call him Obispo, which is Spanish for bishop. On Sunday we attended his church. He preached about the government, injustice, and recent events related to gang arrests. He sang happy birthday to Sherry and Denise, and Dale helped serve communion. Several other clergy and mission teams were there from France and Las Vegas. The bishop hosted a reception for all the guests in the courtyard of the church, and our group presented his church with the gift of a guitar.

Near the end of our trip, Bishop Gomez and his wife hosted a dinner party for us at their house. The food and entertainment were excellent. We were served traditional Salvadoran food. Before dinner we all squeezed into the house for a conversation with the Bishop. He talked of his family, and he also shared the story with us about his own kidnapping in 1984 by the death squads. He was held for three days until international pressure secured his release.

Finally, we had a fun night in San Salvador when Marco and Gus took us to a popular pupuseria on a mountainside overlooking the city. A pupuseria is a restaurants that serves pupusas, which seems to be *the* national dish. The restaurant was on a street full of people, music, and artists. We had a great night view of the city lights.

Overall, the city was exciting, depressing, energetic, dangerous, safe, modern, poor, wealthy, saddening, sobering, and fun. Many of the people we encountered there, mainly through the Synod, spoke about the problems their country faces, but demonstrated a passion, hope, and faith in positive changes for the country.

Some Work Pictures from Puente Azul

Here are some pictures that illustrate Eric's reflections on the work we did in Puente Azul. John Saalwaechter is the photographer.

Eric Ostby's Reflections on Working at Puente Azul

What follows are the reflections of Eric Ostby that he shared in worship on Sunday, October 8, 2006, at Central Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), Lebanon, Indiana.

When we arrived at the worksite, we saw an old one-room church from which we would build a parsonage off of. A brief celebration was held, at which time we began clearing the site. First, we brought down two trees. However, one stump took some extra effort to remove, so it stayed a while longer. During this time, we dug up and removed some huge boulders from the ground. Finally , the stump was pulled from the ground. Around this time, we realized that we would need a trench dug for the foundation. We took most of the dirt that had already been moved out and put it back into the middle to form the trenches. That finished our first day of work.

The second day was quite a bit like our own airport time: Hurry up and wait. We only had a few shovels and pickaxes, so a handful of us began breaking up rocks for later use. The soon-to-be-infamous cry of "Rock me!" was created during this use of time. The rebar triangles used to stabilize the walls were also constructed as the trench progressed.

Day 3 was more trench-digging, but the foundation was almost ready. The trenches all had to be 90 centimeters (about 3 feet) deep, and most were there by the end of this day. A few even had rebar in them.

The final day of work was strenuous, but everyone was satisfied by the end. The rebar had been laid in the ground, rocks had been placed to hold them in position, and concrete was being poured as fast as it could be made and passed. Other pieces of rebar were sticking up so blocks could be placed later. Even though we were told that this would be our starting point, we felt like we had done good things, and left this parsonage in a reasonable state.

Since our return to the States, the walls of the parsonage have gone up. While not all of our experiences may have been happy, we won't forget or trade them for anything else. This trip was an experience of a lifetime that everyone should have.