My Hard Corps Life: Funeral

Sometimes I honestly forget that I'm living in a "critical risk" country (according to the Embassy) in Central America with gangs and drugs and corruption. I just don't encounter much of that stuff in my daily life. As a PCV, I'm much more accustomed to artisan groups and futbol games than I am to assassinations.

But here I am.

Fredy, the alcalde (mayor) of Osicala, was murdered on Friday, October 18. I've only mentioned Fredy once in my blog, but he was a huge help during my first few days in site. He personally picked me up in San Miguel and drove me to my doorstep. He introduced me to important people who run the municipality, to the newly established tourism board, and to the rich lady who owns half the town. When Osicala had a cultural night in the town square to announce the grant that the town won for adventure and nature, he got up with the marimba band and played the "chish chishchish chish" thing. He even played trompo, a popular game, with the kids! He was very well liked by the community, and he was kind and welcoming to me.

I've talked to many people about his death. My project manager told me that if I try looking for answers I'm going to go crazy. "These kinds of things just happen in my country." My spanish teacher told me to not talk about it with the locals. "It's not good to look very concerned." My SSC said not to be surprised if it comes out that he was corrupt. "He was a politician after all."

I am concerned. No, I'm not concerned for my safety. I trust my Safety and Security Coordinator. If she says I'm fine, I'm fine. And no, I do not think the murderers have anti-American sentiments. Remember, I live in the country that lost half it's population to the United States in the late 80's. Everyone loves America (Ok, that's an exaggeration because of the deportations and horrible working conditions, but the general feeling is that America is where El Salvadorans live too).

I'm concerned because these people, from my community to the national level, have been through enough. I can't imagine living through a horrible war, enduring poverty and then when you finally have an alcalde who works hard to develop the community... he gets shot. Really? And that's just "something that happens?"

It's gotta be so hard to trust anyone. I'm lucky because my canton has had 5 PCVs before me. They get the drill. I come, I organize, and in two years I'll leave. In all reality they'll get another PCV to come do it all again. Every PCV wants to work themselves out of a job, but the community is such a good fit for PC and there's so much work to be done here that I think they'll always have a PCV. It's nice because most people trust me or they're at least open to the idea of a gringa working in their town.

Events such as Fredy's death rock the community, but it also brings people together. Saturday and Sunday night, all night, community members gathered in Fredy's house to eat, pray and talk. My host sisters spent the night there. They came home at 5am.

I opted to save my energy for the day long funeral on Monday. I went with Otinia, my community guide. We started the day by showing our respect to the family at Fredy's house. They had an open casket, which I thought was weird considering the way in which he was killed. I was too scared to get a good look, but I did noticed the creative frilling around his head. Probably to cover up some of the gross stuff.

We then walked with the body in to the town for a ceremony at the alcaldia and then at the catholic church. It was about 5km. In all it was a slow but eventful day. Part of experiencing a new culture is participating in important events. I'm glad I got to see the love and support from my community, even if the occasion was a sad one.