My last days in El Salvador

It wasn't all doom and gloom my last days in El Salvador. My host family and PCV friends did a lot to celebrate my time with me and send me off well. Here are some pictures from my last week in El Salvador:

Seder time! I used the time together to tell some PCVs in person that I was leaving. It was really sad, but everyone was supportive. And I love Seder. It's my favorite cross-cross cultural activities we do. Thanks to Hil and Noah!

Me and Maria in all our Kosher glory. 

The next day me and Amanda went for a hike and swam in this waterfall. It was so beautiful! 

Waterfalls were a big part of my service. Only fitting that I climbed one more.

Our guide, Prudi. I've known him through Noah and Hil, and he was an amazing guide. We talked about the future of El Salvador and how he sees things. I really valued his opinions. 

On Wednesday I made pupusas for the community. People were impressed!

Me and Orbe serving up pupusas hot!

I had two despedidas at the school. I was so surprised! Here's me with the 9th graders and my cake, it says Gracias por todo/Thanks for everything. 

Cutting the cake. Then they rubbed some on my face because that's what you do!

They also gave me a t-shirt with all their names and mine on it. Here's me with the boys.

And the girls. 

The next day I had a surprise despedida with the teachers. So much food!!!!

I would have dressed up, but all my clothes were packed. It was so kind of them and they had nice things to say. The school was my little oasis in the community, so I was happy to spend time with them before I left. 

On my last day we made marquesote (a type of sweet bread) so I could bring it home to my family. Here's my host dad whipping eggs.

And we aprovechared the oven and made pizza! It was the best pizza we've ever made. Kati and Xio making food. 

Josefina and my Aysel on Sunday morning, the morning I left my community. 

I immediately started crying when Aysel walked through the door. That was my gut reaction. I wish I could take her with me. 

Otinia was my rock from the beginning. Saying goodbye to her was hard. 

Right after this group photo I sobbed on everyone. Like can't breath, snot nosed sobs. I will never, ever forget them.

Me ringing the bell. It's over :(

My PM, Clelia, and I.  

Irma, my life saving PCMO, and I. 

It was an exciting moment. 

I really wanted to share these photos because this is how I remember my community: selfless, caring people who just want to support me and take me in.

I ask that you keep an open mind regarding my situation. I never want someone to think, "Oh El Salvador, that place is terrible." Please don't generalize and please don't think I resent anything. I have fond memories and abundant love for my community, for PCES, and for my fellow PCVs. I'm thankful for this experience and I'll carry it with me forever.

Goodbye, El Salvador

I left El Salvador.

I spent the past 30 minutes deciding how I should write that out, but now is not the time to be crafty or funny. I think simply is the best way to tell the world that my experience is over, done, terminated. 

It might come as a bit of a shock for my blog followers. Sorry. I've really been avoiding this. My blog has been with me from the start and ending it feels like the final nail in the coffin. I hate that I'm writing this even now, but I want to tell you all what happened and why I decided to leave. 

The month of March was particularly brutal in El Salvador. It was also a devastating month for my community. While we are no strangers to violence, the events of March proved to be different. There was a definite change in how the community saw itself and how we interacted. As if the people of my community haven't suffered enough from the lifelong effects of the internal war, now they're caught up in the "modern" gang wars. 

Simply put, in March there was another security incident that was closer to home (literally, down the street from my house) and more devastating to the community. I use the word devastating again because that's truly what it was. We slid on the scale from "We have occasional incidents" to "Don't leave your house." 

The chambre was outrageous as to why it happened or how it happened, but everyone could agree on one thing: the community just isn't what it used to be. People feel helpless. Really though, once the gangs move in to a community there isn't much you can do, except keep your kids in the house and pay up if you're asked to. 

It's fairly easy to identify gang violence: Was it a brutal murder? Yes. Was the victim innocent? Yes. Did the events of the murder manipulate or intimidate regular community members? Yes. Did it happen in broad daylight? Yes. Will the police help or give you information? No. 

I brushed on the incident in a blog post, believe it or not. That parade was so poignant. It'll stay in my memory for a long time. But the truth is, I didn't understand how the incident was affecting me until a few weeks after. I went through a lot of feelings, and multiple times throughout the day I would flip on how I dealt with the new reality of my situation. I knew the gangs would most likely not target me, because the gangs in El Salvador don't target random people. Their victims are usually family members of rival gangs, businesses that don't pay la renta, or people who stand up to them. I would know I was on their radar if they asked to do something or pay, and no one ever did so I'd feel fine for a while. But then I couldn't be certain that I wouldn't see one of my students' bodies on the side of the road walking home from the cancha, and I'd feel anxious and scared. I didn't realize it at the time, but I spent five straight days in my home after the incident. I knew that home was safe, and if I just stayed at home I would be fine. I planned my financial education and English classes for the last five months of my service at the school so that I would potentially only leave the house on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The school is across the street from my house. 

I had a bit of a breakdown in the following weeks. My fellow PCVs, who were concerned albeit annoying, kept asking me questions like if I felt safe in my community or what our safety and security officer was doing for me. I didn't have answers for them and that made me even more frustrated with the situation. I'M the one who has to deal with this, so why don't I have any answers!? It all kept coming back to the line, what is the line? When will Peace Corps tell me that the violence in my community has crossed the line? 

I found out the hard way that there is no line. Every PCV has their own line, and we crossed my line in March. I was going crazy. My subconscious was talking to me, but I didn't want to listen. I'd hear a mango fall in the middle of the night and my mind instantly would go to "Were those footsteps? Who is it? Why is there someone outside my window?" But it was just an overripe mango. 

I talked it over with my Project Manager (actually, I sobbed while she talked) and I came to the conclusion that it was my time to go. I really, REALLY did not want to be the one to make that decision, but ultimately I did. I didn't want to leave, clearly the past 22 months proved that I could integrate and live in El Salvador, but I also couldn't stay in my community. Sure I could have lived as a hermit for the next five months, but who knows what would be left of me when it came time to COS in October? Because there was so few months left in my service I wasn't offered a site change, but I was too many months out to Early COS. I was left with the dreaded early termination exit. Yeah, I was a little peeved how that went down. I didn't want to leave, but I also couldn't go on living in my site and keep my wits about me. I took the best option available to me, and that happened to be ET. Now that I've had some time to reflect, I know that the ET distinction won't mean jack squat in one year, 5 years, 10 years time and I ultimately made the right decision for me. 

I originally asked for 2 weeks to say my goodbyes, because I always feared there being an incident that would pull me out quickly. We settled on one week, but I realized that even a week was too much time. My first night back in site after meeting with my PM I heard noises outside my window and my subconscious immediately triggered bad things. I spent a solid 45 minutes straining my ears to figure out why there was a person outside my window at 2:00 am. In the morning I found it it wasn't a person at all. The horse got loose and was eating the mangoes. It's embarrassing, but kind of shows you where my mind was at. Those damn mangoes... 

And what's worse is that I wasn't alone. My host family and people all around me were scared, too. The difference between me and the next guy is that he is surrounded by all his family and friends. Even though I love my host family, I was ultimately alone. On my last night in site my host family and I were watching a movie when we heard three loud blasts. All it took was one look between my eldest host cousin and her uncle, and she got her brothers and sisters up and left the house. We don't know what those blasts are, but we don't want to find out either, so the best thing to do is lock yourself in your house. I knew in that moment that I was doing the right thing for me. 

I'm grateful I had the privilege to leave that situation. 

I spent a week in San Sal filling out paperwork and doing final medical appointments. On my last day  of service, April 23, 2015, I rang the "Close of Service" bell. I had hoped I'd ring it with my COED13s after the full 27 months, but you know, my service didn't go as planned. Come to think of it nothing really happened like I thought it would, but I don't regret a thing. I wouldn't change a single moment of my PC service because then it wouldn't be my service. I can't imagine PC without strict security rules, or my ridiculous ADESCO, or even amoebas. I didn't pick El Salvador, but I'm glad I ended up there. I can honestly say I integrated into Salvadoran culture, maybe even more so than if everything was smooth and secure. I can hear the crotchety placement officers of Peace Corps past ringing in my ears, "If you aren't flexible then you won't make a good Peace Corps Volunteer." 

Well, I think I was a good PCV. And now my service is over.