"You're all safe here"

Tell me something you know about El Salvador.

I bet many of you were thinking about child immigration or gang violence, and well, you wouldn't be wrong. The two are tied together- kids leave because it's not safe, young gang members are deported from the US, thus making it not safe. It's like a wheel.

This week we had another incident in my community and it'll probably never be solved or understood. The gossip was rampant, but now it's dying down. I'm hearing more of "Asi es la vida" than frivolous chambre.

This week we also celebrated inter-murals with the school. They don't have P.E. class, so they only get one week out of the year to play together outside. We make a big deal out of it. There's a parade with madrinas and posters, and some students have uniforms. It's supposed to be fun and unify the school.

Madrina Marilu with the 6th grade boys team.

My 9th grade girls.

3rd grade boys reppin Baca.

We walked up the highway that runs through my community. 

Talking with the students. 

When we made it to the cancha, the teachers explained to the kids that they are safe here. It was such a weird juxtaposition- these little kids with their posters and the dark cloud of violence hanging over them.

These pictures show a sea of faces, but they're individuals to me. I know these kids and I feel invested in their future. I don't want to say "Asi es la vida" because they deserve more than that. They deserve true safety and support.

I wish I knew how to make that happen.

Show me your team!

 Here's something I bet you didn't know about El Salvador: the people are more resilient than you can could ever imagine. Try to remember that when the statistics and dark clouds obscure your perception.

My two little neighbors who were madrinas eating their panes. 

Check out last year's inter-murals here.

Land of the free

I really miss America. I miss the ameba-free water, sewer systems, electrical grids, highways, opportunities, recreation, education... All the perks of living in a developed nation, basically. I loved America a little extra this Fourth of July now that I've lived in El Salvador for one year. Seriously, if PC teaches me anything (besides a profound appreciation for clean water) it will be that we are so fortunate to be Americans.

I use the word fortunate quite deliberately here. Illegal immigration isn't a new thing, nor is it very complicated to explain. People flock to America in order to have a better life, to provide for their families, and to escape the poor and dangerous communities they were born to. They face gangs, dehydration, dismemberment from the trains, and worse before even reaching the border. After that? Depends on how good your coyote is.

I know why they leave, and honestly, I can't really blame them. Even I get jealous when I hear about the sister who lives in an apartment in Arlington, VA with hot water, but I think the buzzwords they hear are paycheck and job. All three simply don't exist here.

It's no secret that men and women are constantly making the camino from my community. Some have even worked out a system where family members switch off years working in the US (and sending remittances home) until they are deported. One comes back and another takes their place. Those who are lucky enough to get steady work and avoid deportation generally never come back. Kids are raised by their grandmothers or aunts. A girl in my english class doubts she'll ever see her parents again. That is, unless she goes to them.

Since October more than 52,000 minors have immigrated to the United States. Most of the minors are unaccompanied and hail from Central America. They've called it an influx, a crisis, and depending on which side of the border you live, a great opportunity. America is hooking up children with their family who lives in the US! Let's go!

Wilfredo, my host nephew, left for the US with a coyote in February. He found out the coyote would take him and left within 24 hours. On his last night, family members kneeled in a circle and cried out to the Lord to protect Wilfredo on the camino. I don't believe I'll ever see such frightened and desperate praying again in my life. The next morning Wilfredo said goodbye to the only family he's known and left for a mother he hadn't seen in over 12 years. He crossed the border in 11 days, spent some time with immigration, and was reunited with his mother in 32 days total.

He'll have a deportation hearing. Sometime in the future. No one really cares or understands that now, though. He made it. And you'll make it too, if you've got the money.

There's been a big push to keep kids from leaving, even spawning a series of PSAs that show an aggressive coyote and a teen who ultimately dies from dehydration. I've never seen these PSAs on TV, and I have no idea if they'll help get the "No seriously, this is really dangerous!" message across. I'm thinking no.

America will always be there, and it will always be beaconing.

Let's get personal

As a Peace Corps Volunteer I'm expected to work with lots of organizations, women's groups, cooperatives- you name it. But I'm starting to think personal relationships are going to shape my service as well. 

There's a woman who lives next door to me. I won't share her real name, so let's call her Ana. Ana lived in Virginia some years back where she gave birth to twin girls. One day while Ana was at work she got a call from her partner that one of the baby twins was in the hospital. She was charged with neglect, then before there was even a trial she got deported. The girls stayed in the US because they were born there, so by law they're American citizens. They were put in foster care and eventually adopted. 

The girls are almost 8 years old now. The last time Ana had contact with the adoptive parents was in 2009, after a PCV helped her communicate with the girls' case worker. The parents sent some pictures and a letter saying they don't feel comfortable being in contact, so could she please send letters to the Department of Family Services where they'll collect them in a file for the girls to read when they turn 18? Shouldn't be too much trouble. Thanks, have a nice life. 

Now, listen. I don't want to get into a debate on America's immigration policy. (Thought I will say it sucks and it's degrading.) But I just don't understand how it's ok to take children away from their mother, and leave her with no real way to tell them that she doesn't know why they were taken away but she still loves them very much. If there was a case against Ana I guess I'd see the "protective services" part, but she wasn't afforded due process. Just a pair of handcuffs and a plane ride south. 

She hasn't shared her story with another gringo since 2009, when the PCV helped her get some photos and that letter from the adoptive parents. Listening to her speak makes me feel angry and sad at the same time. I'm ashamed too, because I can't explain to her why the adoptive parents don't have to talk to her again or tell her how the girls are doing. She didn't ask me to get her kids back. She knows there are forces against her that are much stronger than a Peace Corps Volunteer can handle. She would like to send a letter. The girls only speak English, so I'd have to translate what she wants to say. Maybe we could give the caseworker a call, in case she lost Ana's number. 

I'm no lawyer, but I do speak impeccable English and I can surf the web like a pro. I don't know what I'll be able to do, but I'm going to do whatever it is I can to help this woman.