Good eats

We've had a really bad drought here in El Salvador the past month or so. I absolutely rejoiced last month when I though the scattered T-storms we experienced signified the end of summer. Nah nah nah. All moisture quickly dried up right after I clicked "Publish" and we haven't seen a drop since. I swear this blog can be cursed sometimes.

I'm getting pretty angry at the skies because my rain dances (which I resumed last week) haven't paid off. My host mom tells me that I must be patient because God will send rain when he is ready. So.... anytime's good! Send it on down!

What does this mean for your average subsistence farming salvadoran? Hunger and pain. All of the corn has dried up and the beans are long gone. People are talking about dramatically high food prices and I'm sitting over here dripping sweat at 7am again.

Yesterday, August 1st, was a very special day in salvadoran culture. They call it "Dia que mata el hambre" or "Day that kills hunger." Because, IDEALLY, this is when you cut some of your miaz nuevo off the stalks to make tamales, tortas, tortillas, and atol. It's a celebration of a strong start to the growing season. My family, being the "rich" people in town, were able to buy some fresh corn off a man who has his milpa close to the river (better access to water, I suppose). All of our corn is dead.

My host mom made a very thick, rich atol. It's a drink made of baby corn mash, milk straight from the cow, salt, sugar and cinnamon. I drank the whole mug, not because I particularly like consuming liquid fat, but because I respect the hard work that went in to growing the maiz. The tamales were adorably miniature and had whole chunks of corn inside. They think I'm crazy because I like to put honey on my corn tamales. It's good, I swear!

It's going to be a long, hard season and I'm not sure how my community will cope. All we can do is pray and rain dance.

Rainy season

We've officially hit rainy season here in El Salvador. May was a smattering of storms and clouds, but June is sure to bring daily downpours and of course, mold.

But I'm ok with it. I'm known around PCES as The Girl Who Rain Dances. Throughout the dry season I experienced what true thirst is and how this dusty mountainside lives without access to water. I'm honestly dreading December when the skies start to dry up again. If I take away anything from my PC service, it will be a profound appreciation for clean drinking water.

I've celebrated the onset of rainy season by relaxing. I've maxed out several data plans FaceTiming with my family and listening to the greatest team in hockey advance in post-season (Gimme a win tonight, Hawks!). I also spent the majority of yesterday hanging out with my host family. I colored with Aysel, watched the now ex-president's farewell rant on public access TV with my host dad, and ate tamales with Ive. I also earned the nick name Tamale Ale because I gorged myself on 8 tamales. So much for that post-USA-visit diet...

I justify the lazy time to myself because I had a heck of a week. After the sneak attack ADESCO meeting on Tuesday, I took it upon myself to invite all of the women of my casario to participate in electing a taller. Talleres (pronounced thai-airs) are essentially workshops. Cuidad Mujer, the NGO we're soliciting to lead the taller, gave us three options: bread making, food preparation, cosmetology, and sewing. I think they're all great opportunities for the women in my community and wanted to make sure everyone got a say.

Well the thing is, I live on a densely populated mountainside. To invite one vecina, you need to invite the other, and the other. You'd think the neighbor could just share the info next door, but it's really important in Salvadoran culture to be personally invited. It's a sign of respect and most people can't read, so you can't just leave an invite. Up the mountain, down the mountain. Side step the cows and hurdle the poop. It took me 6 exhausting hours and I still missed some women.

But wow, was I surprised. The women showed up! Like, 23 women! That's a pretty decent turn out.

I'm especially proud of my new friend Lorena who was the first to arrive. She's a young woman who lives with her husband and daughter in a bamboo and mud shack built on to the side of the mountain. She has the most gorgeous view of the valley, hands down. She's also never been invited to anything before in her life. It makes sense now that she was terrified of this clumsy gringa climbing her way up the boulders to her house. People just don't make the effort. Her coming to the meeting is a direct consequence of me visiting her, and that makes me feel like it all paid off.

The meeting itself went well, even though my counterpart backed out and left me to lead the whole thing by myself. Just me with 23 women + all their wiggly, whiney small children. I'm proud that I pulled it off and we had a nice, clean voting process (sewing won). But I did have a moment with my counterpart afterwards. Words were exchanged, and let's just say that was the last time I lead a meeting for the ADESCO. I work with the ADESCO, not for them. Explaining my role in the community is an on-going process.

And now we wait to see if our request is granted and we're sponsored for a taller. I'm lead to believe the microfinance insitution pulls some weight with the NGO, so our chances are good. Either way, I foresee more days of invitations in the future.