Was it all in vain? – by Nelson/Roberto

While surfing the web this week, looking for other blogs about El Salvador I came a across the A Different View of a Good Life blog. The author meg has spent some time living in El Salvador and she writes about her accounts there. In this post she talk about the violence in El Salvador.

El Salvador has a culture of violence and trauma reinforced by a history of a brutal civil war; a war that ended with some peace accords that basically lied to the people by saying things were going to change. It is true, things did change. Many say that the poverty rate is worse now than when it was in the war. Imagine that, the people have gotten poorer? The rich politicians have brought in their neoliberal politics and trade agreements (CAFTA) to benefit their friends in corporations. And the people are slowly losing their right to march and protest the injustice going on in their country because as the government likes to say, the protests of the left are terrorist acts, so now there is new terrorist legislation.

Then there are the gangs. The gangs of El Salvador originated in the US, but with the slick deportation process of the US government, El Salvador found a new problem to deal with. The gangs are neither leftist or rightist, but Tony Saca likes to think the gangs are all leftist (even if Arena does pinta y pega with gang members during the elections). And so, with the easy solutions of the Arena government, all the youth of El Salvador are a target. So much for treasuring your future!

So when you couple a history of violence with a people in growing need for food, shelter and jobs, youth who are being targeted, gang members who target everyone (especially busses), and the slow political process that takes human rights away one by one, one might find a breading ground for a whole mess of effects brought on by this culture. One such effect is widespread violence.

A lot goes on in this country every day. Busses are attacked and burned if they didn’t pay the gang fare. Patrons of busses are robbed or killed every day. In the night there are shootings, and we have a homicide rate that is through the roof. Occasionally there are protests, but the last one turned into a police instigated riot with helicopters equipped with gunmen.

A few months ago one of my cousins almost died her when her husband shot her and killed their baby son. This was very hard on my grandmother and it took her a while to get over it. Maybe a year before another cousins on my fathers side died in a car jacking incident.

I wasn’t close to either of them but in a way this is so depressing to me. I mean my family lost so much in this war. My mother gave her life and my father lost his home, his wife and his son for 16 years. For what? so that the country could become even poorer?

He has been through some very hard times in his life and you can see how the war has affected him. I would hate for him to find out it was all for nothing…

Part 2: My origins, how I was separated – by Nelson/Roberto

With the introduction of my birth family came the information of my past and the story of my life.

My story begins even before I was born. My birth father and mother where around 20. My father had been influenced by high school teachers to join the revolutionary movement in El Salvador. Soon after he began his work he met my other Ana Milgro Escobar. Despite objections from her family she joined the movement as well. They were married shortly after in a ceremony of arms.

The group they were a part of the was called the FPL which was one of the sub groups that made up the FLMN. My father was a body guard to the head of the FPL while my mother worked to coordinate the different cells. (In the war people worked in smaller groups called cells. If one cell was captured it did not know enough to give away any information.) This was a very important potion for my mother who had just turned 20.

Later that year, my father was in a gunfight somewhere in the mountains of El Salvador. He was shot inches away from his heart. He spend 3 long days in hiding barely hanging on to life. If one of his brothers had not given him blood he would have surely died.

He was taken to Nicaragua for surgery. He managed to survive the operation but needed a second one to remove the bullet. This required him to go to Cuba. After four months in Cuba he had not gotten the operation and returned to Nicaragua to see my mother. At this point, my brother and sister had been sent to live in Costa Rica with my Grandmother. It was around this time that I was born. My mother and I lived in El Salvador for three month before it became unsafe to live there anymore.

My mother was supposed to meet up with my father in Costa Rica, but it never happened. She was reassigned on a new mission. She and two other men kidnapped a businessman in Honduras. We lived in a safe house for a few months, but the Honduran government found out where she was living. They stormed the house and killed my mother and the two men. This was three days before my first birthday. The police found me in a back room with two other little girls.

They did not know what to do with us so we were put in an orphanage. I stayed there for a whole year before I was adopted. They put sever notices in the paper saying that if any was missing children or knew the who we were they should come forward and claim us. No one came forward and after a year in the orphanage I was adopted.

Around this time my birth father had found out that his wife had been killed and his son was missing. He was furious at certain people within the FPL because they would not let him look for me or give him any information. Disillusioned he left the revolution and warned around Central America. He ended up in Panama where he worked 2 jobs only to earn $20 in a month. One of these jobs was doing silk screening. Think that he could do that on his own he set off to make a better life. He remarried and was able to create a stable business for him and his family.

Through a friend he learned that I had been adopted to a family in America. He began thinking about coming to America to look for me. However he had no idea where I lived so it would be impossible to find me.

In 1992 my grandmother began her search to find me. It took her a year to find an organization that would help her. An organization called Probusqueda spent four more years going though newspapers and whatever government documents they could get their hands on trying to find me. They finally completed their research in 1997 after doing an Internet search to find our phone number. We where contacted by a man working for the Physicians for Human Rights and given a copy of all their findings. After a blood test confirmed that they were my family we made arrangements to meet them during Christmas.

Part 1: The adoption, a leap of faith and a miracle reunion.

A love like no other – by Eva

Since this is a blog about my mother, as a mother I cannot escape to talk about the love a mother has for her children.

Let me tell you, that is not easy at all even though being a mother is the most incredible experience I’ve ever had… At the beginning it was a shock for me. I thought to my self: Oh my Goodness! I have a person inside of me! Tiny and invisible but in the end a person! A new life, a human being!” Then I thought about all the responsibility it means… but then a feeling that I cannot explain came to me and I started to feel so lucky. What a wonderful gift it is being able to give life! I waited for my child and enjoyed the experience. Every day I saw my belly getting bigger in front of the mirror and as months passed by I finally enjoyed not being able to sit as a normal person any more. I use to refer to the baby as a him, but the day I realized it was a HER my heart started to pump and a joy I can’t explain filled me… It was a baby girl! After a few months she started to hit, it is incredible to realize a human being is inside of you and full of life. I used to feel her little feet and knees while she was moving, we both were one.

I spent 24 hours of labor and finally on Tuesday July 21, 1998, Daniela Sofia Sancho Coto was born. So tiny and delicate, she opened her eyes and didn’t cry. I think she was more interested in knowing what was going on instead of crying. This day the journey started.

My daughter is now almost nine and she is the most important person in my life. Please don’t misunderstand, there are a lot of people so important for me but your own child is the most important person on the planet. Once you have children they become your world. Even if you got home so tired and all that you want is to sleep, you still have to be strong enough to listen every detail she is saying, and listen to her talking for an hour with no interruptions… You still have to be able to think about the homework she brings from school, make her dinner and then exercise with her for one hour more. This when you don’t have a motivation to scold her if she has done something wrong…Finally the angel goes to sleep, and when you see her sleeping you know the day has been accomplished, but then you breath deeply and think, the mission hasn’t finished yet…

I have to say that I’ve never understood much about the purpose of being a mother. As we are developing as mother or parents, we are discovering to ourselves as well and it makes our task even more difficult. We have to handcraft this person and decide what is right and wrong for our children while at the same time for ourselves. This brings me to the purpose of this blog and to talk about my mother. If you think about what I just said it is inevitable to think about what our mother did for us. Maybe she regretted not being able to see us grow up everyday, maybe she didn’t enjoy looking at us sleeping, maybe she missed a lot of birthdays, but I have not doubt she loved us with this unconditional love. I can assure you she sacrificed herself for us, and now as a mother I totally understand her decisions. As young people, we use to judge our parents and expect them to be perfect but the truth is that there are not perfect parents, just parents full of love and that was her love, a love like no other…

Holocaust Museum – by Nelson/Roberto

Today I went to the Holocaust Museum in Washington DC. If you have not gone to a museum about the Holocaust then it is something I would recommend doing. It’s a very emotional experience. A lot of people have learned about it school and know about the death camps and other horrible things that took place. However you don’t really understand what all that meant until you see some of the images in person. Even then I could not even imagine being there in person and what those people must have gone through.

This was not my first time going to this museum. I had been once before on a school trip in 8th grade. I feel like it meant a lot more. When I went last time it was a really different experience. I was having a bad day so I kind of walked trough it with out taking it in. I also think this time I had more of a connection to it because of what happened to my family. In 8th grade I had not met my family yet and I did not know anything about the war in El Salvador.

While what happened in Germany does not compare to the things that happened in my country I think there are still parallels. For example we had secret police and paramilitary squads death. Some of them would punish supporters of the revolution by steeling their children. Thankfully what happened in my country was not as horribly brutal as what happened during the Holocaust.

I think the most moving part was the hearing the survivors talking about there experiences. They told stories about walking days on end while taking turns sleeping. People being left for dead on the side of the road because they could not carry on. One women had to step on the bodies of the dead to escape a death camp. As they spoke you could see the determination they had to a live and to make it. I truly admire them for that. You could see the pain on there faces as they recalled everything they had been through. I’ve seen that look on my own father’s face as he recalled his experiences in war.

One main cried as he described how he had to leave a 10 year old boy with a farmer. The little boy was to weak to walk with him and the farmer would take of him. The boy didn’t want to leave him and asked why the Nazis were doing this to him. All the man could say is because you are circumcised and Jewish. You could see the choke back the tears as the emotions came flooding in.

That is something I have experienced before. When the pain of memory comes rushing back and it takes everything you have to fight it. Some of my own experiences have been painful enough so I can’t even imagine what he went through.

I think how horrible this was all was and how horrible war is. I think many people don’t realized the way it tears families a part. No matter what side you are on. I’m just lucky that even after everything that happened to us we were able to find each other again and rebuild.

I have to say I am proud of my parents for fighting. They sacrificed so much and they stood up for what they believed in. One of the reasons the Holocaust happened was people did not stand up to the government. They saw an injustice and did not stand by let it happen. People like them and others who stand up for what they believe in make this world a better place.

I also know that its easy now look back now and say that they did the right thing by standing up to the government but I’m sure at the time it was not so easy to pick right from wrong. So like my sister said I don’t think my parents would have done this unless they believed it was the right thing to do.

One of the survivors said something that stuck out in my mind. She said the dead are not here to tell their story and that even the survivors will not be here one day. I that one reason I am writing this. My mother is not here to tell us her story. So by telling mine she won’t be forgotten.

The fight for a cause (Ernesto’s Introduction)

Have u ever fought for a cause? No matter what it be? Maybe to help people maybe or to save animals or something else. Well those peoples who fight for a cause are the secret heroes of the world. These kinds of people are kind a strong. They like to help and want to change the way that the world works for others.

No matter if they will make a difference or not they try and they try. Against all odds no matter what they might risk or lose they keep fallowing those strong feelings. So this is something I wont to forget about my mom Ana Milagro Escobar. She had strong feelings that moved her to pick up arms and fight for others, fight for her cause, fight to try to change her word, and fight to give us a better life. That is one thing that made her such a strong women and that I would never forget about.

I too would like to help others as she did and helping others was indeed her cause. Even though they didn’t change the world, they got a chance to make things better for us, a chance to try and make a better world, and a chance to give us the opportunity they never had. That means a lot to us.

So the cause of this blog to remember that strong woman who change the things for us, who made this miracle become true. I could never forget about all the love she gave us. No matter the situation she stayed true. I’m so proud of this woman, who was my mom.

I love you mom.

A song for you Mom – by Eva

Every time I listen to this song I think about you Mom, I feel those words are pretty much of what I have inside of me. I really miss you Mom and you haven’t gone anywhere since you are still here in my heart. I love you.

Fade away, fade away, fade away…
You left me with goodbye and open arms
A cut so deep I don’t deserve
Well, you were always invincible in my eyes
The only thing against us now is time
Could it be any harder to say goodbye and without you?
Could it be any harder to watch you go, to face what’s true?
If I only had one more day… fade away
I lie down and blind myself with laughter
Well, a quick fix of hope is what I’m needing
And how I wish that I could turn back the hours
But I know I just don’t have the power
Could it be any harder to say goodbye and without you?
Could it be any harder to watch you go, to face what’s true?
If I only had one more day…..
Well,I’d jump at the chance, We’d drink and we’d dance
And I’d listen close to your every word
As if it’s your last, well I know it’s your last
Cause today, oh, you’re gone
Could it be any harder, fade away
Could it be any harder, fade away
Yeah Could it be any harder to live my life without you?
Could it be any harder?
I’m all alone, I’m all alone
Like sand on my feet, the smell of sweet perfume
You stick to me forever, baby I wish you didn’t go, I wish you didn’t go
I wish you didn’t go away to touch you again, with life in your hands
It couldn’t be any harder.. harder..