To Perquin and Beyond....

I had a free weekend between my “graduation” from language school and beginning at FUNDAHMER on Tuesday and needed a break from the city. Also, I am particularly interested in learning about the history and reality of El Salvador (and Central America and the world), especially as it relates to the youth with whom I will be working. Thus, a friend and I traveled to the community of Perquin (“Per” as in “1 time per week” and “-quin” is pronounced like “keen” like “sharp”) in the department of Morazon (“Mora-” rhymes with “Dora” like “Dora the Explorer” and “-zon” rhymes with “con” as in con-artist) in El Salvador. “Departments” here in El Salvador are much like states are in relation to the whole United States or like counties are in relation to entire states in the US. There are 14 departments in El Salvador, and Morazon is the department farthest to the northeast. It borders Honduras, and in fact, the land along the border of Morazon and Honduras is often disputed between the 2 countries (currently, the land is officially part of Honduras, but someone told me that the people there vote in the Salvadoran elections—weird!). Perquin (6ish hours in buses from San Salvador) is historically famous because during the war (1980-1992), it was a base and stronghold of the guerrilla forces. The guerrillas organized to oppose the government and military of El Salvador because of conditions of poverty, injustice, and oppression that were reality for the majority of citizens of El Salvador. Perquin, located in the mountains of eastern El Salvador, was a strategic location for the guerrillas because they used their knowledge of the mountains to oppose the military forces trained and equipped by the likes of the United States. The best museum of the revolution is located in Perquin, where we learned about the causes and details of the war, life as a guerrilla, weapons used by both sides (it was sad to see how many were manufactured and provided by our very own USA), and effects of the war. Our guide through the museum was an ex-guerrilla and thus had his own personal anecdotes to share. At the museum are located the remains of Radio Venceremos (“Radio ‘We Shall Overcome’”), the radio station of the guerrillas and their supporters that literally broadcast from under ground (in hiding because of their fear of being found out by the military).

On opposite sides of the small community of Perquin are 2 mountains that were the strongholds of the different sides of the war. The mountain aptly named Perquin was controlled by, and a base for, the guerrillas and the mountain named Giant was a center for the military. Our hikes in these mountains were led by a young man who had spent the early years of his life in a war refugee camp right across the border in Honduras. On the mountains, we saw trenches and holes that the 2 sides used strategically, and bomb craters. Nothing could have better brought the reality of 12 years of civil warfare to life. On Friday night in Perquin, a brigade of ex-guerrillas held a “reunion” in the town center, and in El Salvador, any reunion or any similar occasion is cause for a fiesta (party). Ex-guerrillas spoke to the people, and I was most fascinated by the words of a woman ex-commander who spoke about the long-term effects of women’s participation as guerrillas in the war. The “official” musicians of the guerrillas, who played often on Radio Venceremos, were the entertainment for the night. A lot of happiness and dancing…its great to see the celebration of a community who has suffered so much.

Early one morning, my friend, a guide, and I stuck off across the mountains on a hike to the site of the most famous massacre during the war years—El Mozote. Sixteen kilometers and 4 hours later, we drug ourselves up one last mountain to El Mozote, a small (much smaller than even Perquin) community nestled in the mountains. El Mozote is used to receiving visitors, so after we re-hydrated, we met with a guide who showed us the famous memorial that honors the 1,000 or so people who were murdered by the Atlacatl Battalion of the military in 3 days in 1981. One night in December 1981, the military drug all the citizens of El Mozote to the town center, and then sent the children inside the church and the men and women to separate buildings. Over 3 days, every single member of the community was massacred except for a lone woman—I will spare you the gory details. The lone survivor, Rufina Amaya, heard her children calling to her from within the church as they were being killed. People really are not sure why El Mozote was targeted for this horrendous massacre. Someone explained to me that the military must have wanted to “drain a lake to catch a few fish.” One of the most upsetting parts of this disaster was that the Atlacatl Battalion was trained and equipped by our very own US. In the “links” section to the right, you can find the article “The Truth of El Mozote” by Mark Danner published in The New Yorker in 1993 about the discovery of the remains of the community, the history, and the controversy.

During our visit to Perquin and El Mozote, not an hour passed without something interesting happening. Some highlights of some of the eclectic and interesting things that happened: Whether it be waiting for my bus on Monday morning as a man carrying an opossum (dead) by its tail walked by in the street, or the visit to Perquin by one of the candidates for the 2009 Salvadoran elections, or a surprise visit with a corn farmer who also had tilapia tanks, there was always something new to see, do, or learn. In the church in Perquin, I saw a banner designed by children that associated God’s promise to Abraham of descendents and a great nation to immigration in modern times, and had the opportunity to talk about this with the security guard at our hostel, who also happened to be an ex-guerrilla and a pastor and has the desire to move to the United States. En route to Perquin, our bus stopped functioning in the middle of nowhere, and my friend and I experienced the generosity of the others on the bus being willing to help us out, not to mention, we learned a lot about the middle of nowhere in the department of Morazon. Our guide on one of the days there was a 19-year-old with an interest in botany and organic agriculture (on top of being inspired by his ideas, work, and studies, this expanded my Spanish vocabulary to words such as compost, manure, and the name of the country’s official flower). 8 of the 17 communities where I will be working with FUNDAHMER in the upcoming 2 years are located in the department of Morazon, and thus I know that our trip this past weekend, although enjoyable nonetheless, helped me understand just a little more of the history and reality of the young people who live in this department to the far northeast.