What is Peace Corps?

Peace Corps is part of the US Development Policy and designed to be a grassroots, in that we are placed in difficult countries, some in extremely remote areas, and equipped with the barest of resources for 2 years and 3 months. What makes us different that the rest of the US development organizations is that we are apolitical, meaning that we cannot support of political party over another. The same is true with religion.

I am part of the Municipal Development program.

What is a Municipal Development?

Municipal Development, or ´´munis´´, are volunteers that usually live in the municipal center, or the pueblo of a municipality. The muni frame work is overall: to create a better quality of life. From there it divides into concrete objectives such as reinforcing established institutions through modernization, infrastructure, strategic/developmental plans, etc.

Ok fine, but what am I doing here? Good question! Here’s the skinny on what I’m doing.

I am working on several social development programs in site, they are:

* Comité de Transparencia: It’s been a long struggle to get this going, but recently, now under the direction from a governmental organization, we have now established interested parties willing to participate and become involved. The idea of this committee is to encourage citizen participation in politics and to note governmental operations. This way the community decides where the money is spent (ie, prioritization) and the community is aware of how the money is spent.

* Como Planear Mi Vida: The Life Skills curriculum focuses on issues such as self-esteem, leadership, communication, cultural awareness, mental health, etc. I am now teaching several of these issues in the grade school located in the pueblo of my town.

* Grupo de jovenes sobre el tema de Medio Ambiente: With the aid of two city council members, one a teacher in the elementary school and the other in the Office of Health, we have organized a group of students for the purposes of environmental education.

* Día de Adulto Mayor: Short-term project dealing with the recognition of our elders. I am aiding in the coordination of the event, the 30 of January.

* Poetry publishing project: Befriending the resident poet in my site, his work addresses a wide array of topics, from love to politics. I have been searching for an institution that would publish his work. Through the help of the US Embassy, I’m exploring one possible contact.

* Cultural Preservation: With the help of World Vison and city hall, I'm trying to document the ways Salvadoran use natural medicine to provide as means for medical attention. As most Latinos know, it's the first line of defense, then it's the 'vapour roub' for some families (Lord knows my family does it) and then the doctor. With World Vison, we're going to grow the herbs, they're going to show me how to prepare it and then I'm going to write it all down, submitting a copy to Peace Corps and World Vison.

Outside My Site

* Peer Support Group: Still in the initial stages, with the help of other Volunteers, we have put together a committee interesting in starting up this type of program. The idea of a Peer Support Group is to provide a group of trained volunteers to address the stressors of volunteer life.

Eastern Regional Conference: As Warden of the Eastern Region, it’s my job to communicate information from Office of Safety & Security to Volunteers in my region. I am also in charge of bi-annual conferences for the purposes of exchanging ideas, contact info, work ideas, etc. This year I am trying to coordinate an effort with the US Embassy to provide a more academic forum to increase our understanding of the country we serve.

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

These days I’ve been exploring the land of El Salvador. In turn, I’ve also turned my thoughts inward. The solitary hikes I’ve been taking recently through the wayward carved slopes of my municipality, passed shanty lamina and cardboard houses that dot the back roads outside the pueblo, where little girls and boys stare at me in deep silence. Up here outside my pueblo I’ve been contemplating a sort of revelation that came at a most deeply personal moment in my Peace Corps experience. In the fog of thought, not yet sharp enough to extract solid figures, I have walked blindly inside, closing my eyes and stretching my hands in front of me, feeling out with my senses. In my thoughts I grapple with my approach toward development work and how that has been actualized thus far. Perhaps I’ve been thinking too big and trying to play too much of an oversight/admin position where, perhaps I should be more involved with the local community.

The local community. How close and how far have I been from them? I’ve been dissecting certain terms and certain words and how they apply to my behavior here in this country. From the top looking down, how social and political policies affect a nation and how they fail when they don’t understand the very people they are suppose to help has been on my mind.

The immigration issue and populist politics has two issues I think about often.

I recently heard an interview with Bolivian president Evo Morales. He spoke of his culture and the culture of respect that he and his people express as part of everyday livelihood. Even in his politics, where one would think it is impossible, he has been able to retain the dignity and pride of his people and his polices that he believes in without offending or threatening the world community. He has explained his position and worked toward an agreement for those that would listen. Be it in his defiance of coca reduced/eradication or nationalizing the natural gas reserves, he has maintained a friendly and open hand for discussion.

It’s that spiritual connection that we as industrialized nations have failed to see and respect. We saw the cultural ramifications in Mexico, when corn and beans became a global commodity and we’re seeing something similar that could occur in Boliva, out of a result of the same lack of understanding and respect of a culture and a people.

I started to think about that kind of respect, the kind of respect that comes from an open mind and an open heart. A respect that comes from understanding, a true understanding, rather than a heavy-handed paternal style of cultural interaction. Between the two, it's the former that I’d like to nurture and evolve, at least, I’d like to try.

I’m doing Community Contact stuff all over again and going back to basics. So far it’s been quite a sobering and refreshing experience. More than that, it has been a humbling one.

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

The Isle of Meanguera

A small island located in an archipelago off of the South-East region of El Salvador, gritty and underdeveloped for tourism by means of access and infrastructure, the island proved a perfect adventure for these two volunteers that set to know the land that, for what I derived, was virtually untouched by the volunteer community.

Below are the photos of the adventure along with commentary:

So we got lost for a bit before finding the port that docked the “lanchas”, or small boats that left to the island. It seems that the lanchas do not leave from the main Port of La Union. Luckily the bus driver took pity on us and took us on the rest of his route until heading back to point us in the right direction. Luckily Salvadoran culture does not run by the same rules as we do on time so, even though we had ten minutes to get to the dock, we really have about forty-five minutes.

Sailing off to the island! Forty-five minutes past 10:00 am (which is the “scheduled” time of departure). Right on time for El Salvador.

Can’t see it very well but it’s a community pila used for washing clothes. If you can squint and use your imagination you can make out the women tending to the clothes (sorry, no washing machines and no womens’ lib)

April checking out the lancha heading toward La Union. I think she’s checking out the Salva, what I’m not “latino” enough? Dammit, I’m from the streets and I’m college educated, what more do want?

Okay these photos show the mackshift dock we stopped at because people wanted to get off instead of docking where the boats usually goes. It seemed they had family at this particular point. Check out the grannies leaping off the boat. I don’t think my grandparents can do that…pshhh, they’re soooo Americanized, um, yeah I know one set can’t speak English but still…

Looks cute, right? But I promise you, you would of pushed the little sh*t off the boat if you would heard him talking back to his grandma…damn you machismo, why do they start so young? PS. Thank’s Mom and Dad for not raising it with it, that’s soooo developing world.

Side view of the hotel.

Front view of the hotel.

View from the hotel overlooking the bay.

The cabañas where we stayed. Our room was off to the left, the son of the owners was on the right. I know, I know, but the nice rooms were REALLY NICE and out of our budget (located on the second floor of the hotel) since we had a lot of expenses that week (remember had the Shakira concert later that week).

I miss you so much.

Thus we embarked on our trek that took about an hour and a half to find the black sand beach.

Cute, huh? Well I think it is.

We’re walking, we’re walking.

Uh, so there’s not really a trail to get here, it’s more like forging your own path. Oh El Salvador, always an adventure.

Found it!

All to ourselves…save the fourteen year old guide, the old couple that sold us coco water and their children seated in the foliage looking at us…um, yeah.

Further in, further up (does anyone else get the C.S. Lewis reference here, I guess not).The jouney home. We decided to try to short cut. Hiking directly up and over.

See where the mountain spilts in two? That’s where we’re headed.

Looking back at the black sand beach.

Same thing.

Still climbing.

One of many breaks.

FINALLY!

That night, the last night on the island before our 5 am lancha ride back to shore which left at 6:00am because they didn’t want to take the bigger lancha and wanted to leave us and another couple on the island. Oh hells nah, you ain’t gonna do that.

We make it back safe after traversing through 50 yards of mud to get to dock, wish I had a picture of that.

It was truly an amazing trip; the only comment is about the hotel. One of two and the only real option for tourists, while the American owner has his own vision, his Salvadoran wife is more the realist when it comes to accomidating budget tourists. While he wants only luxury rooms (he even tried to shame me to move to the nicer rooms, please, I was raised Catholic you're gonna have to do better than that, but if he would have followed his argument with “…and you will burn in hell if you don’t” I would have considered it) the island itself lacks many of the basic amenities one would expect for the projected vision and cost of the hotel. I don’t want to list all of them but the main ones are: access to the hotel which is quite a dangerous walk adn hard to get to (needs signs), access to the beach, which is a very long or very dangerous climb. The infrastructure is not there for the clientele envisioned I feel, getting to and off the island is more a gamble than certainty. Plus, for what you’d be paying once the hotel is complete, do you really want to get up at 4:00 am to mayyyybe get a boat ride back to the island?

To be fare, the current costs of the rooms are affordable and the rooms I should comment are beautifully decorated, each with its own personality. They truly are worth seeing and the bathtub in itself is the reason I want to go back. The feel of the place in sheer serenity with the first floor all to yourself. I plan to visit the island again before they finished the hotel, because the rooms are that nice. I have a lot of hope for the place. I feel the wife will pull her husband to a more happy medium as far as cost go. Plus I applaud their efforts in giving back to the community helping out with minor projects.

I truly feel we need a serious volunteer on this island to tackle the major problems of trash and eco-tourism. There is a lot of potential there and with enough helping hands they could definately see a huge surge in tourism dollars for the community. Many of these issues are not soley large scale, food options is one small example, including plastic bags for trash within the lancha is another. While the Salvadorans were tossing their garbage out along side the boat I heard a Guatemalan woman scoff under her breath at their behavior. Let's not scoff, let's educate!

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

“Everyone here in the states seems to be going so fast. Everyone is racing their way through only there is no finish line.”

- Fenix C., posted in her blog after her 6 week South American tour

On Autobahn to Oz

Those of you that read this blog know that I went home for a spell during the last week of September until the 1st week of October. The nature of that visit will be left for the next entry along with more coherent narrative, decorated with photos. At the moment, after a steady diet of everything, after the digestion and through the blur of what was a 10 day visit to the States; I am just now I am beginning to wrap my head around the experience…in what alcoholic’s call, “a moment of clarity”.Never before in my history of travel had I ever felt like a stranger in my own country. Coming home has always brought a sigh of relief, a normalcy, as I’ve come to know it. But for what occurrences I attribute to my…change? upon my second trip to the States my sense of familiar ran as quickly as the current after a storm. I felt nervous, apprehensive and a little lost. Where my life ended in the developed world, everyone else’s continued. It was impossible to catch up, too much had gone on and we lacked the time and vocabulary to convey it all. I felt, as a developed nation, the US moves incredibly fast and no longer having my own niche carved out in that modern landscape made me feel more like a visitor on a 10 day Visa.

The times that did feel familiar were few: within the walls of my own home, my barrio, where two doors down lies the home of my grandmother, her home cooking always in the air, twenty minutes west, at the house of my other grandmother, were we food and conversation are never done without the other. I tried to be within those walls as much as possible because it was within that arena that I felt familiar. Running around the cemetery with my father, catching up at the local Starbuck’s with my mother…

The urban regional planning of Southern California was made for the automobile and thus, although it felt incredible exhilarating driving again, still just within a few days of driving I began to feel trapped inside my car going from one end to other, time moving inextricably fast. 20 minutes to get to point A, 35 to point B and the time it took to get back home all while traffic got worse and worse with each passing minute.My younger brother maneuvered it all like I use to, pushing his body to the limits of exhaustion, his face, semi-permanently look of fatigue…I couldn’t keep up. But it was that time we had together, as exhaustive as it was for me, that I enjoyed most, for very personal reasons.

In El Salvador, they call the Eastern region the “Forgotten Zone” due to the results of the war, shoddy infrastructure, lack of development and floodings. Nothing could be farther from the truth for the United States. A more concentrated urban regional plan connected through an amazing subway system, the Virginia/DC area had a huge effect on me (the reason for the 2nd visit to the US). But it wasn’t just the regional plan that had such an effect on me, what culture shock I lacked when I landed in Los Angeles I did have in Virginia/DC. The pulse I felt in this area within this hub of international exchange was more than just connected to the service/entertainment sector. I felt a more involved participation on a much more academic and political level. I felt more people understood what I was talking about when I talked about Peace Corps or my interests.

At home I tried to convey my Peace Corps experience but it was difficult for them to understand. How could they? The idealist couldn’t believe some of the things I said and the realists didn’t care. Many didn’t understand. For those that were little as two generations from their respected patria still couldn’t wrap their heads around it. The same could be said for many I met in DC but there was a social conscious for those that I met that nodding with an aspect of understand more than just out of respect.

Your Affectionate Volunteer,SCRUTAPE

And your humble narrator now submits to himself to you all. In what were 3 days spent in The City on Top of the World, a land in the clouds here in El Salvador whose appearance defies all logical placement in this tattered country and in what was now over a week ago, has left yours truly in a state of blissful urgency. In what abstraction I still find myself in I have torn from the reverie and matters pertaining to the long list of August events of which you will find your narrator taking an active participatory role, has sat down for but a few moments to write to you all.

Arrested with a stare, brushed by a Seraph’s wing I am left awestruck with but my breath to remind me that I am still among the living.

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

So I realized…well, I didn’t really realize, I just wanted to sound as if by some epiphany, some inspired divinity of selfless goodness that I over looked that this website has been dedicated to everything OTHER than my Peace Corps experience. Granted I do write about politics and news and, well, frankly, it’s more interesting. I’ve gotten so many more responses the bloodier or controversial I make the postings. Part of it was as a social experiment, the rest, a morbid fascination, but hey I can’t help it, it’s my major.

Anyhow, don’t get me wrong, I love what I’m doing here and after a year I’ve gotten use to almost all the things that drive me mad (again, another self inflected experiment, I know, I know) but I still have retained the availability to disconnect and see my work from an outsiders perspective (some call it apathy or an anti-personality complex but since everyone uses antisocial incorrectly and confuse apathy for empathy, I’m in the clear). You know what happens when tell myself what I do as a 1st worlder without the 3rd world experience?

Oh what great work. Wow, I never could do it (I’d never want to do it, but I’ll keep that to myself). Wow, how is that country that I don’t care about and will never visit in my life. Tell me more about it…Zzzzzz. Isn’t there a gang problem there? You know, my gardener, who I thought was Mexican is actually Salvadorian, who knew? Zzzzzz.

Now the reasons are many-fold and really and to get right down to it, being 1st worlders (more specifically 3rd generation-ers and on), those “little things” that often make us smile as we struggle through our Scope of Work, that “Big Deadline” that “Big Appointment” or that “Big Project” really, is all I have, while for you, well, it’s different. Cause for you guys rather than the constant, it’s the anomaly. Think of it as the Friday Night Hallmark movie or the inspirational testament from Channel 11’s “Wednesday Child”. Looking at it, it’s just a block of time that you give up basically because your either to hung over to change the channel or going through some crisis and are looking for external support (I don’t have the research to back it up with me, it’s at home, ask my mom for the box). Really, those little things really are not that important to you. I mean really, think about. If that were so then why don’t we all go back to where we came from? Why are we saturating ourselves in this post-industrial country wasting all of our money with entertainment and luxury and saving nothing?

Well…because it’s nice…and, quiet comfortable.

Oooh, are those 600 count sheets made of Egyptian cloth? I have the red ones.

So you see, not having these things, the luxury items nor the entertainment factor (although I admit I’ve been able to intelligently get most of them back) along with constant face to face time with abject poverty, you know, that thing you drive by on your work after downing your double shot Venti Mocha with the double sleeve wearing the latest Kenneth Cole Reaction series (which is fabulous) all while planning your weekend with your friend on your brand new Motor Razor, is what I am forced to see everyday and it’s gotten to the point that I am apart of it (someone call Daxia, my threadest, she’s going have a heart attack). Now c’mon, don’t be shy about how I described you, let’s be honest here people. Look, I did all that stuff and I know you do all that stuff, I’m not judging. I’ll have you know that, well, when I get back, I, I plan to do it all again (except you Daxia, sorry, I don’t see the need anymore but Anne, my anestitian, you’re still on speed dial). Actually, I plan to do it when I come back for Pnod’s wedding. Okay, maybe I won’t have the latest Kenneth Cole series, but I’ll at least have a Razor…I mean, c’mon, I’m a 1st worlder.

Well anyhow the point of this blog is to share Work, so enjoy because it may be the last one for some time since the next pending blogs pertain to El Salvador & Iraq, my 11 year old pimp and a very angry commentary on El Salvador & Tourism among others.

Yesterday, 26/June/06 I had my 1st successful Medical Brigade in the poorest cantón (it’s a poor rural area, think of trailer parks and people with mullets without teeth holding Budweisers) in my municipality. Now I say it was my 1st success because I had a Medical Brigade before and it was, well, a failure (along with many others). I could complain as to why, but it would take up too much space, so let’s talk about it over a Ocean’s 12 martini (with the edible flowers) at Lola’s with some bruschetta and calamari (your treat) before heading off Temple Bar for some live music. Anyhow…as you may remember (okay, you don’t) I have a new administration, the right-wing ARENA party. Now, say whatever you want about them (which won’t be much) but I like these guys. Now, I’m saying this because at the municipal level it really does not matter what party wins, what matters is the team and their vision (and that they keep their promises after the elections). I like their vision for my town and they’ve been good about promises so far. Never had I had the support of an administration like this one (and I’m speaking with a WHOLE 13 months of experience here, c’mon now, I’m practically a native [shudder]). After leaving with bad terms with the Medical Brigade from the 1st disaster the empire of ARENA recovered face and went beyond. How do they do it? Keep reading

First off, a Medical Brigade is not the check you sign for the tax write off, it’s an actual event (who knew?). It’s basically a small team, in this case based in San Salvador and these guys offer $2 for medical consults with free medicine. Side note, two leading medical problems in El Salvador: diarrhea and dengue (I’ve had one of them so far). Now, with the AMAZING support from city hall we organized a FREE consult for the residents of this impoverished area. Now I wish I can put a comment about politics here but I would then have a nice discussion with my Director that would effect my stay here and I don’t want that so ask me about this over a small latte with just half a pump of vanilla (yes, I know you still have to charge me) and a slice of carrot cake which we’ll need after that dinner at PF Chang’s (oh those Lemon Drop Martinis were simply divine, weren’t they?).

Now I didn’t get any thanks or any glory from the event (now don’t canonize me just yet, I want glory and I’m still on the lookout) but I did feel intrinsically good about it and the interaction I had with the residents was incredible. Below are some pictures of the campaign. The little girl you see was the highlight of my day. Damn I feel good about being here today. Of course, there are still the hours that remain from when I wrote this until I post this blog.

¿Puta madre y quien sabe que puede pasar en ese tiempo? Somos fregado…buey.

No I won’t translate what I just wrote….ask your gardener…and tell him I said hi, chances are he’s from my town.

Isn't she cute?

My crew

My 2 Live Crew

I'm vain

Introduction with the Sindico

Front Shot

Campasino

People In Waiting

Consult

Sitting, and Waiting and Wishing

Sitting, and Waiting and Wishing II

Cutey

Close Up

'I feel No Pulse'

'Uh, Sir...Sir!'

'Uh...Is This Thing On?'

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

I was recently composing another compilation CD to add to my growing playlists. As some of you know I enjoy making theme based CD’s for people and for my own creative expression. Recently I have been in bit of a mood due to personal reasons unrelated to my service here in El Salvador which is absolutely stellar. As for the mood behind the smile that is something of a delicate matter and I am utilizing all of my cognitive resources to deal with it. Back to the matter at hand, I was in the middle of creating a new CD, two actually, entitled: El Salvador – The Black Album and El Salvador – The White Album. Like Janus, Freud, Jung, Lynch and others before me, duality is an issue I have particular interest in and I wanted to express the bipolar relationship of the country through my eyes in song.

The first CD, The Black Album is just about complete, 13 songs of violence, aggression and futility, the number holding significance to Salvadorian gang culture. I was reviewing the tracks and decided to take a break to read an article in the paper recommended by our assistant director who informed us via email. As I read it I realized something I had not before, for whatever reason, I missed it, a bigger concept not found in the pages of the newspaper, an exercise in critical thinking or human apathy. Reading the paper everyday can and does make one cynical, yes it leaves one informed, but the amount of violence this tiny country experiences far exceeds the pages allotted. In turn, along with my current mood has created a sort of symbolic relationship that may not be the most beneficial to my own cognitive welfare.

As I read the article, for a brief moment between the starting gun blast of song one fading into the next song citing, in a modern twist, the Code of Hamurabi (if you remember it, it’s the one that that’s famous for “an eye for an eye”) I realized something about El Salvador’s urban police force that made take a look outside the headlines. Granted there is rampant corruption within the flanks and measures are being taken to correct hem, but aside from that the notion that dawned upon me, between the newspapers piling on my floor showing screaming deputies or marred bodies and the Black Album filling my living room (substituted then by Gershwin), I thought of those men and women putting their lives at risk in the most violent nation in the Western Hemisphere. It stopped me for a moment. The most violent country on this half of the world and these uniformed officers deal with it everyday. Remember, this is the country where maras (or Salvadorian gang members) throw grenades at clubs for petty matters and alcoholism is as common as having a family member in the States. All things considered, it says something about integrity and sheer will of the people of this country. Here in the rural areas of El Salvador where I am stationed, I enjoy a crime free zone with utmost liberty to come and go as I please at all hours of the day and night. Coming from an urban sprawl such luxury is rare (save in small ethnic barrios) and I imagine San Salvador, the nation’s capital, to be very similar my own city of origin in that sense.

When you think about the urban police force here, they make very little, some, if not all, take on other forms of employment to make ends meet. Yet with the level of hostility and danger they are exposed to, one wonders how the government is able to retain so many different units of public regulation with bodies to fill these positions. Somehow, within all that has been going on in this country since the Conquest, the center has held. These men and women, rather than sitting at home waiting for a check from one of their family members from the States, rather than running to States themselves or flooding themselves in a fugue of drugs and excessive alcoholism have chosen, for whatever reason to stay and fight.

I realize now how every person fights their battles in the best way they know how. Some use a pen and others a sword and El Salvador has those that have tackled all available areas of injustice, with the bottom line being: many have chosen to stay and fight. With this combined effort, through the power of sheer will, maybe El Salvador will one day see the change it so richly deserves. El Salvador, literally, The Savior, it’s ironic that a country plagued with a history of dictators, oligarchies, social stratification, massacres, oppression, civil war, desperation, PTSD, violent crime, maras, earthquakes and floods should be named as such. To draw an artistic license (inserting El Salvador rather than Mexico and inventing the rest) from a quote by former Mexican dictator, Porfirio Díaz, I think to myself, solely letting the words roll from my tongue: poor El Salvador, so far from God and so close to salvation.

Violence at the National University

Protests before the National University of El Salvador (UES) occurred on Wednesday, July 5th due to the price hike in urban and interdepartmental public transportation and electricity. Due to rising global costs of energy and oil, the national government declared that it could no longer could pay the subsidies that controlled the prices of public transportation and energy. July 1st marked the last day the national government would pay the subsidies.

'Don't Raise The Price of Transportation'

Protests began around 6:30 am, July 5th near the entrance of the UES nearly an hour later the protests began to turn violent, destruction of private property such as signs, phonebooths and university property were targeted. About 9:30 am an ATM machine was destroyed by a growing mob. By about 10:30 am the Unidad de Mantenimiento del Orden or UMO (The Unit of Preservation of Order) which I have not seen in the papers since they were activated in last April's riot, the equivalent to our riot police, was called upon and organized behind the police, who formed some distance away from the entrance of the National University and the rioters. The UMO, as riot police do not use the same weaponry as the national civil police, PCN, who are armed with assault rifles, pistols, AK-47’s and like. Rather, they are equipped with batons, heavy armor, shields and tear gas.

Police

UMO

Rocks, 9 mm’s, homemade arms such as pipe bombs and small cannons were used against the police and the UMO. One protester fired a M-16 killing two officers from the UMO, one of them, the father-in-law of my former mayor. While this blog was being written the former mayor of Sesori made his attempt today to reach San Salvador, being Friday July 7th, in an attempt to reach the capital to mourn the the loss with his sister. Due to protests against the violence and the increase in taxes, the main roads in and out of San Salvador, the nation’s capital, were blocked off to all traffic. I am unaware if he made it to the capital in time for the funeral.

No in or out of the capital

The gunman was a trained "francotirador" or sniper, killing one officer by passing a bullet through his head and killing the other by a bullet through the heart. The shooter was later identified as JosÈ Mario Belloso Castillo a radical active member of the far-left FMLN who recently was part of the "consejo municipal" or municipal advisory board, part of a municipality in greater San Salvador from 2000-2003. A report in the Diario de Hoy (that was not found in La Prensa Grafica) noted that the gunman was trained in Cuba (which is common among the FMLN) as a sharpshooter. The FMLN are distancing themselves from the shooter, all deputies are denying having known the man.

Shooter, type of weapon M-16. The man behind the shooter was captured.

When it was over, 31 people were captured, their ages ranged from 17-45 years of age. Of casualties instilled, 2 dead and 10 wounded police and UMO officers.

2 UMO officers are killed, one being the father-in-law of my former mayor

The nation is in a state wide man hunt to catch the shooter.

Where I live, the town in shame over the whole ordeal and feelings of extreme embarrassment have filled the faces of my workmates. Many noted how sorry they were that I had to be here to witness the sharp rise in violence in their country. A small minority were excited about the protests and see it as the fault of the center-right ARENA government, globalization and US intervention whose frustrations date back well before I born.

The political problem: The ARENA government has denounced the far-left FMLN accusing them for invoking the riot. The FMLN is also being attacked for coordinating numerous other protests throughout the country. Furthermore, many legislative measures have been at a stand still due to the 32 member FMLN legislative body (of 84 possible seats) against the majority 34 of ARENA. This has only added more fuel to the fire.

The FMLN: More and more the FMLN is becoming a party divided, on one corner you have the orthodox communist militants and on the other you have those that want to move more toward the center. Since the Peace Accords in 1992 this divide has been growing wider and wider. Several prominent leaders have either quite or have been expelled from the organization do to irreconcilable differences. The party is split with the proposed Northern Highway, gay marriage and several other measures that will determine the political course of the FMLN. In many cases they simply have withdrawn from voting. What does fate hold for the FMLN? A party in shambles, divided by internal conflict, it’s anyone’s guess what will become of the Frente.

The following happened on the night of 26/6/06, just after finishing the last blog entry:

I read over my to-be-posted blog (the Massive Attack one) for this account and deemed it ready for publication. As I do every weekday at 8:00 pm, I settle atop my bed with a bottle of water, turn on the tv and wait anxiously for this weeks episode of my novela, La Fea Mas Bella. This particular night I agreed to play a little fútbol rapio (rapid soccer) with the kids after my novela, as everyone knows not to disturb me (even my fellow Peace Corps friends) between 8-9pm. How serious am I about this? I don’t event answer calls from the states.

There is only one bicho (slang for kid) with the audacity to defy this unwritten rule of the land: my 11 year old pimp. To get into who is he is and how he came to have this title is one best left for the next blog, but suffice to say that he feels that no rules apply to him and he carries himself as such. It was on at 7:57, three minutes before the start of my show that he arrived. I cringed when I heard a bike pull up to my door, the iron not thick enough to block the sound of gravel on rubber and that high pitched, almost demonic Children of the Corn type voice, calling my name.

Reluctant, I answered the door, I invited him to watch the show, knowing he wouldn’t have left anyhow. I knew as soon as I opened that door, I had made a tragic mistake. Throughout the first half he incessantly kept asking over and over again about how much my things cost and if I’d sell them to him. He kept going through my things, “how much is that shirt?” “what you pay for your ipod” “is that your tv” “sell me you ipod” “sell me your USB drive” etc. His presence was taking away the joy that I experience when I watch my show. This particular joy is hard to describe and best left to examples like that kind of joy that you feel when your reminded of something from your past and you can’t help but glow with that goofy kind of grin because it’s an inside joke that only you and those involve understand.

It was with about 30 minutes to go that, out of the corner of my eye I saw something scurry away from my kitchen door to the living room. Initially I thought it was a cat and jumped up to chase it away. As it hit between the crook of the main door and the wall I noticed its tail, long and slender colored in a pale flesh tone. Not a cat, I thougt to myself. It turned and I felt, for that micro-second which seemed to last a few moments longer, my brain access my long term memory bank (the hippocampus) and like I a movie screen before my eyes, I began to decipher the animal by comparison (this animal compared to a mental photo of all animals that look the like) while also judging the threat factor for each animal that this thing before me could be. A rat was out of the question (thank God); raccoon had the same result, for some reason the Beverly Hill Billy portion of my memory started firing followed by that for pavements and cartoon regions. In the end, in that micro second, the animal was ruled as an opossum and harmless (Allah be praised).

I wanted to chase it away, unharmed, but my 11 year old pimp would have nothing of it. It seems these animals kill chickens, and being worth $5 a piece, is quite a blow to poor families who live on very little. Apparently, as he shared, 5 chickens have been killed already in Sesori. I tried to talk him out of it, to stun it and let it run free, but with my broom in his hand, he began to swing at the poor scared animal, his short chubby arms unable to control the weight of the broom. His actions were to no avail as the crook was too narrow for the large end of the brush. Fine, he tried crushing it by opening the door, pressing the iron against the brick. Nothing. “Tiene un corbo?” (do you have a machete?). Of course I did, it’s as common as carry your Visa check card back in the States. Wanting nothing to do with him or the animal I gave him the corbo hoping it would spare me a few moments with my show. Urgh, “I don’t want you killing it and having it bleed all over my floor” I said. “Don’t worry”, he responded. Oh boy.

What unfolded was more a game and form of entertainment for my 11 year old pimp. He cut the tail and sure enough, it began to bleed on my floor. Somehow it escaped, I suppose when he opened the door to stab it sure enough it began to scurry all along my floor, leaving behind it a trail of tears (of the crimson variety). It tried to climb my other door, blood streaks; it scurried from the living room to my room, more blood. When it went into my room! That was the final straw. I grabbed a plastic bag and reached down and picked it up. I told my pimp to grab another plastic bag and I put it inside. My pimp tied it up and then enjoyed the next 5 minutes or so banging it against the pavement. I had 15 more minutes of my show, I decided as quickly as I deciphered the species of the animal to clean the mess up after the end of the show. In those 10 minutes he stunned the animal enough and began to work on it with my machete. Apparently, as he shared, they have 3 lives and must be hacked and buried. What, is this a vampire opossum or what? Are we going to stick garlic in its mouth and run a stake through its heart?

My show was almost over but still, no rest for the wicked; my 11 year old pimp insisted I watch him slice the animal in two. I said no, yet he kept nagging, I tried to ignore him. I went outside and see the animal, with the intention to look and get back to my show and to my horror I saw the former opossum hacked into three parts by my front door, it’s guts and intestines spilling on the concrete. A look of sheer disgust washed across my face, I looked at him, the pieces of opossum, him again and went back to watch my show, his laughter drowning the volume of the tv.

In the end he flung the piece in the corn fields (so much for burial) and then, in the last 2 minutes of my show, proceeded to tell me over and over again how it was 9 o’clock. My show now over I began the cleaning process, he kept asking and insisting that I go play afterwards, I answered no over and over again and for the next 5 minutes, cleaning blood and saying no. He finally gave up and left. As soon as I finished I begin to write what happened.

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

El Salvador’s current family code bans gay marriages and one would think it would be enough to tame the homophobes and conservatives. But, unfortunately, that is not the case here, rather, like the right-winged ultra-conservative religious zealots that are in the States, El Salvador’s religious elite took on drastic reform which passed in April that would make a constitutional amendment that would confirm matrimony between a man and a woman (one that still needs to be ratified by the legislative body). Its days like this that I still wish Spain were still in control of Latin America, especially with center-left Zapatero at the helm (Spain acknowledges and allows gay marriages and if you’ve kept up with my blogs know that I think highly of him). Oh wait, did I forget to mention who at the helm of this reform? Was it one of the notorious 14 families that control all the wealth of El Salvador? Hmm. Perhaps a member of Congress in the states pushing his social policies in 3rd world? Think so? A homophobic Christian coalition? Close. Maybe…a higher source? Possibly. The frontrunner of this reform was the archbishop Fernando Sáenz Lacalle, the highest ranking cleric in El Salvador, leader of the Catholic majority in this country. Just a leader reminder, it was the leftist priests who taught “liberation theology” here in El Salvador during the war, under then Archbishop Romero, a theological idea that was not acknowledged by the Vatican. Granted it had nothing to do with tolerance, its focus was against the military tyranny, but, aren’t we dealing with another form of oppression? And this time, rather than at the end of a rifle, aren’t we looking at the end of a cross? After Romero’s assassination the Church put an ultra-conservative (how conservative, check out his bio http://www.catholic-hierarchy.org/bishop/bsaenz.html) in power whose influence, although much small than Romero’s, still wields a large sphere of influence, especially in politics (there is not a separation between Church and State).

“Esto no es un ataque contra nadie, contra ningún colectivo”, he was recently quoted as saying (this is not an attack on anyone, not counter any collective). So I’m assuming homosexuals are not considered people thus not constituting “anyone” and gay-friendly organizations such as Entre Amigos here in El Salvador is not an organized body thus not a “collective”, oh okay, in that sense it make perfect sense. And that whole “love one another…” thing I learned in school? Well, I guess that guy who preached it was wrong, I’m sorry I’ve been out of practice for awhile remind me who said that?

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

The guerrilla leader and Nicaraguan hero, Augusto César Sandino (1895-1934) is well remembered for his brave efforts to fight off the US military presence, the US trained Guardia Nacional (National Guard) and topple the US installed dictatorship of the Somoza bloodline. Although he was eventually killed, 50 years after his death a movement that resurrected his name and his ideology, Frente Sandino para la Liberación Nacional (Sandino National Liberation Front) or the FSLN, was able to over take Somoza in ’79 and retain power until 1990. Present day Nicaragua is ruled by a right leaning government of the PLC, Partido Liberal Constitucionalista (Liberal Constitutional Party). Presidential elections take place November of this year.

As a revered national hero of Nigaragua’s left, many instances of the man can be seen scattered throughout the left leaning municipalities. Here are a few.

Remember the Iran-Contra scandel? Well I don’t, but I’ve read up on it. But fear from Mother Russia and “Cuban-Style Socialism” played a part and the famous National Security Decision Directive 17 (NSDD-17). No need to go into details, most of you remember it better and know it better than I. Here is a famous picture located in the Casa de La Cultura in León.

Nicaragua is famous for it’s murals, they literally paint the country, although I did not see all of Nicaragua, in the places I did visit showed a wide array of different murals each telling its’ own story. The following murals caught my attention in that they tell a story using apocalyptic and folklore imagery one specifically of El Padre sin Cabeza (The Headless Priest) that depicts the story of murdered priest who is said to roam the streets of León at night.

Your affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

Political Climate in León

I wont get into too much, but for background purposes: León has traditionally been a Sandanista (meaning leftist) city and Granada the conservative right. Also, presidential elections are this year (in November) so there’s a lot of campaigning/politicing going on right now in the country.

The first two images show banners related to the issue of abortion. The first one says, "I have the right to therapeutic abortions!" and the second one is a banner by a coaltion of Catholics that are in favor of abortion.

The third image is of a medical demonstation. For 6 months of medical professionals held a strike, refusing to attentional to patients and abandoning their jobs to protest in the streets (such as the image below). Their demands rested soley on the topic of increase pay. By the time the strike ended, officially on 13/May/06, it was estimated that over 120,000 people went without without medical care. In coordination with Ministry of Health (Minsad) and the Federation of Medical Professionals Pro Salary, an agreement was reached which gave the doctors an increase in pay and retroactive pay (for March, April and May). Those that were fired from their respective jobs during the strike were also rehired.

The House That Mora Built (Granada)

On a completely different topic from the former, I found this plaque and house that belonged to (quizás) a relative of mine. Yup, just doing our part to make the world a better place…I guess it’s in the genes. Of course, I can’t speak for my great great…etc Conquistador grandfather, but, eh, who knows? Maybe he was a benevolent conqueror…uh, and then again, maybe not.

Still love you gramps!

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

Cigar Factory in Estelí

Estelí is known for it’s cigars, thus, I felt compelled to visit at least one factory before I made my way to Masaya (way too commercialized and not all that) en route to Granada. The following pictures were taken from Nick’s Cigar shop an impressive complex whose overpowering smell of tobacco killed off any taste of trying an individual cigar.

This was a first for me in witnessing how cigars are made. As you can see, the process can be broken down into 6 parts (grossly simplifying, fyi and I only show 5 photos on topic): The tobacco is rolled, sealed, pressed (for uniformity), sorted (by color so that each box will have cigars of like color) and stored followed by the presentation/marketing. They wanted way too much for their cigars; the last picture shows their top of the line that goes for $100. They were kind enough to give me a few samples, but I wasn’t impressed with the taste, especially for the price. In reality I did enjoy the Cuba Libre’s I bought in Granada.

I did want to purchase a particular brand of cigar that they rolled there in shop, but because it was a private label they could not sell them to me! So get this, to get the cigars that I want, the ones that were right in front of me I have to order them online and have them shipped to my address in the states. Isn’t that simply silly? Am I silly enough to do it? Yup, pick them up when I visit my friend in September, haha.

Also, as I was impressed by the process, I did also think about prolonged exposure to high levels of nicotine either seeped in the skin by handling to tobacco leaves or by the constant smoking done by the foremen. It made me think how it effects the neurochemistry of the passive smoker not to mention the propensity for other ailments due to excessive repetitious work. It makes you think, makes me think anyhow.

Scenic Shots of Granada

The preserved colonial architecture is very impressive in this city. Of course these shots do not do the city justice in trying to exemplify the sheer mix of color and style of the city, but this is but a taste. Also, not far from these shots is the stark reality of extreme poverty Nicaraguans face (when you can find them in Granada, it’s a city mostly run and walked by foreigners)

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

I’ve decided to divide the photos of León into three separate blogs: Tourism, Politics and Sandino/Murals.

La Catedral

Most pictures were taken from atop the cathedral or from the adjoining streets. The Cathedral of León is an impressive structure, the largest in Central America. My friend and I took the tour of the cúpulas (domes) with a guia (guide) who led a well informed historical account of the Church and the city. For instance, each barrio in León has its own church and most of the churches are connected through a series of tunnels that were used during la revolución to protect the valuables and religious relics of the Church.

Taken atop La Catedral, you can see central park and la alcaldía (city hall), ps, the alcaldía of Sesori looks nothing like this one, it’s, well, a tad humbler.

Atop The Cathedral

The garden cloistered within the cathedral. The is the oldest part of the cathedral as it was it was first to be constructed.

Boulevard by The Cathedral

Mental Health Clinic! I thought with was cool since mental health is often over looked in Latin America. Interesting enough the paper in Nicaragua had quite a few articles concerning sexual abuse and awareness. Although such announcements exist in El Salvador they pale in comparison to the amount of attention Nicaragua gives the subject, at least in the periodical. El Salvador does have a rather blunt “in your face” add concerning incestual sexual abuse that’s often heard on the radio.

Random Church

La 21 (Museo de Tradiciones y Leyendas)

The guide books should give this place more credit, more a place for people who already have a knowledge of both latin mythology and of Somoza’s Guardia Nacional (I went in with little to none and still enjoyed it). This place serves two purposes, one, to show the fort where the Guardia Nacional kept prisoner’s and where and how they tortured them. Many of the methods would make Cheney and Rumsfeld smile, many prisoners were brutal tortured, for instance, some had their teeth filed down to stubs, excessive beating, shock torture and water torture to name a few. Somoza was an evil man we helped put in power and aided in his offspring to retain control of Nicaragua for our own personal financial interests (but of course, we don't do that anymore...uh yeah). More info on the political entry which I should post next week.

Riley and Erica by the Water Torture area, how romantic!

Examples of the brutality

Guerillas!

The musem also offers papier-mâché representations of various legends in the region. I admit, I’m pretty ignorant about our legends, I should have paid more attention to my grandmas’ when they told me them when I was younger, the only one I recognized was La Llorona (the most popular myth in my opinion). I remember one particular cousin, Jesse, recounting various Mexican myths and legends scaring the crap out of me a long time ago, I wonder if he still remembers them? (personal note, ask Jesse when I see him and write them all down then beat him down). Fortunatly upon talking to the Director of the Casa de la Cultura in my site about my lack of legend and mythology knowledge, she was nice enough to lend me two books that she said would help me, “Cuentos de Barro” and “Tradición Oral de El Salvador”.

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

I am writing this with very little knowledge of what transpired today in the States. I had a moment today to watch a little bit of CNN en Español which showed the huge waves of people participating in the national boycott. Its presence was felt even here in El Salvador where several stores denied the sale of American products and posted signs of solidarity. In what little way I could to show support, I did not purchase an American product (but even if i did, I couldn’t, because I tried out of curiosity).

My feelings about the immigration bills and the boycott are not original and felt by many, in an email I recently sent out to a friend I said, “I do agree that something must be done because the criminalization of immigrants simply isn’t the answer. My own personal view is investment in our neighboring countries. Not just NAFTA and CAFTA type stuff, I’m talking heavy investing, taking money out of the war and into development, only that way can you create stability and curb the wave of immigration. Not that it’s a bad thing for us, but this increase in immigrants is a tax to several of our systems set in place for Americans. In the end it’s about helping the global community rather than exploiting it (the case for both ends of the argument).”

May 1st also marked the change of administration here in my community. It began at 8:05 am with when the areneros crossed the threshold of the alcaldia. The new alcalde was accompanied with his new consejo and several supporters. It was a long process taking most of the day; locks were changed, official seals were destroyed and everywhere a PDC worker (now an ARENA worker) were informing someone from the ARENA camp consejo about their work. Goverment officals were present to facilitate the change over and police stood guard outside. It was a peaceful process, right up until the end where one arenero accused the old alcalde of stealing lamina and hording it in the office of the Unidad de Salud. It was in bad taste to do this and for something that seems so petty. The truth of it should have been discussed at a later time and among officials of the court.

By 4:00 pm the new alcalde with his consejo were in the mayor’s office celebrating their victory. I now offically have a new alcalde, many of my friends have quit or will be either fired or relocated. My personal views about the change I will keep to myself for the time being and perhaps in a later blog, as an update I will reveal my feelings on the matter. Until then I look forward to tomorrow and my remaining time here.

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

April 29th 1992, there were riots on the streets tell me where were you?”-Sublime

So sure, El Salvador is the most violent country in the Western Hemisphere. I mean, with the amount of violence this country has experienced since, well, The Conquest, El Salvador is one of those countries that has had it all. Look at its history: Authoritarian regimes, a civil war and now gang violence. According to recent numbers El Salvador has 54.7 homicides per 100,000 as compared to 40.6 in Honduras, 37.5 in Guatemala at a close second, the ever violent Costa Rica with 7.6. For a time, Colombia had the honor of “most violent” but, where it stands now, Colombia is at 33.7 and receding.

Let’s look at the most recent and violent moments since I’ve been here (it is also during this time that El Salvador became “most violent”):

Let’s see, first comes to mind the time the body of a child was found in the woods with her stomach slashed opened. Apparently, she was used as a drug mule but I never heard of a follow-up to her story. Okay, Maria Full of Grace, saw it already.

Highly organized heist where the robbers got away with almost $1,000,000 using AK-47’s, eh, saw “Heat” about 10 times.

Gang members through a grenade at a local club, a retaliation for being kicked out, killing the guards and a few other people (I think, not sure of the body count). Okay, points for originality, moving on

San Salvador in response just about declares martial law by utilizing the military to walks the capital’s streets. Saw The Siege already too.

With all the violence this country has been plagued with something was missing. It was hard to put my finger on it and maybe because of where I come from, a country that feeds off violence as a form of entertainment, “sadism is in vogue” to take a piece from Devon Gordon of Newsweek and as such I just felt something was missing, a staple event that needed to happen to truly be a really violent city and earn it’s rightful place in the Hall of Shame.

It was on the eve of 7th of Abril that I realized what was missing. Of course, how can I be so naive and forget the true result of urban sprawl and economic inopportunity: riots! That’s that I’m talking about, the kind that use tear gas and people set buildings ablaze as if we were in Detroit on Devil’s Night. Ah yes, FINALLY, a face off between the PNC (Policia Nacional Civil/Nactional Civil Police) with the aid of La Unidad de Mantenimeiento del Orden (I need to learn more about these guys) versus…well, those that sell pirated intellectual property: CD’s and DVD’s. That’s right, fighting for your right to break the law, I love it! But, unfortunately, with CAFTA in place, the political ARENA running the country, there’s a crackdown on pirated material.

Are details really necessary? You know what happened already. Details are unimportant so much as the actual act. How do I feel about it? Well, my DVD’s use to cost $3, now $4 and then went back down to $3 and I don’t even want to ask what they’re going for now. On a side note I went to the beach with my friend and his family, we went swimming out past the waves into the deep blue sea where the water the calm and air silent. He asked if I was scared of sharks of jellyfish attacking me. I responded that there was more of a chance of being shot in the head on my many trips to the capital. He was quite, understanding that the ratio was higher in favor of my execution by gun fire. I guess your right he responded, and we swam out further.

To be fare, homicides did go down 6% during Semana Santa, Holy Week, where the world of El Salvador, including some hospitals and police units, take a break. Only 100+ murders this time. What they did and I applaud them for it, was beefing up security and with what I saw, it was competent security meaning they stepped in when there was trouble rather than running away.

Well, I’m off to the capital now for the Swearing In celebration. As my self proclaimed theme I will be wearing red, of course and a green military hat with a red star, so come Thursday, WEAR RED!

Your Affectionate Volunteer,Scrutape

Ladies and gentlemen of cyberspace, my fellow readers who have made this experience worth while with questions, praise and criticisms, i would like to take this opportunity to give my brother, Christopher, the credit he deserves, as he is, after all the true pioneer of ManFashion.

He has sported the no-prescription-for-looks-only eyewear, a statement that stood bold along with his ManBag. With his manicured nails, precisely cut cuticles, neatly kept eyebrows, his mark as the pioneer of this new era is true. Trends start somewhere, influenced by some person, and i am proud to say (cuz i have traveled the world) that i trully believe he is the absolute trend-setter when it comes to this new era of the Sophisticated Man. Connected with his soul, ambitions, emotions and fashion, his blend of anti-tradition/pro-modern execution makes Christopher Mora the name brand in this new realm of what will become, Modern Man.

Thank you to all my readers.

So I get this random comment from someone somewhere in cyber space who happen to stumble upon my blog. He posted a really interested point, to paraphrase, why did campesinsovote ARENA and urban San Salvador vote FMLN?

It’s an interesting point and although I don’t claim to have all the answers, just ideas I’ve been thinking about it. My intial feeling about the campesinos was expressed in an interview with the mayor of San Miguel, Wilfred “Will” Salgado, “Les respondo que aquí siempre va ganar el que más sale en televisión y al que más saquen en los periódicos” (La Prensa Gráfica 26/3/06), I respond that in this country the winner is always the one that comes out on television and comes out in the newspapers.

Mr. Salgado was talking about ARENA and I agreed. The ARENA propaganda drowned out all other parties during the political campaign (they could afford to do so). I felt the poor rural folk were dupped into voting for ARENA because that’s all they heard for two solid months along with a string of promises and a lot of scare tactics. Although that may play a part, I’m starting to realize, upon further discussion with Salvadorans and American’s alike and with the help of statistics that were complied after the election, most FMLN voters are highly educated middle to high income urban class! Hence why the big cities are FMLN. ARENA is composed mostly of the rural poor. Crazy? Oh, it get’s crazier. The “face” of FMLN is the poor working class farmer, ARENA, the posh urban elite.

But why are these highly educated urbanites voting for a party that is communist anti-globalization? All of the progressive thinkers either quite FMLN or were kicked out. Hmmm…well, it is very possible that with the death of the hard liner leaders, FMLN is emphasizing the nationistic focus, domestic issues rather than be the US’s chew toy, so a more socialist spin. For that, I can understand a Salvadorian professional who would want a party that reintated national priorities such as getting their unit of currency back into circultion.

But that isn’t good buisness for the elite, and thus, we have a divide. The elite, big buisness, ARENA, but these are small numbers, but these few control the nation. Then you have a large sector of young educated professionals, FMLN. Once you leave the urban sprawls you have rural poor who simply hated the war, especially the campesinos where you either hated the guerillas or sympathized wholly. There is no in-between, for this reason it is a very touchly subject for a Salvadorian to talk to an outsider about it. Only now I’m beginning to build the trust to hear these stories, on both sides. No one was the good guy during this war, they both did terribly evil deeds to each other. And they vote, well, any party BUT FMLN. Morazan is still a surprise to me because this is a largely guerilla department. But, as I stated in a previous blog, ARENA did some shady deals along the borders (eg, importing Salva’s from Honduras to vote ARENA with economic compensation).

So, there’s my thought, still forming though. Thanks for bringing up a good point, whoever you are.

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

Scrutape

History: The US backed the right-winged dictatorships in Latin America in the 70’s and 80’s to halt the growing left, born of Cuban-Soviet influence.

Socialism: a social and economic system (or the political philosophy advocating such a system) in which the economic means of production are controlled by the people. This control may be either direct, exercised through popular collectives such as workers' councils, or it may be indirect, exercised through a State. A primary concern of socialism (and, according to some, its defining feature) is social equality and an equitable distribution of wealth that would serve the interests of society as a whole. (from wikipedia)

Latin-American Socialism: Greater state control (which in Latin America tends to lead to a more concentrated grip on government). But while Cuba, Venezuela and Chile all claim some form of socialism, they really enact their policies quite differently.

The left has a lot of appeal to it. Marketable appeal that is and for many of the younger FMLN kids that run around in their red shirts baring their fallen leader Shafik screaming yo quiero mi colón (I want my colon [their former unit of currency until they converted to the dollar in 2001]) hating on the States and all that goes with it, one wonders if this is a real political statement that they fully understand or just something that’s in among the young. I was in an urban bus in San Salvador and I noticed a youth passing by wearing a t-shirt that bore the image of Sub-Comandante Marcos, or Delegante Zero I suppose he wants to be called now (he was recently in the news, check out Newsweek International 16/3/06). I wondered if he wore it for a political reason, was it sympathy for left, indigenousness right (I’m 99% sure it wasn’t that) or just because it looked cool.

Hmmm, and I also wondered, “where can I get my hands on one of those”.

In El Salvador, remesas (readmitances) amount to a large about of their GDP and that percentage went up this year. Basically, state bound Latinos who sent money to El Salvador are single handedly keeping El Salvador from economic ruin. Do they (being the hard left) really understand the gravity of the situation and what would happen to their country under communist rule? I think the romantic idea of it has swept many of the young while the hardliner guerillas of the past still hold on to the anti-globalization anti-American sentiment of our past mistakes in, well, setting up really nasty dictatorships…eh, I’d still be pissed too I suppose.

Now, the only reason I write this is because I am one of these kids that tote the red and occasionally raise my left hand showing the victory sign, hell my myspace quote is a direct quote from the hard left. But for me, it is simply “the black” that I couldn’t wear as a kid, a romantic idea that has no bearing on my political reality. But what I do like is that fact that these people have a left and a strong one at that as does the Western European world. El Salvador has a moderate left, I’m hoping one day they’ll realize that too, hmmm, maybe I should be wearing yellow instead (the color of the center left party), kinda hard since it isn’t my color, you know, my skin tone, etc. doesn't match well :)

Okay, old habits die hard, forgive me.

During my time here I have educated myself on the history of this country and their political parties now reading up on Nicaragua and the Sandinistas and the whole Iran-Contra scandal. Though far from an expert I have learned a great deal about the far left and what that really means. I suspect many do not and to quote Alain de Janvry are really no more than “armchair revolutionaries”.

So, even though I wear red I just do because it looks cool and it gets a rise out of people. Speaking of which, I'm shopping for a red shirt (collared, long sleeve, of a cotton, nylon blend of a matte color) for swearing in. This would be so much easier in the states...but not as fun.

Hasta La Victoria…

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

Scrutape

"Brothers, you came from our own people. You are killing your own brothers. Any human order to kill must be subordinate to the law of God, which says, 'Thou shalt not kill'. No soldier is obliged to obey an order contrary to the law of God. No one has to obey an immoral law. It is high time you obeyed your consciences rather than sinful orders. The church cannot remain silent before such an abomination. ... In the name of God, in the name of this suffering people whose cry rises to heaven more loudly each day, I implore you, I beg you, I order you: stop the repression."

– Monseñor Romero

Tomorrow is the anniversary of the death of Monseñor Óscar Arnulfo Romero y Galdámez, the famous archbishop of El Salvador who was assassinated on March 24, 1980 while giving mass. The importance of Romero, why he is so revered in this country (where his image is literally painted on almost every wall) and around the world was what the man stood against and who he stood for. During the civil war that ravaged El Salvador Monseñor Romero witnessed many injustices and began to speak for the poor and for the victims of the war. As a result he was seen as an enemy by the government and was denounced by the Catholic Church. The founder of the ARENA party, Major Roberto D'Aubuisson, a US trained solider and member of the Salvadorian death squads, is believed to be the culprit in Monseñor Romero’s assassination.

Monseñor Romero was an orthodox Catholic priest who was appointed archbishop to quell the radical liberation theology that was being spread among priests, as hoped by the reigning government. During his administration as archbishop a fellow priest and friend, Rutilio Grande was assassinated. Romero sought the government for an investigation but the administration turned a blind eye. During this time he continued to see injustice unfold during the war years and choice to speak against it. His strength inspired many of the Salvadorian campesinos and others who found themselves victims of human injustice during the war. Through the death squads, bombings and murders of Catholic priests, Monseñor Romero continued to speak against the violence until his death.

Whether you are a Catholic or not, the writings of Monseñor Romero can be applied to all and speak of a humanitarian consciousness that we should all strive for. They are intelligently written and at the same time easily ingestible.

There are only two Catholic priests in my life that have inspired spiritually and intellectually: Father Tom of Our Lady of Talpa Church and Monseñor Romero.

The pueblo of San Ignacio is a quiet tourist town in the northern central region of El Salvador, held within the department of Chalatenango. Nestled among the pines and artisans you’ll find the resort hotel of Entre Pinos, an impressive complex, it’s topography chiseled from land, much like a similar hotel found on the other side of the country (La Lenca in the city of Perkin, department of Morazan) but the amenities offered is an impressive buffet that takes advantage of the terrain and beauty of this department. Extras such as tennis and basketball courts, horseback riding, hiking, and two swimming pools are available. The feel of the place is very welcoming, a place of refuge amongst the blind-dead stares found in many of the rural areas.

It was here, amidst the lovers, hiding behind the pines and in the hammocks that littered the entire complex, stealing kisses from week long waiting, friends embracing after a month long absence, and in the sea of green (as it was St. Patrick’s Day after all) I found myself thinking of my projects within Peace Corps, bouncing ideas of one another, of my trip to Nicaragua which is up and coming, Mexico after that, the history of this place, of life loved and lost. As I looked over a point that showed a view of Guatemala, Honduras and El Salvador, the horse beneath me stirring and fighting, I thought of the fallen, of love and war, sickness and distain.

By some unknown reason the horse was responsive to my commands and we galloped back, my blood racing with the wind and my mind became blank, with only the rushing of blood and the beating of my temples competing with sounds of the world I often forget I inhabit.

It was a long weekend with a layover in the capital, there I enjoy good company and we ate Gouda cheese, pesto sauce, a loaf of bread and bottle of Chilean wine. Talk of work, life, the educational system of the United States and El Salvador, language, dialect and distinctions of the two, both in opportunity and culture filled the night.

The weekend was much needed. Tonight, I think I will make Hummus as a snack before dinner.

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

Scrutape

In the battle over San Salvador, yesterday, the FMLN was declared victorious (by about 40 votes).

In celebration I went to the mall and bought a red shirt :) But the problem was, the shirt is so new and so nice that I realized that I didn't have anything pants to wear with the shirt...so I bought a pair of pants. Now, as I looked into the mirror and saw myself, to have clothes that actually fit lacking the ware of hand washing and sun bleaching, I saw the chic urbanite of yore, he who came before...when I changed back into my tattered apparel, I was left confused on who I liked better.

Hmmm.

Off to the central-north part of the country.

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

Scrutape

Yesterday: He sat in the desk of my counterpart, quietly sitting down as I typed away on the computer uploading blogs, reading and responding to emails. All the while I felt his gaze on the back of my head. I said something banal (the subject I do not remember), a sort of space filler that seemed to fit with noise of the air conditioner and typing. It was then that he just began, at first talking to me, but later, as I began to realize, a sort of one way dialogue justifiying himself, commenting on democracy, it was like fliping to chanel only to realice it was the same station. I was nothing more than someone who could not judge him, first because I don’t know him, and because of my position in Sesori being an officially neurtal one.

His eyes were red, probably from crying or lack of sleep, or both, his noise ran and he blamed it all on a cold. He spoke of loyalties, to his family first and his friends second, he reasoned why he voted for ARENA rather than PDC. It wasn’t anything personal against Don René (the current mayor), he was a good man he argued. And although they didn’t see eye to eye on many things, he still made the effort to prove to me (or himself) that that was not the reason for his voting performance. If he could, he shared, he would not have voted at all for alcalde, or if he could, he would have voted for both. But he felt complelled to act in one way or another.

For that response I respect the man, and the others who have grown up with the candidates and were forced to choose between friendship, family, and ideals. The mood it still stale amongst the workers, but as the days are passing, they are smiling more and quick with a joke.

Yesterday I met a man I did not respect, a man who decided to lie on the fences and wait to see what passes. The heat is getting worse here in Sesori and I finally broke down and bought a fan. The owner asked me about the election results, I shared what I knew and asked what he thought of the descision. He leaned back in his chair and shared that it made no difference to him, and to avoid conflicts he didn’t vote for mayor but for the senators.

In the streets the areneros stood by the new mayor’s house, a massive two story buidling remincent of a some some failed Greek architect that sticks out like a sore thumb. To be fare, many of the newer houses clash with one another, the newer ones more obscene than the older. The Areneros are preparing a victory celebration this weekend in my town (one of several reason I will not be there). I shook their hands and congratulate them, knowing that when they arrive, many of my friends will no longer be employed. It’s something that’s been bothering me as of late.

San Salvador is still undecided. Regardless of the outcome, I believe there is going to be some rioting, especially if ARENA takes overs. Right now The Supreme Electoral Tribunal (TSE in Spanish) are looking over and declaring if the invalid (inpunado) votes can or cannot be counted, 83 are in debate. This has me questioning the legality of this. Apparently, as the gossip goes, ARENA controls the government, thus, controls the TSE and is using the TSE in an attempt to get more votes. The legality of this entire process is in question along with other corruption charges such as bringing in outsiders to vote.

All valid votes still place FMLN in the lead by a narrow margin.

I will be away from my computer for the next 4 days or so (I’ll be in the capital tomorrow so if there are any updates I may have access), updates until then.

Happy St. Patty’s Day,

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

Scrutape

Talks of four dissenters were quietly discussed under the low hum of the air-conditioned office of my counterpart. This morning feelings of betrayal were heartfelt as tears filled their eyes. The feeling was somber, but their voices were light-hearted, “asi es” (that’s how it is), “ni modo, solo tres años” (eh, only three years) and other phrases were exchanged as visitors slowly walked inside city hall, each offering their sympathy. Inside the office of Medio Ambiente (where I am located) three of the four dissenters huddled toward one desk and talked of the results. They agree d that they feel bad for the alcalde (mayor) and the sindicto (no idea how to say that in English, his role is the executor of all legal events administered by city hall), but it was the way of things, this system that we helped install, that has put brother against brother, friend against friend.

The elections represent the growing change in El Salvador, from rural farmers to urban consumers. Even the image of these inhabitants has changed, or should I say, part of the systematic process of change that began, at the heart of it, in 1932, when the 1st waves of massacres emptied the indigenous population and indoctrinated shame for those that still carry indigenous traits (of course this was been happening since the Conquest). The papers portray areneros (those who support ARENA) as model yuppies with light skin and neatly cut hair, fashionable, vogue. The efemelistas (those that support FMLN) are dark-skinned indigenousness looking, a working class. The hopeful ARENA candidate for San Salvador is light skinned with blue eyes, the candidate for FMLN has an olive hue and brown eyes.

All of El Salvador is holding its breathe for the results mayoral elections for the cities capital. FMLN currently leads with 45.01% and ARENA with 44.93%. The results will be read at 7pm tonight, according to the papers. Since free elections were held, San Salvador has repeatedly gone FMLN. All political parties not ARENA are pulling for FMLN. The collective distain for ARENA from other political parties was apparent Sunday when the mayor of Moncagua, a municipality south of Sesori’s, upon witnessing the wave of red, white and blue (ARENA’s colors) instructed his followers to vote FMLN. The combined effort was a success and FMLN succeeded in defeating ARENA.

Tomorrow, the results are in…

Your affectionate volunteer,

Scrutape

Yesterday marked the end of the 15 year encumbant reign of the PDC (Partido Demócrata Cristiano), or The Christian Democratic Party in my municipality of Sesori. The PDC, an aging party whose original platform of agrarian reform has been slowly fading away inside El Salvadors political relm. In it’s place, known by many names such as, “The Empire” or the “The Evil Empire” as many Peace Corps volunteers believe, has taken yet another stake inside El Salvador. ARENA (Alianza Republicano Nacionalista), or the National Republic Party whose representation of the urban middle/upper class is now controlling yet another important municipality in El Salvador. Other ARENA victories marked the country including a surprise victory (for me anyhow) in the ex-guerilla area of Perkin, home of the revolutionary museum. ARENA now controls most of the municipalities within Morazan (the department where Perkin is located).

This morning I read in La Prensa Grafica that the most important city, San Salvador, has yet to declare a victor due to a dead tie between The Empire, and the far-left FMLN (Faribundo Martí Liberación Naciónal) or the Faribundo Martí Liberation Front, otherwise known as FRENTE (which the composite of 5 guerrilla groups that make the FMLN). Bear with me.

Much talk has been around one particular candidate who broke off from FMLN to form the center-left CD, Cambio Democrático, yup, you guessed it, Democratic Change (a coalition comprised of FDR, Frente Democrático Revolucionario and PNL, Partido Naciónal Liberación) who split the FMLN vote which has caused quite a controversy over the prize of El Salvador, its capital, San Salvador. As of now there is an even draw and both camps have declared victory. More to come on that as I find out the news.

As far as single party dominance, ARENA still has a long way to go as the FMLN has almost equal control of deputies within the legislative branch and ARENA has won many victories by very narrow margins. In the town of Guatejiagua (home to a friend of mine) ARENA won by just three votes.

Because this is only a blog I can state my feeling about this and note that I am speaking as one individual in El Salvador and not as a Peace Corps representative, so here I go:

The growing fear in El Salvador is that it will become a one party government with no real opposition in the horizon. The US friendly ARENA will soon dominate all of El Salvador (this I am sure of) unless a party rises that can truly challenge ARENA. I feel that the far left extremist group FMLN rose in numbers due to the recent death of their leader, Shafik Hándel, but the reality of what I feel is that the FMLN has lost foot and is losing numbers as more and more people embrace capitalism and buy Discmans and Kellogg frosted flakes. My other hope was that FDR, the political arm of FMLN while they were still a guerrilla group could have come back as center-left (that failed, their numbers are even smaller than PDC’s).

Since the death of Shafik I’ve been wearing a lot of red in the hope that these reforms will take place and El Salvador. We’ll, there’s always Chile to look forward to.

The struggle continues,

Your affectionate volunteer,

Scrutape