Hidden things

The key to the filing cabinet is somewhere - I very carefully put it somewhere so I could be sure to find it. And then forgot where the somewhere is. Unpacking is a chaotic experience. Yesterday I hunted all over the house for a bandaid for the Amnet technician who'd cut his finger while putting in the internet and cable and telephone. Ended up with gauze pads and tape. Today I knew exactly where the bandaids were.

The house is beginning to emerge - here are photos of the sala (living room), comedor (dining room), the chapel, which will double as an extra bedroom, and the patio. The house is big, welcoming, and very Salvadoran and I love it. The biggest challenge is having no closets, but today, walking down the street, I saw an excellent contraption of plastic covered wire for sale that will offer somewhere to hang clothes. Armando did a great job of connecting the fans today, so the air is moving. And the accumulated tiredness of three weeks of moving has caught up with me. I'm headed for bed.

At home in Suchitoto

I've unpacked what seems like thousands of the PazSalud plastic tubs, hung pictures on the wall, unearthed the iron, lost the key to the filing cabinet, and gotten connected to the telephone, cable and internet - in short, I'm at home in Suchitoto. It feels great to be here on the unpacking end of things, and it felt especially great to walk out at 7 this morning through the market and through some of the streets of the city.

Photos will follow, and many of them - this is a very photogenic city - but this is just to let you know that I am back online and at home in Suchitoto.

In Suchitoto

First night in the Suchitoto house, and it's a good place to spend the night. The buses that rumble up the street on their way out of town can hardly be heard from the bedrooms in the back of the house. There's only one rooster in my immediate area, and he doesn't get going until 4 am. A lot of geckos are working on keeping the mosquito population down. It's hotter in Suchitoto than in San Salvador, but the nights are still cool. No bats appeared.

No oven or refrigerator in the house as yet (that comes Monday), so I invited Marta, who's been doing a magnificent job of cleaning and organizing the house, and her niece Cresaida to dinner. We walked out at 7 pm to get pupusas and tacos at El Gringo (a Salvadoran-Mexican restaurant run by a Gringo-Salvadoran guy named Roberto) and it was great to walk through the well-lighted streets, three women out at night. This isn't a safe thing to do in San Salvador.

Here again, gone again

Today was well-packed.

It began with trips to the Archdiocese and the lawyer to get some of my immigration papers updated and corrected. My lawyer's 96-year-old mother is in the final stages of her life, and Dra. Ramirez told me about calling a couple of parishes for a priest who would come to give her communion and the annointing of the sick. Her local parish said someone would be over, but no one came. Finally she called the Archdiocese, and a few hours later someone appeared. That someone was Monseñor Gregorio Rosa Chavez, Auxilary Bishop of San Salvador. Rosa Chavez scarcely shows up on the Internet, but he is well known and well loved in El Salvador as a champion of peace and justice, a spokesman for the needs of the people. He makes house calls, too, it seems, and that is no surprise. Here is a churchman who lives his calling as the hands and feet of Christ.

Buoyed by that story, and with my corrected papers, I went off to the Ministry of Immigration, where I was approved for temporary residency in record time, photographed, thumb-printed, and sealed. I wish it could ever be this simple for immigrants to my country.

Then I collected Grace and we went dashing off to Suchitoto - my first taste of the kind of quick trip that's going to be part of my normal week. We hadn't set aside enough reading glasses at the higher resolutions, 3.0 and higher, for our cataract patients, and had to seek out the rest in the tub that - of course - had been sent to Suchi. They were, they always are, in the bottom box in the back of the stack of boxes, but we retrieved them, unloaded a bookcase, ate cheese sandwiches, and went dashing back to Santa Tecla and Dra. de Burgos' clinic.

For me there was some sadness in this last meeting with our eye surgery patients, but joy in hearing how well most are doing, how much they are enjoying their new vision. Yesterday one of the older men came out of his consult with Dra. de Burgos, put on his new reading glasses (3.0), pulled out a Bible in very small type, and happily began reading. Some of the women are looking forward to sewing again. A few patients will need follow-up laser surgery with Dra. de Burgos, so I will see them again.

Grace enjoyed meeting the eye surgery patients - here she is with one woman from Comasagua - and collected her share of hugs and thanks. In mid-afternoon, Dra. Daysi Ramirez, whose office is right next door to Dra. de Burgos', suggested we end the day with pupusas, the Salvadoran stuffed tortilla, so we hastened off, following Daysi's car (following anyone in Salvador traffic at rush hour is somewhere between a huge challenge and folly) and arrived live at Margoth's pupuseria where we ate too much and talked in a few languages and had a great time.

Grace goes home tomorrow, and how I will miss her! She's been a huge help, and a lot of fun, turning the dreaded chore of moving into a lighthearted exercise. Thank you seems insufficient, but THANK YOU, Grace!

Almost (again)

I almost live in Suchitoto - furniture, clothes, books, dishes are mostly there, two truckloads with Carlos and Israel today - but Grace and I are in the San Salvador house for two more days. The eye surgery patients have their final checkup with Dra. de Burgos tomorrow and Friday, and I'll be there with reading glasses for all who need them, and to see everyone again. Grace returns to Bellevue on Saturday, and I'll head up to Suchi then to start unpacking, sorting, arranging - the fun end of moving. The final load, including stove and refrigerator, comes Monday.

Coming out of Suchitoto today we had to manuever slowly through a herd of cattle that were owning the road, and all along the way horses and cattle and goats were tethered along the side of the highway, getting fat off the new growth from the beginning of the rainy season. It's good to be (almost) here.

Moving!

Today Carlos came with a big truck and his nephew Omar and they loaded the truck with a small mountain of tubs - both the PazSalud supplies and the many things Grace and I had packed into the empty tubs - and off we went to Suchitoto. Grace and I went up in the car with our delicate optometric instruments and the autoclave and St. Francis. St. Francis, who had a place of honor at our door in San Salvador for the past 8 years looks right at home in the Suchitoto patio. It feels good to be halfway there - and tomorrow the furniture goes.

Almost

It strikes me that postings may be scarce the next few days as the move happens. Everything's scarce at this point. I made salad, but the salad bowl is packed. Vilma brought flowers, but the vases are packed. The photos and paintings and santos, the dishes and tablecloths, the books and bowls and utensils are hidden away in rubbermaid tubs. So in lieu of decor, here's a photo of morning sweepings from a courtyard in Suchitoto.

We had a grand time last night - dinner with Dra. Daysi Ramirez Chicas, a long-time friend of Grace and Eleanor, and with all Daysi's family - her husband, two sisters and their husbands, her mother and father, and - star of the show - her niece, beautiful three-year-old Alejandra Sofia, full of life and bounce. We ate pupusas and empanadas and talked and talked while Alejandra danced rings around us all. Salvadoran family life at its most beautiful - it was a joy to be included.

And I had a grand time of another sort this morning, carrying on an argument with my Amnet representative about just what sort of documents I had to present to get my phone hooked up: a grand time only because the argument happened on the phone, and I said my piece fully, and with feeling. Don't know that it did much good, but it was satisfying to have reached the point when I can do more than sputter on the phone.

Mess

We've reached that awful state in the packing process when the cupboards and drawers and closets are empty, many boxes are packed, but there is a lot of stuff just standing around on every available table, ledge and counter. I keep telling myself that this is the FINAL stage in packing (I should know), but that doesn't mean I like it much.

Still, we've taken some good time to see friends, see sights, and have fun. The Memorial to Justice and Truth in Parque Cuscatlan was unveiled after Grace returned to the United States, so I took her to that moving memorial, where the names of some 30,000 (of the estimated 70,000) Salvadorans killed or disappeared during the Civil War are listed. In this memorial the names of the famous dead - Archbishop Romero, the murdered Jesuits, the North American Churchwomen - are simply listed in their year and their alphabetical order with everyone else. I believe this monument lists only non-combatants, the many, many who were killed by death squads or in massacres or who were disappeared.

And yesterday we went to Ataco, the last town in the Ruta de los Flores, a string of lovely mountain towns in the west, to buy locally woven cloth to make room dividers in the new house. It was lovely to get away from the boxes and the mess for a day, and to see such colorful places as the Pupuseria de las Gemelas (the twins' pupuseria). The cloth, by the way, is fuschia with stripes of green and blue and white woven in....definitely colorful!

Lights and ladders

Armando came over today to take down the two big ceiling fans that have kept our upstairs area cool. Armando is a friend of Sr. Eleanor from a long time back - he lived in El Despertar, with Jesuit Refugee Services during the Civil War years while receiving treatment for injuries. Currently he lives with his wife and daughter in Zamorano, Usulutan, and puts together sound systems for bands or churches.

Armando helped install the fans back in 2001, and he understands electricity. But we were almost done in because our ladder, which is quite tall enough to terrify me (ladders paralyze me), was not tall enough to reach the high ceiling fan in our upstairs office. We got creative, and built a little pyramid with a table and the ladder. Grace and I held the ladder and prayed while Armando took down the fan (and prayed) and we were all sweating buckets because it was hot and humid.

Then the rains came, and we had beer and pizza, and all was well. The movers (Suchitoto guys with a truck) come next Tuesday, and they'll find us ready. All we have left to pack now is the kitchen. The way it is here, you bring everything into a house you rent - ceiling fans, stove, refrigerator, blinds, even cupboards. This house, which has been the PazSalud Base House for nine years, will soon be an empty shell.

Yuca

Grace and I spent much of today in the back reaches of the upstairs walk-in storeroom, the place for things that didn't seem to belong anywhere in particular, but were hard to throw away. Somewhere between deciding whether it made sense to take three mosquito nets to Suchitoto and choosing to throw out the two unused and elegant faucet sets with hot and cold (we won't have hot water in Suchitoto), it occurred to us that Eleanor - who had stored the mosquito nets and faucets - was lounging on a beach in Hawaii. Bon voyage, Eleanor, how we wish you were here!

The storeroom is clean and cleaned out! A triumph. This laid the perfect groundwork for an adventurous meal, and I had invited our neighbor, Vilma, to dinner. I decided it was time to try cooking yuca. I consulted Healthy Latin Cooking and came up with a Cuban recipe for yuca in a lime and garlic sauce, paired that with chicken marinated in lime and orange, and the result was muy rico. Yuca (also known as manioc and cassava) tastes like a very good potato, only better, with a buttery and nutty flavor that was perfectly set off by the tartness of the lime. Vilma brought us a bottle of ice wine, which we had for dessert along with the coconut ice cream that everyone loves, and we had a grand evening of eating and talking. Never mind that about half of what Vilma had to say didn't entirely register (she's a fast talker) - it all felt friendly, mellow, and blessed, with the kind of blessing bestowed on those who have cleaned out the back closet.

Working together

Grace and I went up to Suchitoto yesterday to see the new house and it is looking delightful. We took up the potted plants from the garden here and set them in the patio underneath the nance tree and limon. The nance fruits are falling right now, and here's a bag full of them, about the size of large cherries - you eat them after they've fallen, when they're dark red/maroon; they're sweet and a little chewy, and they're one of the many fruits here you won't find in a U.S. supermarket.

Then we headed back to the city and got to work on sorting and packing.

One of the great, and greatly undervalued, joys of life is working together with someone. I've been delighting in working with Grace these past few days as we search the depths of the cupboards, decide on the right destination for obscure objects (an exercise ball that can't be blown up because the stopper is missing; a can of dried and hardened spackle; the top to an electric fry pan - but not the bottom). Sorting and packing/discarding this by myself would be tedious and dusty and a little gloomy. Sorting and packing with Grace is fun and dusty and cheerful. It is so good to be part of a community of friends!

The discarding part is easy: you put things out on the sidewalk, and if they are of any interest to anyone they disappear. If they don't disappear, they'll be picked up by the trash collection tomorrow. Recycling is more a way of life here than a government program.

A change of address

I stopped by the bank today to give them my new address. No problem, a friendly clerk put the new address on the account. Oh, I said, and can you change the name on the account to my name? I'm already an authorized signer, and my checks say "Susan Dewitt / PazSalud." But the name on the account that's sent out every month is still Eleanor Gilmore. Oh no, said the clerk, that would require papers from an attorney... Or perhaps another six months for my Spanish to get good enough for sustained argument. It's always a challenge, operating outside the familiar boundaries of one's own culture, to guess what's going to be possible and what's going to be hard.

Names seem to persist here, whether the owners of the names are present or not. The electricity and water bills for this house come in the name of the long-deceased mother of the present landlady. When I call for a taxi to the airport, the taxi company tells me that I am Eleanor Gilmore (a reasonably challenging name for a Spanish speaker) and I have decided not to dispute that. I can be Eleanor Gilmore whenever that's the path of least resistance. Certainly, for the bank!

Moving here and there

I drove up the cordillera de balsamo to Comasagua today, to take vitamins and some financial help to Nubia and her family (she's enjoying her new glasses and seeing much better in her schoolroom). Along the way I could already see the changes of the season, new grass growing where there were bare patches before, trees leafing out, men working to unblock the big drains.

People who visit El Salvador in the dry season may wonder about the ditches and enormous drains everywhere. Houses and workplaces and schools here are designed to keep people reasonably dry through the rainy season, to keep the water moving away and down. Now, at the beginning of the season, is the time when everyone discovers which drains are blocked and which roads are going to be flooded - lots of work for the road crews.

When the rains set into their everyday pattern - a torrent in the late afternoon or evening or at night - it will be the time for planting corn and beans in the milpas. Now we're not quite there, but the clouds and winds have brought welcome cooler weather.

I'm especially glad of cooler weather as it's time to pack and move again. Again: it's been quite a pattern in my life! I grew up an Army brat and always hated moving every few years. I was sure I'd just find one place as a grownup and stay there. Not quite! While my brother and sister found their communities (Wenatchee and Edmonds, Washington) and stayed put, I seem to have acquired the entire family's portion of wanderlust. I've moved 36 times so far in my life; Suchitoto will be number 37. Excessive? Yes. But I'm good at packing and unpacking. And I'm looking forward to settling in to 4a Avenida Sur, #2, Barrio Calvario, Suchitoto, Cuscatlan, El Salvador and watching the rains fall into the patio.

A house in Suchitoto

I have been thinking about moving away from San Salvador, the capitol city, for a while, because I'd prefer living in a smaller community where it's easier to meet people, and where I don't have to live with razor wire and vigilantes (guards). Last week, while Margaret Jane and I were visiting in Suchitoto, which is a good sized community about an hour north of San Salvador, we looked around for possible houses to rent, toured three, and found one that seems perfect! It's about the same size as the present house in San Salvador (that's pretty big, but we hope to have lots of guests), but all on one level, and it's a classic Salvadoran style of house: adobe, fronting directly on the street, with an internal patio, and the rooms arranged around the patio. No razor wire, no vigilantes (though I'm going to miss Don Francisco and Don Alex). There are homes on either side, the market is just on the other side of the block, I'm about two blocks from the church and central plaza, and across the street is a doctor's office, dentist's office and funeral home: one stop shopping!

Of course, this means I will have to move.... But, happily, Sister Grace DiDomenicantonio has agreed to come help me with the packing and organizing. Grace lived here, at the present Base House, for a couple of years, so she has many friends to visit in San Salvador - and she knows the ins and outs of what's hidden in the cupboards. Around mid-May a couple of guys from Suchitoto will bring their trucks down, and we'll pile everything in, and then comes the fun of unpacking.

Meanwhile the surgical mission arrives Saturday for a week of cataract surgeries at Hospital San Rafael, and I am more than busy getting ready for them. Felices pascuas a todos - Happy Easter to everyone!

Two worlds

I'm living in two worlds. Either I'm in El Salvador, checking on the weather and the news and my friends in the north, or I'm in the northwest, checking on the news and my friends in El Salvador (the weather in El Salvador at this time of year is pretty predictable). In either place the internet makes bilocation seem almost feasible. Thirty-eight years ago, when I spent a year in Norway, the distances were clearer, the spaces more unbridgeable. I remember reading the Herald Tribune in paper copy, and listening to BBC news. Letters took a couple of weeks to arrive. People at home seemed very-far-away.

Now the two worlds jostle and jangle. My laptop shows photos from El Salvador on its desktop. I wake up in the mornings and take a few long seconds to remember what country I'm in and what day it is and what I might have to do in it.

The distances we have erased with such ferocious efficiency are real. They matter. I want to wake up knowing where I am and how I got here.

Mañana

I fly back to Seattle tomorrow, my first trip home. I'm looking forward to seeing my family and my CSJP Sisters and my dear friends. I'm looking forward to being able to open my mouth and talk without thinking about which tense the verb should be in.

I'll miss the heat, and the clicking of the gecko at night, and this house, which has also become home. I'm going to miss the day of the elections - though I will be checking in on the internet - and the celebration of Monseñor Romero on March 24th. I'll be glad to return in time for Holy Week. It's always good - and a very Lenten good - to return.

In El Salvador

Just a quick note to say that I'm here in El Salvador - I came in last night, Beth and Andrea arrived this morning with more of my baggage. It's beautifully warm, beautifully sunny, and this new adventure will continue this afternoon as Andrea, Beth and I begin a few days of vacation on the Ruta de los Flores - Route of the Flowers - a string of beautiful villages in Sonsonate.

¡Ya me voy!

Ya me voy - I'm leaving now....I'm at an airport hotel, making sure I get on that plane tomorrow and don't get trapped by another snowstorm, ice floe, or slush pond. It took 6 people, many with shovels, to get Linda and her 4-wheel drive vehicle, which was kindly transporting me to the hotel, out of the parking lot today - but I just added a Salvador weather widget to my iGoogle, and it tells me that right now it's 73 in San Salvador, down from today's sunny high of 89. No wind, some clouds. Sounds like a delightful contrast!

I won't be blogging much in the next ten days - I'm going to be travelling and relaxing with Andrea and Beth, the two Sisters with whom I've shared Province leadership over these past six years.

One last note - I found out today that my sore shoulder is probably a frozen shoulder and a rotator cuff tear - will get an MRI in San Salvador to confirm this diagnosis from my chiropractor. Lots of unpleasant rehab lies ahead!

But for now: another world beckons. Ya me voy.

Letting Go

This morning I put my sterling silver christening cup, with my name inscribed on it in flowing script and a few baby tooth dents, into my pile of Goodwill donations. I've been carting it around for all the many years of my life, and I've never been able to figure out a good use for it. At long last, I polished it, admired it, said goodbye, and put it in the donation bag. Someone at least can have some good out of it, if only by melting down the silver!

I'm pretty sure I'll never miss my cup or the other things I'm letting go. All that stuff, yes even stuff disguised as a sterling silver christening cup, is just a tether, a binding. Feels good to let it go.

But then, my real challenge is the books - while I've given up tons (literally, I'm afraid) of books in my lifetime, I still find it hard to part with a book and the possibilities it represents. I've cut my book collection by about 2/3rds and still have more than I can easily fit into my room here.

What a lovely party!

Yesterday afternoon, at the end of a very beautiful Advent Reflection Day, my Sisters and friends blessed and missioned me for my new work in El Salvador, and thanked me for my past six years on the Province leadership team. It was great fun, including a song to the tune of "Deck the Halls" that included such lines as "We'll miss you Susan, that's for certain / Your absent space will leave us hurtin' Falalalalalalalala." I was touched by a book of photos and wishes or prayers from the community - and Sister Susan Francois (the other Sister Susan) video-taped the song and the comments so I can revisit this party whenever my absent space leaves me hurtin'.

All in all, it was a little like getting to hear the eulogies at my own funeral, without the messy business of having to die first. Embarrassing, but heart-warming! I was especially moved by this poem, which Sister Eileen Keane read:

Go to the people,
Live among them,
Learn from them,
Love them,
Start with what they know,
Build on what they have.
But of the best leaders,
When their task is accomplished
Their work is done,
The people will all remark
"We have done it ourselves."

Tao To Loa Tzuching in 700 B.C.

Twenty days to El Salvador!