RAIN!

There's rain and then there's RAIN, the serious, drenching, thunderous, crashing rains of the El Salvador winter season.  Everything here is built to handle RAIN - people who visit during the dry season must wonder at the number of ditches around buildings and on the edges of roads.  During winter you don't wonder, you're just glad that they're carrying the water away from your home or school or town.

Our house - like most here in Suchitoto - is built flush to the narrow sidewalk, but we are about three feet above the grade level, for which I'm grateful on nights like this one.  Water surges down both sides of the cobblestone street, on its way to Lago Suchitlan.  My personal criteria for "this is getting really serious" is when the two streams meet and cover the center of the street.  It's almost happening tonight, but not quite, and the electricity is still on (thus blogging becomes possible): a storm, but not a catastrophe.

Inside the house, it's easy to see the wisdom of building houses with interior courtyards.  All the rain - a decent small river of it - runs down the stairs from our deck, runs off the roofs, drips off the trees, and finds the lowest point - the drain that leads out directly to the street, where our contribution of rain joins the rain of every house along the street, and floods the gutters on the way Lago Suchitlan. 

Most houses have their leaks, and ours did too, until yesterday: a drain pipe that made an L in our kitchen on its way to the main drain dripped every time it rained.  But yesterday Darren - who was building us a great new set of shelves for the tubs in our bodega - attacked the problem from the inside with something resembling tar, and the pipe leaks no more.  Another thing to be grateful for!

Farmers with their milpas of corn and beans rely on rain to keep the crops going and growing.  There's been a serious drought in the eastern districts of El Salvador, several weeks without rain and the loss of a lot of the corn crop that will mean a serious shortage in the country in the year ahead.  So I bless the RAIN in its glory and drama, the lifegiving RAIN of winter.

Rain

It's been raining occasionally for a few weeks, and daily for the last few days.  The weather prophets tell us this isn't yet the start of the reliable once-a-day rainy season, but an anticipation.  Sure feels rainy enough here, and there are other signs: the salt shaker is clogged, the grass on the side of the roads is purest green, the leak in one of the bedrooms began again, and an astonishing variety of insects has emerged.  Maybe we still have some dry days ahead, but still: it feels like el invierno, the winter.  Which prompted a poem -

The rain comes

announced by trumpets,

the rain comes

a solid liquid

searching out every hole

every crack in the roof

every corner,

the rain comes

carrying away stale smells,

bags of boquitas Diana,

banana peels,

dog droppings,

the rain comes

grass is green again

scrawny cattle go grazing

on the roadside.

Winter

Winter is officially here. We had a gully-washer of a thunderstorm a few days back, and since then nightly rains. The rains are late this year, and the heat had become almost unbearable, but the regular rainfalls help keep temperatures reasonable.

It's hard for someone from the Pacific Northwest (where it is still 50 degrees and raining on June 1st) to think of El Salvador's rainy season as winter - but this is the season when travel gets difficult because of mud and floods, when you have to look at the sky before leaving the house, when the mosquitoes and flies and toads come out to play, when - a little further on - absolutely everything gets damp, mildewy, soggy. So it's reasonable enough to call it winter, the more challenging of the two seasons.

Meanwhile, we are in the transition period, which is the classic time for catching a cold in El Salvador...plenty of sniffles all around. Farmers have started their corn crop, and have been waiting anxiously for the rains to catch up with them. Now they have: primero Dios, this year's crop of corn and beans will be big and healthy, unlike those of the last two years when dry weather came at the wrong time.

Rain in abundance

Yesterday I got up well before dawn to take Kathy Garcia to the airport, and drove through a lot of fog and rain - no fun in the dark - to get there. All week, the sky overhead has been gray, and we've had heavy rains every day. The country is on a "green alert" because of the rains, rivers are overrunning their banks, and huge waves are reported on the coast.

Heavy rains are normal enough here, at this time of year. But five days of gray skies with no relief in sight? That never happens here. It almost feels like Seattle (but lots warmer). I have two weeks worth of clothes waiting to be washed, but until the sun comes out, it will be pretty hard to dry them.

The people who suffer in this weather - or any weather - are the poor, people whose houses have roofs of plastic or cardboard, people who can't afford to fix the roofs, people who live under earth banks that may collapse in the rains. The United Nations Development Program in El Salvador recently issued a two-volume study of areas of urban poverty and social exclusion in the country ("urban" is a bit misleading: the study mapped all areas with more than 50 dwellings, so only the truly rural areas are excluded). It's downloadable and fascinating for those who know a bit of El Salvador and like maps; it should be a great guide for the government's plans to build additional low-cost housing. Sadly the amount of poor housing is far greater than the government's resources for building new housing. Most of the poor, it seems, will continue to suffer in the heavy rains.

Cold Spell

La Prensa Grafica has been full of warnings of a cold spell here in the last few days. For the benefit of my friends in colder lands to the north, this means that the temperature in San Salvador tonight is expected to drop to about 60 degrees Fahrenheit (with a predicted daytime high of 86). In mountainous areas, the low might be as low as 45.

Now to someone living through winter in Washington or New Jersey, this may seem like great summer weather, but here many people don't have warmer clothes to put on or much more than a sheet to cover the bed. And the winds are expected to be high - between 12 and 20 miles per hour with gusts up to 30mph.

It's always interesting to find out in different cities what kind of weather or natural disaster merits a full page of "how to live through it" advice in the paper. In Seattle, it's earthquakes; in Oklahoma City, tornadoes; in Albuquerque, snowstorms (to name a few of the cities I've lived in). Here in El Salvador, a cold spell counts. The meteorology of the cold front was graphically explained and people were advised to stay indoors and bundle up warmly.

I'm welcoming three friends from the north, coming in on the plane tonight (and I hope the winds will not get in their way): Kathy Garcia, Amalia Camacho and Randy Querin are coming down on a small PazSalud mission to make a video about cataract surgery that we'll be able to show to our prospective patients. They'll be happy to have a cold spell, El Salvador version, after the winter weather in Eugene, OR and Longview, WA.

El Día de los Muertos

A very special weekend in El Salvador and Latin America: while Halloween is still a custom from the norte (you see some costumes, but I'm told trick and treating has not percolated south), the day of all saints, el día de todos los santos, and the day of the dead or All Souls, el día de los muertos, are very important feasts here. On Monday, Mass will be celebrated in the cemetery and families will decorate the graves of their dead.

Meanwhile, we are also celebrating the first days of summer, and booths are up all around the plaza, selling flowers and sweets for Monday, selling crafts and clothes and books and icons. There's a pizzeria set up at the side of the church, and a loudspeaker amplifying the music. A dance is promised for this evening. I can feel the difference it makes when you don't have to worry about the rain! November and December are the prime months for fiestas here, everyone's favorite time to go to a party or go to the beach or sit out talking late into the night. Welcoming summer in November is a new pleasure for me - especially as I think of all my friends in the northwest U.S. getting ready for winter and the cold, wet, dark months of the year.

Rain and eagles

I woke this morning to two sounds that told me right away where I am: gentle rainfall and an eagle calling. Rainfall here in the Pacific Northwest is entirely different from the rapid downpours in El Salvador: raindrops shift into and out of mist, not enough for an umbrella, just enough to get you damp. And we've been blessed by the presence of bald eages here at St. Mary-on-the-Lake: they perch in our tall Douglas Firs and send their wild warbles into the morning light.

When I come back to the Northwest, it seems to take a few days before I wake up knowing where I am, though the quiet here should be a clue. In Suchitoto, dawn and the hours before dawn are announced by many roosters, birds, and the big buses rolling past our house on the way to the capital. Here the freeway noise is far enough away to be a background hum of white noise, and the morning's hymn to creation is led by the king of birds. Rain falls and will be falling here, on and off, for the next five months. In El Salvador, the rainy season is about to end, and everyone's favorite months, sunny and cool, begin in November.

The first day of winter

Think I'm crazy? No, this really is the official "first day of winter" in El Salvador, April 15th, the beginning of the rainy season. Now the real rains aren't expected until about mid-May, but this lead-up month is supposed to be a transition time - showers and thunderstorms, worries from the officials about lightning fires and plugged drainage canals. This is the time the toads come out from their underground dry season holes and begin to make music. This is the time of cloudy skies and hazy days and - maybe - rain.

And sure enough, as I was working on the computer this evening I heard a loud rattling, something more than the wind, and looked out onto (and then went out and danced in) a good, energetic half-hour downpour accompanied by a little thunder and lightning, the first serious rain I've seen since I arrived here on December 27th. The first rain of winter, and it's a great relief in April, the hottest month on the Salvadoran calendar. So welcome, winter!

Melting requested

I am, we are, really really really tired of the snow. It was gorgeous the first day, being isolated in a snow-bound island was fun for a few days thereafter. Now it's outstayed its welcome: we want to get out, get in a car, drive away, go to a store, visit family and friends, do Christmasy things. Instead, we counted up the 10 cars that have stuck in the snow at St. Mary-on-the-Lake. We regretted St. Mary's lack of a snow blade which could have been bought for a mere $400 when the current mowing machine was purchased. We tried to figure out how we could get where we wanted to be on Christmas Day in spite of our immovable cars.

I did get out today, walked down to the nearby arterial, Bellevue Way, to meet friends for breakfast. On the way, I slipped on the ice and came down flat on my back and the back of my head - such a comprehensive fall that I'm sure my head bounced a few times. No harm done, I didn't even get a headache, and my shoulder is finally beginning to feel better. Good thing, because I couldn't find any doctor's offices that were open. We had a great breakfast and a great conversation. And in only four days, catastrophes notwithstanding, I fly to El Salvador where it never snows. Thanks be to God!

The weather outside is frightful

but we're managing to stay warm and dry at St. Mary's, an island of comfort and good cheer surrounded by snow which keeps falling and falling and falling. Sister Snow got a new look and a wider skirt last night. The lights went out today, but our generator kicked in immediately - and within an hour, the lights came back on.

You get to St. Mary's by driving down a steep hill from the street. It's something you wouldn't register on most days, but now it's treacherous. Witness my car, under the snow mound.

Because the priest who was saying Mass couldn't get to St. Mary's, I led a Word and Communion service - very strange for us not to have Mass on the 4th Sunday in Advent! - and gave a brief homily about the Annunciation, today's Gospel. God has a way of rearranging our plans, I said, and that message seemed to tie together Mary's surprise at Gabriel's announcement and our surprise at having all our plans for Christmas week so firmly upended. We're not in control.

This is an especially uncomfortable lesson for someone who hopes to flee to the tropics in six short days.

Waiting

We're having a true Advent experience here at St. Mary-on-the-Lake, isolated from the normal pre-Christmas world of shopping and parties by the snow that has already fallen, the ice that has already formed, watching fresh snow fall and waiting for the winds that have been forecast, the freezing rain that might happen tomorrow, hoping the lights and heat stay on. It's good to go through this with our cheerful sisters and the great staff people who've given up their ordinary lives to nurse and feed us (they are mostly staying the night in spare rooms here). It's good to be a community of lovers and believers, waiting for the light.

While it's hard to believe that I'll be in the tropics IN JUST ONE WEEK, I checked the weather report for San Salvador, and it's 79 to 86 as the high during the day, going down to 58-62 at night, sunny with occasional clouds. All week long, all month long. On December 21st, the shortest day in the year, the sun rises in San Salvador at 6:15 AM and sets at 5:35 PM; on June 21st, the longest day in the year, the sun rises at 5:31 AM and sets at 6:27 PM. It never snows. And I'm waiting.

Snow Day!

I was supposed to spend most of today cooking for our annual Province staff Christmas lunch, but instead we had a snow day - great whirls and piles of snow starting about 5:30 with a great clap of thunder and lightning (snow lightning is a new experience). So I got to catch up with posting to our CSJP website (go here for more snow photos) while Sisters Amalia, Susan and Sukyi created Sister Snow in the courtyard. Something about snow, it just makes you feel like you're six again.... Even if you are heading to El Salvador in nine days! One of our Irish sisters asked me today if it ever snowed in El Salvador, and I was sorry to have to tell her that it never, ever did.

The O Antiphons

December 17th takes the church from Advent patience into heightened expectancy with the beginning of the O Antiphons. Each day, before the reading of the Gospel and before the Magnificat at Evening Prayer, a different antiphon is sung or said, and in this last week before Christmas, they are exalted: O Wisdom! O Key of David! O Root of Jesse! O Radiant Dawn! Today during our Word and Communion Service Sister Beth read the first O Antiphon: "O Wisdom, O holy Word of God, you govern all creation with your strong yet tender care. Come and show your people the way to salvation."

Heightened expectancy indeed! Today all the Seattle schools, public and private, were closed because of an expectation of snow, but no snow fell, and the temperature hovered comfortably at 38. Snow to the north of us in Everett; snow to the south of us in Tacoma; and dry streets in Seattle. My own sense of expectancy is ridiculously heightened by the near approach of December 27th, 10 days away, when I fly to El Salvador. O Wisdom, be my guide!