Some days

Some days, my mother used to say, "you should have stood in bed." Yesterday was one of those. I went off to the capital to get my one-year visa from the estranjeria office and to take our request for permission to do a week of cataract surgeries (along with the required documentation) to the Junta Vigilancia de la Profesión Médica - the Medical Board. I waited an hour and a half at the estranjeria only to be told that my visa wasn't ready yet, though I'd been assured that it would be there right after the Easter holidays. Then I found out that the Junta Vigilancia had a new President - and my letter was addressed to the former President. Not possible to cross out one name and write the other: had to produce a new letter. I drove over to the Archdiocese to check in with Señor Duran, who is working on our customs approval, and - by that time - was not surprised that he was in a meeting and not available.

Then I went home, looking forward to a good shower and a peaceful night, and found that Suchitoto's water was turned off - apparently a pipe broke and had to be fixed. And we discovered that we had forgotten to fill a couple of jugs that we usually keep filled for just such emergencies, so we had only a small barrel of water to meet our needs. And then the electricity went off for about 2 hours. I should have stood in bed.

Today, I'm happy to say, has been much better: I had several good meetings, got the letters in to the Junta Vigilancia with the right person's name, even did a little cooking. And this evening the water came back on. Life looks possible again.

Feliz pascua

Christ is risen, Alleluia!

Yesterday Margaret Jane and I decided, with some misgivings, to go to the vigil mass at Santa Lucia. The misgivings came from the time frame: the vigil began at 10 pm and was set to finish at 5 am with a procession. We weren't sure we could make it, but, fortified by afternoon naps, we decided to try.

It was a glorious experience, beginning with the lighting of the pascal fire. We were waiting for someone to light the woodpile in the plaza when we noticed everyone looking back and up, at the roof of the church. A ball of flame appeared on the roof and vaulted down (there must have been a wire, but I didn't see it) to the woodpile, which it set blazing immediately. Padre Carlos Elias lit the pascal candle, and we all lit our candles (una cora, 25 cents, for a candle) and processed untidily into the church, looking for a seat.

Santa Lucia was beautiful with flowers. To one side of the altar was a paper-mache tomb, with the image of the risen Jesus (the same image used in the crucifixion procession of Good Friday, but liberated from the cross). We moved through the beautiful vigil liturgy - readings, psalms, the Gloria, singing Alleluia for the gospel, litany of the saints, baptisms and renewal of baptismal promises, eucharist. By 2:30 am our vigil was complete. "What do we do now?" I asked Martha, who was sitting next to me. "We sing," she said.

Margaret Jane and I decided to opt for bed at this point, but soon after we got back to the house, we heard the procession approaching. The photo shows the faithful with their candles singing and walking down our street at about 3:30 am. Sleepers awake! The Lord is Risen, Christ is Risen Indeed! Feliz pascua, Easter joy and peace to all.

Good Friday, Suchitoto

Good Friday began with the Stations of the Cross, an elaborate walk through the center of Suchitoto that included not only the image of Jesus carrying the cross, but also images of Mary, Veronica and Simon the Cyrenian - each introduced at the appropriate time. Just about everyone in town turned out for the Stations and poured into church at the end to pray.

A few hours later, the church was crammed again for the Good Friday service. We all went slowly and reverently in line to kiss the cross and then to receive communion.

The final act of the day should be the Santo Entierro, the burial procession: a number of alfombras, carpets, were lovingly prepared for the procession and a couple are pictured above, including the offering created by the youth at the Centro Arte para la Paz, the final photo. Just as everyone was putting final touches on the alfombras, alas! the heavens opened and the rain came down in buckets. So these photos may be the only witness to the intentions of the alfombra makers (they are generally made out of bark and colored salt, not very stable items in a thunderstorm).

A thunderstorm that ruins plans seems very appropriate to Good Friday, to a day that turned the world upside down.

Domingo de los ramos

Palm Sunday, domingo de los ramos, in Suchitoto: the church is crammed, packed, overflowing, everyone waving palms in the air as the procession comes down the aisle. Margaret Jane and I decided to get to the church and get a seat rather than walking with the procession (I think that's the wisdom of age), so we got to see Jesus carried up the aisle by two men as we all hosanna'ed and waved our palms. Later, in the middle of the homily, Jesus was carefully positioned near the altar from which he blessed us all through the remainder of the Mass. It was a beautiful start to semana santa, the holy week, a time for church and singing and processions and celebration - and, of course, firecrackers, which got started during this morning's Mass. Hosanna!

Bird brains

We've had quite a few interesting animal visitors to our house in Suchitoto, but nothing quite as strange as the latest. When I came back from time in the U.S. earlier this week, I noticed that poop (of a bird or bat or small animal) was appearing regularly on one side of our hand-washing sink.

Our hand-washing sink is out in the patio, but it's covered by an open high roof to give us protection during the rainy season. Naturally I looked up, but saw nowhere where a bird or bat could be perching. The poop kept appearing, each time in exactly the same corner of the sink.

I began to listen for suspicious sounds, and heard some high-pitched whistles and notes that're familiar to me from the San Salvador airport and the capital, but new in Suchitoto. And then, hearing some noise from the patio, I looked out and discovered a female Great-Tailed Grackle perched on the side of the sink (the photo above is not mine, but it does look like our new friend).

Now who would imagine that a bird would choose a pooping place, and choose one where the resultant mess could easily go down the drain? That may not be her motivation, of course: I can't quite imagine what her motivation may be, but I know that this bird is eating all too well - possibly eating the nance berries that are falling in great quantities right now - and producing extravagant amounts of grackle-poop.

The next question was how we might change this behavior (cleaning bird poop out of your sink repeatedly is not fun). I thought I had a brilliant idea, and put a mosquito net over the sink. Woke up this morning to find a very messed-up mosquito net, some of the mess falling through to the sink. Alas.

Any other good ideas?

Two days at Bloom

Hospital Benjamin Bloom is the national pediatric hospital of El Salvador, and I've spent a lot of time there over the last two days. Yesterday I brought Sandra and her grandma in, all of us expecting that she would have surgery for one of her congenital cataracts - but, as it turned out, she has an eye infection, and the surgery was rescheduled for two weeks while she uses antibiotic drops.

Today I gave Richard and his mother Maria a ride to their appointment with the Bloom cardiologist who will perform his valve replacement surgery (that's Maria and Richard in the photo). We met Richard during our General Medical Mission in San Rafael Cedros, and people from our mission team are contributing to a fund to purchase his heart valve. We are what Richard's loving mother has been praying and hoping for: a way for her 3 year old son to be able to run and play and have a normal life.

While I was sitting with Richard and Maria, I got a call from Sonia telling me that she was at the Bloom with her daughter Gema, who was going through a lupus crisis. We connected in the emergency room and spent some time together. And I decided that I would have a hard time working in a pediatric hospital - it's hard to see children in pain, children curled up with no energy, children looking old and worn.

Bloom is an amazing hospital - they do a lot of great work with little money, and the care for kids is visible everywhere. Still, it's hard for someone from the U.S.A. to understand that Richard and Sandra will get their surgeries only because we are able to provide the heart valve and the interocular lens. I thought today about all the children, probably some of them in front of me, who didn't have that kind of help.

April is the hottest month

No, that's not quite as T.S. Eliot had it ("April is the cruelest month..."), but it is certainly true for El Salvador. On Sunday night I left cold, rainy Seattle-in-April and on Monday morning got off the plane in hotter-than-hot Suchitoto-in-April: a shock to the system, that. Roberto Hernandez picked me up at the airport, and by the time we got back to Suchi my ankles had disappeared into puffs of swollen flesh. They're looking a bit more like familiar body parts now, and the rest of me is remembering how to sweat the way through the afternoons. We will all be glad when the rains come and bring some coolness into the afternoons and evenings. Meanwhile, we swelter.

Coming from the Seattle area where the nights are now longer with daylight saving and twilight is a long, slow dance, I was startled to remember how quickly and fully the dark comes here. At 6 pm the sun goes down, and then it is dark. Suchitoto, with its well-lighted streets, is a safe town to walk around in the dark, and the regularity of sunrise and sunset is comforting. But no long summer nights here - and no short winter days - just 12 hours of blazing sun (in April) and 12 hours of warm darkness. It's good to be back!