Privilegio

I have to admit, I am new to the words "white privilege". My first instinct? No, that's not me. I'm just your average white girl. I don't know about privilege. I'm not rich in education, advantage in American society, safety on the streets, a safe home, and an overall oppression-free life...

Oh, wait. Maybe I do have some privilege. And the truth is, I am grateful for the opportunities I have had. I believe everyone deserves to have an education, a career, and a safe home. A life without fear. 

Since Michael Brown's death, there has been a new mantra in America: "black lives matter". Some people have argued, "wait, but don't ALL lives matter?!" Well of course they do, and that's the point. Black lives matter, but white lives are valued more by our legal system, education system, employers, and government. 

We are talking about years, and years, and years... of oppression. Of lynchings, and now shootings. A study recently showed that a black person was shot two times a WEEK from 2005 to 2012.

This is the kind of thing I as a white person am trying, to begin, to understand. But never fully will.

I don't know what it's like to walk down the street and be profiled because of my race. Or not get a job because of the color of my skin. Or worry about my son going out to play with a toy gun because he could get shot by a police officer. Or be forced to immigrate to another country because there is no work and my children are starving.

We make assumptions about people all the time. I'm just going to go ahead and say it, everyone's a little bit racist. Our implicit biases are there, and it's up to us to become aware of them, and strive to change not only our actions but also our thought patterns.

Now, this conversation still makes me uncomfortable. I am working to change that, too. In the meantime, my goal is to be intentional. Racism does exist. We are NOT colorblind, because if we were, there would be justice and equality in our country. There would be people of all backgrounds hanging out at the local bar laughing and getting along. Instead, we self-segregate and do not seek opportunities to build relationships with people who look different from us.  

I am not trying to guilt anyone. Guilt, it turns out, is the opposite of productive. I'm talking about awareness. Waking up... and working together! 

"It is up to us to get busy, it is up to us to take responsibility. Not because we are guilty, but because we are here."

-Tim Wise

Ira

I can't sleep. I want to scream, or cry, or throw something against a wall. 

I believe in justice. Today, the Grand Jury decided not to indite Darren Wilson for the murder of Michael Brown. He won't even go to trial. 

What country do we live in? What IS this?

The sad truth is, justice rarely happens for people of color in the United States. Minorities fear police for a reason. Two times a week, an unarmed black man is shot in our country. This has been going on for a LONG TIME.

Michael Brown's case is heartbreaking, even more so after today's "verdict". But our country is waking up to this injustice. Brown's father made the following statement this week:

I do not want my son's death to be in vain, I want it to lead to incredible change, positive change... We live here together, this is our home. We're stronger united.

The media is sensationalizing the "riots", as if it comes as a surprise. Silence is not working. Voting is not working. Our justice system? Not working. And y'all, did they really have to wait until 8pm to announce the grand jury's decision? Outrage looks (and feels) more dramatic at nighttime. 

The people of Ferguson are blamed for their anger... But what option do they have? What option do we have? Black lives matter. If a white teenager had been killed by a police officer, there would have been a trial by now. We all know that... So how is it ok? 

We have fallen asleep. The people must rise up for true change to happen. To sit back and wait is not the answer. To let another black man be killed with no recourse...

This is a call to action. To peaceful protests, filling the streets. Social activism matters on social media, but if we stay behind our computer screens, we won't get very far.

"We protest so that some day, years from now, justice is not a surprise, 

nor a dream, nor deferred.

So that justice just is."

-Syreeta McFadden

Caminatta

Today, I took a walk. I know, that shouldn't be big news... walks happen all the time. But graduate school has not been easy and far too much of my time has been spent in front of a computer. I pass by Beryl Road every day, but never bother to turn down it. Today, I did. And it was the best choice I have made in a long time.

The arboretum at NC State is a beautiful place. I walked slowly down the paths, and laid in the sun. On that walk I saw red and orange leaves, and bright white flowers. I felt gratitude, and grief. I felt God's presence. I felt the beating of my own heart.

Being a social work student is emotionally intense. I knew that there were many injustices in our society and world, but to actually look at them up close, to see how much work we need to do... it's overwhelming.

I am excited about being a social worker because the social work community as a whole strives towards social justice. I am committing myself to a greater cause. But social justice is so big. It's such a responsibility. What a rich wealth of knowledge there is to learn. The truth is eye-opening, and heart-breaking.

I teach a free yoga class for social work students. The ironic thing is, that day I teach is one of the only days I actually do yoga. It used to be a daily part of my routine, but lately I just haven't made it a priority. And, my couch is really comfy.

It's a lot to balance. Self-care looks like different things on different days. And sometimes the thing we need is not necessarily the thing we want.

I've never been a very disciplined person when it comes to taking care of myself - I'd rather take care of someone else. Perhaps this is a common trait in social workers? We must strive to make self-care a priority in our lives. It will only make us better at what we do, and more effective in teaching self-care to others.

At the end of every yoga class I say, "thank you for taking care of yourself. This serves not only you, but everyone in your life."

Do you have a body? Don't sit on the porch!

Go out and walk in the rain!

If you are in love, then why are you asleep?

Wake up, wake up!

You have slept millions and millions of years.

Why not wake up this morning?

-Kabir

Aliad@s

On September 29, I officiated my first wedding for Allie and Shannon. It was a true honor. Not only was it an honor because it was for two people I love, but also because those two people happen to be two women in love. 

On November 8, two of my dear friends Preston and Michael finally tied the knot. I had asked them a couple of years ago why they didn't get married in D.C. or somewhere where gay marriage was legal. They answered, "we want to get married in our state." I remember thinking that could take a long time. Yet, here we are.

This year has been an incredible one for marriage equality. 

The day after gay marriage was legalized in North Carolina, I remember waking up and expecting the world to look different. Funny enough, everything looked the same. 

I still can't get over the fact that this decision is happening on a state-by-state basis. Marriage, to me, is a promise between two people that no government should be allowed to define.

In grew up in a liberal Baptist church. Watts Street is an amazing place. I was always free to question my beliefs and choose my own path. I remember there always being gay members in the church, many of whom were leaders. However, it took some time for Watts Street to officially become a "welcoming and affirming" congregation. I remember some members saying, "we don't need a sign out front saying that we're welcoming and affirming, we already are".

But that is just it. As individuals, we may think of ourselves as allies to gay, lesbians, bisexual and transgender people. Until there is true equality in all senses of the word, we do need the sign out front. We can't assume that everyone knows we are welcoming. 

We need to greet all people with open arms, and to welcome them out loud. To be advocates, and friends.

Muerte Digna

This past week Brittany Maynard, age 29, "took her own life". That is, she chose to die before her terminal brain cancer killed her.

The "Death with Dignity" movement has been put back in the national spotlight thanks to her unique situation. I understand why there is debate around what some call "assisted suicide". Having worked for hospice, I saw the suffering people went through in the dying process. In most cases the symptoms were manageable with medication and alternative therapies. While it is painful to become "child-like" in needing assistance with the smallest of things, I do think that death is (ideally) a natural and strangely beautiful process.

However, not all worlds are perfect and not all people live full lives. Brittany Maynard's seizures and headaches would have gotten worse, and she would have suffered much more before her death. She chose to die in peace, surrounded by the people she loved. I think that is what all human beings want, in the end.

What was so refreshing about her story is how openly she talked about her illness and her feelings about her own death. Our society treats death as an enemy. We want the latest plastic surgery, makeup to make us look younger, medicine to make our hair grow back.

November 1st was the Day of the Dead. This time last year, I was in the cemetery in Suchitoto, El Salvador. People visit the graves of their loved ones. They bring fake flowers, re-paint the tomb stones (always brightly colored), and remember their family members who have gone before them. The cemetery is full, a sea of people. There is food and laughter, and a mariachi band plays.

We can learn something from this tradition. Giving life to death - painting the gray tombstone a colorful green. Talking openly about how death affects us, and acknowledging that we are, in fact, fully alive. 

Dia de los Muertos - en Carolina del Norte

On Saturday, I went to the Day of the Dead event put on by the Farmworker Advocacy Network at the Oakwood Cemetery in Raleigh. There, we honored the farmworkers in North Carolina who died this past year due to heat stroke or difficult working conditions. Local farmworkers spoke and told their stories. They spoke of the need for equal rights for all people, for enough bathroom breaks and water to drink and wash their hands.

This is not a lot to ask. Yet, for our legislature has not made these simple labor rights a necessity. More than 150,000 farmworkers risk their lives in the fields every day. Labor Commissioner Cherie Berry is aware of the dangers that farmworkers face, and the fact that the law continues to allow children as young as 12 to face these dangers in the fields.

The Human Rights Watch recently did a report which stated that children as young as 7 were working (illegally) in tobacco fields. 75% of these children said that they had gotten sick at work, with nausea, headaches, skin conditions and respiratory illnesses.

This kind of child labor should not exist in our country. Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free? Give me those people, so I can put their young children to work in the tobacco fields?

Cherie Berry, stop turning a blind eye. Act to STOP child labor in North Carolina.

How do we [Americans] submit? 

By not being radical enough. Or by not being thorough enough, which is the same thing.
― Wendell Berry

Racismo y Ebola

I choose not to watch CNN or Fox or any of those news sources. They have their place in our society, but I don't need to put myself through that. Stress is addictive. We begin to like the feeling of adrenaline we get when we are scared. We want more, and we can find it on CNN.

Ebola is real. I get that. I am nervous about it, just like everyone else. But y'all - we have got to calm down. A reporter from Fox News recently scared the country by reporting that Ebola can be spread going airborne through a sneeze. He incorrectly cited research. Ebola doesn't cause sneezing, and it can only be spread by direct contact with bodily fluids. 

An elementary school child in the Triangle just died from the flu. Our chances of dying of ebola? Slim to none.

Throughout this whole media hysteria over ebola I've had this sneaking feeling... something seems racist about this. My heart breaks for Africa, this continent that has suffered so very much. But has the media told us any stories about any African person who has died of ebola? Do we know their names, or their life stories? 

Recently, Thomas Eric Duncan died of ebola after a trip from Liberia to Dallas. According to his nephew, Duncan did report that he had recently been to Liberia. He was a poor black man without health insurance, they sent him home with Tylenol. Some could say it was just a simple error, but really? Smells like racism.

People from countries all around Africa have reported having been treated differently since the Ebola outbreak, as if they are "contaminated".  A woman from Somalia explained, 
“people are looking at us in a bad way. We didn’t have anything to do with this. Somalia does not have Ebola. It is on the other side of Africa."

If this epidemic were happening in Europe, would there be the same reaction? Would we want to close off all plane travel? Would we be sending in more health workers? I think the answer is yes. I think that the media, and America in general, view people of color as "lesser" than those who are white. Therefore, their deaths are not of so much importance. 

Recent attempts to quarantine health workers on their return to the U.S. may discourage the much-needed help that Africa needs. Health workers are essential. If we do not treat ebola where the outbreak is, it will spread. Our focus is on protecting our precious white American lives, while in Guinea, Liberia and Sierra Leone nearly 5,000 people have died of this awful disease.

Moral of the story: Wash your hands. Get the flu shot. Take care of yourself. And most importantly : black lives matter.

"In the Western media there are First World diseases and Third World diseases. The attention devoted to the latter depends on the threat they pose to us, not on a universal measure of human suffering." -Artist Andre Carrilho

Traviesa

We adopted a sweet black doggie from El Salvador. She was truly the cutest. She was blind, but we didn't care. She was ours. As she got older, her behaviors got more and more strange. She became aggressive, growling and showing her teeth at odd moments. We got a "slip leash" and confined her to the kitchen. "She's just a teenager," we thought.

One MRI later, we learned that she had severe hydrocephalus. As in, she only had a brain stem and a cerebellum - the rest was fluid. It was devastating. You can give dogs with hydrocephalus steroids for the swelling, but it won't bring their brain back.

We made the hard decision to put her to sleep. We watched as the injection went in, and the life slowly slipped out of her. I don't think I've ever cried so hard in my life! It was also the most peaceful death I could have imagined.

We loved that dog so much. But it was more than just a dog... she was like our first "child". I will be forever grateful for her, because she taught us that we could be caregivers. We worked as a team to take care of a complicated case, and we did everything we possibly could for the little pup.

The beautiful part of this story, the part I will remember most, is how kind all of our 'health care providers' were. From the dog trainer (Claire), to the vet (Dr. Meade) and her vet tech (Paisley), to the behavioral specialist (Dr. Orlando - who helped us get funds for the MRI!) to the neurology vet (Dr. Sampson). They were all part of our journey, and honestly... they had much better bedside manner than any medical doctor I have known.

Health care professionals don't realize what a difference they make. At our most vulnerable, we so need genuine, kind practitioners. This is something to remember as I go 'deeper' into learning mental health care as a social worker.

I am in grief, grief for my life in El Salvador, for my life in Minnesota, for my life in college, for my life in Ireland... Grief for all the relationships I built with all those wonderful people. I miss it, I want to go back...And then I think of all these amazing experiences I've had and I think, "What am I complaining about?"

Gratefulness is the heart of it all. That maybe there is no end point, no mountaintop. Just keep climbing, and enjoy the view.

"It is good to have an end to journey towards, but it is the journey that matters in the end."   -Ursula LeGuin

Thank you, Travi, for the journey. You were a little monster crazy dog, and we loved you. 

Sindicato

Like most North Carolinians I did not know much about unions. In fact, I thought that N.C. was a "non-union" state. Not true - workers here do have the right to organize. North Carolina is, however, a "right-to-work" state, which means that workers have a choice as to whether or not they want to join a union.

Today, I went to support the union movement in Mountaire Chicken Plant in Lumber Bridge, North Carolina. Home to over 2,000 workers, Mountaire workers earn low wages and work long hours. Over 6 months ago, a local union filed unfair labor charges against the Mountaire plant for : "disciplining employees for their union activity, threatening to have employees arrested, engaging in surveillance and coercion, interrogating employees, threatening termination and change in personal working conditions if employees support the union." 

Today while in Eastern NC we visited the pork plant Smithfield Foods, in Tarheel, NC. They do have a union, and while it is still a difficult line of work they have organized and it has made a difference in both worker pay and conditions. The workers there get paid $13.50 and up, depending on their job.

In contrast, Mountaire workers who work through a temp agency make only $8.25 an hour, and do not receive days off. The plant's workers are 50% African American,  30% Latino, 15% Haitian, and 5% other. According to national union organizers, there is a lot of discrimination especially against Haitians. This might include allowing others to take bathroom breaks before them, etc.

The Mountaire plant has a strong "anti-union" campaign. They allegedly have a sign inside the plant that says "we don't need a union - we're a family".

The UFCW (United Food and Commercial Workers) says that, ideally,  they need at least 65% of the union cards to be signed. They only need 30% to conduct elections (run by the government). However, it can take up to 45 days for the government to 'organize' the election, which means that the company has plenty of time to change the workers' minds.

In order to win, they'll need 50% plus one vote. Let us hope for that one vote.

Here's to Mountaire, to people everywhere who work hard in factories to make sure our meat gets to our table. Thank you for the food. Amen.

El Enojo y la Culpa

I have to admit something. And it's something I wouldn't normally admit, but because I am in social work school and social justice class I think... it's time to get real.

I feel guilty.

There, I said it. I feel like I pulled the trigger. 

I have not acknowledged Michael Brown and the shooting in Ferguson. Sure, I talked about it with my husband and my parents... we agreed that it is awful. That it's so sad that racial profiling still exists in America. I haven't spoken to my friends about it, nor Facebook. I haven't signed any petitions or taken any action.

So, perhaps I am not the oppressor. But by allowing racial violence to happen and not even whisper, "no!" am I actually approving Michael Brown's death? And what about Trayvon? And all the thousands before him? What about the thousands of black people that were lynched right here in North Carolina not so long ago? Why are we, as a people, not FURIOUS?

It breaks my heart. That so many have died. That I have no idea what it's like to be a minority in America. That peace has not yet come. 

Silence may be okay for some people. But I do not intend to live my life asleep to the injustices in our world. Nor do I intend to be a "coffee shop anarchist", who perhaps is awake but frozen in their own fear. You're going to hear me roar.

In high school, I was an activist. I knew in my heart that I could stop the Iraq War, with the help of the other members of the protest movement. I started an organization at my school, I traveled to Washington D.C. The day the war started, I lost something. Hope. It has taken me a long time to get that back. 

When we admit defeat, we are allowing the system (corporate America, our government, greed) to continue feeding the injustices. They continue to grow, to take new forms.

Activism is anger, made into positive action. Social justice is not a quick fix. It is a conversation. Let's talk about it.

A Cherokee elder was teaching his grandchildren about life.

He said to them, “A fight is going on inside me… it is a terrible fight between two wolves. One wolf represents fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, hatefulness, and lies. The other stands for joy, peace, love, hope, humbleness, kindness, friendship, generosity, faith, and truth. This same fight is going on inside of you, and inside every other person, too.”

The children thought about it for a minute. 

Then one child asked his grandfather,

“Which wolf will win?”

The Cherokee elder replied…

“The one you feed.”

Campesinos Alimentan el Mundo

Today is Labor Day in the United States. We all like to get the day off, and grill out with our friends. But what is Labor Day, really?

As journalist James Warren wrote in this article in the New York Daily News, it is "the day to celebrate the American worker and his sacrifices and economic and social achievements". Oooh. Now that sounds a little more interesting. According to Warren, it all started in 1894 when Pullman railroad workers had a walkout against unfair wages and poor living conditions. Federal marshals and the Army killed 30 of them. This event led to the government proclaiming an Annual Labor Day, to honor the American worker.

I began my internship at Student Action with Farmworkers. I have to say it is one of the most unique organizations I have ever learned about. Its mission is to bring students and farmworkers together to learn about each other's lives, share resources and skills, improve conditions for farmworkers, and build diverse conditions working for social change. It is a true social justice organization - I am so excited to be a part of it!

So today on Labor Day, I invite you to consider the American worker. How can you even begin to describe them? Black, white, Indian, Asian, Latino... the list goes on and on. We are a diverse workforce. And we have a long way to go before everyone receives a fair wage and safe working conditions.

Farmworkers are paid as little as 40 cents for a bucket of tomatoes they picked. Minimum wage laws only apply to workers on large farms (how is that fair?) The Fair Labor Standards Act does not provide overtime for farmworkers. The legal age for a farmworker is 12, not 16 like other jobs. (Source: United States Farmworker Fact Sheet)

Farmworker conditions are still very similar to slavery. They share rooms and substandard houses with many other workers. Many do not have transportation to leave the property. Only 10% of farmworkers have reported that their employer provides insurance. They are exposed on a daily basis to pesticides, which puts them at risk for toxic chemical injuries. 

Immigration to the United States increased greatly in 1994, when NAFTA (the North Atlantic Free Trade Agreement) was signed and over 2 million Mexican farmworkers were driven out of business. This article offers an upsetting list of all the damage NAFTA has done, both in the loss of jobs in the U.S. and Mexico.

...It's interesting with farmers markets on every corner, and everyone talking about local food and concern for their diet... Very few people are talking about farmworker rights. I like this SAF fellow's take on it all. It takes a village. On this Labor Day and all days, may we take the time to educate ourselves, and may we begin and continue to take action. 

"In this day-to-day struggle, it sometimes feels like we are spinning our wheels in deep mud. So this is what I’ve really learned this summer: it takes a village. It takes Araceli and Selena lobbying in Raleigh to protect the legal rights so easily stripped from farmworkers. It takes Jessie in South Carolina helping migrant children stay in school. It takes Ramon working with Legal Aid to make sure human rights are not violated in the farmworking community. And it takes me, in Burgaw, working with one patient at a time to make sure those who produce our food stay healthy. It takes a village for this movement, no one person or organization in this fight can stand alone, and together we can move towards real, evident change. Adelante juntos, hasta la victoria!"

-Miranda Schartz, SAF Fellow

"Every time we sit at a table to enjoy the fruits and grain and vegetables from our good earth, remember that they come from the work of men and women and children who have been exploited for generations" 

-Cesar Chavez, co-founder of United Farm Workers

Noventa Mil

What does it mean to be grateful?

Being a white woman in middle class America, I will never fully comprehend how lucky I am and how easy my life is. The restaurants that I eat at, the trips that I take, the ease of going back to school and finding a job and buying the things I need when I need them. The luxury of being able to go out at night, and to feel safe in my own home.

Then I think of all the children that have crossed the U.S. border illegally, sent by their families in hopes of having a better life. Most years about 20,000 children attempt to enter the country illegally, this year we are likely to reach 90,000. 

The young people and families I know that have attempted crossing the border have done so for two primary reasons: 1) Their mother or father lives in the United States and they want to be together 2) They have been threatened by a gang, or may be in the future.

In the 1980's the United States began supporting the El Salvadoran government in the civil war, by training the soldiers in violent war tactics and providing thousands of weapons. Unfortunately, the weapons are still around as is the culture of violence. Many El Salvadoran men sought refuge in the United States during the war, and became involved in gangs out of Los Angeles. These Los Angeles gang members continue to be deported back to El Salvador every day, where the gang population continues to grow.

So I consider, if I had a son who was asked to join a gang in El Salvador, what would I do? If he says no, they will most likely kill him. If he says yes, he will most likely be killed in gang violence. If I send him to the United States to cross the border illegally, he will struggle. But - he may make it. He could survive. But, immigrating illegally to the United States is usually a permanent move - I may never see him again.

A mother's love for her child. That is why there are so many children arriving every day to the "frontera" in hopes of a better life.

People sometimes say "protect our freedom". I'm not sure what freedom is. I do know about safety. I am grateful for safety. To be able to walk through the streets, without fear. 

Someone recently asked me why immigrants can't use the $5,000-$10,000 that they normally pay a coyote and instead fly to the United States and just stay there. The U.S. has made it very difficult to travel from Central America legally. There is a $200 charge to apply for the visa, and then you may get an interview. Almost all the people I know in El Salvador have been denied a travel visa to the United States. They look for financial stability (a regular, larger paycheck) and that you have a family in El Salvador to come back to. 

Planes from El Salvador to the United States are filled with elderly grandmothers, from my experience. I suppose by that age the U.S. embassy just says, "go ahead and go" since they are not physically able to work. They may be seeing their children for the first time in 30 years. Many families may never see each other again, maintaining a relationship over the phone with their parents for the rest of their lives.

I guess what I'm saying is, count your blessings. Whether near or far, it's good to know that you will see your loved ones again. Tell the people you love that you love them.

Berrinche

It's easy to live life in a state of constant tantrum. I don't want this - I want that! I don't want to leave - so I'll just stay! My life is horrible - everyone else is happy!

When the tantrum is over, how do we pick ourselves off the ground, and move on?

This summer, I am nannying for a 5 year old with autism named Jack. He delights in the smallest things. We saw a butterfly on a flower, and he said, "Jenna! The butterfly's saying hello to me!" We saw a flower that needed water and he asked with great concern, "Jenna, is the flower sad?" He also notices things other kids wouldn't, like me missing my turn while driving- "Jenna! I want to go HOME!" or that my coffee cup is in the car from the previous day - "Jenna, is your coffee yucky and old?"

Jack has a hard time leaving things he enjoys. We make regular trips to the museum, a magical place with lemurs and trains and paper airplanes. The last time we went, I gave him warnings: 20 minutes, 15, 10 and 5. Still, at the "times up, let's go home" moment, he sat down and wouldn't move. 

His tantrums are not the yelling type. He just sits there, like he's gone into a catatonic state and physically cannot move nor hear me. 

At least 5 minutes went by. Finally he looked up at me: "I want to ride the elevator, he said". So, we rode the elevator up and down. He proceeded to sit down in the elevator. I held the door open. It began to beep its scary, emergency beep. It was time to move.

"Ok Jenna, let's go," he said. And we ran through the weather exhibits and the building blocks, and made it finally to the car. I was frustrated - what did I do wrong? I wanted him to have a good time and then immediately be ready to go.

Perhaps all Jack needed was a little time. At the end, he didn't hold on to his anger. He left with joy, ready for the next adventure.

And so am I.

"You do not need to know precisely what is happening, or exactly where it is all going. What you need is to recognize the possibilities and challenges offered by the present moment, and to embrace them with faith, courage and hope."

-Thomas Merton

Adios

It has been over a month since we left El Salvador, and so much has changed. We live again in a world of carpeting and air conditioning, cars and credit cards. I cling to the internet like a blanket, as if it's going to keep me safe. There are things I like about all this. But it feels lonely.

Goodbyes are never easy. At the end of the party, you have to pry yourself from the people you love, get on the plane, car or bus and physically leave. The rest of the goodbye comes later, in the reflection and slow passing of time. It feels violent and sudden, no matter how much you prepare for it. Saying goodbye to a community of people you have come to love. 

We have done this twice recently, once in 2012 leaving Minneapolis, and again in 2014 leaving El Salvador. I feel homesick for both places and all the people too. 

I am not a "better person" for volunteering for 2 years in another country. I don't believe God works on a points system. I have been enriched and filled with gratitude for the experiences that I had and the opportunity I had to share my gifts. In two years I taught: poetry, photography, skateboarding (supervised), choir, music education, music therapy, beginning English, intermediate English, English conversation class, computer skills, drama club (Snow White), preschool camps, and yoga. An incredible smorgasboard of experiences and adventures. I taught in a rural community (La Mora) once a week, and they accepted me with open arms. My dear friend Rina fed me lunch every Wednesday, shared her sweet daughters with me, her stories and her friendship.

I miss my weekly English lunches with Karilyn, my walks down to the lake with Wendy. My English class made up of young adults who truly wanted to learn. We laughed so much. My yoga classes taught in the open air surrounded by the Centro Arte garden. I miss the food... chicken, rice, beans for breakfast, licuados, pupusas... I miss walking by the school and the children yelling "Senorita Jenna!!" 

They knew me. I knew them. Community.

What will stay with me through all these memories?

The relationships. The smiles on the children's faces, the thoughtful gifts and cards that came from people that have so little, the feeling I had when I was singing with them. "You are the best teacher I have ever had," one of the cards said.

Did I really have to leave? 

Here I am, nannying for a wonderful family who can afford a nanny. Taking a class on nonprofit management 2 nights a week. Driving my car. Buying cleaning supplies. Listening to ads about laser hair removal on the radio. 

Letting go. 

Primero Dios

We've been back from El Salvador almost 2 weeks now. It feels like so much longer. Suchitoto and Durham are like two completely different worlds, and yet they are in the same world. Proof that God is creative.

I wanted to reflect on some of the beautiful things that Salvadorans say. I have been missing the everyday salutations (saludos) such as "buenos dias" and "adios". I like that people say "adios" when passing each other, it's a great way to clearly say "I don't have time to talk right now, but I see you." In Suchitoto it is expected that people look each other in the eye as they pass. As you walk down the street, you physically feel the other person's eyes seeking yours, seeking connection. At first I didn't like that, now I miss it.

"Que le vaya bien" means something like... "may it go well". It is said only when someone is walking or driving or riding somewhere. In passing. To me, it is an acknowledgement of the sacredness of our journey. A knowing that we could fall, or crash, along the way. But with the well wishes of others, our journey is made safer.

"Buen provecho" means "enjoy your meal". It is said everytime someone enters a restaurant or home and others are eating. It's also often said at the beginning of the meal, again acknoledging the sacredness of the food and the importance of enjoying it. 

"Primero Dios" means "first God". There's really no good translation of it. I immediately think of a cute elderly woman from the campo when I hear that phrase. It's often said when someone is hoping for something, like a job or a baby or getting well. One person might say, "I hope I get well soon," and the other person might say "primero dios". There is an amazing faith in God in El Salvador, almost mystical. Beautiful. Magic. God will provide.

"Dios se lo pague" is another beautiful faith statement which means, "May God repay you". It is to say that you are very, very grateful. When I think of this statement I think of the wonderful parents from Los Angelitos that I worked with. They each had children with disabilities, working with very few economic resources. They spend much of their life energy caring for their child and fighting for their right to an education and services (of which there are few). They said "dios se lo pague" to me when I said goodbye to them, and those words remain in my heart.

"Cuesta mucho". We desperately need an English word like "cuesta". It literally means "it costs a lot", but really it is to say "it is very difficult." You can say "cuesta mucho" about expensive things, but also difficult things in life like work, raising children, or physical/emotional pain. There is a lot of acknowledging of suffering in El Salvador, that suffering is a part of life and that life is difficult. And that is okay.

"Hay que aprovechar", means "one must take advantage"/"one must make the most of it". One of the things I love about El Salvadoran culture is that they truly enjoy things. If they have the money to go to the pool, they spend all day. They bring hammocks and food. They laugh and share with each other. 

The word "aprovechar" has taken on new meaning as I am aware of the incredible blessings in my life. My car, my savings account, incredible support from family and friends. I feel guilty, but I know that guilt is not the answer. The answer is gratefulness, and living as simply as I can. Enjoying my life and the amazing people in it. Not wasting energy on feeling bad about having resources, but working so that more people might live a comfortable life without economic hardship. 

We all deserve that. To have enough food on the table. To break bread together, to say "buen provecho" surrounded by people we love. To walk together along the road, pebbled with the golden rays of a setting sun. To go our separate ways with a true hug (abrazos fuertes), saying, with a smile, "que le vaya bien." 

Felicidad

It is difficult to describe what the past two years have meant to me. How they have shaped me, confused me, changed my perspective. For two years I walked in the same five block radius, seeing the same people. My world was smaller. I couldn't run away from myself as easily. I couldn't run away from anyone, actually. 

I began to become more in touch with myself. My breath, my emotions, my aching back. I noticed it all. I began to appreciate the people around me, celebrating their hellos, finding conversation in the smallest of things. 

I am struck by how fast we can move from place to place in a car, missing everything that is happening in those 20 miles that go whurring by. The thing that has surprised me being back in the states is that I find it sad. I am sad to have left all my dear friends, but I am also sad to see with new eyes how separated we are from each other. The internet connects us, yet keeps us glued to a computer as opposed to looking each other in the eye. Our supermarkets are big and have everything we want, yet still we are wanting. There is an emptiness in this overdeveloped culture.

What I am trying to say is, I believe that Salvadorans are happier than us. They spend more time in community, with family. When someone dies, they have a vigil all night long. Hundreds of people attend. They don't want the family members to be alone

But, this is a total generalization. Happiness doesn't live in the new house, or a place, or your perfect job. Happiness is a choice. It lives deep within us, at the core of our being. It is not ecstasy, but simplicity. A deep breath in, followed by a sigh.

Pensamientos

Sorry blog, I have neglected you. And I will continue to neglect you for a while longer, because we only have a few weeks left in El Salvador and I'm so busy eating pupusas...

But, I wanted to share a striking Facebook post by my roommate Noel, commemorating 10 years since he attempted to move to the United States. Some food for thought (and a good adventure in Spanish to English translation!)

“March 6^th”. One decade ago, on a day exactly like today, I made a decision that taught me so much about life. 10 years ago I searched for what many call “The American Dream”. This was what I experienced from March 6^th through June 8^th 2004. I can honestly say, in contrary to what many say, “Thanks be to God that this so-called American Dream did not come to pass for me.”

I traveled for nearly 4 months in trucks, boats, mountains, cars, the desert in Arizona, the plane from Los Angeles. Almost 50% of these 4 months was spent in three jails in Miami, Florida, where immigration control arrested me and my 4 traveling companions. On my journey I saw robberies, abuse, and even death.

This decision which I made 10 years ago taught me to love all the people that are a part of my life, and keep them physically close to me. If immigration control had not arrested me I definitely would have had another way of life, and these words would not have been written from our beloved country which has suffered so much.

I know that love for El Salvador continues to grow in our people, it is tangible. Here live the people and family that we love, and the place and geographic location which we call the “bellybutton”, the center of our being. Sadly the social inequality has affected us in many ways and 2.8 million of our people have had to leave (almost half of our population). If these 2.8 million people had not have to leave, they would have been working alongside the rest of us to help develop our country. Unfortunately the political and economic structure has taken so much from us, meanwhile politicians like Paco Flores are robbing millions of dollars. Our country continues to die, without realizing what it is dying from. 

All over the world, we can find people with a lack of economic resources - a lack of food, health, education, fun, etc. The simple enjoyment of life is lost. The false illusion that tomorrow will be better always exists. My four grandparents, may they rest in peace, always lived with this illusion that tomorrow would be better. Now they are dead, and the cycle of this way of thinking continues like it did 90 years ago, or since the beginning of El Salvador. Should the development of a country take centuries? If only those who have been running our country had the knowledge and willingness to help their people, we would not need a century; only a short time would be needed to achieve social justice and human equality, where people are truly dedicated to helping one another.

Ayayaya… so many feelings come up from remembering the experiences that shape our lives… Despite everything I have witnessed in El Salvador, I love this place. I give thanks to God for allowing me to return from that capitalist country (the USA). The only reason to leave El Salvador and live there is to have money. Yes, it’s true that money is the way that we obtain material things and services for our family, but money can’t be a substitute for love from other human beings.

I am grateful to be here, and I hope to continue working for my people as long as my knowledge and physical, psychological, and mental strength allow me. I love my people, I love my family, I love my girlfriend, I love the children, I love the elderly, I love the humble and simple people, I love the people that live in remote and rural places in our country, I love the privilege I have had to get to know so many wonderful friends in my university… Ahhh. I want to clarify that I hate with everything in me the rich that exploit my people and that my people are obligated to be born and die poor. El Salvador is not poor because our people do not work, El Salvador is poor because others exploit it.

I am sending greetings to all of you. I am sending you big hugs and lots of love to my family and friends in all parts of the world – especially in the United States. Maybe you feel that you have more material things than us in El Salvador, but I am sure that the majority of you would give up everything that you possess to give just one hug to your mother or father, to hug your friends and family that you left behind. Our country is so tiny and has suffered so much. Fight for what you love. I hope that all aspects of your personal and professional life will be blessed like never before. I appreciate and admire you all.

Blessings,

Noel

Chucho

       When Chris and I moved into our first apartment here in Suchitoto, our roommates had recently adopted a puppy named Nova. I had to laugh, Chris and I had talked about getting a dog of a long time, but always said, "not now, we're going abroad". Then, when we got to El Salvador, there was a puppy at our house. Oh, life. Our roommates soon named us Nova's padrinos (godparents). And what an adventure it's been.

           Dogs are treated very differently here. People get them for protection, and feed them food scraps and tortillas. Most people don't pet dogs. In Suchitoto there are many street dogs, who usually end up receiving poison from someone who gets tired of them stealing tortillas. To be fair, when you are poor and don’t have much to go around, you do what you have to to survive…

 In our old house we had a tunnel in which water ran down from the street to the lake. Nova could get in and out of the tunnel as she pleased, and loved to follow us to work on a daily basis. Our neighbors started volunteering to hold Nova back so she would stop following us. One neighbor suggested we use more violence to get the dog to listen. But, Nova has never been the listening kind. Nova knows all the local pupuserias and often sniffs until she finds out. Where we are, there’s bound to be a scrap or two. She liked arriving just in time for yoga class, and making lots of noise during Savasana.

She was a pain sometimes, but we've come to love that crazy chuca. It's amazing how comforting it can be to have a dog around, especially in the lonely moments. She has accompanied us on many adventures. 

Nova was made famous by our friend Melina! Nova approved of the painting.

Nova has always had a great appreciation for nature...

We were giving Nova a birth control injection every few months. Like all forms of birth control, the injection is not 100% effective... she ended up pregnant. 6 little puppies. Oh, they were so cute. We quickly fell in love with all of them. Finally we chose the funny little runt. She is a little clumsy and barks like an Ewok. But, we love her. We have to make sure she has all her vaccines, and take her to the capital in a month to get her approved to travel to the U.S.

We love Nova so much, it is wonderful we get to take a little part of her to the US. Life is full of surprises. I try to accept and love them with open arms. And that is the story of how we adopted an El Salvadoran puppy names Traviesa.