Saturday, September 1, 2012
Back to reality...
I’ve been back for two weeks now and in just two weeks have managed to be floored again and again by the lives of the youth I work with in prisons. It has been a sobering and heartwarming homecoming to return to the prisons here. I have re-encountered the same youth that I left two months ago, exactly where I left them, with yet more of their young lives swallowed away by the same 4 walls, the same faces, the same mindless routine.
They’ve welcomed me back into their cells and their hearts and have given me an even closer look at the fury, fear, resentment, and longing for love that reside there and struggle for power each long day locked up. The more I work with these young people, especially with incarcerated males (who have much grimmer prospects of “making it” based on the politics of repression and elimination that are practiced by “anti-gang” squads here), the more I am enraged and saddened by the fact that most of them will simply not make it.
The youth who manage to get out of jail whom I’ve kept up with and who have genuine interest in turning their lives around end up simply running for their lives each day. Ironically enough, this is not primarily because rival gang members will kill them (thought that is a very real threat), but because the police force will do so first. If the police do not manage to “disappear” these youth coming out of detention centers, they will detain them upon spotting them in the street (or drag them from their homes in the middle of the night) and pin them with any crime that has happened within a credible radius. These youth will then be sent off (likely without fair trial) to spend 30+ years in the hellholes that are the overflowing adult prisons here.
I wish I were exaggerating, yet this has been the story of even the most studious and driven young gang members that I have met in this ministry thus far.
Loving and working with these youth means answering their startled phone calls telling me that the police opened fired on them for no reason at all, and that they barely escaped the bullet-spray. It means listening to their whispered fears that as soon as they get out of jail to finally live with their young wives and infants they are terrified that the police will pull them out of their beds at night and take them far away from the children they’ve so longed to love in a way they were never, ever loved. It means watching them grimace, lost for words, while describing the way they’ve witnessed slow deaths, wishing I could erase it all and rewrite the whole script. It means giving them constant affirmation, because it just might be the first time they’ve ever heard anything of the sort.
Blog entries are probably supposed to end on some upbeat quote like Disney movies, but many of these young lives end on no such note. I just ask that you find them and love them in cities near you and listen to their lessons and longings.
An entry I wrote a month ago and am just now publishing here... :)
Hello friends, family, and Crispaz supporters.
(disclaimer: for some reason this won't let me put spaces between paragraphs sorry for this one long paragraph...) I hope this finds you well, wherever you are! I just wanted to write a quick update about the work I continue to do with Crispaz’s generous support.
These past few months have been a whirlwind, hence the lack of blog entries, but they have been quite full of activity.
As Maria explained, we have been working with male youth in a detention center doing art therapy workshops, and we have also been working with amazing young women a minor’s detention center in Ilopango. The young women we work with are so full of life and dreams yet most of them serve 5 to 15 year sentences for crimes they may or may not have committed. Since the maximum sentence for minors was raised from 7 to 15 years, youth coming into the centers are even more overwhelmed and have less motivation to “change” knowing that they will be living so many years within the same walls.
Our work consists mostly in one-on-one sessions with about 30 of the women in the center, where we listen to their fears, secrets, aspirations, and often unspeakable pasts and simply write as they speak. Through this simple exercise the girls realize that they are already poets and that they speak of a wisdom that comes from lessons learned in the streets, one that has everything to do with a gritty reality far different than that which scholars paint with their prose.
Having done this exercise repeatedly for a year and a half with the majority of the women in the center, we can see that the culture of the center in itself is beginning to change slightly. Girls come to us with 10 poems that they’ve written on their own, wanting us to type them and give them back to them for their portfolios.
They tell me things like “I was so sad one night I did not even want to exist, but there was a tiny ray of light shining onto my bunk bed so I got out my pen and began to write. Here’s what I came up with, I don’t know if it’s any good…” And inevitably the ensuing words speak of doubts, insecurities, hardship, and a longing for a God that they perhaps have yet to feel fill the spaces of neglect and abuse these women have suffered for years.
Others will tell me, “I was bored to death in computer class because all we do is play solitaire, so instead I wrote these poems, I don’t know if they’re any good…” And again their words shock me as they reveal themselves as the poets they have always been, yet perhaps are finally expressing for the first time.
At times this work can be exhausting, overwhelming, and can seem like such a tiny drop in the bucket of ignorance, abuse, and discrimination that plague these women’s lives, yet there are always rays of hope that illuminate our work in the Center. Recently as I was leaving, one of the young women who I have come to love as if she were a long-lost sister of mine told me “You know, I barely know you, but I feel that you are one of those people who has really marked my life, because you’ve helped me to discover who I really am.”
Her words floored and humbled me, and I left with such a feeling of gratitude. Despite the multitude of setbacks and despair we encounter in our work, if I can facilitate others’ discovery of their true selves, their loving, well-intentioned, God-like selves, this work is well worth the effort.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
happy Holy Week!
Hello family and friends,
Again it has been some time and I will not make this update long, but I just wanted to thank you for your support and prayers and let you know that I am still alive and well here in El Salvador.
This spring has been packed with work and visitors and I was blessed last week with the visit of a Brebeuf delegation from my high school. We were lucky enough to be allowed to enter the male youth detention center where I have invested much of my spirit, energy, and love in the past few months through art therapy workshops, and it was amazing to get to see these two worlds collide.
Fear and barriers washed away as we did icebreakers and had small discussions all morning and by the end, kids with their whole faces tattooed were now friends and no longer the dehumanized “other.” I hope to continue to be able to create these spaces of exchange, as to foment the destruction of unfounded prejudices and plant the seeds for questioning the punitive justice system that serves to destroy the spirit and most relationships rather than rehabilitate it in any way.
The students from the Brebeuf group left motivated to work in prisons back at home to find out what is really happening in these places near you that are intentionally (and profitably now that they are privatized) kept out of sight and out of mind of “law abiding citizens”.
There are many forces here that do not want this rehabilitative work to continue, and this has become quite clear in the past two weeks. However, I remember somewhere hearing that we are probably not doing Christ’s work until we are persecuted and falsely accused, so I just take the efforts to stop our work as motivational signs that we are indeed living out the uncomfortable, nonconformist gospel that we are each called to live.
Until I am kicked out of detention centers I will continue visiting them and discovering the wealth of wisdom and grace that is trapped behind bars, a myriad of tattoos and a flimsy wall of toughness and self-protection.
I am eternally grateful to the incarcerated youth who continue to illuminate my days here with wisdom and a great respect for their resilience against all odds.
A month ago we published a book of a year’s worth of the young women’s poetry whom we have been working with and it has been such a gift to share these pieces of their soul with others here. It is an amazing tool towards breaking down prejudice and at the book’s presentation in the girl’s center the most strict judge of all cried as one of the girls tearfully presented the poem “Your terrible daughter.” We are chiseling into the soul of things here which goes far beyond political banter and lies the media likes to spit out about youth these days.
We hope to translate the book soon and I will post it here as soon as we do.
I hope this finds you all well in this Holy Week, being light in whatever corner of the world where this may find you and chiseling into the soul of whatever issues and communities may surround you so as to connect with those around you in all of their humanness and brokenness. May we continue to go to the margins this Easter season and sit there until we learn to be light.
Again it has been some time and I will not make this update long, but I just wanted to thank you for your support and prayers and let you know that I am still alive and well here in El Salvador.
This spring has been packed with work and visitors and I was blessed last week with the visit of a Brebeuf delegation from my high school. We were lucky enough to be allowed to enter the male youth detention center where I have invested much of my spirit, energy, and love in the past few months through art therapy workshops, and it was amazing to get to see these two worlds collide.
Fear and barriers washed away as we did icebreakers and had small discussions all morning and by the end, kids with their whole faces tattooed were now friends and no longer the dehumanized “other.” I hope to continue to be able to create these spaces of exchange, as to foment the destruction of unfounded prejudices and plant the seeds for questioning the punitive justice system that serves to destroy the spirit and most relationships rather than rehabilitate it in any way.
The students from the Brebeuf group left motivated to work in prisons back at home to find out what is really happening in these places near you that are intentionally (and profitably now that they are privatized) kept out of sight and out of mind of “law abiding citizens”.
There are many forces here that do not want this rehabilitative work to continue, and this has become quite clear in the past two weeks. However, I remember somewhere hearing that we are probably not doing Christ’s work until we are persecuted and falsely accused, so I just take the efforts to stop our work as motivational signs that we are indeed living out the uncomfortable, nonconformist gospel that we are each called to live.
Until I am kicked out of detention centers I will continue visiting them and discovering the wealth of wisdom and grace that is trapped behind bars, a myriad of tattoos and a flimsy wall of toughness and self-protection.
I am eternally grateful to the incarcerated youth who continue to illuminate my days here with wisdom and a great respect for their resilience against all odds.
A month ago we published a book of a year’s worth of the young women’s poetry whom we have been working with and it has been such a gift to share these pieces of their soul with others here. It is an amazing tool towards breaking down prejudice and at the book’s presentation in the girl’s center the most strict judge of all cried as one of the girls tearfully presented the poem “Your terrible daughter.” We are chiseling into the soul of things here which goes far beyond political banter and lies the media likes to spit out about youth these days.
We hope to translate the book soon and I will post it here as soon as we do.
I hope this finds you all well in this Holy Week, being light in whatever corner of the world where this may find you and chiseling into the soul of whatever issues and communities may surround you so as to connect with those around you in all of their humanness and brokenness. May we continue to go to the margins this Easter season and sit there until we learn to be light.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Following up on the story of “Jose,” I was able to go visit he and another young man who was also released in their hometown. Maria and I rode out to visit them on a particularly hot and prolonged busride, that was certainly worth it to see these young men and let them know that we care for them and want to be supports for them in this transition.
We got off the bus and saw both of them walking towards us, dressed in their Sunday’s best and grinning from ear to ear. It is also so amazing to finally see inmates outside of jail, to see them walking freely and looking like they’ve put on a tiny bit of the weight they always loose because of the conditions in the centers.
We embraced them both and they told us that they couldn’t believe we’d actually come to visit them, that even as we’d been in touch on the way there they hadn’t believed us. We walked to the center of the town where there is an old colonial church and they gave us a tour (it was the first time they had ever been inside of it) and we then sat and caught up with them on the park benches in front of the church eating snow cones.
I had wanted to read Jose a poem that one of the incarcerated woman I work with had written, because it resonates with much of what Jose had expressed to me, so as we caught up on this sunny day I began to read her poem to him so that he would know he was not alone in his feelings of exclusion and his hopes for a changed life
I read:
Advice
By a 17 year old incarcerated youth
For society:
That they will stop seeing us for our errors and for the crimes we have committed, and that they will stop discriminating us because we deserve the chance to show them that we have changed.
Instead of only criticizing us, that they will offer us solutions and support to be able to change our way of living.
That people will not see us merely for the bad we have done but for the good that we have achieved and for the better people we want to become in the future.
For the police:
That they stop being such assholes.
That they will not focus only on what we do to justify beating us savagely.
That they will realize that their own children could turn out to be even worse then us and that they might reflect on this before beating us so brutishly.
For the president:
That he change the law that can lock up minors for 15 years because rather than helping us this brings us many more problems.
For all adolescents:
That you will think things through before acting and think about the consequences that your actions can bring, because every error we commit in this life we will pay at face value.
That you will know how to listen to your family’s advice because they are the only ones who are with you when you are in the hospital or in jail.
For God:
That you will have just a bit more mercy on us…
As the cruel irony of life would have it, just as I spoke these words an undercover cop dressed as a soccer dad grabbed both of these youth and told them to lift up their shirts, he took them out of earshot and told them that they weren’t allowed in the park, that he had orders from his superior not to let any gang members in the park. He recognized them both and asked when they had gotten out of jail, and told them that had they not been with us they would have been kicked out of the park “a vergazos” (by beating the shit out of them) and likely sent to a holding center to be possibly sent to Santa Ana, the adult male prison. He told them he never wanted to see them there again and that they should leave immediately.
I never did finish her poem (which goes on to address abusive men, nature, her deceased father brother and father, and me), and if God does indeed show a bit more mercy, it certainly is not reflected in us, God’s hands on this earth, because the law enforcement bodies and this whole society in general has created a hell on earth where one is never included, not even allowed to eat snowcones on a park bench in front of God’s supposed house.
I was infuriated and the boys just dropped their heads and said that we’d leave. They were so embarrassed and just kept repeating to us, now do you understand? We’ll never belong. They have been ordered by the court to go back to school, but the school is right by this park so they will likely be picked up on the way to school and charged with any crime the police desire (resistance to authority, etc.) in order to be sent back to jail. As Jose put it, it’s their word against ours and ours values nothing.
If this is the welcome we give to youth who have spent 3 years in a living hell and genuinely want to “calmarse” and give up gang activity, we are pushing them right back into the only group that has ever accepted them, that of violent crime and street brotherhood. What else can we expect from them? To what extent are we all accountable for these crimes that they spend their whole lives serving time for? The punitive system has no space for community culpability, but most of these youth have never been integrated, much less reintegrated into this dysfunctional society.
We got off the bus and saw both of them walking towards us, dressed in their Sunday’s best and grinning from ear to ear. It is also so amazing to finally see inmates outside of jail, to see them walking freely and looking like they’ve put on a tiny bit of the weight they always loose because of the conditions in the centers.
We embraced them both and they told us that they couldn’t believe we’d actually come to visit them, that even as we’d been in touch on the way there they hadn’t believed us. We walked to the center of the town where there is an old colonial church and they gave us a tour (it was the first time they had ever been inside of it) and we then sat and caught up with them on the park benches in front of the church eating snow cones.
I had wanted to read Jose a poem that one of the incarcerated woman I work with had written, because it resonates with much of what Jose had expressed to me, so as we caught up on this sunny day I began to read her poem to him so that he would know he was not alone in his feelings of exclusion and his hopes for a changed life
I read:
Advice
By a 17 year old incarcerated youth
For society:
That they will stop seeing us for our errors and for the crimes we have committed, and that they will stop discriminating us because we deserve the chance to show them that we have changed.
Instead of only criticizing us, that they will offer us solutions and support to be able to change our way of living.
That people will not see us merely for the bad we have done but for the good that we have achieved and for the better people we want to become in the future.
For the police:
That they stop being such assholes.
That they will not focus only on what we do to justify beating us savagely.
That they will realize that their own children could turn out to be even worse then us and that they might reflect on this before beating us so brutishly.
For the president:
That he change the law that can lock up minors for 15 years because rather than helping us this brings us many more problems.
For all adolescents:
That you will think things through before acting and think about the consequences that your actions can bring, because every error we commit in this life we will pay at face value.
That you will know how to listen to your family’s advice because they are the only ones who are with you when you are in the hospital or in jail.
For God:
That you will have just a bit more mercy on us…
As the cruel irony of life would have it, just as I spoke these words an undercover cop dressed as a soccer dad grabbed both of these youth and told them to lift up their shirts, he took them out of earshot and told them that they weren’t allowed in the park, that he had orders from his superior not to let any gang members in the park. He recognized them both and asked when they had gotten out of jail, and told them that had they not been with us they would have been kicked out of the park “a vergazos” (by beating the shit out of them) and likely sent to a holding center to be possibly sent to Santa Ana, the adult male prison. He told them he never wanted to see them there again and that they should leave immediately.
I never did finish her poem (which goes on to address abusive men, nature, her deceased father brother and father, and me), and if God does indeed show a bit more mercy, it certainly is not reflected in us, God’s hands on this earth, because the law enforcement bodies and this whole society in general has created a hell on earth where one is never included, not even allowed to eat snowcones on a park bench in front of God’s supposed house.
I was infuriated and the boys just dropped their heads and said that we’d leave. They were so embarrassed and just kept repeating to us, now do you understand? We’ll never belong. They have been ordered by the court to go back to school, but the school is right by this park so they will likely be picked up on the way to school and charged with any crime the police desire (resistance to authority, etc.) in order to be sent back to jail. As Jose put it, it’s their word against ours and ours values nothing.
If this is the welcome we give to youth who have spent 3 years in a living hell and genuinely want to “calmarse” and give up gang activity, we are pushing them right back into the only group that has ever accepted them, that of violent crime and street brotherhood. What else can we expect from them? To what extent are we all accountable for these crimes that they spend their whole lives serving time for? The punitive system has no space for community culpability, but most of these youth have never been integrated, much less reintegrated into this dysfunctional society.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Planting Apples
Hello friends and family,
Again it has been a rather long pause and there is so much that happens here in each of my days that deserves to be documented and shared, but as always I get so caught up in living here that I never find the time to get to my friends house to steal her computer and update blog entries taking advantage of the fact that she has internet.
As usual there are unbelievable levels of violence in this country, more so because it is December and there’s always a spike in crime. There are 12 homicides a day on average in this country smaller than most states in the US. On Tuesday night I got home from our end of the year holiday dinner only to find out that there had been a shootout right in front of my house between the police and a man that was running from them for having been caught robbing. Ironically, this happened when the mayor, prospective mayor, and all of their friends were around because they were inaugurating a monument in the roundabout in front of my community. There were hundreds of children outside to see the fireworks for the inauguration, as well. Luckily no one was injured but everyone ran for cover and needless to say, the mayor and prospective neighbor didn’t stick around for long.
Since he has been incapable of providing anything but continued repression and criminalization of youth, it is no wonder these things happen all over his district. For once he got a taste of it out side of his sheltered politician’s life. Ironically enough, the inauguration was at the site of another one of his great failures, where Walmart has butchered one of the only remaining forests in the district in order to construct a huge shopping center that will put all local vendors out of work and greatly increase flooding in the region when rainy seasons come. However, since Walmart representatives made sure to paint a few schools and appease the masses with Christmas toys this season, the population is largely accepting of their arrival because a divided and ignorant people are always in the best interest of these huge multinational businesses that will soon be profiting off of their heightened poverty.
While this violence exists all around me, it is my time spent in prisons that has really allowed me to come face to face with this reality and sit in wonder at its complexity. Several weeks ago Maria (fellow Crispaz volunteer) and I did our first pilot project of art therapy in a male minor’s prison and I was brought face to face with 20 youth with an overwhelming capacity for sincerity, beauty, destruction, and cruelty. It would take me a lifetime to write about all of the lessons they taught me in just a week’s time, but I will try to reflect on a few of them.
When we passed the military revision and entered the prison, I was greeted by all of the stereotypical images… men covered in tattoos all over their bodies, reaching out to us through the bars to talk to us and proceeding to bark and whistle at us once we had passed. Despite this reception I didn’t feel nervous at all, just excited, about beginning to work with this population, because after working with incarcerated young women for a year I know that I can never, ever judge a book by its cover.
We worked with 20 youth between the ages of 16 and 22 throughout the week doing icebreakers and ridiculous games, meditations, yoga, paintings, and trying to provide a space where they could wake up their creativity. They were able to get out of the mindset that art has to be perfect, and into a realm of self-expression through the process of art’s creation that was really amazing to witness. We painted with background music, with our eyes closed, with our left hands, silently in groups…. and opened up a safe space in the middle of an otherwise empty and harsh environment. Every day the youth thanked us profusely for coming to spend time with them, and for accepting them as they are without judging them and fearing them.
As I sat with these youth I couldn’t help but think that so many of them will likely be killed when they get out. This isn’t the work where you can promise people that everything will be ok, that God will provide. If these youth are able to change while being locked up (unlikely given that they are not “recapacitated” in any way, as the center’s name insinuates, rather they are kept out of sight and out of mind of a society that, on average, would rather they cease to exist) they still get out to a context that has not changed. They will not be able to find work because of their tattoos, they will always be feared and discriminated against and their gangs will likely pull them back into the only space that still accepts them, active gang membership. When I spoke with one youth that told me he would certainly get out and continue being an active member, he explained to me that if he does not, he won’ t know what’s going on and he’ll likely be killed even more quickly. But if he’s in the “jugada” (game), he can at least know when to look out, so as not to leave his 2 year old daughter orphaned.
Many of these youth regret having made certain decisions as 5, 8,11, 12 year olds that have now affected their whole lives. These decisions were more often than not made out of spaces of neglect and violence, though not every youth in these circumstances decides to join the gang. Rather than continuing to ramble, I will close with a little excerpt from one of the youth in our workshop, “Jose.”
“I know what awaits me, death or the jail cell. I have sinned far too much. If I have planted lemons my whole life, how can I expect to harvest apples? If I want to harvest apples, I have to plant them. Honestly, this has to be a secret, do you want me to tell you what the gang has brought me? Nothing. They offer me nothing. When you’re outside you think your homeboys are everything, but once you’re locked up you realize family is all we have. Yet when we get out we can’t live with them again because others will kill them to make us hurt. And we do hurt. People see our tattoos and think that we’re the shit, that we don’t feel. If you pinch me, it will hurt me just like it’ll hurt you if I pinch you. People see us as assassins, delinquents, troubled youth. Most people would have liked to see me dead by now. But we feel, we have hearts that hurt and long to love freely. Some days I wish I had never been born. Or I think that when I’ll get out I’ll just lift up my shirt for the contrary gang to kill me and get it over with. But you, I promise that I will care for you from above, so that no harm ever comes your way.”
2 weeks later
I have 8 missed calls on my phone and I know it must be him.
I bet my brother 10 bucks that it’s him and call the number back.
“Jenny! I got out this morning! I’m on the bus with my mom going to court so that they can give me my restrictions. Please take care.”
I couldn’t congratulate him enough. Just before my phone minutes ran out I made sure to remind him to start planting apples.
When he doesn’t call, I wonder anxiously if he’s still here, or if he’s already watching me from above. I have no way of ever knowing.
Again it has been a rather long pause and there is so much that happens here in each of my days that deserves to be documented and shared, but as always I get so caught up in living here that I never find the time to get to my friends house to steal her computer and update blog entries taking advantage of the fact that she has internet.
As usual there are unbelievable levels of violence in this country, more so because it is December and there’s always a spike in crime. There are 12 homicides a day on average in this country smaller than most states in the US. On Tuesday night I got home from our end of the year holiday dinner only to find out that there had been a shootout right in front of my house between the police and a man that was running from them for having been caught robbing. Ironically, this happened when the mayor, prospective mayor, and all of their friends were around because they were inaugurating a monument in the roundabout in front of my community. There were hundreds of children outside to see the fireworks for the inauguration, as well. Luckily no one was injured but everyone ran for cover and needless to say, the mayor and prospective neighbor didn’t stick around for long.
Since he has been incapable of providing anything but continued repression and criminalization of youth, it is no wonder these things happen all over his district. For once he got a taste of it out side of his sheltered politician’s life. Ironically enough, the inauguration was at the site of another one of his great failures, where Walmart has butchered one of the only remaining forests in the district in order to construct a huge shopping center that will put all local vendors out of work and greatly increase flooding in the region when rainy seasons come. However, since Walmart representatives made sure to paint a few schools and appease the masses with Christmas toys this season, the population is largely accepting of their arrival because a divided and ignorant people are always in the best interest of these huge multinational businesses that will soon be profiting off of their heightened poverty.
While this violence exists all around me, it is my time spent in prisons that has really allowed me to come face to face with this reality and sit in wonder at its complexity. Several weeks ago Maria (fellow Crispaz volunteer) and I did our first pilot project of art therapy in a male minor’s prison and I was brought face to face with 20 youth with an overwhelming capacity for sincerity, beauty, destruction, and cruelty. It would take me a lifetime to write about all of the lessons they taught me in just a week’s time, but I will try to reflect on a few of them.
When we passed the military revision and entered the prison, I was greeted by all of the stereotypical images… men covered in tattoos all over their bodies, reaching out to us through the bars to talk to us and proceeding to bark and whistle at us once we had passed. Despite this reception I didn’t feel nervous at all, just excited, about beginning to work with this population, because after working with incarcerated young women for a year I know that I can never, ever judge a book by its cover.
We worked with 20 youth between the ages of 16 and 22 throughout the week doing icebreakers and ridiculous games, meditations, yoga, paintings, and trying to provide a space where they could wake up their creativity. They were able to get out of the mindset that art has to be perfect, and into a realm of self-expression through the process of art’s creation that was really amazing to witness. We painted with background music, with our eyes closed, with our left hands, silently in groups…. and opened up a safe space in the middle of an otherwise empty and harsh environment. Every day the youth thanked us profusely for coming to spend time with them, and for accepting them as they are without judging them and fearing them.
As I sat with these youth I couldn’t help but think that so many of them will likely be killed when they get out. This isn’t the work where you can promise people that everything will be ok, that God will provide. If these youth are able to change while being locked up (unlikely given that they are not “recapacitated” in any way, as the center’s name insinuates, rather they are kept out of sight and out of mind of a society that, on average, would rather they cease to exist) they still get out to a context that has not changed. They will not be able to find work because of their tattoos, they will always be feared and discriminated against and their gangs will likely pull them back into the only space that still accepts them, active gang membership. When I spoke with one youth that told me he would certainly get out and continue being an active member, he explained to me that if he does not, he won’ t know what’s going on and he’ll likely be killed even more quickly. But if he’s in the “jugada” (game), he can at least know when to look out, so as not to leave his 2 year old daughter orphaned.
Many of these youth regret having made certain decisions as 5, 8,11, 12 year olds that have now affected their whole lives. These decisions were more often than not made out of spaces of neglect and violence, though not every youth in these circumstances decides to join the gang. Rather than continuing to ramble, I will close with a little excerpt from one of the youth in our workshop, “Jose.”
“I know what awaits me, death or the jail cell. I have sinned far too much. If I have planted lemons my whole life, how can I expect to harvest apples? If I want to harvest apples, I have to plant them. Honestly, this has to be a secret, do you want me to tell you what the gang has brought me? Nothing. They offer me nothing. When you’re outside you think your homeboys are everything, but once you’re locked up you realize family is all we have. Yet when we get out we can’t live with them again because others will kill them to make us hurt. And we do hurt. People see our tattoos and think that we’re the shit, that we don’t feel. If you pinch me, it will hurt me just like it’ll hurt you if I pinch you. People see us as assassins, delinquents, troubled youth. Most people would have liked to see me dead by now. But we feel, we have hearts that hurt and long to love freely. Some days I wish I had never been born. Or I think that when I’ll get out I’ll just lift up my shirt for the contrary gang to kill me and get it over with. But you, I promise that I will care for you from above, so that no harm ever comes your way.”
2 weeks later
I have 8 missed calls on my phone and I know it must be him.
I bet my brother 10 bucks that it’s him and call the number back.
“Jenny! I got out this morning! I’m on the bus with my mom going to court so that they can give me my restrictions. Please take care.”
I couldn’t congratulate him enough. Just before my phone minutes ran out I made sure to remind him to start planting apples.
When he doesn’t call, I wonder anxiously if he’s still here, or if he’s already watching me from above. I have no way of ever knowing.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Most violent country in the world...
Hello!
This past week the Crispaz board was in the country, and though I did not get to share as much time with them as I would have liked to, I do want to express my gratitude for their continued support of my work and life here in El Salvador. One of the board members asked particularly that I write more so as to be able to stay in touch with the reality here, so I´m writing for her and others who desire to stay up to date on what is going on here.
About a week ago, the United Nations named El Salvador the most violent country in the world as far as violent crimes per capita. This weekend, 46 people were killed in less than 72 hours. According to the UN study, there have been more violent deaths in El Salvador than in Iraq between the years of 2004 and 2009, the heart of the US offensive in Iraq.
These numbers startle me and leave me feeling at a loss. I work here in violence prevention but there seem to be so few working in this area and we are up against such an entrenched network of violence here in El Salvador that so often is chalked up to "delinquent activity" but has roots in those with wealth and power who will never have to serve prison time for these crimes. The scene here is unbelievably complex and the people here, by and large, respond with "the situation is really awful, all we have is God" which at first seems very wise and grace filled, but is also an exuse for inaction and resignation to the way things are.
This coming year in January we will be starting a new violence prevention initiative in San Marcos, a very violent sector of the country, in hopes to pilot a new project with the goals of creating youth leaders in violence prevention and community development. We have been planning this project for months now and it is quite tricky, seeing as how we have to first get permission from the gang to operate in the area, then from the police and from the mayor´s office. However, since the Anti-gang law was passed last year, it is illegal to work with a group of gang members here in any capacity. Thus, if we accept youth that are in any way connected to the gang´s activities (the majority of youth in the area), the police have informed us that they would have the obligation to arrest us for "agrupaciones ilicitas" (the meeting of ilicit groups).
We are trying to work within loopholes of this law as we plan for next year, but it is infuriating to me that given the startling amount of violence here, it is prohibited to work on any rehabiliation initiatives with those involved with gangs (even those who are not official members). The same goes for prison work and for those who wish to aid the transition of prisoners back into a society that has never accepted them and is far from willing to do so now.
In working in the girls prison with young women who have a million dreams for their future, I often lose hope knowing that they will never be given jobs in this country since they have tatoos, and they will not be given the chance to partake in rehabilitation programs because it is against the law. Even if they have changed, this society and its governance has not changed in its views towards them as the root of all problems (rather than a symptom of a disfunctional economic/political system which excludes youth and offers them no opportunites for development). Thus, they will inevitably end up choosing the path familiar to them, the path of the streets, when they are repeatededly denied the chance to gain an honest living because their past has marked them irrevocably.
Within this extremely frustrating paradigm, there are still a few of us working day by day to listen to and validate the experiences of these youth who struggle to turn their lives around, as well as those who are teetering on the edge of giving into the gangs and their appeal of belonging and permanent financial stability. On a very small, relational scale, I see advances every day that I take the time to accompany and listen to these voices, which I will share with you in future entries. At the same time, however, I am continued to be overwhelmed by my smallness in the midst of this system that resists this type of non-judgemental accompaniment and quest for sustainable transformation.
Those are some thoughts for today... I will try to keep this updated even if I can only write a few uncompleted thoughts at a time. I hope you are all well and I miss you!
This past week the Crispaz board was in the country, and though I did not get to share as much time with them as I would have liked to, I do want to express my gratitude for their continued support of my work and life here in El Salvador. One of the board members asked particularly that I write more so as to be able to stay in touch with the reality here, so I´m writing for her and others who desire to stay up to date on what is going on here.
About a week ago, the United Nations named El Salvador the most violent country in the world as far as violent crimes per capita. This weekend, 46 people were killed in less than 72 hours. According to the UN study, there have been more violent deaths in El Salvador than in Iraq between the years of 2004 and 2009, the heart of the US offensive in Iraq.
These numbers startle me and leave me feeling at a loss. I work here in violence prevention but there seem to be so few working in this area and we are up against such an entrenched network of violence here in El Salvador that so often is chalked up to "delinquent activity" but has roots in those with wealth and power who will never have to serve prison time for these crimes. The scene here is unbelievably complex and the people here, by and large, respond with "the situation is really awful, all we have is God" which at first seems very wise and grace filled, but is also an exuse for inaction and resignation to the way things are.
This coming year in January we will be starting a new violence prevention initiative in San Marcos, a very violent sector of the country, in hopes to pilot a new project with the goals of creating youth leaders in violence prevention and community development. We have been planning this project for months now and it is quite tricky, seeing as how we have to first get permission from the gang to operate in the area, then from the police and from the mayor´s office. However, since the Anti-gang law was passed last year, it is illegal to work with a group of gang members here in any capacity. Thus, if we accept youth that are in any way connected to the gang´s activities (the majority of youth in the area), the police have informed us that they would have the obligation to arrest us for "agrupaciones ilicitas" (the meeting of ilicit groups).
We are trying to work within loopholes of this law as we plan for next year, but it is infuriating to me that given the startling amount of violence here, it is prohibited to work on any rehabiliation initiatives with those involved with gangs (even those who are not official members). The same goes for prison work and for those who wish to aid the transition of prisoners back into a society that has never accepted them and is far from willing to do so now.
In working in the girls prison with young women who have a million dreams for their future, I often lose hope knowing that they will never be given jobs in this country since they have tatoos, and they will not be given the chance to partake in rehabilitation programs because it is against the law. Even if they have changed, this society and its governance has not changed in its views towards them as the root of all problems (rather than a symptom of a disfunctional economic/political system which excludes youth and offers them no opportunites for development). Thus, they will inevitably end up choosing the path familiar to them, the path of the streets, when they are repeatededly denied the chance to gain an honest living because their past has marked them irrevocably.
Within this extremely frustrating paradigm, there are still a few of us working day by day to listen to and validate the experiences of these youth who struggle to turn their lives around, as well as those who are teetering on the edge of giving into the gangs and their appeal of belonging and permanent financial stability. On a very small, relational scale, I see advances every day that I take the time to accompany and listen to these voices, which I will share with you in future entries. At the same time, however, I am continued to be overwhelmed by my smallness in the midst of this system that resists this type of non-judgemental accompaniment and quest for sustainable transformation.
Those are some thoughts for today... I will try to keep this updated even if I can only write a few uncompleted thoughts at a time. I hope you are all well and I miss you!
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Crispaz Volunteer
Hello friends!
After a long hiatus, I am now going to get back into the swing of updating my blog and sharing the many rich experiences this life rewards me with any and all who wish to listen.
Having finished my allotted grant period, I have been blessed with the opportunity to be sponsored by Crispaz (Christians for Peace in El Salvador), a non-governmental organization that has been working in El Salvador for years on various peacebuilding and international solidarity building initiatives.
Thanks to Crispaz´s support, I will be able to continue the work I have begun in El Salvador.
For any new readers, I graduated from the University of Notre Dame in 2010 with majors in International Peace Studies and Anthropology. I have spent time doing peacebuilding work both in Uganda and El Salvador, where I am currently collaborating with Fundación Quetzalcoatl, Ideas y Acciónes Para la Paz.
In El Salvador, I volunteer teaching environmental education to youth in a violence prevention and job skills training program. Additionally, I work with a community-based youth group on a variety of peacebuilding initiatives to strengthen community unity and prevent the integration of the community´s youth into the ever-present gangs. Finally, I accompany female youth in the country´s only juvenile detention center for women, teaching poetry and learning from their wealth of wisdom and experience.
I will do my best to update this blog once a month at the very least, so stay tuned!
After a long hiatus, I am now going to get back into the swing of updating my blog and sharing the many rich experiences this life rewards me with any and all who wish to listen.
Having finished my allotted grant period, I have been blessed with the opportunity to be sponsored by Crispaz (Christians for Peace in El Salvador), a non-governmental organization that has been working in El Salvador for years on various peacebuilding and international solidarity building initiatives.
Thanks to Crispaz´s support, I will be able to continue the work I have begun in El Salvador.
For any new readers, I graduated from the University of Notre Dame in 2010 with majors in International Peace Studies and Anthropology. I have spent time doing peacebuilding work both in Uganda and El Salvador, where I am currently collaborating with Fundación Quetzalcoatl, Ideas y Acciónes Para la Paz.
In El Salvador, I volunteer teaching environmental education to youth in a violence prevention and job skills training program. Additionally, I work with a community-based youth group on a variety of peacebuilding initiatives to strengthen community unity and prevent the integration of the community´s youth into the ever-present gangs. Finally, I accompany female youth in the country´s only juvenile detention center for women, teaching poetry and learning from their wealth of wisdom and experience.
I will do my best to update this blog once a month at the very least, so stay tuned!
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