Day 7, 8, & 9--Santa Marta

Santa Marta

Rosalea and Mary--our host family

I am back at the Oasis from my weekend in Santa Marta.  It is a wonderful community in the hills of El Salvador, close to the Honduran border.  There is so much I could say about this weekend trip, but I will try to be concise for your reading pleasure as well as my constant need for sleep.  The people within this community were forced in 1981 to flee their homes, belongings, etc in Santa Marta to seek refuge in Honduras from the ARENA army that was torturing and killing their community members and families.   The conflict broke out because the people of Santa Marta and other poor communities finally had enough of the repressive regime and stood up through a fight for their human rights.  Unfortunately, the US government was funding the ARENA military party and was sending 1 million dollars of tax payer money a day to fight against the people of El Salvador.  At that time, the US was fighting communism around the country and felt the guerillas in El Salvador were communists instead of people wanting dignity and respect.  We heard stories about how women and children were crossing the Lampa River (which serves as the border between El Salvador and Honduras).  Many stories recounted the fear and trauma of that moment and those years during the civil war conflict.  Many shared of the drownings and massacres at the river during those days.  The people of Santa Marta returned to their land in 1988 and had to survive during the time of war, fighting for their basic human rights against the government.  In 1992, the Peace Accord was signed and the war stopped.  But by that time, the community had to rebuild itself.  However, instead of being defeated by the war, this community used their suffering to produce in them a weighty strength and a deep sense of joy and purpose in what they accomplished together and what they want to accomplish in the future.

Me, Rosalea and Emma at her home

This is Rosalea's house area

My friend Emma and I had the absolute privilege to spend two nights with our host family Rosalea and her granddaughter Mary.  They were such a treasure and delight!  I have so many touching stories from our short time together, but I want to share one story that will showcase their generosity and hospitality.  It was our second night with them, and we were both very very dirty from the day's events.  There is not running water in Santa Marta, so one must almost do a sponge bath to clean.  During the day, our group had walked all over the community and even spent time cleaning out garbage in their local river.  Also, at the end of the day, the rains began to pour and soaked the streets.  By the end of the night, our sandals had mud, animal feces and who knows what else caked in them.  Our feet also did not come out of the day looking or smelling very pretty either.  Rosalea asked Emma if she would want to wash her feet before we went to bed.  We thought it over and decided it was a "buena idea" (good idea).  She went to her pila, which is the concrete basin where water is kept and functions a bit like a kitchen/laundry room, and started getting a bowl ready for our feet.  She handed the bowl to me, and I began washing my feet.  They were a sight, but I was so grateful for the soap and water.  As I moved to my second foot, Rosalea came out and said, "No, no," and then took my hands away from my foot.  When I realized what she was going to do, I quickly tried to dissuade her.  In my best Spanish, I told her I was very dirty and that she did not need to wash my feet.

She quickly disregarded my request and picked up my sweaty, muddy, smelly foot and began to wash it with her soft hands.  Immediately, I began laughing as tears welled up in my eyes.  I could not believe she was doing this!  When she was finished with the first foot, she picked up the other foot that I previously washed.  Again, she poured water over the foot, removing with her hands any of the left over dirt and grime.  Then, she proceeded to wash my sandals with her hands.  Her fingers dug into the grooves, pushing out all of the caked in material.  In that moment, I was humbled beyond believe.  Here I am, a recently graduated master's student with so many options in front of me, striving to find my place, bathed in the comforts of wealth and privilege, and coming to Santa Marta very unsure of the natural conditions and discomforts.  And here is this beautiful woman of about seventy five years--a woman who has known suffering, watched her friends die, lived to tell her stories.  This woman, who doesn't live with running water, has chickens, roosters, turkeys and other life forms running freely through her yard.  This woman so freely and matter-a-factly engages in an act of service which is such an act of love.  In her right then, I was awakened to Jesus behind her skin--the humbleness of Christ coming to serve, revealing the mystical power in service.  All of me wanted to refuse her service, to say that I can do it myself.  But the voice inside me said, "Accept the gift."  So, I did.  And it has fed me throughout the day.  It will continue to feed me as we travel and when I return home.

My bed with mosquito netting

There is such a power in true genuine service and humility.  Very rarely do I find myself in this position of unabashed service or living with such an embracing hospitality.  This was one of the many amazing experiences we had with this family in two short days.  At the risk of sounding dramatic, I will say that in her presence, I literally felt touched by God.

The hikers:  Me, Emma, Dr. Guevara, Kristin
Brittany (and Cristina who took the pic).

We have now returned home to the Oasis.  Many of us rushed to the showers to clean off the dirt and sweat that caked on over the last few days.  But what we didn't wash off were the memories of the people of Santa Marta.  The sweetness of their presence, the service and purpose they employ, nor the dignity with which they live their lives.  Our individualistic strivings for success seem like vapors compared to the solidarity found within the dwelling of this community.

We hiked in and out of Santa Marta.