News 3 -- Spring, 1987

“In the weeks to follow I came to meet Vicente's wife, Bertha, and their other children. It became apparent too that this family was always together, always hand in hand and smiling.”

[In some of his letters Larry used the word womyn as his way of expressing the equality of women and men.
campo = farm field or farm region. Campesino(a) = peasant farmer]

Newsletter #3

El Salvador
Spring, 1987

This is our third newsletter from Fr. Larry Rosebaugh in El Salvador. It arrived in Chicago via San Antonio on May 9, 1987. There is no date or "greeting" on the letter. mlp


Around Christmas I wrote to you concerning my friend Benjamin -- his life and work as a campesino and some of the details in the life of the campesino in this part of El Salvador. I tried also to picture for you the military situation, if only a brief and partial glimpse.

In this letter I will reflect about a family who lives within a stone´s throw of the church. Hoping that in this reflection a reality may be seen that speaks for literally thousands of families trying to survive these war-torn years.

I first became aware of Vicente one Sunday morning kneeling with three or four of his small children in a church pew before the 10 A.M. Mass. There wasn't anything special about them that caught my eye... only the fact that they may well be the only children accompanied by their father I have seen in this parish community.

In the weeks to follow I came to meet Vicente's wife, Bertha, and their other children. It became apparent too that this family was always together, always hand in hand and smiling.

Our parish was asked to send as many married couples as possible to a retreat sponsored by the diocese. I asked Vicente and Bertha if they would be interested and, if so, attend a lecture which would give the details of this retreat. They responded yes without hesitation.

The talk took place in our parish church after the Sunday Mass. Following the gathering, Bertha invited me to eat with them in their home.

Less than a block and a half from the church and behind some wooden fencing stood their home. As I went through the tattered gate I saw two shelters both of which were patched together by most anything that had been available at the time -- a piece of tin, a cardboard box, corn stalks and pieces of cloth. Originally the land on which these two houses sat belonged to the church. It was to be used for families fleeing the war zones. But in recent years this land has fallen into the hands of the powers that be, who in turn have ordered these remaining two families to leave.

It's at this point that an adequate description of this family is difficult. Like families the world over, they struggle, possessed by a profound faith that lifts them up and carries them beyond what seems to be possible.

To rise in the morning not knowing whether today there will be food on the table, not knowing if the river will provide a few fish, or the woods enough kindling to fuel the fire... And about sickness which takes one out of every ten babies and about schooling which demands notebooks, pencils and clothing. How do they make it, the family of Bertha and Vicente? They must live in the present ... not look back ... doing the best they can under the circumstances.

It seems they possess that compassionate heart that already has turned itself toward their God... Living in the desert but with their staff which is ready always to strike the rocks and await the spring of water.

It is because they have done things together from the beginning that they make it from day to day. The four boys, ranging in age from six to eleven, work in the campo with their father. Bertha Dolores, nine years old - their only daughter - shares the daily chores with her mother. Up and down the steep hillside three or four times a day leaves little time for mother and daughter to fret and only barely enough time to do the things that must be done.

December through March was hard for the family. Though it's the time of the coffee harvest, Vicente was not able to buy the necessary tools and supplies to work the harvest. It was then that Bertha began thinking that either she or Vicente must go in search of work in San Salvador. It was decided that Bertha would go, leaving Vicente alone with the children. Go in faith and it would all work out.

Shortly before the time of her departure, an elderly couple came in search of a womyn to work in their household as a domestic. Bertha accepted. It meant working from 7:00 A.M. to 7:00 P.M. each day, including Sundays -- cooking, cleaning, washing clothes and running errands.

The first two Sundays she worked Bertha was permitted two hours free to attend the Sunday Mass. But for these seven days a week work she received 100 colones a month. That in dollars is about 20.

The injustices involved are apparent. The womyn is seen as a non-entity. She should be happy she is paid anything.

Valerie, a nurse from the states, works here too in the area of health promotion, from the base up. We talked and decided to ask Bertha and Vicente if they would join us in our work in the community.

They were delighted. Bertha will work during the week while Vicente, continuing his work in the campo, will be available whenever possible.

Our town has about 5000 residents, with another 5000 living in the outlying villages. It's a small rural populace considered to be out of the area of conflict. We are learning, however, that there is little control, if any, of where the war is to be fought. What has been referred to as a "tranquil place to be" in a moment's notice could be in a rage of terror.

Lately, we are hearing more mortar and artillery explosions in the distance. Word gets to us that some youth have been arrested in a village close by. We are warned not to go to a certain village on a pastoral visit. Too dangerous.

By invitation from the people of such a dangerous location, we go. And without incident. Vicente had come saying that as a family they felt that if this was part of their call in living out the Gospel, he would go in faith and without fear. We followed his inspiration.

The entire village came for the Mass. Men arriving on horseback, the womyn carrying small children. A spirit of joy was in the air. The people told us that it was the first time a Mass was celebrated in their community.

On Monday, March 30th, I went early by bus to San Salvador to renew my visa. Valerie and a friend from the U.S. were alone in the parish and hoped to have some free time to visit. However, at 8:30 A.M. they received word that a thirteen year old boy had been killed by a grenade explosion in front of his house. No details accompanied the story. It was Sunday, March 29th, that we had gone to a small village an hour and a half by foot, to celebrate Mass for two young men (brothers-in-law) who were murdered the week before. They had been eating supper with the family of one of the men, when two men entered the house and demanded that everyone present lie down on the floor. At that point, in front of the family, the two men were shot in the head and died instantly. Again, no details as to who shot the men or why.

With these events of the last two days to deal with, it would be hoped that nothing more would occur. But at 1:30 A.M. on Tuesday, the 31st, Val and Karen were shaken in their beds. It wasn't another earthquake as had occurred October 12th in San Salvador. The town was being awakened by a mortar attack and the sounds of machine-gun fire everywhere. Nothing like this had occurred since 1984, but the people knew the sounds and responded spontaneously, gathering children and the elderly under tables and mattresses hoping to prevent them from being wounded.

The artillery and bombing continued on for 4 hours. When finally it ended, news trickled into the parish compound that at least one civilian was dead, others wounded, and no account was given as to whether military personnel had been wounded or killed.

We are not a town that has known constant bombings on the civilian populace or invasions, captures and people tortured as is the case in other communities throughout El Salvador. But an attack such as this most recent one surfaces clearly and profoundly the reality that exists for all Salvadorans. Must this war go on? And must those who detest and suffer the consequences most - the poor - have little or no voice in the direction and future of their country?

More taxes imposed, more dollars sent by the Reagan administration to continue a war that keeps the poor scattered and divided, preventing the unity needed in order to build a better place for all to live.

As many grow richer through the misuse of U.S. funding, the corpses of the poor cry in union with the spirit of Monsignor Oscar Romero: "Stop the oppression!"

As Americans present in El Salvador, as citizens of the U.S., raised to believe that problems can be solved quickly and permanently if we know the right people and can afford the price, we are slowly coming to see another reality: that the American way is not the way of the poor and oppressed.

The way of the poor, the way of faith knows no timetable, nor weighs facts and figures. The people - el pueblo - who work the campo, fetch the water, and walk the hillsides know that to have a plentiful harvest, a better life for their children, is not something that can be calculated and planned.

It is just as likely that there will be as many seasons without rainfall as with rainfall, children born who will not see their first birthday, as those who will complete a second. There are no computers for the poor, no determined tomorrows. Only today, as the Berthas and Vicentes the world over know so well.

Living in the present, for the present... Trusting in a God that is revealing day to day an image of a people walking together... Suffering, dying, resurrecting over and over again.

On the 24th of March, Monsignor Oscar Romero resurrected in the hearts of Salvadorans everywhere. It is the commitment that Monsignor Romero called for and that continues to grow and express itself in action that wherein lies the future hope of El Salvador.

A long haul, but no longer than the next harvest, rainfall, or climb up the mountainside. It is in sight and that is what's important!


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