News 4 -- Sept. 1987

“Flora is also one who listens and responds. She draws from her wealth of experience -- from her own work as a youth in the fields, sowing, harvesting and praying the crops to fruition. This year she took on the responsibility of teaching a group of children catechism. She is helped out by Virginia, the mother of 8 children and by two teenage womyn. Their classes have been alive, creative and imbued with the spirit and faith of these four womyn.”

[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]

September 1987
El Salvador

(This is our fourth newsletter from Fr. Larry Rosebaugh in El Salvador):

After completing a year in El Salvador, I would like to share with you some of my impressions.

It is a picture of individuals but individuals together working and living out life. It is about people who like other people have faults, misgivings, and are sometimes out of focus. Yet, they are caught up in this mystery of life that has its own history. A history written with much sweat, blood and tears. A people sacrificed by those caring more about today's profit than the future of the country's children tomorrow.

Flora is 62 years old and has borne 11 children. Loving her children greatly, she carries their problems and senses their faults to the quick. Yet she is able to let these things go and remain very active in her community.

Nora, mother of 8, is like a streak of lightning - that hard to keep track of. There is also Susana (62), Marta (56), Carmen (52), Andrea (63), Virginia (43), Maria (49), and Ana (39).

These womyn are members of a group called Guardians Of The Blessed Sacrament. "We pray and sing before the Blessed Sacrament,” they might say, if asked to define themselves. That hardly does the group justice. They have persevered in the parish for more than 38 years.

Go to any wake in this 'pueblo' of 5000 inhabitants and it is generally Flora who is asked to pray on behalf of those present.

She prays from her heart. Her prayers are animated and animate others. Her prayer is about the person who has died -- his or her sufferings, joys and contribution to the community.

Flora is also one who listens and responds. She draws from her wealth of experience -- from her own work as a youth in the fields, sowing, harvesting and praying the crops to fruition. This year she took on the responsibility of teaching a group of children catechism. She is helped out by Virginia, the mother of 8 children and by two teenage womyn. Their classes have been alive, creative and imbued with the spirit and faith of these four womyn.

This brings to mind the recent example from the life of Ana, Vincent and their five children.

It happened early this spring. The corn had been planted, but the earth was becoming painfully dry. One morning the entire family set out early from town, walking up and down the steep hillside, wading across the river at three different locations and finally reached their piece of rented land.

Before beginning to work they prayed together as it is their custom to do and immediately reached this decision: they would begin to carry the water up from the river.

It was a gesture of faith, knowing well that to barely touch the entire field once with water would take 15 days of agonizing labor. However, on the Sunday before, along with the entire community, they had prayed and offered their Mass that St. Isidore, the saint of farmworkers, would intercede in sending the rains they needed.

The people had come to Mass with their 'cumas,' the campesino's indispensable tool in their work in the campo. They placed their cumas, seeds, sombreros and water to be blessed before the altar.

At the Offertory, they collected these possessions, formed two lines in the rear of the church and walked together in procession to present these humble gifts to their brother Jesus.

It was with this sense of belief and unity that they shared with their brothers and sisters of the campo that Ana, Vincent and their five children set out to work that morning.

As the family trekked down the hill to fill their jugs in the river, they heard rumblings in the distance. "More bombs or another mortar attack?" They wondered without speaking. "And yet,” though no rain clouds could be seen, "could those rumblings possibly be thunder?"

It wasn't long before they knew the answer. A cloud or two appeared and soon afterwards the blue of the sky was gone. It began to rain and rain and rain. That evening when the family came by to visit, their faces were radiant with joy as they recounted their story to us.

Nora must weigh all of 100 pounds. White hair and her face lined with crevices that depict a hard but fascinating life.

For over thirty years and as a mother of eight growing children, she made her livelihood from the sale of dairy products in the outlying villages. As a result of walking the hills with large quantities of milk and cheese balanced atop her head, there is no one she doesn't know and knows quite well.

When Nora began to accompany us to these same villages where the people gather now to reflect the Word of God, we didn't realize just how important her presence with us would be. She has the confidence of her people and communicates in their language.

The capacity of Nora, at 68, to walk those same hills at a pace that leaves us way behind says a lot about her energy and spirit. Besides visiting the villages, participating in reflection groups, teaching a catechism class and praying at the many vigils of the dead, her forte simply is : to serve others . "The bishop is coming, what should we do?" "Call Nora, she knows about preparing the wood fire, cooking the chicken, beans and rice." Josefina, at 87, is terribly alone, can't get out of bed without help, prepare meals or attend to the many other necessities. "...who's been at her bedside constantly the last several months?...Nora!" And so it goes.

Carmen is 53 years old. If she appeared on the streets of Chicago, St. Louis or New York City, she would be taken to be a 'bag lady.' That is, a person without a home and few possessions to her name.

Barefooted, teeth missing in front, hair scraggly and clothes sometimes tattered or torn, she can usually be found walking through the streets carrying a huge basket on her head. In the morning she may have fresh fish from the river to sell. At noon, she most likely will be selling vegetables and later on in the day fresh sweet bread.

Interestingly enough, Carmen is always present at the 6 A.M. Mass. Not only physically present, but most attentive and responsive to the scripture readings. The first time I heard her comment on the readings, I was astonished. "Who is this womyn who appears to be barely eeking out an existence speaking so clearly and understandingly about the Word of God?"

After two or three months of her participation in various groups, I have learned that Carmen had been a school teacher most of her life and had come to this small town due to the pressures of the war and all that might imply. I give thanks that she and persons like her are rising up out of our community to be heard.

Until now, our church, even if filled, was generally made up of womyn. Recently however, a number of men have been appearing at the Sunday Mass, sitting towards the rear and in close proximity to each other.

Instead of analyzing this fact, it might be better to make some observations. After the 2nd Vatican Council and even more noticeably after the 2nd highly acclaimed Latin American Bishops Conference in Puebla, Mexico in 1978, an active presence among men in the Latin American Church slowly arose.

This began to occur when the church came to show interest in the life of the campo, for example -- where the voice of the poor and oppressed was encouraged to be heard and the churches slowly became centers where campesinos, factory workers, womyn working as domestics all found a place.

If we do nothing more than to encourage our people to come together, listen to the Word of God and apply it to their daily surroundings, we too may have (as we have had) an increase in participation on the part of men in our Christian Community.

And when the Flora's, Ana's, Vincents', Maria's, Benjamin's, Pedros and others begin to question why one person in their community owns 450 head of cattle and 90 percent of the land, while one cow or one acre of land would be a luxury to the average campesino;

and when they question why it is that their sons (the sons of the poor) are most often recruited to fight in the war and their daughters who work as domestics receive barely enough food to survive the day;

when these questions arise and come to be the basis for the many candles lit, the novenas prayed, the processions participated in, the feet of the saints kissed;

when this happens, there will be hope that despite the war, the injustices, the illiteracy, malnutrition and high infant mortality rate, a light has been born, a spirit enkindled, a hope nurtured and a people will be found in the process of walking and doing it together.
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