News 7 -- Oct. 24, 1988

“In the sudden flight of the ascending butterflies, she was uplifted in heart and soul, as she described, by their presence of beauty, unison and freedom to move about as they wished -- and this sight before her eyes in a country torn by war, violence and a lack of freedom to live out life, free as the butterfly.”

[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]

[This is our 7th Newsletter from Fr. Larry Rosebaugh in El Salvador. This writing began on October 24, 1988 and spans from then until now: April 15, 1989.]

Newsletter #7

October 24, 1988
El Salvador

I think we are in the right place at the right time. This thought springs from me as I sit on my bed, the sweat still discoloring my shirt and a short rest, stretched out on the concrete floor, has restored some life to my bones.

Juan, Ana and I set out at 8 O'clock this morning accompanied by a middle- aged man and his twelve- year- old nephew. They had come by horseback from the village where we were scheduled to celebrate the liturgy today. It is about two and a half hours by foot. The people generally send a person or two on horseback as a gesture of concern and to give each of us the chance to go by horseback if we care to do so.

During the rainy season, as is presently the case, the roads are hard to travel. Even the oxen pulling their carts are often unable to reach their destination.

However, today wasn't bad. Though the rains have come down hard in the last 3 days, the two weeks of sunshine prior to now made the ground hard and we were able to pass without difficulty. Our campesino sisters and brothers, with their patient trust in their God for all seasons, were awaiting this downpour to give life to their second crop of corn sown early in September.

For me, it is too easy to take for granted what we are privileged to encounter as we make our way through the countryside. That there still are winding, dirt roads that run up and down and around the hillsides now covered in a beautiful variety of greens, is a grace.

Children on their way to school make their way up the last steep hill before reaching our town. Womyn carrying small babies now arrive after a 3-hour journey, on their way to the clinic.

The oxen are moving easily enough today. It is good to see the ox carts filled with corn and freshly picked squash. A certain pride is sensed in this on-going movement of people today.

The mothers on their way to the clinic do not seem strained by the possibility that their young child may be gravely ill. The chill of the air has been gone for some time. The good corn crop has provided an abundance of tortillas and a nutritional drink called 'atol.'

This is vaccination time for the children at the clinic as well as the time basic food supplies are distributed to those mothers with children under five.

After greeting the mothers on their way to the clinic, and children with their satchels on their way to school, we came upon a scene I was not familiar with. In the front yard of one of the roadside houses were gathered 25 - 30 head of cattle. As we drew near, we heard what has become familiar to our ears; the shouts and almost chorus-like calls to bring a cow, a horse, a pig or an ox back into the herd.

Today a lassoed cow was running in circles, while 3 or 4 men were tugging with all their might to bring her to a halt. It was vaccination day also for the cattle.

Sweat pours from us as the first hour of the journey passes. But the diversity of colors, sounds and activity have absorbed our minds so that we hardly are aware of the hour or the heat of the day.

Ana described to us later what for her, had been a marvelous experience. It was the encounter she had with the butterflies. Although there was an instant when she had been startled by what seemed to be several hundred butterflies take to flight in front of her, the total impression made on her was magnificent. It would become a grace-filled event that spoke to her uniquely.

She noted that it could have been soldiers stepping suddenly out before her that caused the same shock to her system. The difference, she explained, was what the butterflies represented to her in contrast to the meaning of soldiers appearing armed and ready for confrontation.

In the sudden flight of the ascending butterflies, she was uplifted in heart and soul, as she described, by their presence of beauty, unison and freedom to move about as they wished -- and this sight before her eyes in a country torn by war, violence and a lack of freedom to live out life, free as the butterfly.

We finally reached the village and were greeted by the family in the house where the Mass was to be celebrated. The setting was perfect. In the backyard under shade trees where an ox cart was used for one of the benches and the mountains of Honduras showed in the distance. As the people gathered, we practiced a few songs with them. Work as seen through the eyes of Salvadorans was the theme chosen today for our celebration. Pictures depicting campesinos working in the fields and another showing a young womyn learning to use a sewing machine helped us begin the discussion.

We talked about the work in the fields: that the entire world population is dependent on the labor of the campesino for their daily bread, yet there is no other group of such number and of such importance that is so exploited. Despite their labor, they are forced to live in conditions of extreme poverty.

Six colones, or the equivalent of $1.20, for a day´s work in the fields. A pound of beans, the campesinos daily sustenance, has been recently priced at 4 colones. The average campesino family cannot afford to buy beans at this price and suffers terribly until prices are lowered.

The conversations centered too on the fact that the womyn of the campo rises at 4 a.m. to begin preparing the fire for the tortillas and café. Her work does not stop until 7 in the evening. She walks to the river to wash huge bundles of clothing and often returns again into the countryside to cut and carry back on her head incredible loads of kindling wood.

This total commitment to life and to family however has no financial reward. We discuss the role and the importance of the womyn campesina -- of her suffering , of her exploitation. If she takes work as a domestic, for example, she will work from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. and be paid 4 colones.

We suggest we finish this part of the celebration with a drama. A man and womyn are chosen to play the part of the owners of the plantation. Several other men, womyn and children take the part of campesinos working the land of this plantation.

The workers have reached their limit. They have not received pay for over 2 weeks. They have, out of desperation, decided to confront the landowner, knowing it could mean endangering the lives of their entire family.

The role playing comes naturally. It allows them to feel profoundly the conditions under which they are living. It allows too the opportunity to question the possibility of beginning to work toward change.

But we are in El Salvador where any type of organizing, conscience-raising are seen as subversive activity and have been met with arrest, torture and death - the tactics used to keep the poor 'in their place.'

Our work is slow, but motivated by the Salvadorans themselves who continue to give their lives to bring about a time when violence will no longer dominate.

Petitions follow the drama and express well the sufferings, the hopes and the joy of those present.

The journeys to the villages are an important part of our work here. They allow us the chance to get to know our people better and will hopefully be the means of building a lasting trust between us.

It is hard to see much hope for this small country of less than 5 million inhabitants. In the last 9 years over a million Salvadorans have fled their homeland. Why do those in power allow the war to go on, and the hunger, malnutrition, illiteracy and injustices - always against the poor?

It's an answer most of us are aware of, but a situation hard to do much about. The military, government and political parties of El Salvador, in order to remain powerful and in control must remain submissive to the superpowers, in this case, the United States....An almost inescapable slavery of a whole people. Every attempt to organize for one's basic human rights is seen as a direct attack against the powers that be and is thus met with force and violence.

But here, the message of Advent and Christmas break through. The message of hope in the midst of darkness, of light and birth and new life. It is the hope, the enduring struggle of the poor that cannot be extinguished.

The scriptures around these mysteries of John's making straight the way and of the birth of Jesus are directly related to the people of El Salvador today -- a people who are discovering Jesus, Mary, and Joseph one with them as refugees sought after, tortured, imprisoned, and put to death. But most important, identified as a resurrected people continuing on to the promised land.

We, too, as volunteers find ourselves baptized into this present reality often feeling exhausted, done-in and asking, "how did I ever get into this?" But last week, while in San Salvador, the capital, a little light was shed on this question. We at the volunteer's house were awakened at 2:45 a.m. by the sound of an explosion. It was loud and we thought, relatively nearby. We drifted back to sleep and later talked about it over morning coffee.

It wasn't until I bought a newspaper at 3 p.m. that I discovered that the explosion was that which had destroyed the office attached to Resurrection Lutheran Church.

Bishop Medardo Gomez is the pastor there. His name has been ingrained into the hearts of the poor in El Salvador after the fashion of Msgr. Oscar Romero.

Over the past 15 years of ministering he has faithfully responded to the situations that demand a response - Saying no to death and injustices, yes to life and liberation.

Medardo's life has been threatened numerous times, the most recently being just a week before the bombing of the church's office. Ten years ago, he had been the victim of arrest, torture, and imprisonment.

Members of Catholic and Protestant churches had responded to Medardo's most recent threats by inviting the public to an ecumenical prayer service of support. The service had been scheduled for the same day the bomb had exploded.

The celebration went on as scheduled. People arrived and saw with their own eyes the results of the morning explosion.

Three hundred persons jammed into the small church. The presence of Medardo's wife and 6 children needed no formal introduction.

Testimony followed testimony for over an hour and a half, interspersed by song, prayer, and heartfelt sentiments. ...Then the blessing all had waited for. Candles held in hand and everyone in the church standing, the bishop rose to speak:

"Sometimes I feel like quitting,” he began. "At other times, as when I viewed the remains of the church office early this morning, I feel scared and want to hide. But then, when I return amidst you, my people, in prayer and song, I am reborn, animated and ready to continue on."


February 14. For the past two weeks we were busily preparing to celebrate the feast of the matron saint of our parish, Our Lady of Fatima. We reflected with our people on Mary's message to the three peasant children of Fatima. Mary's message being: prayer and sacrifice alone will bring the war to an end and peace to the world.

If we translate this message today to apply to ourselves and to our people, what might we conclude?

Sacrifice is at the very heart of daily existence in El Salvador. We need only to listen to the petitions expressed in our 6 a.m. Mass each day to detect this: "For my son who stepped on a mine and lost his left leg..." "...For my daughter who set out two weeks ago for the U.S. and I have had no word from her since." And last week from a grandmother who prayed, "...for my two grandsons of 11 months and 2 years who died of the measles just three days apart from one another." The root cause of these two deaths being malnutrition. O, all merciful God, hear the cry of your people.

This letter is written in the midst of unanswered questions and serious doubts about the future welfare of this country.

Today and tomorrow, February 19th and 20th, (1989) the major political parties of El Salvador are meeting in Mexico to discuss whether to postpone the presidential elections, scheduled for the 19th of March, to September 15th.

There have been threats of an increase in the bloodshed, if the elections are postponed and an all out state of siege if they are not.

The poor of the country have as their only option to dig in once again for the long haul -- united and even more convinced during this season of Lent, that Jesus, Oscar Romero and the thousands of Salvadoran martyrs are alive and resurrected among them.

Saturday April 15th. I have spent the last week in the U.S.. It was a gathering of 135 priests and brothers of my Congregation (Oblates Of Mary Immaculate). It was a week of reflecting together on our past and trying to shed some light on our future.

I will return to El Salvador tomorrow, hopefully renewed in Spirit. If things go well, I'll see you sometime during the Summer months.

Adios,

Lorenzo