Monday to Friday morning I work (teaching English) in a cooperative credit union run by veterans who were disabled in some way in the civil war. The cooperative is made up of people from both sides of the war. They decided that they would be stronger and be more likely to get what they wanted from the government if they worked together. In theory and in practice, it really makes sense and works well. They have gotten a lot of their requests met by the government. Yet on the other hand, there are awkward moments. The reality of this is dawning on me more and more as I work there.
The president of the cooperative is an ex-guerilla, and the guy who drives me to the Comadres office after my class finishes is ex-military. They didn´t tell me that, but I could kind of tell. Today the president of the coop (ex-guerilla) told me that the driver is ex-military. They get along just fine, and work very well together, and share jokes (Salvadoreans are very fond of jokes), etc. Today I was telling the president (let´s call him D.) that I want to go to Perquin to visit the Museum of the Revolution, and learn more about the war, this weekend. D. said, I can tell you about my war experiences if you like. I said yes, of course, I would like that very much, and so he told me a bit about when he enlisted (he was 12) and about living in the mountains and having to eat whatever they could find in order to survive, etc. It was very fascinating. While he was telling me about his experiences, the driver (W.) arrived, and sat down and listened for a minute or two. Then he went out for a bit and came back. That´s when D. told me that W. is ex-military. When W. returned, D. was winding down his story, saying that he thinks it was more of a sacrifice for women to be guerillas, because of menstruation and not having supplies for that, etc. Then he said, "During the war, revolution was the first priority, and family came after that. And now we have family, but we don't have revolution.¨ At that point W. said he didn´t understand, and D. repeated himself. I understood, but W. didn´t understand because he isn´t a revolutionary. It is very interesting for me to realize who I am sitting next to in the car, and who I am teaching English to, and what they put each other through during the war, and now after the signing of the Peace Accords in 1992, what they have been able to achieve by working together. Really food for thought and for reflection upon the human condition!
These conversations of the (early) morning were still on my mind when I sat down with one of the Comadres (P.) later in the morning to do more work on the photo project. She was sorting photos, telling me a bit about each one as she placed them into different piles. She recounted memories of protests, of consciousness-raising meetings in the countryside, of mothers pictured holding protest banners in marches who died never knowing what happened to their children who were disappeared, of young men who lost their minds at the hands of military torturers.
Since we were talking as we sorted the photos, I mentioned the fact that it is very interesting to me that the ex-guerillas and ex-military veterans work together in the cooperative. I mentioned how I thought it must be difficult. P. (and many of the Comadres) has worked closely with the veterans of the cooperative. P. told me that the first time she had to work with ex-military personell, she felt scared. She said she was sweating all over and had to drink glass after glass of water, because all of the testimonies (personal stories) of people who had been severely abused, detained, tortured, etc, plus her own experience of being detained and tortured came flooding through her mind. I asked her if she was angry at all, and she said no, only scared.
I thought, well, yes, this kind of work is part of what is necessary to do, in order to live in peace, after a civil war. P. said that this is part of the reconciliation between both sides. P then told me that sometimes the former military members will ask her, "Why can't we start with a clean slate?" And she said, "Can you bring back my two brothers and my friends? No. Then we cannot erase what happened and have a clean slate." She said the officer said, "Please forgive me for all the terrible things that I have done." P. says that she can forgive but she can never forget.
Briefly, my immediate thoughts on this (because it´s time for dinner now) : It si very difficult to heal this:
civil war. There are so many people walking around here with open wounds ... and yet they have to live every day just as everyone else must, because each day comes and goes, doesn't it? The situation of people in this country is enough to make philosophers and poets out of all of us.
Buenas noches. Cuidate mucho! Que le vaya bien!
Marita
