The End of the Week
My internet stick ran out on Friday, so I was without internet for the last few days in Guarjila. We got internet for the new intern, Ian, on Monday, but the loss of the internet was the best that could have happened for me. It meant that apart from working with photos and creating original text for the Foundation, I was free to spend my time with the Tamarindos, living every moment in the present. I spent yesterday in the airport sleeping and writing - sleeping because I spent the past five days without sleep, and writing because of why I spent the last five nights without sleep. Although I would love to write out every moment of those days, I did that already on the plane. It took twelve pages and lots of memories that I will never forget even without having them documented. Rather than walk you through my days, I want to create snapshots of the best moments instead.
Thursday we tie-dyed, then I headed off to the casa abierta to hang out with the guys. The picture from that night is myself and the younger guys ranged in a circle in a clearing overlooking John's house. The moon and the sky faintly illuminate our faces as we play spin the bottle truth or dare. No one chose a dare. The rain started to splatter our faces, and we took off running for the house, making it just in time.
Friday was the Tamarindo meeting. Archbishop Mitty High School is coming with Padre Ricardo, some teachers and 26 students for a week with the Tamarindos, so it was time to plan the events with the kids. John asked why it is important that kids come here, and why their experience at the Tamarindo often becomes one of the most influential trips of their lives. I know why I came back, and in the end I spoke on the subject as well. I came to the Tamarindo the first time to escape the United States - I was not adjusting to being back after spending the semester in Chile, and I desperately needed to be back in Latin America. I also came to learn; I knew next to nothing about El Salvador, and certainly had no idea that there had been a Civil War financed by my own government during the Cold War. I came back because what I found at the Tamarindo was infinitely more than a history lesson. Life is different in Latin America than it is in the United States. I have always felt very alone, living my life for myself and my gain in the US. The focus is on time, money, the future, profit. In Guarjila it's different. Life is lived at a different pace with a different purpose. Opportunities are few and far between. That's one of the reasons the Tamarindo is so impactful - it provides kids and adults with opportunities and community. All of the older generation has stories about the war, and many of them look back not with horror, but with some measure of fondness. Everyone was in it together, everyone helped in any way possible, and the bonds that war created were incredibly strong. Family disintegration, alcoholism, drugs and violence are all huge problems today, and the Tamarindo is trying to create a community that supports every member, and opportunities that are more appealing than drugs, alcohol and gangs. I came back because of the community the Tamarindo has created. Gio is a perfect example of the incredible humanity of the people here. He works for the Tamarindo, guiding groups and helping with logistics and activities, and he is John's favored son. It isn't without reason that John loves him - he's likeable, but more than that, he is the person who would have one piece of bread and call over all the kids to share it with all of them. He cares for the children and the community, works hard, leads the hockey team, takes kids under his wing, and has a vitality that is visible. He is absolutely pure-hearted and will go to the ends of the earth for a friend. It is easy to get caught up in the Tamarindo, and to feel that the people here are my people. The friendship, stories, activities and life lived always in the moment looking outwards rather than inwards was why I came back. I can honestly call the Tamarindos my family, and know that they will always be there for me.
Friday night we gathered supplies, bought bread and coffee, and headed up to the same clearing as the night before to start a fire for the nighttime brew. You can see Honduras in the distance from that clearing, and we watched the hills as the sun set, turning everything to darkness. With some maneuvering of rocks and gathering of firewood, we started a fire that burned bright green because the paper the guys brought were old cement bags. After a full cup of coffee and sweetbread, my bet with Filipito that I could stay up all night was no problem. I don't understand drinking coffee before bed - I was wired, and played countless games of cards with enthusiasm. The night wound down and the others drifted off to sleep until it was just Freddy, Filipito and myself listening to music and sharing stories. All of the boys have a surprising number of stories about accidents, and Freddy and Filipito are no exception. 5 am saw me dying for a bed, and I headed home as Filipito headed off to the fields. I missed table tennis, and slept until lunch.
Saturday night John found photos from 2005, from hockey, from Christmas preparations, and many more. We set up the projector, Luis turned on the music, and the Tamarindos were lost in nostalgia. We put up my pictures from last year and this year as well.
A spaghetti dinner on Sunday night had everyone in high spirits as they broke out into groups to plan and rehearse short plays illustrating stories of the Civil War passed down from their parents and grandparents. They will be presenting the stories to the high schoolers next week as a living history lesson. The leaders were Gio, Rosibel, Fito, Mario and Carlos. I sat in on the groups and listened to the incredible true stories that they were telling.
Monday morning, after a repeat all-nighter at the casa abierta complete with stories, cards, and a hilarious moment when I found out that Marlon is ticklish and ended up flipping myself, Marlon and Filipito out of the hammock as a result, I went to find the new intern, Ian, at the Tamarindo. I gave him a tour of Guarjila and answered his questions and gave him advice. We had breakfast with John, then headed into Chalate to pick up water for the high schoolers and recharge the internet. Ian speaks very little Spanish, but is determined to learn and I think he will do well at the Tamarindo. I brought Ian to meet the guys, and we hung out watching the cleaning operations around the house, which consisted of using machetes like weed whackers to clear out undergrowth and chop off entire limbs of trees in two strokes. I got Ian into a game of Uno, then out to play frisbee with the kids at the Tamarindo in the evening, getting to know them and showing that he was willing to hang out and play. Monday night was the Tamarindo clean-up. I was in charge of cleaning and putting away all of the books, so with Walter and a posse of young Tamarindo helpers, we took to the task of banging books for dust and organizing them on the shelves with enthusiasm. Douglas, Ian and I went to Bety's for my final pupusa dinner, and got caught in a downpour. It wasn't about to let up any time soon, so I accompanied a delightedly soaked Ian back to the house. My shoes will never be the same after wading through the river that the street becomes when it rains.
3 am saw me walking to the Tamarindo for the last time, boarding the mercedes van, and heading out into the early morning on the way to the airport. I said my final goodbyes to Gio, Luis and Douglas, and left them talking about the arrival of the high schoolers two hours later. I landed in Dallas and spent the day writing and feeling a little forlorn at the absolute lack of Spanish in the US.
I will be back soon enough though - Latin America is where I feel at home.
Thursday we tie-dyed, then I headed off to the casa abierta to hang out with the guys. The picture from that night is myself and the younger guys ranged in a circle in a clearing overlooking John's house. The moon and the sky faintly illuminate our faces as we play spin the bottle truth or dare. No one chose a dare. The rain started to splatter our faces, and we took off running for the house, making it just in time.
Friday was the Tamarindo meeting. Archbishop Mitty High School is coming with Padre Ricardo, some teachers and 26 students for a week with the Tamarindos, so it was time to plan the events with the kids. John asked why it is important that kids come here, and why their experience at the Tamarindo often becomes one of the most influential trips of their lives. I know why I came back, and in the end I spoke on the subject as well. I came to the Tamarindo the first time to escape the United States - I was not adjusting to being back after spending the semester in Chile, and I desperately needed to be back in Latin America. I also came to learn; I knew next to nothing about El Salvador, and certainly had no idea that there had been a Civil War financed by my own government during the Cold War. I came back because what I found at the Tamarindo was infinitely more than a history lesson. Life is different in Latin America than it is in the United States. I have always felt very alone, living my life for myself and my gain in the US. The focus is on time, money, the future, profit. In Guarjila it's different. Life is lived at a different pace with a different purpose. Opportunities are few and far between. That's one of the reasons the Tamarindo is so impactful - it provides kids and adults with opportunities and community. All of the older generation has stories about the war, and many of them look back not with horror, but with some measure of fondness. Everyone was in it together, everyone helped in any way possible, and the bonds that war created were incredibly strong. Family disintegration, alcoholism, drugs and violence are all huge problems today, and the Tamarindo is trying to create a community that supports every member, and opportunities that are more appealing than drugs, alcohol and gangs. I came back because of the community the Tamarindo has created. Gio is a perfect example of the incredible humanity of the people here. He works for the Tamarindo, guiding groups and helping with logistics and activities, and he is John's favored son. It isn't without reason that John loves him - he's likeable, but more than that, he is the person who would have one piece of bread and call over all the kids to share it with all of them. He cares for the children and the community, works hard, leads the hockey team, takes kids under his wing, and has a vitality that is visible. He is absolutely pure-hearted and will go to the ends of the earth for a friend. It is easy to get caught up in the Tamarindo, and to feel that the people here are my people. The friendship, stories, activities and life lived always in the moment looking outwards rather than inwards was why I came back. I can honestly call the Tamarindos my family, and know that they will always be there for me.
Friday night we gathered supplies, bought bread and coffee, and headed up to the same clearing as the night before to start a fire for the nighttime brew. You can see Honduras in the distance from that clearing, and we watched the hills as the sun set, turning everything to darkness. With some maneuvering of rocks and gathering of firewood, we started a fire that burned bright green because the paper the guys brought were old cement bags. After a full cup of coffee and sweetbread, my bet with Filipito that I could stay up all night was no problem. I don't understand drinking coffee before bed - I was wired, and played countless games of cards with enthusiasm. The night wound down and the others drifted off to sleep until it was just Freddy, Filipito and myself listening to music and sharing stories. All of the boys have a surprising number of stories about accidents, and Freddy and Filipito are no exception. 5 am saw me dying for a bed, and I headed home as Filipito headed off to the fields. I missed table tennis, and slept until lunch.
Saturday night John found photos from 2005, from hockey, from Christmas preparations, and many more. We set up the projector, Luis turned on the music, and the Tamarindos were lost in nostalgia. We put up my pictures from last year and this year as well.
A spaghetti dinner on Sunday night had everyone in high spirits as they broke out into groups to plan and rehearse short plays illustrating stories of the Civil War passed down from their parents and grandparents. They will be presenting the stories to the high schoolers next week as a living history lesson. The leaders were Gio, Rosibel, Fito, Mario and Carlos. I sat in on the groups and listened to the incredible true stories that they were telling.
Monday morning, after a repeat all-nighter at the casa abierta complete with stories, cards, and a hilarious moment when I found out that Marlon is ticklish and ended up flipping myself, Marlon and Filipito out of the hammock as a result, I went to find the new intern, Ian, at the Tamarindo. I gave him a tour of Guarjila and answered his questions and gave him advice. We had breakfast with John, then headed into Chalate to pick up water for the high schoolers and recharge the internet. Ian speaks very little Spanish, but is determined to learn and I think he will do well at the Tamarindo. I brought Ian to meet the guys, and we hung out watching the cleaning operations around the house, which consisted of using machetes like weed whackers to clear out undergrowth and chop off entire limbs of trees in two strokes. I got Ian into a game of Uno, then out to play frisbee with the kids at the Tamarindo in the evening, getting to know them and showing that he was willing to hang out and play. Monday night was the Tamarindo clean-up. I was in charge of cleaning and putting away all of the books, so with Walter and a posse of young Tamarindo helpers, we took to the task of banging books for dust and organizing them on the shelves with enthusiasm. Douglas, Ian and I went to Bety's for my final pupusa dinner, and got caught in a downpour. It wasn't about to let up any time soon, so I accompanied a delightedly soaked Ian back to the house. My shoes will never be the same after wading through the river that the street becomes when it rains.
3 am saw me walking to the Tamarindo for the last time, boarding the mercedes van, and heading out into the early morning on the way to the airport. I said my final goodbyes to Gio, Luis and Douglas, and left them talking about the arrival of the high schoolers two hours later. I landed in Dallas and spent the day writing and feeling a little forlorn at the absolute lack of Spanish in the US.
I will be back soon enough though - Latin America is where I feel at home.
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