So I’m back in the states, and have seen many of you, but I wanted to share some experiences of my last month in El Salvador. A few highlights of the past month: sitting in a tin shack kitchen, with a dirt floor discussing the oppression of the poor, imperialism of the US, and human rights with my host-dad (in Spanish… yeah me.) Driving my sister, nephew, and brother-in law to the airport with half the luggage tied to the roof, and having to climb through the window to get into the car because Vince tied the door shut. Harvesting and eating cucumbers I grew in my project. Celebrating Thanksgiving with 40 plus Salvadoran campesinos. Watching my sister anoint her son with holy oil during his baptism, “marked as Christ’s own forever.” Being the only one on the most perfect beach in the world. Seeing pine trees, black sand, and volcanoes all in one weekend. Learning how to clean fish and immediately following consuming the aforementioned fish. Experiencing other people’s realities.
As many of you know, I’ll be heading back to El Salvador in January to continue my work with the Episcopal Church of El Salvador. I will be volunteering through an Organization called Cristosal (www.cristosal.org) that supports the Episcopal Church in El Salvador. I will be working in the same area I have been working in these past three months and hopefully implementing some of the things I have been learning about sustainable and organic agriculture. Specifically, some of the projects we have in mind are: a Juertos Casero (house gardens) project, with a demonstration garden and agriculture classroom for workshops. I’m also excited about doing some leadership and team building trainings with the jovenes (all that FFA training!) and doing some diagnostic work for a cattle project.
So, I think I might write a book called the reluctant missionary. Yeah, but seriously. When people ask me if I’m a missionary or if I’m on a mission, I hem and haw. “Uh, sorta” I reply. Why? Why don’t I own it? Although both my sisters and some of my closest friends are missionaries, I have a preconceived notion of the word. I think of someone who is evangelizing or someone who is going to help the poor people learn how to not be poor. And in my mind I find this condescending. I know for a fact that in the last 3 months I have learned more than I have shared. I have been totally schooled in agriculture knowledge, humility, patience and basic communication.
Mission to me means accompaniment. It means learning about and sharing other people’s realities. It means building relationships, learning from each other and walking together on a faith journey. This is the kind of missionary I strive to be.
Over the past three months I have tried to experience impossible realities. I had friends who shared war experiences with me, that were impossible to deal with. A good friend’s son-in-law was murdered by a gang; impossible to reconcile. The people in my communities struggle everyday to feed their families. These aren’t my realities; I cannot truly experience them. But I can be there, I can sit and talk, learn and support. We call it solidarity. And that is my mission work. And it changes me. My mom asked me how all this has changed me. I don’t know exactly, but I know I’ve been stretched, broadened and broken. And I hope it changes people I walk with, I hope it validates them and their experiences and makes dealing with these impossible realities a little more possible.
Currently I am looking for people to help support my work as I live in El Salvador. I need to raise about $4000 to live and work for the rest of my year. If you feel pulled to financially support my mission and the development of the communities I’m working in please see below. (And I’m tax-deductible!)
Thank you for walking with me these past three months, for sending your emails, thoughts and love. Hey, if you want to hear more stories or talk more let me know… I love to share.
Que le vaya bien,
Audrey
If you would like to make a tax-deductible contribution to my work you can make a check out to Cristosal and put “Audrey Denney mission fund” in the subject line. And mail the check to:
Fundación Cristosal
681 North Hill Cross Road
Ludlow VT 05149
802.228.5452 or info@cristosal.org
Anything I raise above my budgeted amount will go to purchase supplies and help support the projects I will be working on.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Friday, November 9, 2007
Hmm, reflections.
So, I used to think I couldn’t sleep with out my own pillow. Or my own clean sheets. Being super sweaty most of the time used to really bother me. I used to think I needed hot showers. I don’t want to sound like trite missionary girl, but when you don’t have stuff, you realize you don’t really need stuff. Having nice smelling sheets isn’t always an option. And so you deal. When you are asleep you don’t notice the smell of your sheets. A cold shower feels really amazing after a day of being super sweaty. And bathing from a pila (large cement trough) by candlelight is pretty romantic. I’m not saying I never want to take a hot shower or sleep in a comfy bed again. I’m saying our needs are not always what we think they are. This week I learned I need either a hat or a hairbrush. It’s not totally essential to have both… but one is important. I left both of the aforementioned items in San Salvador and have been trying to get by. It has been a little sketch. But I don’t have a mirror… so that makes life easier.
Lately I’ve also been thinking a lot about how life is found in the middle of crap. I’ve had my share of tragedy in my life, and always before I’ve felt like when really bad stuff happens, life stops. But now I’m rethinking that theory. Two weeks ago my nephew, Jacob Ruben Zuniga, was born. The week before two brothers from one of the church’s communities were murdered on their way home. There was a bus accident with nine fatalities. The FMLN candidate for President’s son was murdered in Paris. Hundreds of people were displaced in the area I work because of flooding. Huge fires were raging in California. Jacob was born into a country where 10 people are murdered daily. But he was born. Life was found in the middle of a bunch of crap. One of my favorite people, Heather, thinks that life comes out of crap. Lets think about that through my compost metaphor: take a bunch of trash, put it somewhere and watch it turn into rich, beautiful soil. Watch life come from crap. I don’t know, it’s a new concept for me. What do you think?
This week I learned how to use a cuma. Its kind of like a machete, I cut weeds around my cucumber project with it. I couldn’t feel my right arm after 4 hours of mano de obra (labor). After spending a few weeks in the city taking care of Amy and baby, I’m back in my pueblo in the campo. Amy wound up having a c-section, so her recovery time was longer, but she is up and around now and everyone is healthy. Jacob is the new love of my life (see attached pictures). He was born beautiful, intelligent, and perfect. Its nice to be back in the campo, the hustle and noise of San Salvador gets to me after a while. But it’s a balance thing, because I get a little lonely out here. I have a great family and really fun co-workers, but it’s hard to develop those really sustaining friendships when you don’t have an amazing grasp on the language.
Here’s what I like: drinking really cold coke out of the bottle and eating quesitos (imitation cheetos), fresh squeezed orange juice in plastic baggies, fertilizing plants with lonbris-compost (worm poop), napping in hammocks, and black sand beaches. Here’s what I don’t like: clapping in church and the smell of burning garbage, oh yeah, and dirty chuchos (stray dogs).
So friends, that’s where I’m at. I hope this finds you healthy and happy.
Peace,
Audrey
Lately I’ve also been thinking a lot about how life is found in the middle of crap. I’ve had my share of tragedy in my life, and always before I’ve felt like when really bad stuff happens, life stops. But now I’m rethinking that theory. Two weeks ago my nephew, Jacob Ruben Zuniga, was born. The week before two brothers from one of the church’s communities were murdered on their way home. There was a bus accident with nine fatalities. The FMLN candidate for President’s son was murdered in Paris. Hundreds of people were displaced in the area I work because of flooding. Huge fires were raging in California. Jacob was born into a country where 10 people are murdered daily. But he was born. Life was found in the middle of a bunch of crap. One of my favorite people, Heather, thinks that life comes out of crap. Lets think about that through my compost metaphor: take a bunch of trash, put it somewhere and watch it turn into rich, beautiful soil. Watch life come from crap. I don’t know, it’s a new concept for me. What do you think?
This week I learned how to use a cuma. Its kind of like a machete, I cut weeds around my cucumber project with it. I couldn’t feel my right arm after 4 hours of mano de obra (labor). After spending a few weeks in the city taking care of Amy and baby, I’m back in my pueblo in the campo. Amy wound up having a c-section, so her recovery time was longer, but she is up and around now and everyone is healthy. Jacob is the new love of my life (see attached pictures). He was born beautiful, intelligent, and perfect. Its nice to be back in the campo, the hustle and noise of San Salvador gets to me after a while. But it’s a balance thing, because I get a little lonely out here. I have a great family and really fun co-workers, but it’s hard to develop those really sustaining friendships when you don’t have an amazing grasp on the language.
Here’s what I like: drinking really cold coke out of the bottle and eating quesitos (imitation cheetos), fresh squeezed orange juice in plastic baggies, fertilizing plants with lonbris-compost (worm poop), napping in hammocks, and black sand beaches. Here’s what I don’t like: clapping in church and the smell of burning garbage, oh yeah, and dirty chuchos (stray dogs).
So friends, that’s where I’m at. I hope this finds you healthy and happy.
Peace,
Audrey
Saturday, October 13, 2007
rain, rain, RAIN!
Hi friends.
Everything I own is wet. And stinky. I'm sitting on a wet bed (the ceiling has a leak that drips in my bed), in wettish clothes, looking at my soaking wet duffel bag. It has been raining for 24 hours. Maybe I should back up a bit though…
I successfully completed my second week of Spanish school in the city. I got a certificate of completion from "Basico B" (much improvement from June, when I was last here they didn't even let me graduate, and I was in Basico Zero). Then I packed up my duffle bag and headed out to the campo. I spent the first week with my compañero, Noah (he's the director of social programs for the missions of the Episcopal Church down here). He lives in this sweet town, Jicolisco. It makes me feel like I've stepped back in time… the streets have this cobblestoney type feel, there's a town square (where kids play and crazy old men sit), there aren't any big businesses, just tons of corner stores (here we call them "tiendas"), you drink coke out of bottles (which you have to return), and you do your laundry by hand in a pila. I know that last bit sounds romantic, but its not. I suck at laundry, but that is another story. So anyway, last week I chilled here and went to work with Noah. The highlight was when we accompanied the medical team to this village called El Carmen. The doctor gets around to 9 different towns every 2 weeks. But El Carmen is impossible to get to by car in the rainy season, so this time the put la doctura and the psychiatrist on horses. For the first time in theirs lives, nuts. I hopped on behind Daniella (la doctura), and held onto her with one hand and steered the horse with the other. (Please see attached photos).
After a fun week, I moved in with my host family in Ciudad Romero (renamed after Archbishop Oscar Romero, one of the most important figures in Salvadoran history, a voice for the poor and oppressed, he was assassinated by the government in March 1980 while presiding over Mass.) (If you don't know about it please google it.) Yup, so I moved in with my family. Mom (Maria), Pops (Don Chavello), youngest daughter (Enida-20), granddaughter (Maria Jesus "Chunga"-17). Mom and pops have 15 kids, 52 grandkids, and 5 great grandkids. Mom jokes "bastante (enough) para un pueblo." My work… this week I started an experiment about which fertilizer/treatment option does the best job fighting mildew in cucumbers. I did land prep and planted 12 ten-meter rows by hand (with a little help from my compañeros), not bad for a sweaty, bug-bitten gringa girl. I also did some work with the seed bank… mostly weighing and counting seeds. And we started making an organic foliar spray on fertilizer, made partly (get this!) out of a dug up anthill (complete with ant carcasses). Sweetness. I like life in the country, but I'm ready to get back in the city for a bit. I want my stuff to dry out and I've been craving the internet and pizza. And I'm a little tired of the outhouse and the mosquitoes biting my butt every time I go.
This morning I left Ciudad Romero around 745, when I realized there would be no work today since the road had turned into a river. I put on my capris, rain jacket and grabbed my backpack and duffel and headed to Jicolisco. I marched barefoot through water and muck up to my knees to the bus stop. The buses do not like the rain. After 45 minutes of waiting I hitched with guy almost all the way here (saved 90 cents on 2 buses). Then got another ride into town. And now here I am, 2 and a half hours in the rain and everything I own is wet.
Wet but contented. Tomorrow I will see Robin and Amy, (both my sisters), we haven't all been together in over 15 months. Any day now Amy will pop, and our family will have a new baby boy. I will do my laundry and eat pizza. As I'm writing this I'm thinking of you reading (or skimming) this email. I love you. And I miss you. Have a Crystal Wheat and chocolate mousse for me after work, go to Bustolini's, Coda, Woodstocks and the Raw Bar for me. I could use prayers/thoughts for will with Spanish and for my sissy and her delivery and health.
Que la vaya bien,
Audrey
PS. If you are looking for a sweet book to read I recommend "The Monkey Wrench Gang" by Edward Abbey (book club it.) I'm ready for revolution.
Everything I own is wet. And stinky. I'm sitting on a wet bed (the ceiling has a leak that drips in my bed), in wettish clothes, looking at my soaking wet duffel bag. It has been raining for 24 hours. Maybe I should back up a bit though…
I successfully completed my second week of Spanish school in the city. I got a certificate of completion from "Basico B" (much improvement from June, when I was last here they didn't even let me graduate, and I was in Basico Zero). Then I packed up my duffle bag and headed out to the campo. I spent the first week with my compañero, Noah (he's the director of social programs for the missions of the Episcopal Church down here). He lives in this sweet town, Jicolisco. It makes me feel like I've stepped back in time… the streets have this cobblestoney type feel, there's a town square (where kids play and crazy old men sit), there aren't any big businesses, just tons of corner stores (here we call them "tiendas"), you drink coke out of bottles (which you have to return), and you do your laundry by hand in a pila. I know that last bit sounds romantic, but its not. I suck at laundry, but that is another story. So anyway, last week I chilled here and went to work with Noah. The highlight was when we accompanied the medical team to this village called El Carmen. The doctor gets around to 9 different towns every 2 weeks. But El Carmen is impossible to get to by car in the rainy season, so this time the put la doctura and the psychiatrist on horses. For the first time in theirs lives, nuts. I hopped on behind Daniella (la doctura), and held onto her with one hand and steered the horse with the other. (Please see attached photos).
After a fun week, I moved in with my host family in Ciudad Romero (renamed after Archbishop Oscar Romero, one of the most important figures in Salvadoran history, a voice for the poor and oppressed, he was assassinated by the government in March 1980 while presiding over Mass.) (If you don't know about it please google it.) Yup, so I moved in with my family. Mom (Maria), Pops (Don Chavello), youngest daughter (Enida-20), granddaughter (Maria Jesus "Chunga"-17). Mom and pops have 15 kids, 52 grandkids, and 5 great grandkids. Mom jokes "bastante (enough) para un pueblo." My work… this week I started an experiment about which fertilizer/treatment option does the best job fighting mildew in cucumbers. I did land prep and planted 12 ten-meter rows by hand (with a little help from my compañeros), not bad for a sweaty, bug-bitten gringa girl. I also did some work with the seed bank… mostly weighing and counting seeds. And we started making an organic foliar spray on fertilizer, made partly (get this!) out of a dug up anthill (complete with ant carcasses). Sweetness. I like life in the country, but I'm ready to get back in the city for a bit. I want my stuff to dry out and I've been craving the internet and pizza. And I'm a little tired of the outhouse and the mosquitoes biting my butt every time I go.
This morning I left Ciudad Romero around 745, when I realized there would be no work today since the road had turned into a river. I put on my capris, rain jacket and grabbed my backpack and duffel and headed to Jicolisco. I marched barefoot through water and muck up to my knees to the bus stop. The buses do not like the rain. After 45 minutes of waiting I hitched with guy almost all the way here (saved 90 cents on 2 buses). Then got another ride into town. And now here I am, 2 and a half hours in the rain and everything I own is wet.
Wet but contented. Tomorrow I will see Robin and Amy, (both my sisters), we haven't all been together in over 15 months. Any day now Amy will pop, and our family will have a new baby boy. I will do my laundry and eat pizza. As I'm writing this I'm thinking of you reading (or skimming) this email. I love you. And I miss you. Have a Crystal Wheat and chocolate mousse for me after work, go to Bustolini's, Coda, Woodstocks and the Raw Bar for me. I could use prayers/thoughts for will with Spanish and for my sissy and her delivery and health.
Que la vaya bien,
Audrey
PS. If you are looking for a sweet book to read I recommend "The Monkey Wrench Gang" by Edward Abbey (book club it.) I'm ready for revolution.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Update #1
Hello friends and family!
I’ve been down in El Salvador now for an entire week. I just completed my first week of Spanish school (I have one more). I’m realizing though, there is a huge difference in understanding grammar and conjugation and being able to speak and understand the language. Every morning I ride the bus (the 44) to school for 4 hours then come back to Amy and Vince’s apartment. The buses down here are nuts! People pack on them like a cattle car and the drivers are crazier than NYC cab drivers. I like them though, it’s like an adventure every time and it makes me feel empowered getting around by myself. In the morning they are really crowded and I usually have to stand on the step with the cobrador, this morning I was wearing a flowing skirt and I had a heck of a time not mooning the whole bus. What a morning.
Anyway, last week I was really nervous about being here and having left my great job and boyfriend and support network. I was also worried because the details for where I’ll be working haven’t really been sorted out yet. But I went out the campo (country) this weekend and today I’ve felt really peaceful. I was walking around one of the pueblos with my friend Noah who I’ll be working with and he asked what my impressions were. I couldn’t answer right away. The only thing I could think is how do these people make a living? How do they feed their families? Mostly people own tiny parcelitas and grow corn. And eat corn. But when the rain doesn’t come and the corn doesn’t grow, then what? Even when it does malnutrition is abundant. But so is life. I went to the inauguration of a health clinic, singing, dancing, speeches and general merriment. Bottom line, I’m glad I’m here and I feel like I’m going to learn a ton. One more week then they’re letting me loose in the country!
If you are inclined to send up a few thoughts to the big guy, I could use patience with myself while learning my second language and a healthier stomach. Also, positive thoughts for Amy’s delivery and baby are encouraged! Thanks for loving me.
Espero tu estas bien,
Audrey
I’ve been down in El Salvador now for an entire week. I just completed my first week of Spanish school (I have one more). I’m realizing though, there is a huge difference in understanding grammar and conjugation and being able to speak and understand the language. Every morning I ride the bus (the 44) to school for 4 hours then come back to Amy and Vince’s apartment. The buses down here are nuts! People pack on them like a cattle car and the drivers are crazier than NYC cab drivers. I like them though, it’s like an adventure every time and it makes me feel empowered getting around by myself. In the morning they are really crowded and I usually have to stand on the step with the cobrador, this morning I was wearing a flowing skirt and I had a heck of a time not mooning the whole bus. What a morning.
Anyway, last week I was really nervous about being here and having left my great job and boyfriend and support network. I was also worried because the details for where I’ll be working haven’t really been sorted out yet. But I went out the campo (country) this weekend and today I’ve felt really peaceful. I was walking around one of the pueblos with my friend Noah who I’ll be working with and he asked what my impressions were. I couldn’t answer right away. The only thing I could think is how do these people make a living? How do they feed their families? Mostly people own tiny parcelitas and grow corn. And eat corn. But when the rain doesn’t come and the corn doesn’t grow, then what? Even when it does malnutrition is abundant. But so is life. I went to the inauguration of a health clinic, singing, dancing, speeches and general merriment. Bottom line, I’m glad I’m here and I feel like I’m going to learn a ton. One more week then they’re letting me loose in the country!
If you are inclined to send up a few thoughts to the big guy, I could use patience with myself while learning my second language and a healthier stomach. Also, positive thoughts for Amy’s delivery and baby are encouraged! Thanks for loving me.
Espero tu estas bien,
Audrey
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