by
Lisa Sullivan
If ever there were a more compelling tale to provoke a stampede to shut the doors of the School
of the Americas, it would be the tale of tiny El Salvador. As 25 of us
discovered on a recent SOA Watch delegation there, even former supporters admit: the time has come.
The legacy of that school is etched in blood on the
hearts and minds of Salvadorans, and on the walls, parks and pastures of their
cities and towns. A wall in central San Salvador with 35,000 names engraved,
most of them murdered by orders by SOA
graduates. A makeshift cross under the
shade of a conacaste tree where four bodies of US churchwomen were dumped. A
garden where rose bushes grow on the spots where six Jesuits, their housekeeper
and her daughter were murdered by the SOA- formed Atlacatl Battalion. A closet with the possessions left behind by
Monseñor Romero, assassinated on orders of an SOA graduate. There are no shoes:
Romero was buried in the only pair he owned.
That is the image that clings to me the most. El
Salvador was a nation of one pair of shoes.
After dozens of people attending
Romero's funeral were gunned down, the massive crowd scrambled for safety. The
next day, many returned cautiously: they were looking for
their one lost pair of shoes.
But, these one-pair-of -shoes-per-person were our
sworn enemies. From the mid 1980's to early 1990's, we sent a million dollars a
day to the Salvadoran military to wipe them out. We printed handbooks to show
just how to torture them. We taught their fellow citizens how to shoot down those
dared to raise their voices The blood of tiny El Salvador is on all of our
hands.
Father Roy Bourgeois at the Human Right Committee Meeting |
SOAW group with Tony Saca |
Talking the with ARENA vice-presidential candidate |
FMLN Presidential Candidate supports the closing of the School of the Americas |
Above all, the Pentagon insists that the problems of
the SOA lie in the past. El Salvador, however, the past is the present. In a country
where tens of thousands of children were
orphaned, where hundreds of thousands lost family members, where millions fled
north, where millions more left without a mom or a dad, the present is a
predictable outcome of such a past.
It is therefore not too surprising that more people
have lost their lives at the hands of gang members and criminals in the decades
following the war. When Lady Liberty refused to open her arms to those fleeing
the US-funded civil war, survival was found in the only space providing welcome
in US teeming cities: gangs. This made-in-the-USA
problem became El Salvador's own, as daily planeloads of jailed gang members were shipped back to El
Salvador, some not speaking even a word of Spanish. Should it be a surprise
that the streets of San Salvador became such tough places? Valiant efforts by
many, such as Fr. Antonio Rodriguez of the Mejicanos parish, have made significant
inroads of incorporating this lost generation into the fabric of society. A
truce between the two major gangs has halved the murder rate, but all agree
that much needs to be done.
SOAW delegation meets with Father Antonio Rodriguez |
And should it be a surprise that the
land itself of El Salvador was left open for pillage? When the blood of its
youth was left spilling in the streets and the muscle of its work forces packed
north to do the jobs no one else there wanted, all was left was the tiny land
of El Salvador itself. Under the empty cornfields and deserted pastures the
eyes of hawks saw gold. No matter that the water itself must be poisoned to eke
it out, life itself is dispensable in El Salvador. Or, so thought the mining
corporations before they faced opposition from community leaders such as Marcelo Rivera Moreno, who was kidnapped, tortured and
murdered in 2009. Although the Salvadoran government currently has a moratorium
on mining contracts, the Canadian Pacific Rim company has invoked a provision
of the Central American
Free Trade Agreement (CAFTA)
and is seeking $200 million in damages.
SOAW delegation participates in the Procession to commemorate Monseñor Romero |
How unique I thought, how totally like El Salvador.
To embrace strangers whose nation had caused them untold suffering, to assume
forthright the task of building justice, to step beyond one's pain to help one
who suffers even more. El Salvador breaks you open and spins you around, but
then you land on your feet and know which direction you are heading.
The SOA Watch Delegation visits Romero Community |
To learn more about the movement to close the School of the Americas check out the SOA WATCH website.
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