Letter from CRISPAZ Volunteer Julie Gerk who recently finished her term of service in
El Salvador and has returned to live in the United States.

Dearest CRISPAZ friends,

Solidarity . . . I have spent much of the last seven months contemplating this concept in the communities of Morazán, El Salvador. What does it actually mean to be in “solidarity”? Does it end once I leave? How do I maintain “solidarity” even when I am disillusioned?

As could be expected, I have traversed countless phases in regards to my feelings on this subject. I, like most fresh-off-the-boat volunteers, experienced a romantic phase at first, carried away by the stories from the war, stories about the unity, the dignity, the cause, the righteousness of the struggle. I felt with such passion that the Truth about the war needed to be disclosed to the entire world. It seemed so clear then.

Of course, I had set myself up. Viewing the campesinos as if they were somehow “perfect” in a spiritual sense and projecting my desire to find meaning in life onto the revolution and continued struggle was not the easiest perspective to maintain. I went through a stage of tremendous disappointment when I returned to work and coordinate on a closer level with the committees with whom I had lived for my first few months. Internal conflict, corruption, lack of commitment and apathy plagued my vision. It seemed unfathomable how the people around me fought a revolution or created a refugee community together, side by side, for 12 years and could not even reach consensus at a meeting on the same topic. There were sudden accusations of corruption and neighbors, who once stopped by when they had extra tamales, abruptly stopped talking to one other due to something they supposedly heard the other say and there seemed to be no hope of reconciliation. Tiptoeing around conflict and trying to wade through the rumors became a daily ritual for me in every community.

I became sad and disillusioned with the amount of mistrust people harbored against one another and the resulting community polarization. The thought “if only we could just resolve this dispute we could move ahead” ran through my head incessantly. At all cost, I tried to maintain my neutrality. Unfortunately, for a period of time it did have a cost. During the head of one particular conflict a couple of months after my return, certain community members felt like I was betraying them because I maintained contact with their “enemies” and refused to take a side. This was an extremely difficult time for me. I asked myself, “What in the world am I doing here? I am hardly effective, none of the projects I am working on can get off the ground due to ‘petty’ disputes, and now, I am not even inspired by what I am witnessing. I just want to throw in the towel and forget about solidarity.”

Looking back on it now, months after everything has settled down and the conflict actually resolved itself for the better (miraculously), I think that it was a valuable experience for me. It gave me insight into what community leaders experience, working so hard and facing a constant barrage of criticism and a lack of trust. At any point, I could have left and escaped the gossip, indirect communication and tension while others do not have this option. One campesino told me that he no longer wants to be a community leader because the attacks on his character were too emotionally damaging.

So why don’t people just “work together”? Why can’t they overlook their personal differences and unite? I mean if they just worked together, they could move ahead, why can’t they see that? First, I must say that living in community is about one of the hardest things to accomplish in this life. I cannot tell you how many times community organizers or solidarity groups would stress that the campesinos have to stick together in order to get ahead. It is true, any oppressed group needs to organize so that their voices have more power. But this is easy to say when most of these workers go home to their singular family unit and put their “community” work aside for the day. Why is it that most over- seas volunteers, including myself, need their own house and space? Simple. It is a lot easier to live by yourself. We can take or leave community anytime we want. It is a choice, not a necessity.

It helped me tremendously when I began to face my own faults as a person striving to live by Christian ideals and I put myself in my fellow community member’s shoes. Not only is it an incredible task to build a sustainable community wherever you are in the world, it is an even greater task to do this in a post-war environment. Imagine fighting 12 years with black or white, life or death, enemy or ally, good or evil guidelines, always. How do you shut off this mentality especially when the black and white definitions begin to fade? How do you identify who is really on your side when you are suddenly a civilian again, living in “peace”? Is it possible to just let go of your fear and begin to trust with an open heart after you have witnessed some of the most inhumane brutality of the 20 th century? War is an evil thing. It ends and there is no way of erasing its mark.

Moreover, while campesinos were encouraged to organize, they were never given administrative, organizational or conflict resolution assistance. Cooperatives, communities, pastoral teams, and committees, were formed and basically left to fend for themselves. Having lived under a strict regiment during the war, these groups were suddenly in the position to govern themselves with practically no training. It makes absolute sense why the base communities are fraught with conflict. And it makes sense that there is so much mistrust. Besides the inherent, enemy and ally mentality, the mistrust lies in the abandonment many FMLN fighters felt when their leaders used their power to personally profit form the Peace Accords.

We, the CRISPAZ team, discussed this issue of conflict at length in regards to the delegations. Almost every volunteer I have ever met has experienced a phase where the community enamor wears off and the darker side is revealed. So when presenting to a delegation, how do you balance the reality with the vision in such a way that you maintain solidarity? Ultimately maintaining solidarity is the goal, especially during this period of post-war, post-hurricane reconstruction where there is more need than ever. Unfortunately, disclosing internal community problems is an unattractive process and often turns people away. It is understandable that people want to support a righteous people, a unified people who are oppressed only by an outside force. But this is an ideal, not a reality. As Dean Brackley SJ writes, “It is not that the poor are all saints or cuddly. They can be just as petty and selfish as the rich. The point is that they are just like us and do not deserve to suffer this injustice.”

I think the real test of solidarity is to stick by people when it is not popular anymore, to stand through the hard times. It is much easier to jump on the current popular international crisis bandwagon, and deal with the glamour (for lack of a better word) of emergency rather than the drudgery of reconstruction. The present situation in El Salvador is dire. The homicide rate is now higher than it ever was during the war and delinquency is a growing community threat. Overwork, unemployment and lack of decent health care and education are self-perpetuating problems.

There are so many forgotten voices that need to be heard, that deserve to be heard. Solidarity is essential to El Salvador’s period of reconstruction. But how do we create it in a realistic, responsible, and enabling way? In my opinion, one of the most important things we as communities in solidarity can do is to continue building bridges which move away from the ever-present model of “third world” dependency and promote self-reliance. What does this mean? We should insure that the ideas and execution of projects come mainly from the community itself, with feedback. There should be a clear system of accountability. Solidarity should encourage transparency and honest communication. There should be an emphasis on the spiritual/emotional connection over the monetary connection. Although financial assistance is an obvious plus, I see how much the actual friendship is esteemed, especially now that solidarity groups are few and far between. Last but not least, we must avoid romanticizing El Salvador or “sanctifying” the campesinos. I say this only because I myself fell victim.

My experience the last several months, although very challenging, did not result in disillusionment but in a grounded enlightenment. I believe that I was destined to go through some reality-shattering phases because I gained a much more realistic view of the world and of myself. What resulted was better than I could have ever anticipated. There were so many beautiful moments, triumphs, causes for celebration: watching a divided community finally pull together and manage a scholarship project (restoring my faith in conflict resolution), hearing 9-year-old Yoelita read at a level more advanced than her parents, teaching someone to make mango pancakes in exchange for a soy donut lesson, feeling loved and loving back despite culture, despite language, despite conflict. I am now fluent in another language, have a family of friends in another country and carry heavy boxes and bags on my head instead of in my hands. I have witnessed incredible human strength, faith, and endurance as well as the inhumane effects of war and poverty. And my life perspective has been transformed because of it. I am so grateful!

I have so much respect for the commitment of CRISPAZ and the vision which has been and continues to be “over the long haul.” I want you all to know that my experience as a member of CRISPAZ was one of the most positive of my life. I truly felt (and continue to feel) part of a beautiful community of people whom I respect and love deeply. Thank you for making this experience possible. You all serve as a motivating force for me as I now try to re-enter US society and start my life anew.

You will be in my thoughts and prayers, always.

In solidarity,

Julie Elizabeth Gerk
16 de junio de 1999

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