Reflexión de Zoila

Las siguientes palabras son escritas por Zoila Recinos:

Mi trabajo solo lo guian las preguntas, entonces ¿cómo hacemos para que los visitantes se lleven una idea más completa de lo que es El Salvador? Bueno... vamos aquí...vamos allá...12 meses sin muchos acuerdos, pero ¿qué queremos lograr?-Ah dijo Carlos: lo que yo viví en Andover, lo tienen que probar los profes", Jenni acentía sin mayor expresión que sus enormes ojos bien abiertos y su plena sonrisa. ¿Qué significa Bread loaf? -algo como pan... Nutrir, se quedó en mi mente, en mi casa, el pan más rico era muy caro, así que cuando podían comprarlo mi madre cortaba pedazos muy finos, yo aprendí a sostener el pedacito en mi lengua un buen rato... para que el sabor no se fuera pronto... Eso harán algunos participantes esta semana. Espero que sean muchos, muchos de ellos: 

Fe

Tu eres mi fuerza al final del día, 

cuando el sol se marcha y reina la oscuridad.

Eres la sonrisa brillante y plena del corazón de nuestras niñas.

Tu me haces sentir confiada en que más maestros inspirados florecerán en nuestras aulas, 

remozados, revestidos de amor y de ti. 

Se lo que no eres: no eres duda, no eres miedo, 

tú, eres ilusión de voces distintas, historias únicas.

Comprender el derecho a la expresión, a dar espacio a la voz que ocultamos o que nos han obligado a ocultar, eso he vivido esta semana, garantizar este derecho es el principio que guíe nuestro trabajo con mayor atención, de hoy en adelante, no solo en un programa de escritura sino en todo lo que ConTextos hace. 

Decidí, esta semana, escuchar las voces del equipo peculiar que me atrevo a coordinar, ellos montaron todo, ellos gestionaron todo, y he disfrutado exaltando el corazón, la buena intención, y la humanidad, guardando por un rato, el "perfeccionismo del jefe", qué rico se siente!

Nuestro país clama por formadores que guien a los docentes para que puedan escuchar su voz interior, y puedan usar las técnicas como lo que son, simples muletas para que la inspiración fluya sin obstáculo. 

Los pasos que hemos dado son grandes, pero nuestros sueños son enormes, el camino es más bonito si vamos juntos. Gracias a todos por esta semana.

THIS POST IS THE WORDS OF JENN CORREAS:

Good afternoon, 

I arrived to El Salvador on a saturday three weeks ago, after a summer of reading, writing, and living in Oxford. My summer was life changing, as in any other summer. The experience of independent work took me to find myself learning things I thought I knew, and more importantly, feeling the awe of discovering completely new paths of literature entangled with human life. 

Two days after I arrived, the Bread Loaf Conference started. Rich and I dearly kept remembering how we created the first draft of the conference in the barn in Vermont. We sat on those colorful chairs and thought, and talked and talked, and imagined how it would be. During the week, we glanced at each other in conspiration, and gratitude. 

For a week, we wrote, read, and became a community of writers. We took writing to Morazán where the wounds of the civil war are still so fresh that they bleed very often. It was not just a day of workshops, it was a day to speak our truth and inspire teachers to believe in the power of love and community, which in the end, will be the few things remain. 

There are next steps. The Bread Loaf Conference is now part of ConTextos's DNA. There are more workshops to come for our teachers, more days at the school to work with students. There are more opportunities to be writers and poets. There will be more opportunities for US to witness them. Many more will happen in the intimacy of the classroom and homes. There will be another conference next year. And the next. And the next. 

Thank you. To all of you, who are supporters, mentors. ears, eyes, colleagues, teachers and most of all friends that believe we can create a better world to live in now. One word at a time. 

With deep gratitude, 

Jenn 

The Peace Literacy Team at the Amun Shea School, Perquin

The Contextos-Bread Loaf Teacher Workshop in Santa Tecla

THE FOLLOWING IS THE WORK OF REX LEE JIM...

Here are writings that came of the writing workshops that I co-taught with colleagues through the Andover Bread Loaf Peace Literacy Network program, August 13-19, 2017 in El Salvador.  We worked in partnership with ConTexto.   As facilitators we write with workshop participants.  Here are my writings as close to the ones that came out of the workshops (with minor edits).  Some of these will be revised later when I find the time. 

A.  Writing Out of Silence Writings (Sit in silence with eyes closed for 7 minutes.  Then write a poem, a paragraph, etc. out of what you hear and feel.)

1.  The Question of a Fifth Grade Girl in Borja

I celebrate the question of

a fifth grade girl, in Borja

So what happens to the other 60?

upon learning that only 20/80=10/40=5/20=1/4, one of 4 graduating students

go on to college, and dare we even ask of

the 20 how many actually graduate?

fraction learning is no longer memorizing

it becomes

exploring minds, discovering minds, challenging minds

childlike thinking that

delight in simple answers yet

like still water, it begins to carve deeply

the destiny of a nation,

fraction means nation building

and

I feel questions

lying dormant in

the satisfaction of my guts

begin to surge through me, 

wanting to explode

as I’m sure is the sleeping volcano across

the road, and

with such danger lying in such beauty

I challenge myself with ?s that could

transform seething lava

into heated water;

create black lava into hearths, homes;

transmute my dangling arms

into embracing arms,

embracing smiling children

and

I learn that when you dive into the depth of the earth

and swim in lava,

you can surface anywhere on earth

and be at home,

that when you live at the core of humanity

you are at home with any heart, anywhere  

in the world 

2.  I heard joints moving – cracking they normally say.  “Don’t crack your knuckles,” my brother used to say.   “Why?” I would ask.  “Because your joints will become big and you’re going to look like the Thing from the Fantastic Four,” he would respond.  The Thing was an interesting character.  A scientific explosion turned four scientists into aliens of a certain kind.  When I was younger I thought of becoming a member of the Fantastic Four.  I dreamed of the kinds of powers I might want to exercise.  Now I think about how scientific experiments have created more problems; I think about climate change, about nuclear threats, about GMO and the many health issues like cancer and diabetes, about cloning.  Now I think about power and ego, about Donald Trump and the power trip he’s on, reigniting White supremacy and racism and bigotry.  I don’t think I want to be a super hero anymore, especially one created by scientific miscalculations.  Now I just want to be a decent human being who appreciates all people, enjoying the different languages and cultures, intentionally communicating across differences to create a better world.  I do need to crack my knuckles. 

3.  Donde estoy?

I can’t say for sure where I am.  I seem to be in transition at all times, with a wandering mind.  I keep focusing on the insistent and consistent voice of the AC.  It distracts me more so than the loud voice of the teacher next door.  The AC forces my mind to wander all over the place, away from here to places familiar and comfortable, to places of convenience and pleasure, to people who comfort me.  The voice of the AC keeps me asking what I need to do to keep myself comfortable and satisfied.  Yes, immediate gratification of personal gain and pleasure, of convenience and of, “I want things my way right now!” 

When I focus on the AC, I distract myself from the things that I need to do, that I must do.  I know I must sit and listen, sit and hear my own heart beat, sit and hear my own blood flow through my veins, sit and hear myself breathe in and then breathe out.  But no, there are too many distractions!  I hear chairs moving, girls giggling, faint sounds of vehicles moving in the distance.  I hear teachers’ voices trying to rise above the sounds of students, or is the noise of the teacher’s voice attempting to suppress the voices of our children!  Yes, there are many distracting noises.  Then again, perhaps I need to hear those sounds, those voices in order to get to my own voice, my truth. 

A wandering mind is not easy to reign in.  I am thinking of specific family members and their relationships with one another through unique phrases they use, and distinct things they do when they are together.   I also am becoming aware of my tired body, feeling the aches, what’s uncomfortable.  And questions begin to invade my mind.  What should I drink?  What should I eat?  What part of my body do I need to stretch?   And then there is the urge to sneeze, but couldn’t.  No, I don’t want to break the silence with a sneeze! 

Where am I?  My mind is wandering all over the place, but perhaps that’s a good place where an indolent mind needs to be; wandering, a mind that may be getting too comfortable with stagnation, with the status quo, with comfort and convenience.  Yes, I am in the process of changing my mind.  This is where I’m at right now!  This is where I need to be!

4.  Water Flowing (in English)

Surrounded by  mountains,                          

mountains of ancient songs

and prayers, mountains of hope

and aspirations, I hear the faint

sound of a small quivering creek

mumbling through

the small school of Amun Shea

in Perquin, El Salvador.

The more I listen, the more

the small river begin to gorge

through my veins, through my blood, and

my heart begins to throb and

blood begins to flow through

Navajo children sweating from

the sun crossing Navajo country,

Navajo children in the parking lot of

the Flowing Water casino,  

their tears flowing with

hunger

thirst

longing

flowing

The small water flowing

through Amun Shea in Perquin, El Salvador

flows through memory,

flows through life,

flows through the world,

through you,

through me

The river of Amun Shea

take me home

Agua Cayendo (rough Spanish translation)

Rodeado de montañas,

montañas de canciones ancianas

y oraciones, montañas de esperanza

y aspiraciones, escucho el sonido suave

de un riíto

cerca de la pequeña escuela de Amun Shea

en Perquin, El Salvador.

Entre más escucho, el río empieza a corer

por mis venas, pormi sangre,

y mi corazón empieza a palpitar y sangre fluye

desde los niños Navajo sudando del sol

cruzando las tierras del Navajo,

los niños Navajo en el parqueo de Flowing Water casino.

Su llanto caye de

hambre

sed

anhelos

Cae

El ríito pequeña fluye

por Amun Shea en Perquin, El Salvador

fluye en la memoria

fluye en la vida

fluye en el mundo

fluye en ti

fluye en mi.

Riíto de Amun Shea

llevame a

casa

B.  I Release You Writings (based on Joy Harjo’s “I release you” poem, write a poem releasing a negative emotion, idea, etc.)

1.  Good bye, Haragan

I release you my beloved haragan 

you shall no longer share my bed

I release you as I run into dawn,

into a new world

of opportunities,

seizing the day before

the sun shakes his golden mane.

I release you o spirit of sloth

I can no longer hang around in a

tree when a monkey can back flip through

several trees with one swing,

from this day on I prefer to rumble down

cliffs like great waterfalls,

cascading through air in joy. 

I let go of you, especially your fancy name

procrastination,

prooocraaaaastinaaaaation!

aah, you took my love from me

who now takes comfort in the

warmth of another’s embrace.

2.  Walk Away

skinwalkers

I let you walk into

the darkness and let

you roam as you please

in the far reaches of my mind.

your cough in the night outside my hogan

now becomes phlegm

that I spit you onto the dark dirt

and cover you with dirt with my left foot,

with one sweep.

Yes, then I walk all over you,

one spit at a time, one step at a time.

I know many dark stories of you,

but they no longer instill fear in my mind,

for my imagination is fully in my control, and

I let you go one alphabet at a time, one word at a time,

one anecdote at a time until all the stories about you

walk away!  

I am free to choose what roams in my mind,

who wanders in my mind. 

I choose,

And now I choose to let you go.

I choose,

I choose freedom, freedom of fear,

freedom from skinwalkers. 

C.  Oda de Celebracion a la Vida Writings (based on Pablo Neruda’s “Ode to My Socks” poem, write an ode to celebrate/embrace life.)

1.  Stuffed Horse

I gently caress the little stuffed horse,

the stuffed tail, the stuffed mane, all black and shiny. 

I looked into its glassy eyes, not so classy nor sassy.

I try to make him stand, but he wobbles and falls down. 

I glance a shiny streak on its mane, a silver lining of syrup, and

I look over, smile and attempt to brush my daughter’s

hair of Aunt Jemima’s grip. 

She continues sleeping, no, not Aunt Jemima.

My daughter.  She sleeps on contentedly. 

although I try to wake her with kisses.  

Thank you, stuffed horse,

whatever your name may be, for

I’m sure you have a name,

a lovely one at that,

for keeping my daughter company

while I keep the company of politicians. 

2.  Sleeping grandson’s breathing

breathing, the tiny chest of my grandson

goes up and down,

going deep, deep for air

relaxed, all stretched out

I listen to his breathing as he sleeps

resting from playing all morning

playing in the sun, in muddy puddles

I watch my grandson sleeping

he’s sleeping on my lap

and I don’t want to put him down

I feel his body against mine

warm, comfortable, trusting

I tussle his hair, caress the

contours of his nose, his cheeks

the breathing of a sleeping child

speaks to my compassion

to my life with love, with life

in and out, in and out

and I listen to the breeze outside

make its way through leaves of

cottonwood tree

the zephyr breezing

east

D.  Weaving Our Stories (How do we weave our personal story into our national or global story?)

A few family members, friends and I travelled in southern Mexico one summer.  One day as we walked by a government building, we saw the front fenced off.  There was a cardboard tent with two feet sticking out.  One of our friends went over to find out what was happening.  Upon returning, she told us that over the weekend, in a community in the mountains, there was a politician campaigning to be reelected.  One of the community members asked the politician what he would do for the community if elected, if the community supported him.  The police took the inquisitor to jail for disturbing a peaceful gathering.  That same night the police killed him.  The person in the cardboard tent was his brother fasting, protesting what the politician and the police had done, demanding justice.  I thought about the incident for a bit and after awhile had forgotten all about it. 

A few years later my colleagues at Dine College and I took a group of students to Peru.  The students decided to present on the Navajo Nation, and Andino Colegio in Cuzco offered us a room to do the presentation.  We were hoping that at least five students would show up.  When we arrived 30 minutes early, the room already was packed, with people standing out in the streets.   They were not students.  These were indigenous leaders who walked two to three days to listen to our presentation.  The students presented with a Q&A session.  Towards the end, an elder rose and asked to speak.  I paraphrase here what he said.  “You are the most pampered Indians I know.  You tell us that you are protected by your own laws, by your treaties with the United States, by the laws of the states you’re in, and by the laws of the United States.  You have access to free health care and education and so on.  You live in what most consider the most powerful and wealthiest country in the world.  Yet most of what I have heard is mostly complaints from you.  Some of us out here get killed just for asking questions.  We work the land just to live.  What I’d like to know is what you are doing from your place of privilege and power to speak for those of us who are not as fortunate.”  Our students didn’t know what to say.  And I sat in silence.

I have since tracked the halls of the United Nations, of the Organization of American States, of the United States, the halls of governments at all levels to fight for the rights of indigenous peoples, children, women, giving voice to those who cannot speak for themselves.  As well as helping others to reclaim their rhetorical sovereignty!  Now I travel for a purpose!  I walk with a purpose!

E.  Reflection Writings

1.  What did I feel and think about collaboration with our cooperating teachers?  I felt the energy of tension, of who wants to be in control of the class.  As much as we all would like to believe in working together, there’s always a latent desire to be in control, to be in charge.  Although we planned for our first class, our cooperating teacher changed plans the last minute and we had to go with it.  Many changes were needed to for our lessons to be done effectively, but that didn’t happen.  For example we planned to have four groups of students, and desks could’ve been arranges in groups, but they as before.  If they were prearranged, we wouldn’t have wasted so much class time.  On the other hand, as facilitators that come in for a short time, in fact, for just one class period, we probably shouldn’t expect too much. 

I also strongly felt the tension of limitation and the frustration that comes with it. Personally I was extremely frustrated by my limited Spanish.  I wasn’t able to communicate with the students the way I wanted to.  There were times when students wanted to talk to me, but couldn’t.   I also felt that we didn’t prepare enough in terms of sitting down and talking through our approaches to teaching, the principles and values that guide us.  Some of us just wanted to take over and show the teacher how to teach.  In fact, we often talked too much, when we should have focused on cooperative activities and given the students a more active voice.

As always, there’s also the tension of time.  We tried too much in such a short time.  We needed more time working together with students and teachers to create rapport and trust. 

2.  This week, what did I learn?  What does it mean?  What do we do next?

As always, when we travel and think that we are helping others, we learn once again that in order to change the world, we first need to work on ourselves and change.  I once again have to face many personal obstacles and challenges. 

One, I had to face the language barrier.  I speak Spanish, but I am reluctant to speak Spanish with native speakers.  I come out with all types of excuses not to do so.  Perhaps taking on the role of a “victim” is in some odd way drawing attention, a certain kind of pampering, to myself. In so doing, I avoid fear.  Perhaps I am afraid the mistakes I make might indicate the inadequate ways I articulate my truth.  However, it is in this struggle that I find meaning and hope for my work as a writer and educator.  I ask myself how I might be asking others to speak their truth, to craft language in some meaningful way to express who they are when I myself am struggling with my language, my voice, my truth.  Does such complete understanding of self-truth exist?  What is truth anyway?  In addition to all other emotions, it is always a pleasure to begin exploring, discovering, and sharing with others our truth.  

Two, I continue to learn that people do want to express hurts that have been suppressed for generations and the tremendous love they have for wanting to be alive.   To seize life!  To seize the day!  And to be more effective as “un maestro” as we have been called, I must learn to be even more vulnerable, to lay my life even more bare, to show the essence of being a human being. 

This self-discovery implies for me the importance of understanding language, culture, heritage, history, stories, and spirituality.  To act globally for world peace means to act locally through celebration of local beliefs and practices, and when local change becomes local growth, local change then is another step toward global peace.  So then, how do we begin to help the thinking child think with a purpose, rooted in spiritual foundations and guided by family and community aspirations?  How do we begin to teach young minds to exercise critically, analytically, creatively, and with synthesis?  The next step must be to write more and more with them, to make ourselves more vulnerable and human as possible. 

Reflexión de Melvin

Comparto la reflexión de Melvin Moreno: 

La experiencia obtenida esta semana significa para mí un reafirmar el amor por la vocación docente y un darme cuenta cuan importante es poder creer en el poder de la lectura y escritura como un proceso de construcción de paz, paz interior y paz colectiva "comunitaria".

Aprendí con la niñez de parvularia (CE Borja) que puedo estar con ellos en un ámbito diferente que no es una fiesta (como cuando animo una fiesta como Payasito), ahora compartir en un salón de clases... grandes niños... grande maestra que les acompaña "Berfalia".

Es importante valorar todo el esfuerzo realizado por los profesores y profesoras que sí están comprometidos en construir una verdadera cultura de paz a través de la apuesta por la lectura y escritura... Esto me hace pensar en cuanto yo Melvin y de manera institucional como ConTextos  debo comprometerme en brindar cada día lo mejor en cada una de las acciones realizadas, dar lo mejor... lo mejor!!!

Esta semana ha sido de crecimiento profesional, personal y sobre todo de una familia, la familia ConTextos, Estrella de Mar y Bread Loaf... grandes seres humanos que nos comparten grandes aprendizajes.

Es importante para mí que reafirmemos ¨no podemos y no debemos olvidar nuestra historia, nuestra cultura y redescubrir que Dios esta en todo y en todos".

Gracias equipo por abrirnos a esta linda aventura de leer y escribir desde nuestro corazón y compartir con la alegría y esperanza de que si es posible crear espacios de reconstrucción familiar a través de la escritura, espero que podamos seguir trabajando en conjunto, compartiéndonos estrategias que nos ayuden a fortalecer Soy Autor y Soy Lector.

Me siento agredido con el Dios de la vida...

Amaryllis' Story: Sunday to Wednesday

Hello, everyone! I'm sorry I couldn't keep up with the blog posting daily, writing/editing with just your phone can get very time-consuming and annoying. Luckily I'm well rested and back home from my trip and able to give a recap! This will be a master post of all the notes I kept throughout the week by the day. If you want to see a more detailed writing in terms of location of our trip you can check out the itinerary here to help guide this reading. Just as a disclaimer, my goal through this writing is to share how this trip affected me and not so much a report of the lives and history of El Salvador and its beautiful people... in no way am I an expert or can even attempt to be a reporter of a story that isn't mine.... this is my Salvadoran story, not theirs. 

Sunday, August 6
It still hasn’t hit me that we’re en route to El Salvador. I’m feeling all sorts of emotions right now; nervous, but calm but also excited, as well as a tad bit tired. I think I’m mostly nervous because of my extremely embarrassing lack of Spanish skills (and the fact that TSA wouldn't let me bring my hairspray). A Puerto Rican who doesn’t know how to speak Spanish… years of being a possession of the US will do that to you. I think the calm is coming from this new found confidence I’ve grown to realize as an ABL Writing Leader. Because ABL has been apart of my life for almost more than half of it I tend to forget the impact that ABL really has on me and education and the youth in general. I’ve grown to love and trust ABL so much that I’m willing to travel above and beyond to share this family of mine with the world.  The excitement is my natural caffeine and it’s keeping me going, for now, …or maybe that’s the anxiety. Speaking of lack of sleep, probably nothing I’m writing is making sense or grammatically correct but that’s ok, this blurb, this trip, and ABL, in general, is all about the process and the message. And now here I am waiting for the flight and the message and process that El Salvador will gift to all of us.

Monday, August 7

Today we spent the day at Ingeniero Guillermo Borja Nathan in Apopa. I learned that schools in El Salvador usually work in two shifts, one in the morning from about 7-12 and the other from 1-5. Since they had last week off for vacation they begin school today and opened with a civic act. This act included their national anthem, pledge, a mini talent show, and awards for poetry, vocals, and art were rewarded. We spent the day observing classrooms. I had an 8th grade class for the whole day. The kids in the first session were very shy. But during lunch, a group of 9th-grade kids invited me to their table. Dennis (pictured on the right) was my first friend on campus. He won first place in the school's poetry contest! We communicated through broken English and Spanish and the glue that held these stories together was our love for poetry and music. Did I mention that he raps too? He even got me to sing with him during lunch. They asked me about where I'm from, how old I am, etc they got to know me and I got to know them. I showed them pictures of my boyfriend, family, and friends... I felt like I was catching up with old friends. I asked them about their feelings towards school and what their plans were after graduation. Before I knew it time was up and the first shift of school was over and I had to say goodbye to my friends. The second shift brought on a new vibe. The students seemed to be more outgoing. A group of girls came up to me before school had even started and asked me who I was and where I came from. Their friendly smiles made me feel so more at ease. They all wanted a picture and so came one of my favorite pictures of the whole trip. 5 minutes after meeting we all had a recuerdo we could hold onto forever. After their civic act, where Daniela and her friends performed a funny parody of a typical class, they came up to me and showered me with so much love. They

wanted me to follow them the whole day, sadly I couldn't but did meet up with them whenever we had breaks. They asked lots of similar questions like the first group did. They were really fascinated by my hair and ask lots of questions about it. I told them about my curly hair journey and routine. We talked a lot about societal pressures that we feel and ways that we've grown to love ourselves including the good and the bad days. They were really curious about the kinds of music I listen too and dance moves as well. We got a cup, put my Spanish playlist on shuffle and went straight to dancing. The whole classroom was filled with smiles, dancing, and the voice of Romeo Santos in the background. I didn't realize it but at the time I actually had to be in a meeting to talk about how to day went with ABL and ConTextos in the next room. At this point, the whole class was teaching me how to dance cumbia... the steps were pretty confusing... but I promised them that I'd go back home and practice and when I return in the future I'd be a pro. I didn't want to leave, the party was just getting started.

Tuesday, August 8

We returned to Borja to put into action the lesson that we had co-planned with our Contextos teacher and trainers as well as the Borja teacher that we observed. Under the guidance, translation, support, and love from Enrique and Lorena we were able to transform and implement that ABL love and vibe right in their classroom. We ended up teaching about 3 classes that day... one 5th grade class, one 8th, and one 9th. I always start each class with an I Am poem and knew that I needed to share this poem format with the students I met yesterday. During our co-planning we came up with this brilliant idea of combining the I Am and Where I'm From poem together based off one of my favorite poems from Salvadoran poet Jorge Argueta called Wonders of the City. I introduced the 6 ABL principles (which I'll go more in depth about in Thursday's journal entry) and Lorena did this really cool activity that let us all get to know each other a little more and bond. She asked the class to think about the common phrases you hear all the time and to write it on a piece of paper. We then posted our little phrases
(we had a range of very funny phrases like "why haven't you cleaned your room yet" to others grounding but relatable ones like "be safe, don't be on the streets for too long".) Enrique then connected this activity by explaining that we hear a lot of things that people will say about ourselves and the places we come from, some good some bad, but at the end of the day we have the power to create our own authentic narrative based on our experiences and lives. He stressed that our experiences, and poetry, are valid and undeniable. I then shared my own I Am poem I wrote a few years ago that I translated in Spanish:

soy una estudiante

soy maestra

yo aprendo

yo coleccionó historias y antecedentes mucho antes de nacer.

soy de donde es mis abuelas

de palmeras y el coquí

yo soy Amaryllis

soy la que ama

soy la que sacrifica

soy de sábados en la mañana llenos cantando junto con Marc Anthony
le juro que el es quien me dice que limpie y no mi mamá.
vivo en un lugar bien divido, Los Estados Unidos
yo so importante por qué vengo de un lugar que otros no lo ven así.
vengo de manos que curan
corazones abiertos
y brazos que abrazan
yo so Amaryllis

As a class we analyzed why I wrote certain lines the way I did and asked questions like "why didn't I just say I'm 19 years old from Lawrence, MA?". The more classes we taught the more we adjusted the lesson. We started incorporating a volunteer from each class to practice writing a Yo Soy poem from little funny facts that we gathered from them to show to the class that this wasn't as intimidating or formal as a regular school assignment. This activity really helped create an environment that was creative, inviting, and friendly. Once the students voiced that they understood and felt comfortable with the assignment they went to writing. Enrique and Lorena went around the room answering any questions and confusions while I wrote with the students as I had promised them. I find that writing while the students are writing helps them focus more on their own writing. It helps them see and feel like this isn't a regular writing assignment. After 10 minutes of writing we did a little open mic right in the classroom! There was a mix of kids in the room, some were so ready and excited to share their pieces while others just needed a little extra support and encouragement. The pieces were so moving and powerful. I was blown away by the talent in each class. I wish I could share every piece but here are a few by some students that really wanted their poetry to be read. I left Apopa having to say goodbye to a new home and friends that I knew stole my heart.

Reflexión de Ixkik

Publico esta reflexión escrita por nuestra gran amiga y docente, Ixkik Cuy. 

Aprendí 6 reglas importantes que rompen las reglas.

Que el aprendizaje debe ser significativo pero no debe dejar se ser divertido.

Que aprender también es fallar y esas experiencias son las que nos trasforman en una mejor persona.

Que sentirte orgullosa de tu cultura es la mejor manera de presumir al mundo tus raíces. 

Aprendí que nuestra historia y cultura están prohibidos olvidarlas.

Todo lo que hacemos debe ser hecho con amor y cada persona es experta en lo que hace.

Aprendí que la escritura es un medio para cambiarme a mi misma y al mundo, nos trasporta a otros mundos donde podemos encontrar paz y tranquilidad. No son solo simples letras, es un arte que nos permite transmitir nuestras ideas y pensamientos.

La humildad es un arma poderosa como nuestra voz, solo depende del uso que se le dé y ese será su impacto. La paz inicia con nosotros mismos para luego transmitirlo a los demás.

Todo fue una mezcla de emociones, sentimientos, pensamientos y esa es la evidencia del interés por seguir creciendo, creer que todo es posible.

Fue toda una aventura aprender de diferentes personas a las que bastaron solo 6 días para recordarlos toda la vida. Ahora eso significa un reto y una tarea enorme de poner en práctica en nuestro Colegio, hacer que nuestras 48 niñas tengan la mismas energía, entusiasmo y el deseo de aprender cada día y por qué no de escribir.

Reflexión de Celena

Les comparto la reflexión de nuestra querida Celena Cuy:

Todo inició el 25 de julio con el correo que decía

¡Bienvenidas a la semana de escritura!

Curiosa leí todo el documento, preguntándome

¿Y de qué va a tratar?...

Varios mundos, unidos para crear un nuevo mundo

en el mismo mundo.

Aprendí que el pan dulce debe ser ConTexto-alizado a

Semitas, rocas, integral y muchos más!

En Guatemala hay escritores con errores y un solo idioma.

Aprendí que mi historia no tiene errores y

En mi futuro no va a existir esta palabra.

Aprendí que tenemos el mismo sol, la misma luna

¿Por qué no tener la misma pasión por escribir?

Con puño, lápiz y cuerpo.

Aprendí que mi edad y mi apariencia, no son límites

Para llevar pan a mi comunidad.

Tengo mariposas en mí estómago, diciéndome:

Debemos salir y servir con humildad.

Gracias, tank you, Matyox

Starfissh, Bread Love Y ConTextos

Por haber prendido la chispa en mí y

Trabajar en la transformación de Guatemala,

El Salvador EE.UU y todo el mundo por la Paz.

3 días y una celebración después

Han sido semanas extrañas. Desde que llegué a Boston hace ya un mes, el mundo se transformó para mí. Conocí gente que nunca imaginé, estuve en lugares de los que había oido pero fueron tan diferentes a como los había imaginado. Un poco más de dos semanas lejos de mi familia, extrañando a mi esposa, a mi hija adolescente y a mi hijo pequeño de tan solo un año. Pero el tiempo fuera de casa, valió la pena. Valió la pena la transformación. En los últimos años, me había hecho la idea de que las conversaciones sobre el color de la piel, las pláticas sobre las diferencias socioeconómicas, eran sencillamente aburridas y que no mostraban más que la involución de la humanidad al estancarnos en cosas tan triviales. Sin embargo escuché mucho de eso y entendí el porqué seguimos poniendo atención al tema. Nunca se ha ido porque es más la gente que divide que la que une y eso es una lucha constante porque va más allá de lo evidente. La injusticia no se acaba solo porque evitamos hablar de ella y cada contexto lo sufre y lo combate de diferentes maneras.

Luego, estaba en mi casa de nuevo con mi familia, mis perros y el hermosos clima lluvioso y húmedo del trópico. La semana de vacaciones fue extraña. A veces ese tiempo puede cansarte más de lo que puede ofrecerte descanso. Pero fue un buen tiempo para reconectar con mis responsabilidades y dejar de sentirme seguro como era en Estados Unidos. Esta última línea la pienso una y otra vez, pero no se me ocurre escribirla de una manera diferente.

La siguiente semana volví a abrazar a cinco de mis nuevos amigos de los que me despedí no hace mucho: Rich, María, Alan, Rex y Amaryllis. Los sentí como amigos de años, después de todo lo que habíamos compartido en aquel cuarto de paredes negras y de luces de escenario de la Phillips Academy. Sentí que se cumplía un deseo, no solo mío, si no también de mi organización. La experiencia de Bread Loaf llegaría a nuestro docentes y a nuestros estudiantes. Por alguna razón, casi todo mi equipo estuvo involucrado desde el inicio, pero yo no. Entendí que mi experiencia era valiosa en otro momento, pero mi única petición fue poder participar en el viaje a Perquín porque me encanta la gente, la historia y lo que estamos haciendo con ellos. Aunque me perdí de momentos muy importantes como la conferencia de los docentes, me hubiese encantado estar ahí. 

Ese mismo día de la conferencia de los docentes, Daisy, Diana y yo estuvimos en uno de los Centros de Inserción en una sesión de preparación con nuestros nueve nuevos autores. No puedo describir en palabras el brillo que pude ver en sus ojos al ver la versión final impresa del libro que han escribiendo por tres meses y con el cual se han enfrentado a sentimientos que al igual que yo, habían estado ignorando o subestimando. Su sonrisa infinita me dio esperanzas y me arrepentí de haber querido estar con los docentes cuando estaba en el lugar en el que mi trabajo es igual o más importante. Con mis estudiantes.

Cada día de la conferencia fue una aventura, la mayoría de la gente dice que una Montaña Rusa, no sabría si estar de acuerdo con eso porque para mi fue algo más local como un columpio hecho de una llanta vieja, subimos y bajamos siempre con la misma emoción de la primera vez. Las emociones florecieron. Redescubrimos, aprendimos y desaprendimos. Construimos y deconstruimos y fue interesante leer de este proceso a través de los ojos de nuestros visitantes. Este fue el poema colectivo que hicimos en una de nuestras cenas con las incansables Pupusas, en diferentes idiomas: Español, Salvadoreño, Inglés, Navajo, Tz`utujil y Kaqchikel acerca de esas nostálgicas montañas de la sierra fronteriza:

En Perquín...

En Perquín, conecto mi corazón a la tierra. Recuerdo que aún existe la humildad.

Admiro todo, el paisaje y los niños que escriben con orgullo. Siento un mundo despertar.

En Perkín, nuestros poetas son la ventana en el rostro de un país chiquito… quiero morir aquí. Pinos, cipotes y lucha en mi corazón. Revolución.

En Perquín vuelvo a recordar la sangre que corrió para que hoy haya esperanza.

En Perquín, mi corazón se hace 7 veces más grande con cada abrazo.

Aquí, he vivido una muy bonita experiencia al lado de diferentes y muy bonitas gentes.

Los niños y los jóvenes me enseñaron como ser escritor.

En Perquín, me desconecto del resto. Tan solo aquí, en la grandiosa tierra de semillas.

En Perquín, hablo con mi nuevo hermano, aprendo como mantener viva la memoria.

Tz`utujil - Entendí que somos la tierra con todas sus huellas. – Xin wetamaj chi` oq ulew ruk`in noje`l taq retal.

Kaqchikel-Wawe nin na´ chupan nu´ wachóch - Aquí, me siento en casa / Noj’el  r’i’ rex q’o chuij -Todo lo verde me rodea / y el silencio me suplica que debo escribir para mí, sin temor a equivocarme.

Perquín was awesome! Tucked away into the side of a mountain, it´s a wonderful nesting place for young talent, ready to soar above the sorrounding mountains!

Navajo-Perquin éí bohónéedzą́ągo haz'ą́. Nizhónígo dził niit'aajį' áłchíní bá hahodít'é. 

Nizhónígo nídiijée'go dzil binaa ahéédaaz'áada yiláahdi deiíkáah doo.

He aprendido que es prohibido olvidar nuestra historia.

En Perquín, I learned that poetry is a universal language.

Here, students will ride for an hour in the back of a truck and arrive enthusiastic to write and share.

Ahora, sentado en mi escritorio, veo por la ventana las flores de "Cinco Negritos" con la música de Paco de Lucía en mis oidos... disfrutando el recuerdo de cada momento en el que me sentí parte de un gran todo. Volví a creer que no hay causas perdidas. Recordando nuestra celebración de Soy Autor del pasado lunes. Una cabeza rapada, camisas holgadas y manos sudorosas. 11 nuevos libros, 11 historias contadas de millones. Soy feliz y no hay otro lugar en el que desearía estar.

El próximo viernes teníamos en nuestro calendario la próxima celebración de otro de los centros. Ha sido pospuesta hasta nuevo aviso por medidas de seguridad ante los eventos de violencia entre los internos. Dos de ellos han sido brutalmente asesinados por sus mismos compañeros. Pienso mucho si por los mismos que son capaces de tomar un lápiz y escribir sobre paz o participar en un drama sobre transformación, no se si ellos también participaron pero me resuena la pregunta: ¿Qué incidencia tiene mi trabajo en este contexto cuando no es muy diferente estar dentro o fuera de una celda? 

Yo no puedo cambiar mi país, es demasiado amplio. No puedo crear una ley que mejore las condiciones de millones de niños y niñas no privilegiados. La decisión  es de otros que se toman la libertad y el poder de decidir por todos, buscan protagonismo o que su hambre de poder va más allá de sus escrúpulos y como en todo escenario buscan que los demás guarden silencio, siempre hay alguien que quiere el crédito para alimentar su ego o compensar algún complejo. Pero en medio de esta pelea de perros en mi cabeza y en mi estómago, pienso en lo que si está en mis manos, en lo que es mi responsabilidad hacer. Es en este momento en el que mi convicción debe fortalecerse con el espíritu de esa madrugada en el Río Sapo, el agua fresca, los guacales como tambores, la sonrisa de éxito de nuestro estudiantes de Apopa cuando me enseñaban que el silencio también es sabiduría... en un salón de clases, con o sin paredes, eso está en mis manos. Es ahora cuando la experiencia Bread Loaf se vuelve más relevante para mi. Estoy agradecido.

Enrique.

Atlacacemelli (Troublemaker)

The usefulness of what is

"I hate to do this, but we only have 10 minutes left!"

"No you don't, it's your job!"

My job this week was keeping us on schedule, making sure we were well fed (with the support of Maria Teresa and Flor, who helped prepare for weeks), and calling our group on and off of our mini bus every day. It was exhausting, but rewarding. I felt comfortable in my role, despite all the running around and details to keep track of. Give me a trip to plan and a clipboard any day, and I'm your person!

Being host means being a container for an experience, providing spaces. It reminds me of a poem that Debra shared with us once by Lao Tzu:

Thirty spokes are joined together in a wheel

but it is the center hole

that allows the wheel to function.

We mold clay into a pot

but it is the emptiness inside

that makes the vessel useful.

We fashion wood for a house

but it is the inner space

that makes it livable.

We work with the substantial,

but the emptiness is what we use.

The usefulness of what is

depends on what is not.

When our visitors from Bread Loaf Peace Literacy Network and Estrella del Mar arrived this week, the "what is" was ready to be filled. Depending on who you ask, it was an obra that was in the works since 2014, or 2015, or May 2017. We worked on it in concentric circles of objectives, content, participants, costs, funding, materials, scheduling, transportation, food, flights, lodging and buses. We revisited what had been done many times, making small changes and incorporating more details as we went along. 

Speaking for Anne, me, when I got involved as host of the week, this meant weekly meetings not only with Rich (and often Jenny), but also with ConTextos's administration team to make adjustments as we went along. I did my best to keep our communications team informed, but I think for future events this can be more intentional and go even further than Rebecca designing event invitations, posting pictures on our organization's social media, and Ale inviting relevant partners to the conference. Jenny was our representative from the programming team, supported by Carlos and Jackie who invited our teachers and Zoila who reminded us to keep things simple and keep our objectives in mind. As the week took shape, I did my best to designate clear roles for other participating members. However, as the week went on, they often anticipated gaps and took the initiative. For example, the role of translator changed often. They helped enormously to identify and address the needs that emerged during the week, like where to pick up Berfalia on the way to Perquín or giving Lorena a place to stay. The devil is in the details, and everyone stepped up. This paragraph is certainly not exhaustive in terms of the work of our team! 

Having the big things well defined and having several weeks of planning to coax out the other details, like evaluations for the teacher conference, as we talked through the week, made things flow much easier. For future conferences, I think it's important to have visiting participants and flights defined at least a month in advance. Speaking as host and host organization, the uncertainty in numbers and logistics made it difficult to "mold our pot" in terms of creating working teams and making arrangements for each visitor.  I think this will also help bring down what visitors spend on flights! Rex commented that there was very little time to plan for class in Borja; having the certainty of who is participating would create the possibility for communication before landing in the country. 

Using Lao Tzu's metaphor, we had a pretty awesome pot ready for this week. Today, just a day after the action, this is the sensation I have. This week, we need to meet as a ConTextos team to evaluate the other details and what we've achieved as an organization and teacher trainers. One of us will post the summary of that meeting here. 

As usual, thank you for your hearts and believing in people.