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. 

   

No such thing as a coincidence

Precisely on the last day of our week of creative writing for peace, protesters clashed in Charlottesville, VA. White supremacists marched holding torches and chanting "Blood and soil" and "Jew won't replace us." A car drove in a crowd of counter-protesters marching against discrimination and racism, calling for peace.

My Facebook feed is full of scared, angry, outraged people expressing themselves in tweets, articles and statuses. A friend of color admonished her white friends and other "allies" who felt guilty and were trying to claim "not all whites." "Do better," she chastised. I remembered what they taught us about humility in Borja.

Peppered among these posts are pictures from a transformational week of "intentional communication across difference." A week where we named and claimed where we are from and who we are, and sat down to plan together. A week saturated with the realization of our common humanity and our hunger for a more peaceful world. 

In response to Charlottesville, there are repeated calls that these actions and people be labeled for what they are: terror and terrorists. These labels give a moral and legal judgment about what has happened. As the governor of Virginia said, "There is no place for you here." 

I hear echoes of El Salvador. This is the same thing that has been said to youth and gangsters. "We might as well burn down the prisons, with them inside," I've heard people say. "We should just kill them all and be done with it," from others. What do we do with white supremacist terrorists? Prisons are for people who are dangerous to society. Ok, prison. They will likely get out someday, unchanged or more embittered. How many white supremacists (terrorists or not) are there? Will they fit in our prisons? In prison, what is there for them to rehabilitate as individuals? Can we send a whole racist system to prison? 

More questions than answers. But I also know that our society is segregated, and whites (especially white males) are those who have the greatest access to people like those that marched in the "Unite the Right" rally in Charlottesville. There are not "many sides" to this. There is one side, and it is not the duty of the other side to put itself further in danger, to exhaust itself further, in the resistance. I know many people of color who are there, marching, explaining, speaking up, every day, and that comes with great psychological and spritual cost. Thank you. I also know many white people who feel guilty, who want to say "not me", who just want to be nice people and be done with it. In a meal with my friend's parents recently in Minnesota, they commented about a recent Black Lives Matters march over Philando Castille's murder, that "there should be another way. I don't understand why they have to shut down the highways. Can't they be more peaceful? Some of those people aren't even from Minnesota!" I said nothing, because with Minnesota whites you are Minnesota nice. I was scared that my response would be insufficient, I was angry that I was silent. But that was my moment, that was the opportunity we have every day in our interactions with each other (between white people). 

My job, the organization I work for, exists because we believe in change. We believe in the elasticity of our brains, in personal transformations creating a ripple effect while we work simultaneously to create institutional change in schools and prisons. We believe that the continual falling of a drop of water is stronger than the rock, as Lorena put it so beautifully. We are humans, artists of our lives and collaborators in the society we actively produce every day. 

I will close in expressing that I hope my truth today has not contributed to the hurt of anyone else, and if so, if your energy so permits, I will consider your response as a gift as my truth continues to evolve. 

I. Will. Achieve. My. Dreams.

Aprendí lo importante y precioso que es escuchar, "Yo creo en ti", "Yo te acepto y te escucho". Eso es lo que oí en todos los talleres, lo que respiré en cada micrófono abierto.
Significa que hay un obstáculo menos que superar.
Al principio luchaba contra la simpleza de repetir "I will achieve my dreams".
Pensaba en un país que mejor no sueña, en personas que mejor piensan en sólo lo que parece posible.
Los sistemas locales y globales no trabajan a nuestro favor.
"Así es", me han dicho con un suspiro profundo tantas veces.
Pero si creo en el cambio,
Sí, la mayoría de días creo en el cambio,
También tengo que creer en sueños.

Lo escribo y me suena horriblemente cursi y aún irrealista.
Pero me parece horriblemente horrible un país que no sueña.

____

I learned how importante and precious it is to hear, "I believe in you," "I accept you and am listening." That is what I heard in all the workshops this week, what I breathed in each open mic.
It means that there is one less obstacle to overcome.
At first, I fought against the naivete, the simplicity of repeating, "I will achieve my dreams."
I thought about a country that might as well not dream, in people that might as well think about only what seems possible.
Local and global systems do not work in our favor.
"That's the way it is," they've told me with a deep sigh, so many times.
But if I believe in change,
Yes, most days I do believe in change,
I must also believe in dreams.

I write it and it still sounds horribly cheesy, cliché, and unrealistic.
But it sounds horribly horrible for a country to not dream.