Day 9 -- Cinquera--Signs of Rebirth, Tears of Goodbye
This article written by Lauren Herbert, MD.

The last day we traveled to Cinquera, a town that had been destroyed during the Civil War (1980-1992), and is now rebuilding. Though Cinquera is not too far as the crow flies, it took us two hours to drive there. As we left San Salvador, the dwellings became fewer and farther between. We traveled on winding roads through rocky and forested mountains. During the war, Cinquera was destroyed and depopulated. It is now rebuilding.


A sign welcomes visitors to Cinquera

Cinquera is a peaceful little town. We parked by the town square. There were a few people sitting in the park, but I don't remember anyone else driving cars. We saw the church as we drove in--half old colonial stone, and half newly-constructed material. The old part of the church was all that had been left of Cinquera after the bombing during the Civil War.


Remains of a church in Cinquero.


Don Pablo addresses the PazSalud brigade


 Though we heard Don Pablo's story later in the day, I will describe it first, as he told the history of his community. We sat in the pews of the church as we listened to his story. He stood in front, below a thin veil cloth that hung from the ceiling, forming a tent around him. 

Don Pablo grew up as a laborer on a coffee plantation. His ancestors had worked on the same land, first on indigo plantations, then on coffee when the land was changed to this use. As with most of El Salvador, the land was owned by a wealthy few, and almost all the people worked as poorly-paid laborers. Don Pablo described having only one set of clothes, and struggling to even earn enough to eat. On Sundays, his family would go to church, where they were reassured that suffering on earth would be rewarded in heaven.

In the 1960s, a new priest was assigned to their church. He began organizing the parishioners and teaching them that they could work to make their lives better on earth. This was a new approach by the Catholic Church that arose from the Medellin conference in 1968. Don Pablo became a catechist, working with the Christian-based communities. The military and the local landowners objected to the parishioners organizing. The catechists were threatened, and fled to the surrounding hills. 

In 1980, the Civil War erupted. The FMLN fought to end the huge disparity between the few rich and the many poor, and to end government corruption and military domination. Don Pablo continued working during the war in Christian-based organizations outside Cinquera, always with the hope of returning to Cinquera. Three times he was captured and tortured.


A mural depicts the bloodshed of the civil war


Don Pablo points to photos of his fallen children
Bombing and war destroyed the entire town, except for part of the church. The people fled to other places in El Salvador and to Honduras. Some of Don Pablo's children joined the guerrillas. Five of them died. His daughter was tortured. I listened and hugged my daughter to me, and Julie Iverson and I took the children out the side door so that they would not hear of the torture. As the group left, Don Pablo showed us the pictures of his sons and daughter that had died.


Memorial to the fallen in Cinquera 

 After telling his story, Don Pablo took us to his house for a wonderful lunch. We ate on tables set up in the garden in the back. To the sides there were saplings, ready to be planted. We could also see the back of a composting toilet. Don Pablo, in rebuilding his own life, has become interested in organic farming and sustainable agriculture.
Earlier that day, Don Pablo and Pedro told us of the rebuilding of Cinquera. After the war, townspeople returned, and began clearing the town for reconstruction. There was abundant foreign aid, but Pedro said that the aid was redundant, often providing money for the same projects and to the same people. The citizens organized a committee to coordinate and direct the projects. The committee had three objectives: rebuilding the town, creating educational opportunities for the children, and establishing a nature preserve.

Cinquera now stands again, beautifully re-built. Establishing educational programs has been more difficult. According to Pedro, because the area so strongly backs the FMLN, the ARENA-dominated government has not provided funds for secondary education (currently there is only primary education). The town has established an artesian workshop for the adolescents, where they learn to carve wood and make other crafts. We later had a chance to visit their workshop, and see and buy their beautiful work.


A sign for the Yankee invaders
I was surprised that the townspeople placed such a high priority on establishing a nature preserve. From my previous experience in Latin America, I had thought that when people need to focus on their own survival, that there is neither the time nor resources available for preserving the natural environment. Later, when we visited the preserve, I think I understood why protection of the natural environment was so important to Cinquerans.


Hot hikers -- over 100 degrees!



PazSalud brigade members cross a bridge in Cinquera

 
View of the Cerron Grande reservoir


Church facade with depiction of Monsignor Romero

 The day was the hottest we had yet experienced. We were all looking forward to the cool pool and waterfall in the preserve. Pedro and two other Salvadorans took us to the preserve. We hiked up along a creek. Our leaders then led us up a steep trail. We passed an old concrete structure. Pedro explained that this had been used to process indigo, when this had been the predominant crop in the area. Our group split then, with some heading down to the waterfall, and some proceeding up to a lookout.

The trail up was quite steep, and our guides led a brisk pace. From the lookout, we could look down and see Cinquera, and look west to see miles of forested hills and the Cerron Grande reservoir in the distance. From my reading I knew that El Salvador was the most densely populated county in the Western Hemisphere, and that little native forest was left in the country. I was relieved to see that there were still expanses of forested areas left. 

On the way back, we had the choice of visiting a guerrilla encampment or going to the waterfall. The heat was stifling, so most went down to the waterfall. I went with Noemi and Pedro to the guerrilla encampment.

As we walked, I learned more about Noemi and Pedro. Noemi is a soft-spoken woman who maneuvered the rough trails in high-heeled sandals. She had fled to Honduras with her family during the war. At 13, she had returned and joined the guerrillas. She initially worked as a cook, and then operated the radio. She lived for three years in the woods. She met her husband there. After the war, they settled near Cinquera, and now have two children.

Pedro had lived for eight years in the forest, and was the leader of the guerrilla group and a paramedic. Doctors from Mexico and other areas joined them at times, assisting in medical care.

Both Noemi and Pedro moved nimbly along the path to their old encampment. We came to a circle of simple log structures. Pedro showed me the log table on which they had performed emergency surgeries. Below there was a small tin-roofed shelter where they had cooked, using a stove that sent its smoke up through the slope above it, rather than into the air. I asked if they had to camouflage the tin, but they said no, that the trees hid them. I looked up and saw the thick leaves of the canopy above, and could see how well they were hidden. There was a small pool beside the shelter, collecting spring water. Both Noemi and Pedro stopped to drink. Twice there was movement in the bushes. I saw only the sway of the branches, but Noemi and Pedro smiled, and identified the animals they had seen. They said it was too bad that we didn't have more time to be there, there were so many animals and plants to see and learn about. I asked if coming here was coming home for them. They said it was. I could see then how preserving this forest took such a high priority; many had lived in this woods and come to love it, and the forest had protected them from the army.
 

We then joined the rest at the waterfall. The water felt so good. The kids were delighted because Silke had found huge spiders hanging from one wall, and they urged me over to see them. I went, but think I didn't swim close enough to truly appreciate the detail the kids described. After swimming, we walked back to the bus.

The road to Suchitoto was winding and narrow. Suchitoto is a beautiful colonial town of 30,000 that sits above the Cerron Grande reservoir. During the war, all but 85 families fled the town. The army used the central park to launch rockets into the hills. We ate at a beautiful restaurant that overlooked the reservoir. A Salvadoran-Swiss couple had bought and restored an old colonial plantation and converted it into a restaurant. We ate an elegant and delicious meal at one large table beneath a covered verandah, beautiful music playing in the background. To my surprise, Maia crawled up into my lap, crying. I asked her what was wrong. She said "I don't want to leave El Salvador." 


PazSalud volunteers enjoy a dip at the waterfall in Cinquera


The author buys woodcarvings as a remembrance of the spirit of El Salvador
I told Delmi (one of the Salvadorans) that my daughter had cried about leaving. I think Delmi was touched that Maia had loved her country. I think, though, that we were all moved deeply by El Salvador. Here was a tiny, crowded, impoverished, polluted country that had suffered wars and earthquakes. And still the people were so warm and kind, and so filled with hope for the future. At Cinquera, I bought one of the children's woodcarving of the half-destroyed church to hang in my living room, as a symbol of the depth of hope and life that can exist despite adversity.


One last El Salvadoran family on the drive home from Cinquera 

 I think Maia also cried to leave the group of people that had gathered together for this mission. It was wonderful to work with each other and with Salvadorans to help, even for those few days. I was impressed by everybody's generosity and care. Knowing that hundreds more want to volunteer in El Salvador made that generosity and care seem deeper than the small group gathered for this first mission.

After dinner, we stood by the railing, with the reservoir barely visible in the last light of the day. Bats flitted before us, catching insects. Silke (who was quite adept at finding animals anywhere we went) found a large toad that was hopping in the garden. It began raining, and the lightening flashed. The storm continued on the bus ride back to San Salvador, the flashes occasionally illuminating the surrounding hills.