On
December 11, 1981, I was 12 years old and living in Bay Village, Ohio, a small
town on the west side of Cleveland. It was still the first half of what would
be one of the coldest and snowiest winters in Cleveland’s history, and my last
in northern Ohio, as my family moved to Dallas the following June. That day,
temperatures barely got above freezing and nearly a half an inch of snow fell. December
11 was a Friday, and no doubt I was thinking about the Cleveland Browns game
the next day against the New York Jets. While the Browns were having a
disappointing season (they’d end up 5-11 after going 11-5 and winning their division
in 1980 – before a heart-breaking loss to the Raiders in the playoffs in
record-cold temperatures and swirling winds), I was a fanatic and my dad had
season tickets. That night, I may have watched what would be Muhammad Ali’s
last fight, against Trevor Berbick (boxing was more popular and accepted then).
I may have had a basketball game the next day – I was a sports junkie even
then. Regardless, I had no awareness of events
in other parts of the world. I certainly had no idea what was going on in a
small central American country called El Salvador.
In
1981, El Salvador was in the early days of what would be a 12-year civil war, a
fight between the right-wing military and business elites on one side and a
growing communist guerrilla movement on the other, largely over the marked
disparity in wealth between the rich and the poor. In March 1980, the military
shot and killed Archbishop Óscar Romero while he was celebrating Mass, as he was an
outspoken champion of the poor and a critic of country’s economic disparity and
apparent oppression of the poor. In 1981, with the guerrilla movement more
organized and motivated than ever before, the military adopted a “scorched
earth” strategy to defeat them. In December, the military got intel that the
guerrilla movement was being led by groups in the remote, mountainous northeastern
part of El Salvador called Morazán.
On
December 11, the military poured into a small town called El Mozote, having
received (bad) intel that residents there were collaborating with the
guerrillas (in fact, locals knew that El Mozote had a reputation for being
neutral and the guerrillas knew not to recruit there). The military rounded up
all of the town’s residents in the town square, and then separated the men and
women and sequestered the children into a building next to the square. Soldiers
then interrogated, tortured, and executed the men, looking for information
about the guerrillas. Next, they machine-gunned the women (many of which they
raped beforehand, including girls as young as 10). Finally, the soldiers brutally
killed all the children. Afterwards, to cover their tracks they burned all the
houses in the village and left to do the same in other small hamlets nearby. Approximately
1,000 civilians died that day, more than half of which were children.
This
past Thursday, some colleagues and I made the 4.5-hour drive from the capital
to El Mozote. The area surrounding El Mozote is stunningly beautiful, with
waterfalls, rolling green hills, and breathtaking valleys. It is remote and
hard to reach, but it is well known because of what happened on December 11,
1981. In El Mozote, we met with three village residents who had lost dozens of
family members that day. Even 36 years later, they broke down as they related
their stories. One woman who was 34 when the massacre occurred lost her husband,
two sons, daughter, and numerous cousins, aunts, and uncles. One son survived.
He was 10. Yet, he was so saddened and angered by what happened that he
immediately joined the guerrillas. Several years later, he died in battle. She
was left with no one.
As
she related her story, we stood at the memorial [pictured] and read the names and
ages of the fallen ones. I was reminded of similar scenes I visited in Rwanda,
where hundreds of thousands of Tutsis were killed by Hutus during the genocide
of 1994. The brutality and inhumanity is shocking. Even seeing the evidence
before your eyes, it is difficult to understand or even believe that humans are
capable of such evil. Yet, clearly, we are. Thankfully, we are also capable of
great compassion and courage. In Rwanda, courage was displayed by Tutsis who
participated in the reconciliation process of Gacaca, a system of community justice used post-genocide to mete
justice on a massive scale while bringing perpetrators and victims together
toward reconciliation. In El Salvador, the crimes committed during the civil
war were wiped clean by an amnesty law, so that perpetrators escaped any
accountability. Recently, however, the Salvadoran Supreme Court ruled the
amnesty law was unconstitutional and that those who committed crimes during the
war could face trials. Shortly thereafter, prosecutors filed criminal charges
against some of the military leaders responsible for the massacre at El Mozote,
and their key witnesses are the victims and relatives of those who died there. As you can imagine, telling their story stirs up anew grief and trauma.
Yet, many are braving the difficulty, and weathering the opposition from those
who do not want details of that day to come to light. Their courage is
inspiring, and calls to mind a line from a song by one of my favorite
singer/songwriters: “Your courage asks me what I’m afraid of (what I’m made of).”
The
United States Agency for International Development (USAID) in El Salvador,
where I work, is providing assistance, training, and guidance to prosecutors
working on the El Mozote case and others like it. It is an uphill battle. It’s
been 36 years since the event, and many of the key witnesses have died. Yet,
the Salvadorans affected continue to fight to see justice done and thereby
facilitate deeper healing of their incredible loss. My colleagues and I are honored
to stand with them and do what we can to support a more effective justice
system in El Salvador.
* * *
Friends,
it’s been far too long since we’ve written. Anna, the kids, and I have been in
El Salvador since October 2016 where I am working on rule of law, justice
system improvement, and local governance issues for USAID. Despite what you
hear on the news and the real problems this country faces, we love it here. In
the coming months, I hope to write more about what El Salvador is really like,
with its very daunting challenges and beautiful attributes.
A
little update on us. Anna is working at USAID 30 hours a week or so in a key
technical role and getting regular kudos for her work. She is also active in
our boys’ Cub Scouts, and will serve as Assistant Pack Leader starting in the
fall. Caleb is now 15 and finishing his freshman year at the Escuela Americana.
He’s making great grades, learning Spanish, learning the guitar, and taking
tennis lessons after school. He is also advancing in Boy Scouts, attaining
First Class last month. Abby is finishing 7th grade. She is
excelling in school, making the Principal’s Honor Roll (all A’s) every quarter
and joining the National Junior Honor Society. She’s playing soccer at school
and riding horses on Friday afternoons. If you think of it, pray for her as her
best friend is moving back to the U.S. this summer. Luke is finishing 3rd
grade. He is also doing well in school, playing basketball three days a week,
and active in Cub Scouts. Joshua (he no longer wants to be called Jo-Jo) is
finishing kindergarten. He’s learning to read, playing soccer on Sunday
afternoons, and getting into Cub Scouts. As for me, I’ve enjoyed playing on the
embassy softball team for the last two seasons, although I had to hang up my
basketball shoes a couple months ago as my knees are shot. I’m serving on our
local church board and co-teaching the youth group at church.
We’re
headed to Texas for the summer soon. On June 14, we’ll head out on a two-week
RV adventure to Yellowstone with my family of six as well as my sister-in-law and her three
kids. It’ll be a memory-making trip for the cousins for sure. For those of you
in Dallas or Austin, I hope we can see each other. If you think of it, we
invite you to pray for us as follows (and please pray for the trial over El
Mozote and that the victims would get justice):
- For the home leave and RV trip planning that needs to get done in the next week-plus
- For adequate rest and recreation time while we’re in Texas/Wyoming over the next month and a half
- For our kids’ continuing spiritual development.
