Campo part 1

So for the past month or so the word “campo” hung over our heads as that ominous week when we would be dropped off in the rural El Salvador to live alongside a family we didn’t know, and experience the reality that so many live here every day. The idea had seemed very romantic when I read about it in the Casa pamphlet, but as the day drew near my stomach started turning in knots at the thought of living with complete strangers in the middle of the most impoverished part of the country for days on end. Looking back on my campo week it’s hard to condense my experience into one blog, so I’ll break it into “memorable moments” here, and reflect a bit more in a follow up.

So after a long drive our bus dropped us off to walk the 25 minutes into the town of Carasque. In the afternoon heat I was beyond grateful that someone was driving and dropping off our heavy backpacks and cestas (a basket with our week’s worth of food supply each, around 30 lbs-5 lbs sugar, beans, rice, etc.) But as we finally arrive at the bottom of a mountain, my partner Bridget and I are told that our family lives at the top, so we’d be carrying our bags and cestas halfway up the mountain we had just come down. I smiled-at least these people had a sense of humor right? Maybe this week won’t be so bad after all! Except the thing was- they weren’t kidding.

We met our host mom-Lidia: the strong silent type, she barely came to my shoulder and weighed 115 pounds max. She smiled, and proceeded to put one of our 30 pound baskets on her head, suggesting that the two of us each take a handle and share the weight of the other. Huffing and puffing up the 60 degree hill, we stopped to switch handles. I looked back to see how Lidia was holding up to find her walking in her slip on-sandals, the cesta balanced on her head, hands at her side…she hadn’t broken a sweat. That’s humbling, I thought.

That night I woke up at 3 am to one of the most disturbing noises I have ever heard. I lay in the pitch black on my little cot as the shrieking squeals of a pig carried on for what felt like forever. I felt silly being scared, but I couldn’t imagine what could possibly elicit that noise from any animal. When I woke up in the morning this became abundantly clear. Walking onto the kitchen/porch area I saw what remained of the largest pig I had ever seen in my entire life. The counter, kitchen table, and multiple buckets were filled with our dear friend Wilbur. A small river of blood ran through the backyard. Talk about a culture shock. I sat down at the breakfast table, and was the lucky recipient of the very first cooked piece of pork. I tried my best not to look at the pool of blood, smell the uncooked meat, or listen to the little snorts of the two remaining pigs just feet away as I smiled at Lidia and mustered the most sincere “Gracias!” I could. (if you’re wondering how it tasted, it was still damn good)

Later that day my friend Annie and I opted to play in (rather than watch) the town’s all girls soccer tournament. I was fighting an urge to punk out as we got to the field, which literally overlooked the mountains of Honduras, and realized that I’d rather embarrass myself than say I passed up the opportunity. I walked onto the field as the awkward gringa, clearly wearing a borrowed jersey-but three games later we were the champions of the tournament. Early on the girls pegged me as the go-to girl for all penalty kicks (pushing it, considering I probably shouldn’t be playing at all). The first time I was sure I must be mistaken as they set up the ball and called “Maura!” It was confusing enough that the names I’d learned thus far on the team were as follows: Mari, Mira, Mirna, and Maritza. But I’m glad I was too awkward to refuse; for the rest of the weekend I grinned shyly when Salvadorans asked “hey, weren’t you one of those girls that scored in the tournament?” well, yea...I mean you could say that.

But that was just day one! Many more thoughts on this later…
Spanish word of the week: liso=slippery
Also useful in the campo, balar =to moo (why don’t we have a verb for that?)
Missing and loving you all