On this, my 5th trip to El Salvador, I have now been here more times than to any other foreign country except Mexico. My first time here was about 20 years ago. We were invited by the U.S. Embassy to do Cultural Envoy work performing a children’s show in Spanish and teaching at an orphanage and schools. I knew little about El Salvador other than what I’d seen on the news and in movies about their civil war, which at that point had been over for about 15 years. I was curious and asked lots of questions about the war. And people would reluctantly at first, and then quite calmly, tell me about an utterly horrific war memory. I felt honored when they shared their personal stories and kept asking. Many said that they just had to refrain from asking who did what, as your neighbor or friends might be involved. So now, they explained, they heal from not talking about it. It was probably my naiveté, but I sensed that the people I spoke with actually liked me asking because it gave them a chance to get some of it out.
One of my first images of El Salvador was the white unmarked embassy van waiting for us at the airport. When I opened the back door to put my luggage in, there was a bullet-proof door inside the regular door.
“Wait. Why do we need a bullet proof van?” I asked the driver.
“Just to be safe, Señor.”
It was clear from the start that it was dangerous here. We were told by the embassy staff not to leave our hotel without one of them with us. And not to wear jewelry or anything expensive. Every store, no matter what type of store, had a uniformed armed guard at the door with a sawed-off silver shotgun. I’d never seen so many guns, and I’m from Oklahoma! So this was my introduction to this very troubled country of very sweet people nearly two decades ago.
It has basically stayed the same for most of my trips here over the years. Until now. Now in their 24th consecutive month of emergency rule, the Salvadoran constitution has basically been suspended by the president. Due process has been suspended. Tens of thousands have been arrested and put into new prisons in the north. But nobody knows how many. Estimates are near 75,000 people arrested. Most are notorious gang members who were the reasons for all the guns before. They ruled the streets with vicious terror for decades. Until the new government of President Bukele vowed to take back the streets… and did!
But he did it by giving his government unchecked power, which to civil-rights activists is a huge red flag. The Salvadoran government can now arrest anybody for anything, without due process or explanation. Just a suspicion that you are associated with gangs and you could be swept up by police. They don’t like how you’re dressed? To prison. They don’t like your tattoos? Prison. Even mothers and sisters of gang members are arrested for giving safe harbor to their sons and brothers. It’s harsh. But, most of the gang violence is gone too.
People are beyond thrilled to be able to leave their homes without fear of being killed. They use the word Libertad often. Some of the oppression has definitely lifted for the masses.
On this trip we are performing a piece of political theatre about the Argentinian Pampas dictatorship of the ‘70’s. We are performing at the new National Library that faces the National Cathedral. I couldn’t escape the irony of performing a show about political oppression facing that square where the Salvadoran army shocked the world by shooting hundreds of their own countrymen, women and children at the funeral of Monsignor Romero in 1980. My Salvadoran friends brought us here 20 years ago to this historic square, but it was very dicey then.
“Hey guys, we need to get in the car fast. We’ve got to get you out of here.”
“Why?” I asked. “What’s going on?”
“Just get in. It’s not safe!” my Salvadoran friend warned. And so we ran to the car, not even knowing what we were running from, and our guardians sped us away. It was a scary experience in the decaying and deserted square. But today that same square is safely crowded with families, skateboarders, people relaxing by the fountain. It’s a different place entirely now. Libertad.
I found video on YouTube of the actual massacre in this same square and watched it on my phone as I stood in the now beautiful square strung with party lights and misters to cut the brutal humidity. It could have been Palm Springs except for the life-size mural of Romero on the wall of the church. The contrast of the past and the present stuns me and I have to sit on the edge of the fountain for a second. Or two. The inhumanity on my screen and the sheer humanity all around me in that square right now is beautiful. Libertad.
When I asked people on this trip if they knew anyone innocent who’d been wrongly arrested, most people knew someone. I met a few folks who had family members arrested; a husband, a son, a brother. Some people didn’t feel safe talking about the current political situation in El Salvador. Many didn’t have much to say when I asked them how their country was doing. Some whispered. And many forgave the government overreach as a necessary evil if ever they were to regain control of their streets. It was a radically dangerous situation here before, and it required radical intervention, some say.
But I come away from this trip more worried about my friends here. Because they tell me they are worried. They are worried about what will happen in Bukele’s second term as President with a lot more power. Will the constitution be eroded further? Will any of their basic rights be restored? Will innocents be sifted out of the system and released? Will this government prove to be for the liberation of the Salvadoran people or will they continue to consolidate power into another Central American dictatorship? The jury is still out on that. But for now the people wait, cautiously optimistic, because they can at least go out again and have a taste of Libertad.
