Adobe Smell - Mi Casa

"Let the heart sing, scream, cry in exhaultation...let the body be richly nourished and developed...through lessons given to prosper....Let it plant the seeds of wisdom and root it's foundations with the purest of knowledge..."

EL TRABAJO DEL ALMA  

My mind has taken a trip into the past...seems as though every day I miss ever so much the smell of wood burning in the distance, the fresh air on a cool morning, the view of morning glories over crowding the bushes and trees, the smell of our adobe home....the quietness and aroma of fresh ground coffee or hot chocolate freshly grounded from the coco-beans.  I breathe this air- this reality, but it is not the same.  I long to feel the cool breeze caress my skin to comfort me and tell me that everything will be okay.  I miss those days, where worry was not part of our vocabulary, where survival was merely an instinct and not an occupation.

My mind has ejected my dull body, has evacuated the premises of daily routines.  Off it goes into the thin air seeking for the spices of life.  I want to be sprinkled with the seasons of joy, laughter, family, and the aweness of happyness...of the days of innocense.  I long to feel the cool splash of fresh well water in my sleepy face, to see the birds flying freely in their natural environment and hear their joyeous melodies in thanksgiving! To hear the dogs bark as they stretch their sleepy body as if getting ready for a long day’s work.  I miss you, I miss touching the roughness of compiled adobe bricks, I miss leaning my head against the dusty edges and breathing your scent and storing your memory in my lungs.  I miss you, my home, my work, my life.  From the day we dug the well, to the days we labored mixing the mudd with our feet, adding water, shoveling dirt, to finally and carefully filling the square moldings...we were there till you finally dried.  I miss you, more so now, than ever before.  You were my shelter, you were everything.  You heard me cry, you saw me laugh, and you protected us during hail storms, strong winds, and protected us from the outside world.  You kept us in a world of imaginative securities and adventures.  You were our establishment, the foundation of our own existence...you rooted our hearts into the earthly walks covered with prints of our hard efforts to build you.

I miss you, because you stood there no matter what the circumstances.  You were patience with us even when we abandoned you and left to go to San Miguel, you waited.  Upon our returns, you offered us your love, your protection.  Because even though we experienced the hardships of life, you were there and embraced us with your might.  Oh, how do I miss sitting inside you, to reflect upon a day’s work, to close my eyes and know you are watching over me.  I miss you, and miss your edges, the window that once served as an escape route, and the ceilings that once became my “tree” house.  I miss hugging up on your pillars, and sit there under a rainy day.   Oh, so magestic you stood there, proud, and ever so welcoming.  It was there where I learnt to cook, learnt to be a woman and leave behind the childhood of a little girl....it was there where our hearts in unison silently wep the desire to have our mother with us...to have our father closer...it was there where we felt and were alone.  Our hearts were empty, but you kept us secured...

You were the best home I have ever had.  Now, I long to have you back, to feel you protecting me, to give me the peace of mind to lie down and feel safe and secure.  I miss you ever so much my adobe home.  You served your purpose; however, I have heard you were torn down to make space for something new.  Forgive me for not saying goodbye.  I wished I had taken a piece of you to have kept and to remind me of how wonderful you were in my life and that of my siblings.  I thank you, for your true love, comfort, and simplicity.  Your memory lives on in my mind, your smell is barely reminded on hot summer days while walking on dirt paths...but it is not the same.

“Como quisiera poder vivir sin aire, Como quisiera vivir sin agua, me encantaria quererte UN poco menos,

“Como pudiera un ave volar sin alas...como quisiera poder vivir sin ti....”

[Translated below]

“I wished I could live without air, I wished I could live without water, I would love to love you a bit lesser .... “How could a bird fly without winds....I wish I could live without you...”

This is a song by Mana, one that reminds my heart exactly what I miss and how much I long to have a piece of you, right at this very moment.  To hold you and keep you protected in a jewelry box - to whisper to you and tell you that you are everything to me, just as you kept us in perfect care.

**This was around 1991-early1993 when we built this home...together as a family, the drops of sweat rolled down our foreheads and the blisters in our hands showed much of our arduous labor...but our hearts and minds were set in one thing...to help complete the job.  To put into action our abilities and skills given to us to be men and women of values...this is where we learned the lessons of independency...to fight the battle and conquer the unattainable...we did it, we continue to be fruitful in our own independent ways...

Written:  Friday, October 01, 2010

Life, death, or a MANGO?

"Be smart, think before you act..."

IT was RED, Yellow, Green, and it sat Way ON TOP...

School was back in session. Summer was over and this meant no more fun.  Our mom had had our uniforms made and had left them ready for us.  I wore a kaki tube skirt with a white blouse.  My skirt made me look like I was constipated as I struggled to walk in it, much less run.  Victor had it easy; he wore kaki pants and a white shirt.  We were set for school.  Due to the lack of infracstructure, we walked long distances to school.  We walked on the dirt road, hitch hiking a ride here and there (only if the trucks would stop, which was almost never).  If not, we had to find short cuts to make it in time for our first class.

Our walk was lonely most of the time, as it was just Victor and I.  Sometimes our neighbor Levira would walk with us, but she was much older than us and she was much faster, so keeping up in a tight skirt was just beyond possible.  We walked past a Catholic Church and everytime, we would Persinarnos (do the cross on our body), as an acknowledgment of our faith.  On occassions we would go up the stairs, make reverence, and ring the bell (with the Reverend's permission).  The church was so unique, it was small but it stood there so firmly and made its presence known.

We also went pass this place we called El Molino in Los Reyes which is where if we had high quantity of cooked corn to grind, we would bring to this place, wait in line and pay to make the dough for Tamales or any other large amount of grains we needed to grind.  At el Molino, there lived a lady who walked very weird, our guess was that she had a back problem or one of her legs was shorter than the other, however, what I remember the most was that some times everyone would make fun of her (our less compassionate classmates who would catch up with us).  She was matured, so she did not care, but rumors had it that she would chase whoever made fun of her when they walked alone.  She was an interesting personage and we all knew about her, but didn’t exactly know her.  I felt sad for her, however, I knew that she was much older than I and she understood that kids had no idea of what she was going through or how her deformity was a burden or not. 

After acknowledging our sorroundings we kept walking to school, past one of my mom’s nephew’s house and on we walked down the dirt road.  The school was brand new, it was two huge buildings separated by a field that was just about half of the soccer field.  One of our classes consisted in helping around the school to maintain it clean and to plant flowers and greenery.  La Escuela de Los Reyes - was in a different town than our home.  It was quite the walk; however, we managed as we imagined our own adventures and mischiefs throughout the walk.

After school would let out, we would take a short cut as a way to change the scenery.  We cut across "nice" people’s backyards, over the cercas (fences), and around malicious dogs.  Other classmates joined our walk and in a small group we ventured to cut across the dirt road and make our trip a bit more exciting.  One place we did end up crossing was the Molino’s backyard, they had the largest amount of land and it was just in front of us as a short cut.  In that land, there was a huge mango tree.  It looked lonely and the mangoes above were tempting and inviting our taste bubs.  The thought lingered in us and the savory, juicy taste of a riped Mango caresed our tongues.  Before we knew it, Victor had climbed the tree and told us to catch the mangos as he would cut them and stuff them in our back packs.  We were in the middle of our most mischieveous deed, stealing from a private property, and stealing a precious fruit, which to us it was far more inviting to steal from this place than to pick the mangoes from the trees that rested over the cementary where no one would care if we took a few.  However, these mangoes were the ones we wanted and not a mango that had grown through absorving the nutrients of someone's remains. 

We were so concentrated and almost ready to bite into a fresh cut mango when we saw death hollering at the top of his lungs, waving what looked like a scythe...it was a machete.  Scared for our lives, we grabbed the backpacks and took off running over the fences, through the thick bushy mescal plants, and into the cementary, there we hid.  Upon reaching safety, we realized Victor was left behind.  Slowly we returned to the scene of the crime, hidding through the thick bushery and searched the land for Victor, there was no sight of him anywhere.  Did he make it down the tree to run? Or did he get caught and the angry citizen stashed at him? We feared the worse as we could not see him.  Just as we were on the verge of crying as we were imagining the worse of things that could've happened...our anguished little hearts gazed blankly into the land franctically searching..... a Mango flew past our heads and landed with a loud thump on an old grave...we looked up into the tree, Victor sat way on top waiting for our signal of safety... he sat on a huge branch and covered himself with smaller branches! Smart! We were glad that he was ok, but our faces still had that blank stare...of fear and shame... The owner had been looming around as if like an angry dog waiting and anticipating some kind of action.  He was disgusted and we knew he had every right to be.  Just as the owner went back to his house, Victor climbed down, and all of us ran past the tumbstones and quietly walked the rest of the way home.  Although it wasn’t said, we knew we would not be taking that short cut for sometime until that angry, malicious guy was over it... we were tempted by our hunger to be able to take a sinfully bite into such a delicious fruit...it seemed as though they had never attempted to pick the mangoes as there were tons on the ground...they fell to their misfortune, to rot and be a composition, a nutrient to the ground...our guess was he liked it that way.

Upon reflecting on that day’s event, it was either our life, death, or a Mango.  We took life and the bonus, a Mango.  It was a lesson learned: to ask before we dig into our own acts,to be safe and be thankful for a fruit earned through permission, not through stealing.

WRITTEN: Thursday, September 30, 2010 @2:24pm (this story was started before this date though)

*pictured comes from google images (you can view different pictures of different mangoes there or use wikipedia).

A Silent Walk...

"A Breath of Fresh air gives hope for new beginnings..."

BE PATIENT
After all the series of unplanned events that have occurred in my life, things just seemed bleak and so distant.  And so, I decided to just go into a mini adventure of my own.  To walk down the sandy beach of Folly Beach...to breath the salty fresh air and release my inner spirit into the crisp cold evening...to wonder and roam the sights of wonders before me.

 Off I was without uttering a word, in pure silence and in awe of what has been so perfectly crafted in front of me...the cold waters splashing against the pier, the birds standing as if frozen on the sand, it almost seemed as if they were part of a garden...so carefully planted they stood there...without moving at all...the only movements came when the wind would interrupt such peacefulness blowing on their feathers as if it were a delicate petal being brushed by the sweaping wind.

My feet crushed the small sea shells as I walked on forward gazing into the distant and getting lost in thought to the sound of the waves, people laughing far behind me, and those riding their bikes along with their dogs running next to them...everything seemed so picturesque.  So at peace.  This is what I needed, a moment to reflect upon the beauty before me, to follow the sun as it began to sink behind the perfectlty lined beach homes.

I was absorbed by the delightful sun rays slowly fading into the distance, and gazing into the shadows of love...a couple playfully ran accross the sand as if tagging each other and together they jumped to cross a small puddle of salt water.  Ah, how fresh it felt and rejuvenating to feel the cold wind slap my face as if asking me to wake up and face reality as is.  To think that such moment only exists if we seek it...

That was what I needed, an awakening, a touch of refreshment joy.  A moment to reflect upon what God has carefully been laying infront of me.  To glance up into the Folly Pier and know, that for each structure there is a foundation, I have that foundation within me.  I simply had overlooked the details of such remarkable establishment.  Thus, it is set...God took that walk with me and held my hand...He pointed to the great master pieces He has been working on...and so, as any lover would do, He took my breath away just as the sun hid behind the beach houses...my shadow was gone, my feet were numb and so was my face, ears, and hands...time to head back to the car....

It was the most peaceful of moments I had had in the longest...It was just God and I...silently walking...silently loving on what He gave me...a life to fulfill and the wonders for me to use as a rejuvenation tool...to keep going and always know that HE is behind me and behind everything there is.....

EL EDEN

"And thus the curtains fell with great roar and the stage shook to its foundation...realeasing a wave of vague dusty trail that was barely visible...disapearing into the air"

ADIOS - Goodbye For now...

It's suffocating...this feeling of anguish and anxiety...knowing you will be laid unpon that piece of property where once we set our eyes on, where our hearts wondered through the walk ways of perfect harmony... El Eden, such is the perfect resting place for your tired body. 

Mama Cati, once had shown us that place, had pointed out the specific spot where you and her would lay forever in eternal rest.  20years ago, we walked through the green grass never thinking about this day...never thinking this day would come...

My stomach is shaking, rattling as if a it were a magnitude 5 earthquake releasing all frustration...I am not there, however, feels as though I am glancing over...begging for you to stay just a little longer.  It is all too real now...everyone, dressed in depressing colors elegantly, yet so mournfully distant their glassy eyes wonder off into the sureal world...escaping this sudden reality of the uncertain process...of the unexpected departure of a loved individual.

And so, from a distance, I am thinking of you Papa Pedro...thinking of all those who are by your carcass side.. I know you are there in spirit asking everyone to lift up their spirits and not agonize within...I cannot help it..my heart is slowly bleeding...it trembles with insecurity and pain...I cannot stop the bleeding and slowly I grow weak...oh, this is so debilitating...I feel as if a wave of heat and coldness has touched my body leaving me nauceous....this is hard....

Off you go - into a world of unknown secrects and wonders...into eternal rest and peace...a place we merely have imaginations off...a delicate atmosphere sorrounded by finest silks, gold, luxuries that our minds cannot wrap our thoughts into...PAPA PEDRO...

Te Quiero mucho, I love you very much! I did not have a chance to tell you these words and missed out so much...so many memories we could've had...God knows why and what is the purpose for all of us to be so segregated and split into so many places...from where I am, I am thinking of you...talking to God to give you the best pillow He has so that your head can finally rest..without thinking of the painful moments you went through...When HIS angels visit you, send a note for us, ask HIM to give us peace, comfort, and overall unity...And don't forget, take a peak all through Heaven and whisper in my dreams the wonders of our Lord. 

Lord, hence the situation we are in...this season of life and growth.  Take this moment and speak to us the words of comfort and guide each person into gaining strength....embrace this family and give each the hope for a better day...Lord, look after our Papa Pedro, his last moments were painful to him, please receive him with all LOVE and CARE.  You know his life History better than we can ever imagine...you know how hard he worked and struggled throughout the years to get to where he was...among his loving children, grandkids, great-grandkids, and this...this is the last that any of us will see of him....receive him LORD and may his memory be a seed for wisdom and maturity...may it be an example into our lives...Thank you Lord for your marvelous wonders and for always keeping us under YOUR CARE...he was a man of courage! Elegant and very determined....I LOVE YOU PAPA PEDRO.....................

**I am not the best with words or goodbyes, this is a difficult stage of life and moving on seems as sluggish as can be...it's one of those moments where all you want to do is crawl back in bed...sleep away into a dream...

Sunset in Costa Rica - Photo Curtesy of Marcos Torrentes - My cousin in Costa Rica

Las Brizas

"Let the adrenaline flow and carry you through the excitment of being set free..."

 Cool Breeze

La Escula y una tortura de Morcielagos

Long before la Escuela de los Reyes got built, we would take classes at Las Brizas (cool breeze).  Las Brizas was the name of our area and the school was in an “abandoned” building that had a ton of rooms, some of which we were forbidden to go into.  Nevertheless, being young and being explorers, our recess consisted in exploring the dark rooms and playing hid-&-go-seek.  The building looked as if some wealthy explorer family had once lived there and abandoned it.  It was pretty, it was like a huge square, filled with windows every where, and in the center of the construction were the rooms: bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchen, and sitting area with closets – kind of like a house sorrounded by a verandah all around, except ground level.

                During one super stifling school day, we opened all the windows, doors, and continued with classes as normal.  The heat though was unberable that morning and we knew we would not last very long there for class.  We waited for the entire class of 20 students to arrive before we headed to take class out door.  As we sat there chanting some songs an unexpected attendance of uninvited guests flew past our heads, desks, and as quick as they appeared, books and notebooks began to fly up and across the room.  Everyone started screaming and rushing to make it out the door and the morcielagos (bats) just kept emerging by the hundreds! (Well maybe lesser, but at such moment of commotion, it felt as if there were tons of them).  Kids ran out and bats continued to fly everywhere!

                Everyone took cover, their sound, screams were piercing and thus proclaiming their sudden agrivated mood...we knew we had altered their air by opening all doors and windows.  Their living quarters were the dark rooms and the dark bigas (2x4s used to create ceiling), those were their resting areas.  We ran outside and took cover by the lemon and marañon trees (cashew trees).  There, in what seemed a mixture of laughs and frightened voices, we talked over each other how we had never noticed they lived there!

                School let out early as it had been a traumatic moment.  Our teacher Señora Rosario, who came long distance just to teach us had grown fond of us therefore, would often go have lunch with us if not go to the monja’s house (nun’s house) and wait for the daily sermon to start at the church.  We loved her as she taught us many things and she would share some stories about traveling and North America.  We were intrigued by her features as well, she was somewhat short, her hair short and curly…she carried herself very properly, and thus why we liked her so much.

                A hot school day ended due to massive bat attack! Another moment of inspiring advenures of being bombarted by screams and wings flapping at our heads! That’s what happens when you live out in the country side where an abandoned building becomes the rooms of knowledge and wisdom.  It was in that school where the intellectuals stood out, although no one thought of it then; it was there where the bright spirited imaginations took sail. 

Written: Thursday, September 30, 2010

A Recipe For Life....

"Sugar, love, and unity...the spice's for a perfect sustenance for life's endeavours"

1.  MARQUEZOTE SALVADOREÑO

½ Cup of all purpose self-rising flour

1 cup of sugar

6 eggs

1 teaspoon of ground cinnamon

First, separate the yolk from the whites, and beat at medium speed the egg whites until they are firm.  Slowly begin to add the egg yolkes, mixing at medium speed, until the mixture is firm.  Add the sugar, slowly and continue to beat slowly, then add the flour, also slowly while still mixing it slow.  Add the cinnamon and beat mixture till it is all well mixed.  Pour in baking pan of choice and cook for about 20-35mins or until fully cooked.

Story:

Being young in a third world country you must do whatever it takes and whatever your family’s need to cover each other and struggle for survival in unity.  Those in deed were the moments when we all collaborated in one way or another.  While our mother prepared the mixture for this famous and most delicious bread, our older brother preheated the oven:  more clearly, he went wood picking, turned the oven on which was made of clay/bricks/ or some are of cement.  Our oven was a combination of the three.  My older brother would start up the fire and let the wood burn all the way through while covering the entrance/oven door and the back.  Note the oven was like a shape of an igloo home, exactly the same way.  The HORNO (oven) was lit with a massive amount of wood burning inside it, until it was all just charcoal and ashes. Those ashes are then "swept out" and cleaned, leaving just a pure and clean oven...very hot though....see image below...

            Around the corner, there would be my younger sister at the time, adding oil or butter to the tin cans used for baking.  Some were sardine cans, others were from some recycled products, either way, and we didn’t quite have baking pans as they are called here.  No one was embarrassed to use tin cans as those created the perfect shape and size of bread.  She would butter up the bottoms, sides, and continue to clean the rest of the cans for future use.  My youngest siblings were too young to do anything, they were our little jewels. 

            What was my contribution? I was the sales girl.  Grabbed my basket loaded with bread and walked our entire neighborhood and even further, to sell the bread we had all worked so hard for, so that we could earn our way and meals (thus was taught to us by our mom – never allowing ourselves to be dependant of anyone).   It was a great lesson and for that experience I am so thankful. This does not necessarily mean we were starving to death, but it was our way to make our living, while my father was in the U.S.A.  He did support us financially, sometimes we needed to find a way to make a little extra and work a bit more to help out around the house and feel accomplished on our own. 

            I was maybe 8 or 9 at the time, although it feels as thought time never seemed to pass…it stood still and our days were forever the longest.  Those were the learning days, the days of endurance and early maturity.  Indeed, sometimes I have to question myself what is best; to be back in that time and work twice as hard everyday for absolutely no future, or struggle everyday here with the negativity around us and work towards a future? 

            Marquezote, is a fluffly bread almost like angel cake, but it’s way tastier! Nothing can actually compare to it.  I have attempted to make it here, however, seems that the one ingredient missing is that oven we used.  To bake this bread in the heat of actual wood would be like biting into a piece of heavenly baked bread…

            This small insightful story takes place while we lived in San Miguel, El Salvador – we lived in Colonia Santa Carlota, a neighborhood rich in memories and past times.  More so, this was were most of dad’s family lived.  We sought to work hard every day as a family to earn our ways while also understanding that our dad was doing just the same.  We baked breads, made Tamales of different types, sold fruit, etc…it was our way.  We were good at it and we did it just great.  If I had to pick up on my pride and toss it aside, I would do it all over in a heart beat.  I sold almost everything and often came back for more to sell even more.  I was also accompanied by my oldest brother so to keep me safe.  I miss those days of nurishful knowledge and the absorbtion of unique experiences.

Written:  Wednesday, April 21, 2010  @ 2:40pm

Image came from Googling "ornos" or "hornos" you should get some pictures...this one is close to what I am describing except it does not look very Igloo...

Into The Darkness

"the heart aches so deeply...it seeks to enter the unknown world of knowledge and understanding...but it is lost....it is caugh in the darkness of this world, swept into the hole of despair....it attempts to be strong, but knows this is far greater power than it can control...and so it breaks...shatters into bits and pieces of despair....finding comfornt only in the tears shed..."

Today is a dreary kind of day...the sun rays have been reflected back into the thin air back into the atmoshpere and there is no glimpse of a better day.  For now, the happy glittery person  I am, I have retreated into a shadowy world of despair.  I have lost my heart into the darkness wondering and questioning the very core of life's proceedings.

IT is a mournful day.  Where the cries of my siblings ring through my ears fiercely and so desperately. More so today than any other day, my heart mourns in despair of the great sorrow of a loss of a human being.  The loss of someone I knew yet, hardly got to explore life's adventures with him.

Papa Pedro has left this bitter world and is headed to a restful life far beyond our reach.  We will continue to keep his memory, his presence within us, although hard to piece together as he distanced himself from many of us. Yet, magnificient is the love that we were given that regardless of what misfortunate events take place, we have that passion, that love to love others despite. 

Papa Pedro, forgive me for missing out and not being there in the last 20years.  Forgive me for I feel as though I was kidnapped from my home, from you, from those I love so dearly and am lost in a world of loneliness...it is what it is...I am few thousand miles away in a distant world where slowly I am consumed by my own struggles and consumed by the devouring mouths of work, responsabilities, and the so called reality of this country.  The daily struggle to survive and accumulate money to yet further our lives...however, feels as though every bit you work, you work to pay everyone else...I am not living to live my life but rather sustaining that of others...

Papa Pedro...oh, Papa Pedro...I remember when you sat in that Hamaca..swinging back and forth, with your hat lowered to your head....as if shielding your face from the bombarding flies attempting to make their attack...and there you layed, with that cinturon (hip belt)...with your skin so perfectly tanned, you swinged back and forth...resting away the day's travel...but you came.  You came to see us and you rested away the day's journey...you hardly talked, but your eyes gave you away...your look pondered in our anxious little hearts...our grandpa was around.  You came and we were so grateful. 

I remember your fine lines of age, the tainted hair of wisdom...the hands of hard working man.  I can see you just sitting there, rubbing your hands together...seeing you stare directly out the door and enter the world of peace and eternity...you will be greatly missed by those who had an opportunity to meet you and by those who yearned for that moment to see you...to feel the warmth of your embrace....to hear you speak

You didn't stay long, you spend the night and left later the next day...we were just too excited to see you...you gave us lali-pops and a quater, it was enough for us to scream in such excitment...your presence was more than enough for us...not gifts were necessary...just you being there. 

Oh, how the hearts are tearing and crashing at your loss...all those who have talked...gotten the detials of such event...of your grand exit of this world...from El Salvador to NY to Washington DC, Maryland, and SC to Costa Rica...we are all in this together...mourning you...your memory, your love....

Papa, I cannot ask you why you left, but rather wait on us there. Look after us... I will talk to God from here, please see if you can take a peek at heaven and send me a dream...whisper the comforting words our hearts need in this rough moment.  I didn't get a chance to say good bye properly...papa, forgive me. I feel as though this distance was far greater than I can take hold off...it is and it is indeed frustrating having to fight constantly with money to make it happen...I cannot excuse myself...

I LOVE YOU - wherever you are.....   01/18/11 @ 2:27pm

My Aspirartion

"Dream, never loose the hope your heart so passionately seeks to pursue...Dream and learn to strive to make that dream a reality..."

This is something brief.  I had thought of always to start something, write my stories, let people read them in the hopes that all of you readers will get some positive vibes from these experiences and accomplishments.  I love to write, therefore, I have compiled quite the amount of stories.  Not all are published here on this blog as to give you time to slowly absorb these vicarous stories of the chainful events that have led me to where I am and who I am today.

Honestly, I do appreciate all your support and would love to make it know. Thank you for always encouraging me to continue with my "writings," nonetheless, as you have discovered so far; I am not a professional writer.  I can give you insights into a world of imagination and give you a journey through words.

I am however, striving to hopefully one day write a book just as Sandra Cisneros was able to get her book The House on Mango Street published, I do believe I have those kind of stories of my own - in a different setting and of course format.  God gives everyone different life styles, experiences, and therefore, it's our job to learn and be able to recognize the wisdom HE intends for us to pull out of those moments in our lives.

Perhaps I may never reach that goal, but it is what I am working for.  I will continue to post more stories in the hope that some of you may acquire a bit of knowledge, that you may be inspired to jot down your own life story, to save your connections, family, values, morals, etc... I hope I may be of some positive inspiration to your daily struggles or daily tests of faith. 

Also, I write sporaticly because I love a lot of things of being alive: taking pictures, writing, eating, playing sports, cooking, organizing, talking, and dreaming. There is so much more I love to do that slowly you will get familiarized.  I LOVE LOVE TO READ! So leave your suggestions! Any kind of book except the sci-fiction - not very into those books, but I know some love them and I am grateful for those writers :)

And so this is what I am striving for.  Thank you for being a reader, for your support and look forward to many stories. 

"I will dream to dream the never ending roads of imagination..and explore the vasts seas of knowledge"

"My thoughts slowly flourishing..."

LOST In The LLANOS

"never Let Fear detain you from conquering your heart"

Leña – Lost amongst the Llanos

Estraviados en los llanos de las Brisas

It was a mission we had been sent to accomplish – it felt as if we were in one of James Bond's episodes...there was no turning back.  We needed to go fetch some wood for the woodburning stoves, dinner was pending for our arrival.  I was the oldest of all kids who were on the mission.  Along were Tony, Juan, Roberto, Marixa, and Sandra.

                This particular day it seemed as the sun was disapearing at high speed.  We tried to keep up and hurry with our “chore” before the sun hid its face from us and leave us in total darkness and at the mercy of the Llanos.  It was said that there lurks many mysterious beings and spirits around the llanos that only come out when the protective rays of the sun leaves those vulnerable souls to make it on their own.  With this in mind, we had to hurry and gather as much firewood and head home. 

                We had ventured a little further than we had anticipated, as we could not find a single log where we had originally decided to go.  Therefore, we continued to go futher into the Llanos and followed a path.  We had no machetes with us, or anything that could protect us should we face the creatures of the night.  We had also heard that if we are caught by the night in such circumstances, that we should stay away from the paths, as spirits travel the paths in search of their victims, with this in mind, we knew we had to pick up the pace as we had no light with us.

                The sun kept sinking faster behind the dirt roads and past the tiguilote trees, casting eerie shawdows behind us.  We continued; we knew we could not return the same way we had come through as darkness was after us.  We kept going further and further into the llano, until our youngest traveler lost it in fear and began to quietly cry.  We stopped and comforted each other, I knew not to show my fear although in me, I was devastated and was terrified of the thought – “we were lost.”  No one dared to ask, as it was obvious, so we kept walking straight, skewing some rocks, up small hills and past the scary shadowy trees, staying in the clearings as much as we could.  The firewood we had managed to collect did not become important any more, however, we dared not toss it as it was the only “weapon” to our existence.  It was evident that no one wanted to say anything and no one wanted to cry at loud as to not attract attention to the spirits...we had heard to never show fear when in such situations.

                We were told to say prayers should we ever be in such situation, this came in handy, we prayed, quietly, but in unision and we marched on forward.  It seemed as there was no end to the torture of being in a desolate land with such mysterious thoughts evading our minds.  We grabed rocks and had them ready to fire, should we have to defend ourselves, and kept our eyes fixed straight ahead.  And there, before us lay a road…a road that once we had heard to never enter alone much less in a night situation.  We had heard of la Bruja (witch) who mourns the loss of her son and walks non-stop and sometimes confuses kids and kidnaps them believing that one of us could be her kids.  With that in the back of my head, I slowly entered the road, followed by my siblings and cousins.  I prayed, passionately, and desperately to be sure of picking the right direction of where to go… I knew we had cut across through the back side of our “village,” therefore; we needed to make a triangle form and walk back almost diagnoly towards home.  By this point we had not realized we had been lost for almost 3 hours and that our grandmother, papa Chico and Victor were worried sick about us.  We walked and hurried our pace as it was our only hope…there was no moon in sight, no stars to lighten our path, however, somehow the red dirt road seemed to be so clear.  We had selected the direction to walk correctly, and we were on our way home.

                It was then by ten at night that we managed to get home and after seeing our faces in the light, it was evident that all of us had suffered the near death experience of being frightened.  Our faces were sweaty, covered with some tear marks on a dusty face.  Such was the fear that we had lost our appetite…

                This mental picture I will never forget, it is embedded in the back of my mind and when I am feeling a bit scared or down, I remind myself that that night could’ve been worse.  That night I lost whatever fear I had of the darkness.  I lost fear and gained strength.  It was my only way to pull my younger siblings and cousins out of this horrific situaion that I had unconciously taken everyone into.  Voluntarily we had made that trip to complete one of the chores, yet turned into one of the most difficult experiences of mind clinching and wicked fear to conquer…to survive and use our instincts of guidance, support, and faith…

Again, as kids we believed just about any stories our gullible minds could fathom.  In Latin American Cultures, we believe in witches, spirits lurking the land of the walking man, and that there exists the possibility of the supernatural can take advantage of such vulnerable little souls and minds. 

*Llano - is a type of desolate land where lots of people pick fire wood, go hunting, etc...there are different types of trees that grow there, however, mostly torny, bushy trees.

written: sometime September 12th, 2010

REPRESA

" Fish for knowledge...Take joy and pride in your learnings....once acquired, no one can take them from you.  Hold true to the memories, and you will realize how far you made it..."

Laguna – or Dam?

“The Hands of little Architechs”

When you are used to fetching things for yourself, you will do anything to improvise and use all your given resources to make sure that your ideas function to the fullest.  Failing is not an option, and therefore, you must struggle to the end of such task at hand.

This is a brieft story of our creativity, our fishing adventures. 

                As kids, there was a lot of time in our hands and we did just about anything to keep ourselves occupied.  From harvesting with our Papa Chico, to going swimming in the represas (dams), to climbing the Castano trees by the river.  Yes, time seemed to pass ever so slowly.  Not having much of an adult figure to be on our watch and constantly remind us of the dangers we faced, we took every risk to be sure that we satisfied the thirst we had for adventures.

                One day, it was decided we would go fishing on Rio Peche (thin river), as thus was the name of our river for its narrow paths.  Together, the Fuentes little gang along with the Pereira little gang, we would build represas (dams) at the river and fish.  Yes, we would interrupt the environment and pick rock by rock, leaves, sand, and make the dam.  Yes, somehow we managed to block the entire river from continuing its course (don’t be so amazed, it was a small river).  The following steps were merely to let the water run down until there was no more and the fishes would have no other way to go.  We did this to catch what we called “Chimbolitos,” (baby fish).  Once caught, they made the best meal when deep fried and scrambed with eggs accompanied by tortillas that we had learned to make. 

                I do remember that when mom and Victor used to go fishing for the bigger stuff, they would bring home lots of things and a way to preserve them were to sun dry the fish with a lot of salt.  They tasted so good when the sun dried them and on rainy days we would eat roasted fish on a COMAL(here it is like a flat pan) with home made tortillas and Mom used to make the best rice ever as it was a staple with every meal.  And there we were, making our own dam for our own fishing.  Slowly, yet very patiently we waited and moved about catching the only fishes we could catch.  As there was no where else we could possibly go because of our age, we could not travel long distances to go fish…with good reasons as well, as none of us really knew how to swim well enough to be able to keep our selves afloat should there be any emergency.  We caught the fish we needed and we were on our way.  We destroyed the dam as to let the river continue flowing and giving its life to the rest of the fish that may have hid under heavy rocks.  Our mission had been completed and dinner was caught.

                Thus this being another reminder of the freedom we experienced.  We didn’t mind fishing for troubles, fishing for food.  It was all in the good spirit of humbleness and being a kid learning to managa life’s little obstacles.

written: Saturday, September 11, 2010  @ 9:24pm

Rain DANCE - la Danza de la Lluvia

Never be afraid to set sail...let the winds drive your desires of adventure....follow the route of your heart and trust your faith that all will come to past...that each day there is a brand new beginning...

FAITH CAN MOVE MOUNTAINS

It is said, that your faith can move mountains...that your faith can take you wherever you want to long as you believe whole heartedly...long as you ask with a pure heart and devoutedly you seek with all your soul to believe and accept…long as you give your everything…

Droughts in EL Salvador can be hostile, as in any place can be.  Our live stock depend on the rain for nutrition, our crops, and us...the rivers, the trees, the wind…we depended on the rejuvenating moisture of a day's rain to flourish our daily activities and gather our strengths to move forth and be carried with the daily adventures and mischiefs of our childhood.  Our creativity of crafting depended on it, we used clay to create “weapons,” teacups, merchandise we would sell to other traders – our cousins who joined our crazy adventures of markets, thiefs, and violence.  So we were desperate and determined to find a way to make the rain return to us – to give us our sanity and life back. It had not rained for more than a month and things looked very devastating.

IT came as a last resort, our faith, our submission to surrending to something greater than us to help us and guide us through these difficult moments... our four little cousins, my younger siblins and I...all together we reached out to our Abuelita - Josefina for guidance and knowledge of how we could ask God to bless us with rain.  We were told that we had to sacrifice our "pride" and humble down before God and ask for His blessings, for the rain we needed.   That was it! We needed to bow down to Him and hold reverence.  Taking the meaning we were able to understand on our own, we went on our way to accomplish the ultimate sacrifice.

It all happened on the spur of the moment on a super hot day, you could see the dirt twisters on the distance sweep so fiercely carrying the dead weeds and leaving a dusty atmosphere, as if from an episde of Wild West movies.   The heat waves were like an ocean's waves...over powering and hard to inhale...It was set, it depended on us the kids to form a type of "sacrifice" and make "offerings" to God.  With our heads lifted high, we moved on, gathering our resources for the sacrifice and setting up a “map” for the offerings.

That very hot day, in a concensus, it was decided we would all pick a heavy rock...walk from one end of our land to the other extreme...asking for the blessings... and stoping at every corner.  Slowly all seven of us picked the hot rocks from the ground, held them in our hands above our heads, and walked barefooted chanting songs of praises...stoping by all four corners of the land...placing the crucifix and pulling a rosario (rosary), knelt, and began our "ritual.”   We cried, we begged, and we lost sense of our pride and we gave it all.   Not realizing it was something completely "made up," we belived God would hear us…we were perfoming what we had understood.  What Moses did when he needed God to reach down to him... we walked with our arms above our heads and in them the heavy rocks, all of us perfectly lined up...stoping and praying... until our feet were soared, our arms tired, and our voices weak.  We completed the sacrifice, yet although nothing happened immediately, our faith did not die down just like that.  We believed and kept believing…. We set aside our pride and did not care who saw us acting as "crazy" and there we roamed the land performing our hearts devoution.

It may have been days later, but the rain did come.  Our faces glowed with the splendor of such joy only experienced with such innocence.  And off we were to dance under those blankets of rain caressing our skins and soothing our soared little bodies.  There is nothing better than a dance under a sky filled with such warm and moisture at the same time…it was said that when it is raining and the sun is shinning through, that a king has been born and neither rain can hide the splendor of such magnificent birth…of course, as kids we understood  what our minds intended to understand at that time...

And thus, the sacrifice was not in vain. Our Hearts believed and that faith never died down.  Somehow in our hearts we knew God was listening and HE was watching us perform the sacrifice of our hearts.  We must’ve amuzed HIM greatly for the rain did come. And there we Danced our hearts away being completely soaked from head to toe under the heavy drops...our faith grew and for that we were so thankful. 

                This is yet another story, my soul speaking out and sharing the longingness to be drawn back to those days of innocense and purity.  To feel those moments sprikle my soul with the happiness only felt at that place in those days of glorious deeds.

written:   Friday, September 03, 2010

Summary of all FOUR

Millionares of Knowledge- Los Dias del Amor, Fruit Salad - a day in the life of little Fuentes', The WELL - Amisd an Architectural dilemma, and Cafe Con Pan - our Very Own Don Napoleon.

These four stories have something in common:  you have discovered how we handled our loneliness, how we strived to work and pull our own weight, and how fascinating our imaginations of games were as kids in a third world country.

It’s intriguing to see that although much poverty sorrounded us, we knew no such definition of such word.  Our hearts were merely filled with our own daily struggles, our enthusiasm to discover new and trecherous adventures... to fulfill our heart’s hunger and passion for the love to each other and far more passionate way of our mischevious deeds called adventures.

We sought to discover the world of learning by absorbing our thoughts placing our acts into action and researching ways to be successful.  Most importantly, as I have failed to mention, we had a heart filled with our Heavenly Father, who daily kept us out of harm’s way despite our overflow of imaginative discoveries.  We hardly knew HIM at the time, but when we stop for a second, to reflect on those moments in our lives, He was present.  Our Papa Chico counted as an Angel temporarily barrowed from above.  Our mama Cati was another angel with much more presence in our lives (I have not yet introduced you to her...stories to follow). 

I will definately admit that I am not embarrassed nor ashamed to share such experiences, those are the bits of treasure we hold locked insde our hearts because we learned to be fully dependant on just one being – God.  No one else supplemented our need and desire to be complete.  I am however, proud to have had that part of my life of obstacles, learnings, and tests of faith, without them, we would not be the type of people we are today.  Who would’ve thought that some day we would be grown; looking back into our memories and attributing out success to those tests of faith we had then?

It is perfectly understandable that although many would not consider our triumphs successes, to us are far greater than what the materialistics of this world can offer.  There’s nothing that could ever replace our history, our achievements from those days.  It’s common knowledge to say that if you advance in this time and age, you will have the money, the car, the house, and the marriage of your dreams...to me, I have all that and much more that cannot carry a price tag, not anything in this world that could ever take such place.

Far as it goes, the downs we experienced by no means we refer to as sufferings.  Yes, we experienced solitude, we craved to be kids, but beyong that the big picture holds true to who I am, who my siblings are... Everyone goes through trials and tribulations, what matters most is how you put into perspective what you have experienced and what you make it out off.  God has definately blessed us with such knowledge and experiences to say that we are definately “Millionares of Knowledge” because He was there to support our every move and to cater to our daily needs.  In our hearts and minds we engraved the fact that life itself is not just a gift, it is a piece of treasure for which we must take full grasp of and never allow it to slip out of our hands.  After all we are given the blessing to have a choice in life of what we do with our lives, and that’s the greatest options we have.

If you have noted so far, we lived far out in the country in Zacatecoluca in La Paz a department of El Salvador, where there existed no running water, electricity, nor a telephone system (at that time we lived there).  Those were the days of innocence and passion to live on a day to day basis and not worry about the “calendar events.”  We had no idea what a computer was much less a play station.  Our minds were as absent from this world as if we were a group of indigenous beings exploring the land of the unknown.    We were in a time machine where time stood still and there was no rush to get to the next day’s adventures.  Our minds were too busy triumphing on the at hand tasks.  Nothing further existed.  Nonetheless, it existed.  We knew that the world we lived is far greater and bigger than our little minds could wrap around in thought.  We understood that concept, we just didn’t care at that moment, we were ocupied with our daily doings, satisfying the thirst to venture out into the rivers and climb the highest of the trees.

Those were indeed the days of simplicity, love and purity.  All we cared for was keeping each other close enough and venturing to make our dreams come true and examine the ideas of the mind and growth of our wisdom. 

Written  July 23, 2010

And this picture recollects some of the kids mentioned...cousings, siblings

all together and always in good spirits.

Polar Bear Plunge

The Cold wings, the sharp staggering waters will not break my spirit of being free and expressionate...nothing shall break the joy of feeling proud...of being that plunger!

Polar Bear Plundge –

Jan 1^st  2011– Sullivan’s Island

New Year’s day, I had the opportunity to have a small adventure.  Started off with my sister-in-law asking me to acompany her to see her friend do the Polar Bear Plunge.  Without debating the thought I agreed and off we were to Sullivan’s Island.

It was a gloomy kind of day, clouds were hanging low, the wind felt chili, however, the temperature was in its 60s inland and it felt rather good to be wearing a light jacket and not the heavy duty artic layers.  The closer we got to Sullivan’s island the tighter the traffic became, not reazing what in the world was a Polar Bear Plunge (other than people going into the freezing waters), I failed to yield to the concept of MASSIVE amounts of people uniting for what it seemed as a pointless almost with no meaning purpose of the plunge (for those of us who knew/know nothing of the event).  However, there is a purpose, to raise awareness of the special olympics here.

There was almost no where to park.  There were cars all perfectly lined up on both sides of the road and every empty gap signaled the intensity of people’s crave for an adrenaline rush – such excitment to be in bathing suits getting ready to plunge into the cold waters of the Atlantic.  I was mesmerized to even fathom the thought of jumping in.  Needless, I was out there supporting everyone- let’s just say I was there to support my Sister-in-law while she supported her good friend.  Finally! We parked at a church.  Off we were running to get to the starting point.  We could not see anything.

We hurried our pace as we could hear the loud screams of people rallying and warming up to the thought of jumping in the murky waters.  As we reached the beach, we were in awe of the beauty of the thickness of the fog.  Yes, it was fogy enough that it was impossible to spot the massive crowd! We could hear the chants, the screams, the laughter, and it was all as if we were sorrounded by ghostly presence as we could not spot how far the sound was coming from nor see any human presence.  We walked faster and many people followed us, all hurriedly and excitedly kept rushing towards the noise as no one wanted to miss out on this great adventure, this most intriguing aspect of the human nature.

We paused here and there for some random pictures of our sight and bewilderment.  It was beyond description how the fog just danced around us as we made our way and the fact people were grinning with never ending joy! So many people! Amazing! I was lost all of the sudden swallowed by the vast amount of people chatting, laughing, drinking hot chocolate, some were even warming up their bodies with the strongest of liquors, others brushed by me wearing the most hysterical suits, while others wore plain speedos and tights.  Some got as creative as to paint boxes for what they believe in, others wore their favorite customes.  Fred and Wilma from the Flinstones made an apparance, as did an elderly pair dressed in Pimp outfits, and going on and on....it was an incredible number of colors, brightness, and even the sound of kids screaming in joy cleared the way of such fogyness around.  Their glittery eyes, the sparkling smiles gave way for such a sunny day although hidden amongs the thickness of the fog, yet it made it self present at that one particular moment in time.

As the wind increased and gave way broadcasting the rain to come, up and down came the peculiar flags, all swaying back and forth with such a bravery as if announcing the victory of such great battles, some were pointless pieces of clothes, there were the North American flags, SC flags, pirates, others were wind chimes, clown faces, balloons, and of course football fans made a presence.  Such a form of expression it was that regardless of what the flag represented for everyone else, for that one person waving it meant the world at that particular moment.

As we mingled attempting to spot my sister-in-law’s friend, we strangely found our selves sorrounded with many imaginative and creative minds in customes! As we glanced around the crowd became fierce, brave and the counting began! Although hard to make out what was being directed, there came the rush of screams and loud laughter of what the HECK! And on went the first wave of people into the water! We rushed to get out of their way as it appeared to be some kind of stampeede of women, men, and children just plunging into the waters as do the seals during the hunting season!

One, two, three, fifty, holly cow! I don’t know! It was one too many people all jumping in at once! Some raised their arms into the sky as if proclaiming their victorious thriumph over some kind of human struggle or better yet, announcing that the water was cold enough to send you out in a heart beat! I stood there attempting to capture the moment with pictures of such an unimaginable act of kindred spirited folks united for what many would consider a ridiculous and pointless purpose, but that’s what made it such excitment! That people hunger to be together, be loud, noisy, and satisfy that hunger to show off their pride of being out there and do something as a community, as one! People from all backgrounds, social status, characters, and even people from all sorts of walks of life were out there united and in unison they took the plunge!

As we stood there giving it one last chance to find my sister in law’s friend, we stood gazing and laughing at the sound of what once had been warm screams and laughters became runny noses, heavy caughs, and snifflers! It was quite the change of ambiance, needless, people still kept ranting and demonstrating their pride of having accomplished one of the most dangerous of stunts ever performed by any double! The dances switched to shivering feet – it almost felt as is being in the cast of Happy Feet, the warm faces were a nice purply mixed with the heat of the human body being released into the thick fog giving way for an even denser air. Everyone was huddling together to stay warm and even though the winds were cold, they kept rallying while attempting to also locate their group!

Such is our human nature, to perform an act of sillyness yet in the end it has more meaning and a purpose than one could imagine.  In the end, people don’t realize that although mixed as they were, dressed as the most splendid of characters to the most ridiculous of things ever thought of, yet they accomplished what many of us fail to do or have.  To have that courage, that pride to do something out of the ordinary and take the plunge into the unknown, the cold waters of rejuvenation, the saltiness of adventure, and further the satisfaction of having completed a year and still be able to breath the beachy air mixed with the scents of many drinking their favorites on the cold sandy island of Sullivan’s Island.  Such was the moment that all were greeted with the new splash of new life and released to continue with their new year’s resolution as one could imagine everyone out there had thought of one.

And so, this was the Polar Bear Plunge! People united and eagerly waiting with positive excitment to do something for what they believe! The crazy pajamas, the loud screams, the shattering of cold bodys, the little people running with such glittery smiles and radiant spirits, such was the end of an adventurous Polar Bear Plunge! The show came to a close with a perfect harmony of the curtain of rain falling upon us declaring that it was time to head out and mingle home, to sit and drink hot chocolate, tea, or coffee and warm up the body, soul and mind.  Far across the dense fog, rain, and wind, a freight ship blew is horn as if declaring its total gratitude for the multitude of spectators, performers, and cherful crowd.  It was a show like no other and worth every minute given to forget all troubles and unite with so many other people to do something together.  Take the Plunge!

Monday, January 03, 2011 @ 11:23am